All Bets are On

FOUR


Rule #3 Be careful not to be seduced by dates that are designed to impress but seem spur-of-the-moment. Chances are it’s been tried and tested with many girls before you.





Irritably aware that she was wobbling all over the place, Alice ignored Harry’s hand and clambered into the boat on her own. He leapt in and pushed away all in one graceful fluid motion while she perched like a lunatic on the plank seat at the end, clutching her tote bag against her chest in a vice-grip. Realising what an uptight idiot she must look, she slid her bag into the boat behind her and tried to sit back a little without capsizing the stupid thing.

Harry manoeuvred the oars expertly as if he spent every waking hour rowing girls around boating lakes. As if she needed any further confirmation that this date was no one-off. How many girls had sat in this boat with him in the past? He really was the perfect candidate for player—she couldn’t have chosen better if she’d tried. This was all about what dating information she could gather, testing and fine-tuning the list of rules she’d based on her past experience. And so far he was delivering. In spades.

As they reached the middle of the lake he rested the oars and let the boat bob gently, leaning down to pick up his coffee from the bottom of the boat. The sun glinted off the water, warming her back gently. A couple of ducks swam past, and the peace and quiet was soothing.

‘Not so bad, is it?’ he said.

‘It’s lovely,’ she admitted. Her life in the city revolved around concrete and crowds.

‘See what you’ve been missing?’

‘Yeah, well, if dating just meant having a good laugh and getting close to nature, maybe I wouldn’t have taken the break.’

Harry watched her. Her hair rippled a little in the breeze as she looked down, picking lightly at the paint on the edge of the boat with her fingernail. What had happened to make someone like her—twenty-something, single, living in the most exciting city in the country—just opt out of a social life? He had her in a boat in the middle of a lake—she couldn’t exactly run away from the subject if he pursued it.

‘Why have you left it so long, then?’ he asked. ‘I mean, three years, that’s some drought. What was it—were you cheated on?’

She didn’t look up, but he saw her shoulders stiffen.

‘Something like that.’

‘Everyone has the odd bad experience. You shouldn’t let it take your life over.’

‘You’d know, of course,’ she said, glancing up with a cynical smile. ‘When it comes to the odd bad experience, you’re an expert.’

He felt sudden irritation at the injustice of that comment. Not that he cared what she thought of him; it was the principle of it.

‘I’ve never cheated on anyone. Not once.’

‘Really?’ she said, her sarcastic smile telling him she didn’t believe a word.

‘Like it or not, I’m honest. I make it clear from the start it’s never going to be anything serious. Just like I did with you.’

‘Get that in as early as possible so you can’t be blamed when you throw in the towel?’ she said, winking at him. ‘Of course, you realise that when you say you don’t want anything serious, women don’t actually hear it.’

‘Yes, they do. I make my intentions crystal clear.’

More so than ever since Ellie had opted for revenge instead of acceptance. Not that he was about to mention that to Alice. If she had the track record he thought she did, she was probably just a short step from bunny-boiler herself. Last thing he needed was to give her any ideas.

‘OK, then,’ she said. ‘Maybe they hear what you’re saying. But they don’t believe it. You always think you can change him, that he won’t be the same with you. It’s like an inbuilt optimism women have.’

‘So you think you can change me, then, do you?’ he asked.

She held his gaze levelly, the brown eyes not remotely fazed. His pulse jumped.

‘I fall into the exception category,’ she said. ‘If you have an extra reason for dating a man, then the optimism thing doesn’t kick in. My reason for going out with you is to navigate the murky waters of dating again. You happen to be my guide.’ She pointed an emphatic finger at him. ‘It has nothing to do with wanting us to actually get together. It’s a means to an end.’

‘That doesn’t preclude the fact that we could have a great time together.’


He deliberately held her gaze until she dropped her eyes. Sparring with her was actually turning out to be fun with her obstinate take on everything. She went back to picking at the paint, her pale skin taking on a golden hue in the sunlight. As he watched she tucked a stray wave of hair behind her ear, exposing the smooth softness of her neck. His eyes were drawn there.

