“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” Like I’m going to tell him. “This has been the best fake date in the history of everything.”
“Yeah?” He grins and winds his arm around my shoulders. Okay, it’s official. I’ve died and gone to heaven. “I could get used to fake dating it with you.”
“Hey, anytime. Limo not required.” I’ve no idea how I manage to speak at all, considering the way my heart’s hammering against my ribs like it wants to break free. I snuggle a little closer and rest my head on his shoulder.
This is perfection. Is he taking me back to his apartment? I’ve never been, even though I have an open invitation whenever he hosts groups of guys from work, but it’s never felt right.
It feels more than right tonight.
“Are we dropping you back at your friend’s house?”
His question smashes through my happy fantasy of spending the night wrapped in his arms. Heat sears me and I raise my head, but he doesn’t pull his arm back so I’m still kind of plastered against his side.
Act cool for fuck’s sake. He hasn’t rejected me, because I didn’t offer anything, but it still stings like a million wasps.
“Can you take me home? Well, next door to mine, actually.” So I can change from princess back into peasant at Hannah’s before sneaking into my own house.
“No problem.” He doesn’t ask why, just like he didn’t ask why he had to pick me up at a random address, which is a relief, but at the same time why doesn’t he want to know the reason?
And then I forget about the reason for anything as he kisses me again.
...
The limo pulls to a halt, and it takes a few seconds for either Harry or me to realize it has nothing to do with traffic lights and everything to do with the fact we’ve arrived. Well hell, we only left the hotel about five minutes ago. At least that’s how it feels, but I guess time means nothing when I’m kissing Harry.
The chauffeur opens the door. Harry gets out of the car with me and walks me to Hannah’s front door. A gentleman to the end. I gaze up at him, and he looks so tall and dark and untouchable from the light of the moon and stars…well, okay, and the glow from the streetlights, that it hardly seems possible we spent the last hour snogging in the back of a limo.
Now what? Do we go back to being just good friends without the benefits attached?
He hunches his shoulders and gives a quick glance at the still-shut front door. Please don’t let Hannah open it yet. I’d arranged to text her before turning into our road, except I forgot, as I was kind of busy. Knowing Hannah, it’s very possible she saw the limo arrive, especially since it’s impossible to park and is in the middle of the road, taking up all the space.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Harry’s question punches through my worry about Hannah interrupting, and I blink up at him. Did I hear him right?
“Nothing much.” Apart from a driving lesson at six tomorrow evening but I don’t want to think about that.
“Did you want to have breakfast with me?”
He’s asking me on a date. A real date, without any ulterior motives. Isn’t he?
“Sure.” I go for breezy but sound as though I’m asphyxiated. And even though I feel I should say more, I don’t want to run the risk of wheezing with excitement.
Less is more.
“Great.” His shoulders relax and his grin takes what little oxygen remains in my starved lungs. “Pick you up at nine?”
“Sounds good.” I nod, more enthusiastically than is cool, but who cares. “Oh, and I’ll be at home. Next door.”
…
I’ve been in the bathroom since seven thirty this morning, trying to re-create the magical glow that only expertly applied makeup can give. With the limited selection at my disposal, this is a nonstarter. I’m probably better off just doing my usual, since the last thing I want is to end up looking like a clown.
At least my eyelash extensions are still intact, and I flutter them a few times, loving how exotic they make me look, before scrutinizing my hair.
The curls have dropped. No surprises there, and it’s nothing to do with the steamy bath I just had. I stifle a sigh and grab a hair band, intending to scrape my hair back into its usual ponytail, and then I pause.
I might not have the princess curls anymore, but I still have the blonde and rose-gold highlights. Didn’t I promise myself last night that I’d try something different? Because even if Sherri hadn’t meant it to, her high school comment did sting a little. And although it’s only an optical illusion, my hair does look less flyaway after my visit to the hair salon.
Decision made, I shake my head so my hair falls over my shoulders. It feels weird, and my fingers itch to snatch up the hair band. If only I could’ve kept my face on from last night for some Dutch courage. Which is stupid, because I’ve known Harry for eight months, and he knows what I look like without a professional makeover.
Yeah, but he didn’t ask me out for breakfast before the makeover, did he? And even with the fairy-tale dress and the hour-long smooch, he didn’t ask me back to his place for the night.
What does that even mean? I’ve no clue, and I didn’t get around to discussing that aspect with Hannah, as it was the early hours of the morning and we had to keep our squeals down or risk waking up her parents.
I absently scratch Bambi under the chin as Goldie wraps herself around my leg. If Harry wanted to sleep with me, I’d think last night was the ideal opportunity. After all, mirage or not, last night I was as pretty as I’m ever likely to be.
It’s not that I’m hideous or anything like that. But I’m just ordinary, and in the real world guys as gorgeous as Harry don’t look twice at girls like me.
The doorbell chimes, shattering my morbid introspection.
“Shit.” I trip over the cat in my haste to unlock the bathroom door. I scoop her up and tuck her under my arm. As I race down the stairs, a quick glance at my phone confirms that Harry is ten minutes early.
