Chapter Eighteen
Tamsin looked in the mirror and threaded her fingers through her hair. She’d had her first really busy day at the club, teaching five hours back-to-back in the afternoon. Perhaps she should have picked another evening to have Diane over for dinner again, but the sensation she got in the pit of her stomach when she thought of Diane told her: no, tonight would do just fine.
She gave herself an encouraging smile, smoothed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and nodded at herself. Eve’s pep talk before she’d left on Sunday evening still lingered. “Flirt with her,” her sister had said. “And see what happens. From what I’ve seen, Diane will be very receptive. The woman was practically speechless—stunned by your fine Foxley form—when we ran into her.”
Tamsin had been forced
