Chapter Twenty-Eight
"How is it?" Declan forked some steak into his mouth, waiting for her reply.
Why couldn't she just enjoy the company? Francesca had to go thinking about her bastard of a husband. Here she was with a gorgeous specimen of a guy, Declan, and what was she doing? Thinking about Paul and that waif, Tegan. She doubted Paul was daydreaming about her. No, he was probably seeing to Tegan's eighteen-year-old needs while she played with her food. "Huh?"
"I asked you how it is?" He tried not to show his hurt. "I can make you something else if you want? Or maybe it's not the food. Maybe it's the company?"
The last thing she wanted was Declan thinking he was the problem. "Oh no! Please don't think it's you. You're great. And you've gone to so much trouble tonight." Francesca put