I wrench open the door and he’s standing there, dark hair ruffled, in a casual shirt with top buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Be still, my heart.
“Hi.” He grins, and my lingering worries that he’s had second thoughts about this breakfast date vanish. “Ready?”
“Sure. Let me just grab my bag. Oh, come in.” I step back. He enters the hall and gives Goldie a tickle behind her ear.
“Didn’t know you had a cat.”
“What? Oh, yes. Two.” I stand there holding Goldie while Harry continues to pet her, even though I need to go find my bag and jacket. “Wow, she loves you.”
“We always had cats at home. There’s only one left now, though.” A shadow passes over his face, and I’m dying to ask if he’s okay, but before I can figure out whether that’d be crossing a line or not, he gives me another smile and the moment shatters. “I hope you’re hungry.”
I put Goldie on the floor, where she promptly winds herself around Harry’s legs. He’s going to be covered in cat hair.
“Starving.” It’s only half a lie. I am hungry, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to eat anything with Harry sitting across the table from me. “I won’t be a second.”
I’m halfway up the stairs when Mum comes out of her bedroom in her Betty Boop pajamas. She’s going to freaking kill me if Harry sees her wearing them.
“Is someone at the door?” she asks as I grab her arm and propel her around. “What’s the matter, Alice?”
“Nothing.” I pull her into my room and shrug into my jacket. “It’s just Harry. He’s taking me out to breakfast as a, well, as a thank you for last night.”
Well, fuck. Is that all this is? It never occurred to me before. No, it’s definitely more than that. We kissed all the way home.
Reassured, I nod my head at her for emphasis.
“Oh, how did it go last night? Did he win?” Before I can reply, she blinks and leans toward me. “What’ve you done to your hair?”
/> Self-consciously I run my fingers through it. “I thought it’d make a nice change.”
She comes closer and slides some strands across her palm. “It’s pink.”
“Rose pink,” I correct.
“It’s so pretty.”
“Thanks.” I avoid her eyes. She probably would’ve loved to see all my curls last night. I hate not sharing that with her, but I’ve no idea how to tell her now, after the event.
“That’s nice of Harry, taking you out to thank you for all your hard work.”
My face heats, even though it’s not a lie because he is taking me out as thanks for last night. The thing is, it’s more than that and I haven’t told her.
“Uh, yeah. I better go.”
Instead of staying where she is, she follows me to the top of the stairs. “So finally, I’ll get to meet the famous Harry,” she whispers and gives me a conspiratorial nudge. If we were talking about anyone other than Harry, I’d nudge her back and we’d both giggle, but I can’t because I like him way too much and she doesn’t have a clue.
She doesn’t know what happened last night. Not that anything much did happen, but when your love life is as barren as mine, an hour’s snog is huge.
“Yes, but…” My voice trails away, and I flap my fingers at her PJs and bare feet.
“It’s fine. He’s only your boss for another three weeks.”
Mentally I shake my head and go downstairs. I should’ve arranged to meet Harry somewhere else. All this weird side-stepping the truth is killing me.
“Hello, Harry,” Mum says before I can orchestrate our escape. She runs a critical glance over him, but her smile doesn’t slip.
“Good morning, Ms. Wentworth.” Harry shakes her hand, and I’m impressed. Although it just goes to show his social skills aren’t as lacking as he likes everyone to believe. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hmm.” There’s a strange note in her voice, and for a second I have the terrible certainty she knows there’s more between Harry and me than being simply work colleagues. “Okay, well, have a good time. Don’t forget you have a driving lesson later. You can’t afford to miss any more, not this close to the test.”
Thanks so much for reminding me.
“I’ll call you.” I give her a quick kiss, before escaping.
Once we’re outside, he shoots me a grin. “I’m guessing I should wait until we’re out of sight of your house before I hold your hand?”
“That might be a good idea.”
He unlocks his Range Rover, which is a lot cleaner than Caleb’s car, and I climb inside.
“I thought we could go to the Mansion,” he says as he pulls onto the road and I try not to ogle his profile. Then his words penetrate. Is he taking me back to his apartment?
My brain resets instantly. He wouldn’t refer to his own home like that. He’s talking about the renovated eighteenth-century mansion, which is only about a half hour’s drive away, and is not only open to the public but has a cafe. I’ve wanted to go there for months but have never got around to it.
“Sounds good.” I cast a sneaky glance at his denim-clad thigh. He fills them so well. My mind descends into the gutter as his brother’s latest advert, where he shows off his tight butt, flickers across my mind. I bet Harry looks even better wearing nothing but boxer briefs. Before I can stop myself, the words fall out of my mouth. “I hope you put your award somewhere safe.”
Ugh. Really? It’s a good job the question, in isolation, is perfectly innocent because the dirty thoughts in my mind are anything but.
“It’s in the bathroom.”
“The bathroom?”
“Yeah. It was the first room I went to when I got home, so I left it there.”
“I still think you should put it on your desk at Blitz. It’s the first of many, you know that.”
He shoots me a grin that has me remembering all the other wonderful things he can do with his mouth.
“I hope they don’t all resemble body parts.”
I grimace. “It’s kind of unfortunate. I suppose it was deliberate?”