‘That’s guaranteed, is it?’ she said. ‘Got your secret formula, a few tried and tested dates?’ She gave up picking the paint and leaned back, tilting her head back a little and closing her eyes against the sunshine. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, I was really impressed.’

He shook his head lightly.

‘How do you mean?’

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

‘This,’ she said, waving her hands around her to take in the park, the surroundings. ‘I really liked the spontaneity of it. I thought you’d really given some thought to a date that might appeal to me. But you’ve done this one with loads of other girls, haven’t you, this being your usual boat?’

She made sarcastic speech marks in the air with her fingers.

So she’d overheard the boat attendant. Damn. He’d thought he got away with that. And by the cynical look on her face, denial would be pointless.

‘You got me,’ he said.

‘You certainly made it seem spur of the moment—you must have had plenty of practice. How many women have you rowed around this lake, Harry?’ She held up a hand. ‘Actually, don’t answer that. I really don’t care. For a second there I thought there was more to you than formulaic chat-up lines and by-rote dates.’

‘Jealous?’ he asked, just to see her reaction.

She laughed out loud. He grinned back.

‘On the contrary, I’m pleased,’ she said. ‘You’re giving me some fantastic insights into the kind of alarm-bell behaviour I should be looking for. Passing yourself off as bespoke and unpredictable when you’ve got a game plan going on in the background. That’s how you snare them, is it?’

He felt a sudden flash of uncertainty. Game plan. As if she had some knowledge of his real motivation here. No more than a flash, though. There was no way she could know about the bet, and no way she would have agreed to date anyone if she knew such a thing existed.

He leaned forward and looked into the wide brown eyes, challenging the shrewd expression in them.

‘None of that negates the fact that we’re having a good time,’ he said. ‘Why analyse it any further than that when neither of us wants anything serious? We already agreed this is just going to be a few dates, some fun, so why not just let it be that? Come on, admit it. You’ve enjoyed it so far.’

She cut her eyes briefly away from his. Shrugged.

‘Maybe.’

She took a sip of her coffee.

‘OK, then,’ he said. ‘How about we focus on us? You and me. Without reference to anyone or anything that might have happened in the past. How about I agree to be straight with you right now about my intentions and then you can take it or leave it? Entirely up to you. Going into it eyes wide open. Ready?’

She looked at him with interest. A light frown-line touched her brow, and she tilted her chin upwards, making her look seriously cute.

‘Go on then.’

‘I think it’s a shame that someone like you—young, single, no ties—is so buried in work that you never get out and have a good time. I want to change that. I want to learn what makes you tick. I think we can have fun together and, I can tell you right now, I intend to take you to bed.’ He looked across the boat, right into her eyes. ‘And when it stops being fun, I’ll be happy to let it go. I can’t be more up front than that, can I?’ He wedged his coffee back on the floor of the boat and rested tanned forearms on the oars. ‘If you want to bail out, just say so now. Although you might want to wait until I row us back.’

As Alice met his determined blue gaze her stomach did a soft and lazy flip. She kept her expression set, determined not to give the slightest indication that she felt as if she might dissolve into a hot puddle in the bottom of the boat. His arrogance was stunning. Then again, he had a constant stream of fawning women fanning his ego and letting him walk all over them.

She wondered how far he would go to pursue someone who didn’t fall at his feet in the first half-hour. She was determined to show him she wasn’t remotely beguiled by the charm.

‘OK, then,’ she said, making sure she held his gaze. ‘As we’re being up front. This is about getting out of the rut I seem to be in, not about hooking you. In actual fact you’re pretty much irrelevant. It’s the dating I’m interested in. I won’t be booking up a wedding any time soon or crying in the toilets at work when it ends. Yes, I intend to have a good time, but you’re up against a CSI box set, so don’t flatter yourself that my standards are particularly high. And I have no intention of getting into bed with you any time soon.’

She sat back triumphantly.

He smiled at her then, a gorgeous smile with a hint of predator that made her heart rate speed up.

