Elliot poured a martini into the empty glass on the table.
‘So your mate Suze is seeing Will tonight, so I hear.’ He looked up and grinned. ‘What’s she like?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘She just looks as if she might eat him for dinner. I’m simply looking after the emotional well-being of my colleague.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she smiled. ‘You men are just as much gossips as women.’
‘I’m a journalist. I’m nosy. Besides, I like to think I played Cupid.’
‘Actually, she says she’s approaching this one differently.’
‘You mean they’ve not had sex yet.’
Abby fumbled the water jug and spilt liquid over the tablecloth, which she quickly mopped up with a napkin. Clearing her throat, she took a long swig of her cocktail. As she tipped her head back, she could feel Elliot’s legs, stretched out under the table, resting ever so gently against hers. His toe grazed the back of her calf, and she wondered if she should shift position, whether he would shift his. Seconds ticked by, and she predicted that if he hadn’t moved his feet away by the count of ten, they were going to end up in bed together. The idea both excited and bothered her. So far, their night in St Petersburg had been a one-off. She could put it down to a moment of madness, but tonight was crossing a line. If they had sex, if she slept with him in that big, expensive-looking bed behind her, they would be in a relationship and that made her different to Nick.
Eight, nine, ten . . .
‘I saw Ros today,’ she said, changing the subject and the position of her legs under the table. She had expected Elliot to mention the Dominic Blake debacle, expected a few more apologies perhaps, but his silence on the matter suggested that it was over and done with. But she couldn’t let it go. She was here for a reason, even if the bedroom looked tempting.
‘Ah. I wondered when you were going to bring this up again.’
‘Of course I’m going to bring it up, Elliot. That’s why I’m here.’
‘Not the only reason, I hope.’
‘I’m still pissed off,’ she said, not entirely honestly.
‘You’re very beautiful when you’re angry,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and watching her.
‘And sometimes you sound like a total sleazeball.’
‘You bring out the best in me,’ he replied, his mouth curling roguishly. ‘Look, Abs, I explained all this on the phone. I had to file the story, but I didn’t want to upset you. I was going to tell you in person. I thought they were going to run with the story next week, but things just didn’t work out. I’m sorry if Rosamund Bailey gave you a hard time about it. She should have taken it up with me, but she didn’t, and I think that says a lot about her, don’t you? I wouldn’t go feeling too sorry for her. She’s a tricky customer.’
‘She’s an old woman, Elliot, who found out that the love of her life was a Soviet spy simply by reading her weekend newspaper. You should have let her know.’
‘You know what you need?’ he said, topping up her wine glass.
‘What?’
‘A holiday.’
It wasn’t what she had expected him to suggest.
‘I know we’ve just got back from Russia, but that was work. My father has a house in France. It’s lovely. In the Luberon, Ménerbes, the village from A Year in Provence. There’s a pool, and the air smells of lemons and lavender, and we don’t even have to get out of bed if we don’t want to. I think it’s what you need to unwind.’
She laughed nervously. Elliot wasn’t just asking her to go to France; he was asking her to take their fledgling relationship to the next step, a step far beyond just spending another night together. She had to admit that it was more than she’d expected from him, but whilst she was flattered by the offer, it didn’t seem the most important issue on the table.
‘Ros doesn’t believe that Dominic was a spy,’ she said, deflecting the conversation away from mini-breaks.
‘Of course she doesn’t,’ replied Elliot, smiling. ‘She loved him.’
‘I met her today and she showed me a postcard she had received. It said, “Trust Dominic.”’
‘And what does that prove?’ He said it with a laugh, but there was a note of scorn in his voice.
‘Maybe nothing, but don’t you think it’s strange? It was anonymous. “Trust Dominic.” As if someone knows something and wants to reassure Ros that what she read in the paper isn’t true.’