He gives a silent laugh. “I think so. Dick of the Year. Has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“Do you really want me to answer that one?”
Because a lot more research is necessary…
Shut up, Alice. It doesn’t stop me giggling, though.
“I’m wounded.” He slams his fist against his heart. “You’re supposed to say, ‘You’re not a dick, Harry.’”
“You’re not a dick, Harry.”
He groans. “I’m never going to live this down. Wait until Caleb sees it.”
“He’ll be insanely jealous.” I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling. This is the craziest conversation ever.
Chapter Ten
Harry
It doesn’t take long before we arrive at Brockwood Park Mansion. The car park is to the side of the property, hidden behind a shady copse of silver birch, so it doesn’t affect the mansion’s aesthetics. I could’ve taken Alice to any of the local cafes, but that’s ordinary and I wanted to do something different, that she’d remember.
Although, I’ve never been here before. Fuck, I hope the food’s okay.
By the time I get to her side of the car, she’s already out and gazing around at the expansive grounds. “Wow. It’s almost like being in the country.”
I slide my fingers between hers and tug her close. The location’s great, and the eighteen-hole golf course an award winner, but I’d much rather look at her. “Good morning, Alice.” And then I kiss her.
She tastes as sweet and addictive as last night and a million times better than the lust-drenched fantasies that kept me awake half the night. Slow the hell down…
“Mmm.” She hums with satisfaction as I pull back so we can breathe. “That was worth waiting for.”
I wind a strand of her silky soft hair around my finger. “I like your hair like this.”
“What, pink?”
I frown, considering. To be honest I hadn’t noticed the pink before, but now that she’s pointed it out, I can’t believe I didn’t see it last night. “I mean I like your hair down. Not up in a ponytail.”
Wait, that came out wrong. It’s so much easier when you can just edit a cock-up in coding rather than having to face the fallout of a foot-in-mouth comment in real life.
“It’s my new look.” She smiles up at me, obviously not pissed off, the way Clare would’ve been if I’d made an unintentionally disparaging comment about her looks. Alice isn’t Clare. “I think the ponytail’s had its day.”
We stroll toward the back of the mansion where the cafe is located, and I ignore my phone when it rings. Alice gives me a questioning look, and I feel an explanation is necessary.
“It’s only work. They can wait.”
“How do you know it’s work? You didn’t even check.”
I pull open the glazed door to the Georgian orangery, which now houses the cafe, and decide against telling Alice that the only calls I ever get are work related.
Unless you count Lucas and Mac.
“They’ll call again if it’s important.”
She glances around, obviously impressed by the attention to period detail and the mini fruit trees in pots that are scattered around the perimeter. We make our way to a table by one of the windows, which gives an uninterrupted view of a spiral-inspired topiary, and I pull out her chair.
“Thanks.” She sits and keeps on smiling at me as I take my place on the wrought iron chair opposite her. They might look elegant, but they’re bloody uncomfortable. We should’ve got here earlier and grabbed one of the tables with upholstered wingback chairs instead. “This is all very civilized,” she adds. “I feel underdressed.”
“You look great.” And although she looked fantastic last night, today she is more like the Alice I know.
“Well, so do you.”
I reach across the table and take her hand. It’s like I can’t stop touching her when she’s near. “If you wa
nt to go somewhere else, let me know. It’s no problem.”
“Why would I want to go anywhere else?” She glances out of the window at the view. “It’s lovely.”
“I wanted to take you somewhere nice to thank you for last night.” It was a good excuse to ask you out.
For a second she looks like I’ve just stabbed her through the heart. What the hell did I say? A swift mental recap doesn’t raise any red flags, but I’ve obviously missed something. This trying-to-date-without-stuffing-up is hard work.
“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” She slides her hand from mine and picks up the menu. “I was happy to help out.”
We study the menus in silence, but I can’t help glancing at her every two seconds. She’s no longer smiling, and she’s biting her bottom lip. I might not be an Einstein when it comes to figuring out what girls want, but Alice sure as hell isn’t giving off the same happy vibes she was five minutes ago.
I scowl back at the menu and shift my butt on the hard seat. Screw this. I drop the menu onto the table and lower hers with one finger so she has no option but to look at me.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“No.” She sounds vaguely horrified by my question, and heat rushes to her cheeks, which is distracting, but I’m on a mission and won’t be sidetracked.
“Would you tell me if I had?”
Her mouth opens and then shuts. It’s clear she doesn’t have a clue how to respond, which isn’t inspiring. If Alice won’t tell me when I’ve fucked up, how can I put things right?
She clears her throat and tugs on the end of her hair. I’ve seen her do that a thousand times in the past, but it’s different today. It must be because her hair isn’t scooped up into a ponytail.
“Look.” She takes a deep breath but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I told you last night how much I enjoyed myself. You didn’t need to take me out today just to say thank you. I mean, I thought after, you know, well, I thought maybe you just wanted to have breakfast with me, that’s all.”
I stare at her intently, hoping it will somehow unscramble her words so I can understand what she’s talking about. Only one thing makes any sense. “I do want to have breakfast with you.”
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