She shuddered to think how he would react if he ever realised how close he’d been to the truth.
‘You’re right.’ She gave him a wry smile—an olive-branch smile. ‘I think the word you used to use was stubborn.’
‘Like a mule,’ Alessandro agreed.
‘Not one of life’s most attractive animals.’
Alessandro couldn’t recall having had a problem with finding her as sexy as hell, whatever stubborn traits she had had. In fact, he still found her as sexy as hell. In a purely objective way, he told himself. The red had been washed out of her hair, which was now back to pure pale blonde, and was doing what it had always done: refusing to buckle under the control of clips and a hair tie.
‘Stay for coffee?’
‘Maybe a quick one. You have a fabulous house, Alessandro. How…um…how long have you lived here?’
He couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘Um…four years….’
‘I was just being polite!’ She told herself not to bristle, but when he looked around at her, he was grinning. When he chose to bring it out, he had a smile that could knock anyone sideways. He was bringing it out now. ‘How was your Christmas Day?’ she asked, retreating to the least offensive topic she could think of.
‘Well…’ Alessandro’s kitchen was a marvel of black granite and chrome. He reached into a cupboard for a couple of mugs and began making them a pot of coffee. ‘I went to a very good drinks party in the morning….’
‘Oh, really? And what would you describe as very good?’ There were three stools tucked under one of the kitchen counters and Megan perched on one, swivelling it around so that she could look at him as he poured boiling water into mugs. Even the kettle looked like something out of a spaceship. Very high-tech. ‘Do you mean that there was caviar and champagne? Smoked salmon on brown bread? Stuff like that?’
‘I can tell you don’t move in wealthy circles, Megan.’ He handed her a mug and pulled out the stool next to hers. ‘And before you jump down my throat, all I’m saying is that smoked salmon and caviar are a bit old hat now.’
‘I’m disappointed. I’ve always wanted to chance my luck with a bit of caviar. Guess I missed the boat. So, what was this fabulous drinks party like, then?’
‘Very…energetic. The hostess, unfortunately, didn’t appreciate my presence.’ He took a sip of coffee and looked at her over the rim of his mug. ‘Or if she did, she wasn’t showing it.’
God, he was beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes…sexy eyes…the curve of his mouth…
She snapped out of it and remembered that this was what being friendly was all about. It was conversing without edginess, and without dredging up past hurts and recriminations.
She also reminded herself that he was engaged to be married.
‘She was probably just a little startled to see you there. Did you have a delicious Christmas lunch?’ she asked.
Alessandro shrugged. ‘One superb meal tastes much like another.’ Just like making the last million was much like making another. Only the first ever really counted. He looked at the heart-shaped face, the big, blue, almond-shaped eyes looking back at him, the full, kissable mouth.
‘Oh, to be able to say that!’ She felt a slight shift in the atmosphere and awkwardly edged her way off the stool. ‘I really should be going now.’
Caught up in the meanderings of his own thoughts, Alessandro frowned.
He didn’t want her to go.
What the hell did that mean?
Cutting through all the reasons he had given himself for his inexplicable urge to keep seeing her in the face of her obvious reluctance to see him—the guilt factor…the altruistic concern for her welfare…the practicality of having a civilised relationship because they would meet up occasionally as a matter of course—cutting through all that, like a dark undercurrent under the placid surface of a lake, lay the disturbing realisation that he still found her attractive, still found his eyes drifting along her body, remembering the exquisite sexual pleasure she had once afforded him.
Where did that leave Victoria?
He would have to talk to her. He owed it to both of them. But it was just as well that Megan was going.
When, as she approached the front door, she turned around and said politely that, at the risk of repeating herself, she probably wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon, and to take care and have a good life—whatever the hell that meant—he inclined his head in agreement.
That brief window of easy companionship was fading fast. She could see it in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she had interrupted—work, probably—but he was eager to have her gone now, so that he could get back to whatever he had been doing.
She had wondered whether she had never been obedient enough. Now she suspected that she had just been tiresome. Suddenly she wanted to get away as fast as her legs could take her.
She gabbled something about his jacket needing dry cleaning.
‘No need. I will call a taxi for you.’
‘No! Thank you. Public transport…’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! The bus and tube service today will be extremely limited.’
He picked up the jacket and there it was—that tiny weight nestling in the concealed pocket on the inside. He could feel it because it was where he often kept his own cellphone, and it was where he had stashed Victoria’s yesterday. He had completely forgotten about it—even when, over Christmas lunch, she had asked him, frowning, whether he knew where she had left it.
It just went to prove how much seeing Megan again had made him take his eye off the ball.
‘I have a phone here….’
He flipped the lid and stared at five messages, opened them, read them, and continued staring at the innocent little metal object in the palm of his hand.
‘What’s up?’
Reminded of her presence, Alessandro looked at her distractedly
‘The taxi…?’ Megan prodded nervously, because he was now staring at her in a really odd way and she figured that the egg timer that measured his patience levels was beginning to run perilously low. She would imprint this memory in her brain for ever, she told herself fiercely. It would do her well to remember, should she ever start going down the nostalgia road again, that she could outstay her welcome in a very short space of time.
