All Bets are On

THREE


ALICE FORD’S DATING SURVIVAL CRITERIA—HOW TO IDENTIFY & AVOID A PLAYER.



Rule #1 First Date. How does he play it? A keeper will be interested in getting to know you. A player will be all about getting his hands on you.





Alice had forgotten what a minefield it was just getting ready for a first date, let alone actually going on one. Even an experimental one for research purposes. Unfortunately telling herself that dating him was a project, to be treated in the same dispassionate way as a work assignment, didn’t seem to be having any effect on her nerves, which were zipping around in her belly and making her knees wobbly.

Not that she actually gave a damn what Harry thought of her or her appearance.

But still, it was ages since she’d been out and knowing him they were bound to be going somewhere cutting-edge trendy, probably for lunch. What the hell did the hip twenty-something London crowd wear these days?

The imbalance in her wardrobe reflected the imbalance in her life.

Still hanging in the cupboard: getting on for a dozen work suits—some with trousers, some with skirts; a huge selection of shirts and blouses in sensible office styles; opaque tights; court shoes; shoe boots, predominant colour scheme black, grey and blue.

Still in the drawer, although she felt like dragging them out and telling Harry to get stuffed, she was far too busy with a tub of ice cream and a box set to even think of going out this side of Christmas: a wide selection of greying loungewear track pants and vests, numerous pyjamas and bedsocks.

And finally, scattered over the bed, the contenders for today: a meagre selection of tops and well-worn T-shirts, a shirt in a soft pale grey material that she’d bought on impulse and never worn, a couple of pairs of jeans and a little black dress that was way too smart for daytime.

She’d started getting ready what felt like hours ago and suddenly there were five minutes left before he was due to show up and she still hadn’t made a final decision on what to wear. She’d seriously underestimated the sheer size of the project of turning herself from hairy-legged couch potato into someone who might look at home hanging around a trendy London eatery. The hair removal alone had taken ages. Not that she intended to remove a single item of clothing in the presence of Harry Stephens, but it made her feel marginally more attractive knowing that if she did she wouldn’t look like Bigfoot from the waist down.

All of which meant she’d now have to stick with the silver-grey shirt and jeans combo she was wearing and hope for the best.

She pushed her feet into black ballet flats and grabbed her black jacket just as the doorbell rang. Her stupid heart, which obviously was out of practice and working rustily at best, began hammering in her chest. For God’s sake, Harry Stephens was not a boyfriend—he was a task. With any luck her body would quickly get to grips with that and revert to...well, to efficient-work-mode might actually be good.

He was right on time. She wondered if that was typical behaviour. Come across as perfect from the outset and your excuses might hold more weight when you start playing around in a few dates’ time.

She took a deep breath and went for the door.

He was leaning against the jamb, wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt that picked out the colour of his eyes, a relaxed grin playing about his lips.

‘Morning,’ he said.

‘Come in a sec, I just need to grab my bag.’ She kept her voice as level as she could although her pulse rate was going crazy.

She was acutely aware of him as he followed her into the tiny sitting room. She could smell the light citrus of his aftershave on warm skin. She concentrated hard on staying calm.


‘Nice place you’ve got,’ he said, looking around. ‘Very tidy.’

‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘And interesting artwork.’ He nodded at the wall above the fireplace and she glanced up.

‘That’s one of Tilly’s pictures, my flatmate. She’s quite arty.’ She leaned over the back of the sofa to grab her bag. ‘She’s also out.’

‘You look gorgeous,’ he said as she turned back round, his blue gaze catching hers. He was closer behind her than she realised, close enough for her to see the dark flecks in his eyes, the light stubble defining his jawline. Her lack of heels meant she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze.

Her stomach gave a slow and delicious flip. Keeping her mind on her plan even if her body wasn’t, she put a quick couple of extra paces between them.

‘Would you always say that as standard, or does it vary?’ she asked, poised to mentally file away his answer.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Do you always compliment a woman when you take her out for the first time?’

He had a slightly bemused expression on his face.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Always. Always tell her she looks fantastic.’

‘Even if she doesn’t?’

‘Particularly if she doesn’t. Not that I’d be going out with her if she looked like a moose. It’s a no-brainer,’ he said, grinning at her raised eyebrows. ‘I want you to go out with me and have a good time, not slap me in the face.’

‘So, technically, your compliment just now is meaningless because you would have given it even if I was dressed in a bin bag.’

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and creased his eyes at the corners. He looked heartstoppingly gorgeous.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing. I was just imagining you in a bin bag. Even more gorgeous than you look in those jeans.’

The predatory way he was looking at her made heat begin to curl through her stomach. The room was suddenly feeling too warm, too small with just the two of them in it.

‘Let’s just go,’ she snapped.

She led the way outside and stared dismally down the path at his open-top sports car. Typical. All that time spent taming her hair into casually undone waves and by the time she’d done a journey in that it would have reverted to bird’s nest.