‘I’ll just have to work on changing your mind, then,’ he said, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Sounds like fun.’

Her zippy heartbeat showed no sign of slowing down. Deliberately ignoring it, she raised her coffee cup to him and grinned.

‘Good luck with that.’

* * *

Harry began rowing again, slowly this time, heading further out to the middle of the lake.

‘What were you like with your ex, then?’ he asked her. ‘Did you try to change him?’

She hadn’t thought she’d needed to. In her mind Simon had been perfect. Right up until he betrayed her. No doubt Harry would have seen Simon’s behaviour as nothing more than a laugh. They were cut from the same cloth.

‘Come on,’ he prompted when she didn’t answer. ‘You’re happy to criticise the way I treat women. Don’t give it if you can’t take it. Haven’t you ever wondered if your own behaviour might have contributed to the way you were treated in the past?’

She snapped her head up.

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

He shrugged.

‘Well, have you always been this...’ he struggled for the right words ‘...on the offensive?’

‘On the offensive?’

‘So tense and wound up about everything. Analysing every move a guy makes. I’m just making conversation, getting to know you. It’s not easy when you’re this...strung out.’

That was just about enough.

‘I am not strung out!’ she snarled, flinging her arms up, then gave an anguished squawk as the sudden movement made her tote bag overbalance. She made a too-late grab as it toppled over the side of the boat, taking with it her mobile phone, wallet and—most unthinkably of all—her personal organiser, bulging at the seams and stuffed with tickets, receipts and other vital paperwork and without which she simply could not function.

She scrambled frantically onto her knees as the boat rocked madly.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Harry yelled, grabbing at the oars and struggling with them to calm the movement down.

‘My bag!’ she gabbled. ‘It’s fallen in.’ She made a futile stretch for it as it bobbed out of reach, and gasped as cold water soaked her sleeves up to the elbow. ‘My organiser!’

‘Your what?’

‘My organiser! My whole life is in there!’ she shouted, incensed by his lack of concern. ‘Don’t just sit there!’

Getting up onto her knees, she leaned far over and paddled madly with her hands, making the boat rock all the more.

‘For crying out loud, will you sit still?’ he shouted.

Ignoring him, nothing mattering apart from the horror of bag, organiser, phone, purse, every facet of her life disappearing beneath the surface of the duck-infested lake, she scrambled to her feet and made a final lunge for the tote, gripping the side of the boat with one hand to hold herself in and realising a second too late that it was a stretch too far and the whole damn thing was going to capsize.

She was vaguely aware of a yell from Harry and a sudden ‘whoosh!’ at the mass take-off of ducks and geese as the boat overturned, tipping both of them into freezing duck-poo-tainted water. An icy cold few seconds later and she surfaced with a gasping squeal, spluttering and coughing.

Harry surfaced a few feet away, gasping.

‘Are you crazy?’ he shouted at her, shaking water out of his hair. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

She thrashed wildly to keep her head above the surface. Swimming was surprisingly difficult when you were fully dressed and icy cold. Despite the lovely autumn day, the useless British sun had no water-warming ability whatsoever and she struggled for breath as she tried to concentrate on treading water instead of following the panicky impulse to flail her arms about.

And then he was there. She felt his arm slide firmly around her chest, then the solid muscle of his upper body worked to pull her one stroke at a time back towards the boat house, obviously the more sensible option since their boat was now drifting away upside down. She pulled herself together and tried to kick along with him.


By the time they reached the decking she was so cold she could hardly muster any energy to pull herself up and ended up being hauled out of the water like a beached whale by the extremely antagonistic boating attendant.

Harry climbed out next to her. She lay panting on her back, looking up at him. His shirt and jeans clung soaking wet to his body; his already dark hair was soaked to black. Drops of water clung to his eyelashes and he swiped water from his face with one hand.

‘Still think you’re not strung out?’ he said.

* * *

The boat attendant had a face like thunder, muttering about vandals abusing the facilities and threatening to call security.

She hauled herself up onto her elbows indignantly.

‘I’m not some teenager with an ASBO,’ she said, through chattering teeth. ‘It was an accident!’