She backed towards the door, but she doubted he even really noticed. He looked as though he were a million miles away.
‘Yes. The taxi.’ Alessandro snapped shut the phone and shoved it in the pocket of his sweats. ‘Might be quicker if I walk out with you and hail one.’
‘Are you sure you’re okay, Alessandro?’
‘What? Yes,’ he told her irritably. ‘Why? Are you planning on getting your Florence Nightingale hat on if I’m not?’
‘There’s no need to jump down my throat,’ Megan snapped back, pulling on her coat. ‘I only asked.’
‘Because underneath that thin veneer of hating my guts you still really care about my well-being, right?’ He clenched his fist round Victoria’s cellphone, burning a hole in his pocket, and willed his legendary self-control back into place. ‘I’m being rude. Apologies. You did me a favour bringing my jacket, and for that I thank you.’
‘No problem,’ Megan said coolly. They were out in the street now and there was no sign of him feeling the cold, even though the wind was brisk and the skies promised freezing rain later.
She had to half run to keep pace with him as he headed towards the Kings Road—which, predictably, was already crowded with restless shoppers, who were clearly bored with enforced inactivity.
Tellingly, he wasn’t even glancing in her direction. She might almost have not existed at all. So much for the friendly truce. Once established, he obviously saw no need to prolong it.
He managed to hail a taxi with the efficiency of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, and Megan couldn’t dash towards it fast enough.
‘How much?’ Alessandro reached for his wallet and Megan looked at him with freezing disdain.
‘I can pay for this myself,’ she told him flatly. ‘Teachers may not be the highest-paid workers in the city of London, but we can still run to the occasional taxi fare.’
‘Be quiet, Megan, and get in the cab. This is a journey you undertook for my benefit, so don’t waste your time arguing about something as pitiful as the cost of a cab ride to Shepherd’s Bush.’
He was already fishing out the amount quoted, and handed it over while Megan glared at him, confused and stung by his abrupt change of mood.
She sat back and stared straight ahead in total silence, half expecting him to say something. Anything.
He didn’t. He pushed himself away from the taxi, and as she turned her head she saw him quickly disappearing as he half-jogged back to his house.
It had been a learning curve, she told herself brightly as the cab driver pulled away. Learning curves were very important, and this particular learning curve had come at a very opportune moment. Because he had catapulted back into her life and shattered her peace of mind. But now, she told herself, staring out of the window at the grey, uninspiring view rolling past her, she could consider herself on the road to recovery.
Firstly, she had seen Alessandro and Victoria together in a social situation, and instead of letting her mind drift away into the past she would now have it cemented in her head that Alessandro was half of a couple. She might call it a compromise relationship, but it was still very real and very meaningful for him.
Secondly, she had seen for herself how impatient he could become with her—because really and truly he had outgrown her.
Thirdly, she had proved conclusively to herself that she could actually have a normal conversation with him—which surely meant that he was no longer the bogeyman in her head, the guy who had broken her heart, the benchmark against whom all other men fell short.
Fourthly…She couldn’t think of a fourthly, but she would.
She thought of him back in his house, looking through her and past her as if she had suddenly become invisible.
The best Christmas present she could give herself would be a gift-wrapped box full of all those reminders of why it was time to finally let Alessandro go.
CHAPTER FIVE
ALESSANDRO stepped out of his car, dispatched his driver, and squinted through the driving rain at Megan’s house. There were several reasons why he shouldn’t be here—the most pressing one being that he had had too much to drink. It was also gone eleven in the night. A time when most normal people would be tucked up in bed. But he’d banked on Megan not being in the normal category, and sure enough there were lights on.
He didn’t give himself too much time to think. Lately, thinking hadn’t been doing him too much good.
He began walking very slowly up to the front door. He could feel the icy rain slashing against his face, permeating through the thin layers of his trenchcoat and jumper to bare skin.
The three bangs he gave on the front door were loud enough to raise the dead. There was a muffled sound of activity, and the door was pulled open just as he had raised his hand to administer another earth-shaking bang.
‘Oh, my God. What are you doing here?’
‘Developing pneumonia.’ Alessandro placed the palm of his hand on the door—at which point Charlotte positioned herself neatly between him and the hallway. ‘Let me in.’
‘Megan’s not here.’
Alessandro pushed a little harder and stepped forward. ‘You’re as forthright as ever, aren’t you?’
‘Just looking out for my friend, and she doesn’t want to see you.’
‘Doesn’t want to see me or isn’t in? Make your mind up.’
The appearance of Megan hovering on the staircase behind Charlotte answered at least one of his questions. She looked confused and rumpled, as though she had just woken up. Her cheeks were flushed, and her silky blonde hair was a curly cloud around her startled face.
‘Alessandro! What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Have both of you learnt your lines from the same script? I’m getting soaked.’
‘Do you know what time it is?’
Alessandro made a cynical pretence of consulting his watch. His head was beginning to throb.
‘Just open the damned door, Megan! Please.’