Rule #2 Do not be seduced by compliments. A player will say anything to get what he wants.



* * *

Harry took the opportunity to catch his breath as she walked ahead of him down the steps. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. He realised that without thinking he’d been waiting for her to open the door in her usual business suit.

She was unrecognisable as the tightly strung woman he encountered at work every day. Gone was the firmly coiled sleek hairdo in favour of dark waves that spilled over her shoulders, framing her face and highlighting the soft brown eyes and the high cheekbones. The absence of heels and harsh tailoring made her seem smaller and almost fragile.

All moisture had leeched unexpectedly from his mouth.

There was a soft vulnerability about her that she managed to smother with her relentlessly efficient business persona, keeping everyone at an arm’s-length professional level. Seeing it now in the nervous dart of her eyes up to his made his senses zing into action.

He focused hard on starting the car, going through the automatic motions of pulling away into the late-morning traffic. Visual stimulation, that was all it was. Nothing more. Underneath the relaxed jeans and silvery shirt that emphasised her pale skin, she was exactly the same woman.

Higher maintenance.

The way she looked was irrelevant, in fact should simply be seen as a nice bonus. Winning was the aim here, and if he could have a good time along the way, so much the better. But still, he should be thinking how best to push her to the limit he needed, not being distracted by the delectable curve of her neck when she pushed her hair back.

Keep your eye on the prize.

He could sense her nerves from the way she held her bag on her lap, fiddled with its strap and looked straight ahead. He needed to get her to relax. Be as amenable and easy as possible until he could work out what made her tick.

She was just another woman, after all. How hard could it be?

‘Where are we going, then?’ she asked as he worked his way into central London. ‘Some bar, I suppose, or restaurant.’ He saw a flash of anxiety in the tense set of her jaw and knew he’d made the right decision by dismissing the cutting-edge trendy brasserie in Knightsbridge that had briefly crossed his mind. If anyone ever needed to loosen up a little, it was her.

‘You’ll see.’

* * *

‘Regent’s Park?’

He didn’t miss the hint of cynicism in her voice as he led the way through the Clarence Gate entrance. It was a blue-skied September day and a broad pathway between perfectly manicured green lawns lay ahead of them in the glorious sunshine.

‘When you said I needed to get out more, I didn’t realise you meant it so literally,’ Alice said.

‘Now don’t start grouching before we’ve even begun.’ He grabbed her hand and tucked it through his arm, letting her step fall into line with his. ‘You’re going to love it. I thought we could go for a walk, maybe get a coffee, relax for a while, get to know each other. Then we can find somewhere for lunch. Where did you think I was taking you? Straight back to my shag-pad?’

‘I wouldn’t put anything past you.’ She was glad of the sunshine warming her face, perfect for disguising a blush. ‘I suppose I thought we’d go somewhere in town. A restaurant for lunch maybe. Trendier. Busier. With loads of background noise, music, people.’

‘There are lots of places I could take you exactly like that. But I thought you might prefer something a bit more laid-back. Your whole life seems to revolve around work and when you do go out for dinner or drinks it’s probably work-related too. When did you last take a walk in the park?’

‘Back when I was living at home.’ Her mind treated her to an unwelcome flash of the graffiti-festooned park near her mother’s house in Dorset.

‘You’ve lived in London all this time and you haven’t been to the parks?’

She shook her head, bristling a little at the implication she was some kind of hermit.

‘You don’t seem a park kind of a person either,’ she said defensively. He didn’t.

‘Well, that just goes to show how wrong you can be when you judge someone on second-hand information.’

She managed not to laugh at that. If he thought a curved ball of a daytime date would be enough to cast doubt on his playboy reputation, he was deluded.

‘Sometimes a bit of open green space is just the thing. We can talk, get to know each other. Difficult to do that when you have to shout over music or elbow your way through crowds.’

Get to know each other. Her heart began to step up the beat, causing a rush of exasperation. Why couldn’t she just block out all this physical-reaction claptrap and concentrate on the task at hand? As if she were interviewing a candidate for a job or handling a business meeting maybe.

She concentrated hard on the surroundings as they carried on strolling. The sun dappled the path through the trees and warmed her back.

‘I can’t believe you’ve been single for so long,’ he was saying. ‘You’re smart, you’re gorgeous. Why would someone like you stay out of the field so long? It just doesn’t make sense.’

Her mind zeroed in. Flattery and compliments were obviously the order of the day on first dates with him, then. She wondered how long that would continue. Second date maybe? Or until he got you into his bed? She intended to abort her experiment way before it reached that point.

‘I never really meant for it to be that long,’ she said. ‘I just got wrapped up in my professional life. You make me sound like some kind of an alien because I haven’t done the London sights, but plenty of people put work first. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

Landing a job at Innova had been a huge achievement for her. As a teenager she’d thrown herself head first into her schoolwork while her parents focused on tearing strips off one another, enjoying the escape it offered. Her excellent results had almost been a side-effect rather than the main aim. Not that she hadn’t been delighted—it had enabled her to land the university place she’d wanted and then the job of her dreams.

‘I never said there was.’

She took a sideways glance at him, walking beside her. He looked like an off-duty actor in his laid-back jeans and shirt and dark glasses, drawing glances from every girl that passed them. She felt bland and insignificant next to him with her old clothes and messy hair when she was used to dealing with him on the professional level playing field that was the office.

‘You always get a good return on work,’ she said, sticking grimly to a subject where she felt she could have the upper hand. He had the most slapdash work ethic she’d ever come across, which was all the more annoying because he undeniably got the job done. ‘Doesn’t matter how much effort you put in, it won’t be wasted. It can only be beneficial.’

‘Unlike your private life?’

‘I didn’t say that.’


‘So you’re quite happy with your work-life balance, then?’

Her standard answer, a resounding yes rehearsed to the point of perfection, lurked in her mouth.

‘Not exactly,’ she said, knowing he was watching her. ‘I’ll admit things may have got a bit one-sided.’ She shrugged. ‘Let’s just say it’s very easy to get used to nights in all the time. No pressure. No need to think about pleasing anyone else.’

And no worries about being hurt by anyone.

‘And you get all the validation you want from achievements at work?’

‘Exactly!’ She looked up at him with a smile, pleased that he understood where she was coming from.

‘Being successful doesn’t have to come at the expense of a good time,’ he said.

Well, of course, he would think that, wouldn’t he?

‘Spoken like an expert,’ she said.

As they walked she began to find the city pace that was so ingrained being pushed back into a stroll by the surroundings. She took her jacket off and slung it over her arm. The lake came into view surrounded by trees and she could see pale blue wooden rowing boats out on the water along with ducks and geese. Only the occasional glimpse of buildings peeking through the trees belied the fact that this place was in the middle of the city. Tension in her shoulders, which was so perpetual she hadn’t known it was there, slipped an unexpected notch.

They passed the empty bandstand and headed for a café, the grey-green wooden boat house next to the lake. Sunshine sparkled off the water.

She stood behind him as he bought coffees, trying not to notice the way he turned female heads. It was his height and broad shoulders that drew your first glance but the darkly handsome face that made you look twice. She was acutely aware of the interested and envious glances thrown her way as he turned to her, a takeaway coffee in each hand.

‘Shall I grab a table?’ she asked, scanning the terrace for a space.

He took a sip of his coffee and grinned at her.

‘I’ve got a better idea.’

She looked up at him, squinting a little against the sunlight.

‘What?’

Trepidation spiked a little as she wondered what the hell he might be suggesting. Finding a quiet spot among the trees for al-fresco sex maybe? Nothing would surprise her. She deliberately avoided taking his proffered hand, and followed him across the terrace and down the decking to the edge of the lake. As he took out his wallet and approached the attendant the penny finally dropped.

Not al-fresco sex, thank goodness, but still well outside her comfort zone.

She stopped in her tracks.

‘You’re hiring a rowing boat?’

She could hear the incredulity in her own voice.

He turned back to her, grinning.

‘Yep.’

Despite her attempts to avoid him he grabbed her hand and tugged her gently along the decking towards the row of light blue wooden rowing boats.

She shook her head and tried to dig her heels into the decking, failing miserably in her ballet flats.

‘I don’t do boats.’

He gave an exasperated sigh.

‘I’m hiring a rowing boat for an hour, not proposing we cross the Atlantic in a bathtub. Will you just relax for once and enjoy the fact that we are in London, it’s a lovely sunny day and we are together? You want to get back into dating? The first thing you need to do is start loosening up or you’ll get nowhere. Guys don’t like high maintenance, you know. Not in the long term.’

‘I am not high maintenance,’ she snapped.

‘Prove it, then,’ he said, gesturing towards the boats.

She tried desperately to focus on her plan, her list, which was the whole point of being here with him. Was she really going to back out at the first small hurdle, before she’d even had the chance to properly talk to him?

She gave an enormous exaggerated sigh and walked towards the boats.

The attendant was holding boat number twelve against the deck.

‘Usual OK for you, sir?’ he asked Harry. ‘One hour, is it?’

She stopped in the ungainly act of straddling the water, one foot in the boat, one foot out of it, her coffee balanced in one hand and tote bag in the other, her ears suddenly on stalks.

The usual?

There she was thinking that at least he was imaginative, that the impromptu get-close-to-nature boat trip was actually quite thoughtful. But no.

Was this his date of choice to get a girl out of work mode and inject some fun? How many other girls had been treated to this supposedly spur-of-the-moment trip out?

Harry was all over the situation like a shot, rushing to gloss over the attendant’s comment, clearly hoping she hadn’t picked up on it.

‘I’ll take it from here, mate,’ he cut in, grabbing the edge of the boat himself.

The usual.

It took a conscious effort not to shake her head in wonder. But she kept her mouth shut.

For now.