It was the please that did it. Alessandro had never made a habit of doing please, and to hear it dragged out of him now warned her that something was very wrong. She elbowed Charlotte aside, like a master nudging back a very loyal dog determined to keep all visitors at bay.
‘Shall I stay, Megan?’ Charlotte’s arms were folded, and she was looking at Alessandro’s dripping figure with narrow-eyed suspicion.
‘No, no. It’s okay. I’ll just hear what he wants and he’ll be on his way.’
‘Well, if you’re sure…’ Her voice implied that one false move would have her bounding down the stairs pronto, but she grudgingly left—though not before giving Alessandro an evil look out of the corner of her eye.
Her departure didn’t mean that he was warmly welcomed in. In fact, Megan had now adopted her friend’s pose, arms folded, her big blue eyes narrowed, her mouth drawn into a tight, suspicious line.
‘I need to get out of these clothes.’
‘You need to tell me what you’re doing here.’
‘I thought we’d agreed to a ceasefire, Megan.’
‘We have. But that doesn’t mean that you can stroll in here at close to midnight. We might have called a ceasefire, Alessandro, but we haven’t suddenly become best friends.’ She was remembering the way he had looked straight through her two days before—as if she had ceased to exist.
Alessandro didn’t answer. Instead he began removing his drenched trenchcoat, which he slung over the banister. Megan immediately removed it, holding it up between her fingers as if wary that it might be contaminated.
‘The coat hooks are behind you.’
‘I need to get out of these things.’
‘Why are you so wet?’
‘Have you had a look through your window? It’s pouring. And,’ he added grudgingly, ‘I went for a walk before coming here to see you. If I stay in these clothes, I’m probably going to end up in hospital. Would your conscience be able to deal with that?’
He had played successfully on her greatest weak spot, and Megan hesitated. ‘All right. If you wait in the sitting room, I’ll go and fetch you…Look, just wait, and I’ll be down in a minute.’
‘Is there a fire in there?’
‘No, Alessandro. No roaring open fire. But you can stand very close to the radiator and hope for the best.’
Her nerves were jangling as she took the stairs two at a time, briefly popping in to satisfy Charlotte’s avid curiosity. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to provide by way of clothing for him, but after a few hesitant seconds she pulled out a box from under her bed and removed a pair of his sweats, seven years old, and a rugby shirt, also seven years old. Relics of a time past which she had hung on to.
With both items of clothing in her hand, and a clean towel fetched from the airing cupboard, she flew back down the stairs to find him in the sitting room—where he had stripped down to his boxers.
‘Wh-what are you doing…?’ she stammered, screeching to a halt in the doorway. It was seven years since she had last seen him like this, and his physique had barely changed at all. She stared, mesmerised, looked away, and then covertly looked back at his magnificent body. Wide shoulders tapered to lean hips and long, muscular legs. He was bronzed from head to toe, and without benefit of clothes every sinewy muscle was evident.
‘Taking off my wet clothes.’
Megan cleared her throat and dragged her eyes away from his body to the relative safety of his face. Then she tossed the clothes and towel in his general direction.
‘I don’t bite, Megan.’ Alessandro stooped to pick up the sweats and rugby jumper, which he held up and stared at with open curiosity. ‘Bloody hell.’
Megan reddened and stood her ground.
/> ‘Are these mine?’ Alessandro looked past them to her, and for the first time in nearly two days he felt good—really good. Stupidly good.
‘They were at my apartment when we broke up. I couldn’t face bringing them back to you, and I figured you wouldn’t miss them anyway.’ She laughed shortly, remembering how she had pressed her face against the fabric, hoping to hold the scent of him. ‘I guess I hung on to them for sentimental reasons.’
‘What else did you keep?’
‘That’s all there is, Alessandro. You’d better get dressed.’ She turned away and leaned against the doorframe, her profile sideways to him. ‘I don’t feel comfortable about this…having you here in my house…getting changed…it’s not right. I know you’ve said that Victoria isn’t possessive, but I like her and it’s not fair on her…’
Alessandro didn’t say anything for a while, then, ‘It’s safe to look now. I’m fully dressed.’
‘So why have you come here?’ Megan could feel the pulse in her throat beating, mirroring the steady, nervous thump of her heart. She’d been reading in bed, almost ready to switch off the bedside light, when the thumping on the front door had had her flying into her dressing gown. Now she felt wide-awake.
Alessandro strolled over to the sofa and sat down heavily.
‘Have you been drinking, by any chance?’
‘Stop hovering by the door. I told you. I don’t bite. I’ve come here because I need to talk to you, and I can’t talk to you when you’re standing there like a sergeant major on duty.’
‘I should put your wet clothes in the drier. It’ll only take twenty minutes for them to dry.’
She tentatively took a few steps towards the pile of soggy clothes, snatched them up, and then fled to the utility room, where she stuck them in the drier. Twenty minutes on the highest setting. For a few seconds she leaned against the tumble drier, eyes closed, then she took a few deep breaths and headed back to the sitting room.
This time she saw him sprawled on the sofa. He looked bone weary. Megan walked across and stood over him, until he opened his eyes and looked back at her.
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