Harry got to his feet and put a restraining hand on her shivering shoulder.

‘You can’t blame him. They probably get loads of drunken yobs messing about on the lake and mentioning your damned organiser isn’t going to miraculously smooth things over. Let me handle it.’

He drew the man aside and disappeared with him inside the café.

Five minutes later and she was wrapped in a thermal foil blanket and slumped in a chair on the suntrap of a terrace. She discarded her squelchy ballet flats and tucked her cold feet underneath her, relishing the sun on her face and the sensation of feeling returning to her freezing extremities. If only the humiliation flushing through her could disappear that easily. People seated nearby were looking at her with interest.

Glancing down at herself, she realised with shock that her grey shirt was translucent when wet. Her pink lacy bra was clearly visible through it below the white goosebumpy skin of her décolletage. She snatched the foil blanket around her and held it tightly closed at the neck just as Harry, a foil blanket around his shoulders, crossed the terrace towards her with a steaming takeaway coffee in each hand.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, the moment he sat down. He put the coffee down in front of her. She waited for him to kick off, knowing she had no defence whatsoever, and trying to squash the rising panic at losing her bag, which was making a comeback now that the more immediate horror of public embarrassment and freezing to death was in decline. The bag was gone, and everything in it. There was no point in stressing about it now.

‘If they manage to turn up any of our belongings they’ll let me know,’ he said.

‘Our belongings?’ She stared at him for a moment and suddenly realised what he meant with a rush of anguish. ‘Your sunglasses! Oh, God, I’m so sorry. And what about your phone?’

He shook his head. ‘Didn’t have it with me. Just my wallet.’ He shrugged good-naturedly. ‘Money dries. There must have been something pretty damn mind-blowing in that bag to make you want to jump in after it,’ he said. ‘Life savings?’

She shook her head.

‘My organiser,’ she said.

He stared at her, eyebrows raised, and she sat back in her chair and put her head in her hands.

How could she tell him that keeping tabs on every aspect of her life was vital? Predictability was comforting. She’d had enough nasty surprises in the past to last her a lifetime, thanks very much. She peeked through her fingers and saw his questioning expression. ‘You know, diary, appointments, that kind of thing.’

‘You upended the boat because you couldn’t be parted from your diary.’

Put like that it made her sound like a total control freak.

‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand. It probably wouldn’t matter to you if you forgot a date or turned up late to a meeting.’

He jerked a thumb back towards the water.

‘The bottom of the lake is the best place for that organiser. Think how liberating it is. Suddenly you’re living in the moment. You can let life just happen to you instead of being controlled by all those appointments, all those obligations. Take it as it comes.’

Alice felt herself pale at the thought.

‘Have you any idea how much my work success relies on me being organised?’ she said. ‘On my planning skills?’

He was watching her, the blue eyes shrewd.

‘Don’t you think that level of predictability is stifling?’

She frowned at him.

‘No,’ she said boldly. ‘I don’t.’

He looked at her questioningly, the ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and she realised exactly how moronic that sounded.

A smile bubbled up before she could stop it and she shook her head in wonder at her own mad behaviour.

‘OK, you might have had a point back there,’ she said. ‘Maybe I am a little strung out.’

He smiled back at her and her heart skipped a little at his understanding.

‘I thought you’d be angry,’ she said. ‘I mean, look at you, what a nightmare. And your glasses. I’ll pay for them, of course.’

She dreaded to think how much that would be; they’d obviously been designer. It was turning out to be an expensive day out.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘What’s done is done. No point stressing about it now. I’ll claim the sunglasses on insurance.’

He was so laid-back he was almost horizontal. She couldn’t quite believe it. She kept waiting for his delayed anger to kick in. It didn’t.

‘For someone so irresponsible you’re surprisingly good at taking responsibility,’ she said.

He smiled a half smile at her. His hair was damply tousled, his blue eyes crinkling gently at the corners. Even soaked in stinky lake water he was gorgeous and her stomach gave a slow flip. Unfortunately she didn’t need a mirror to know she must look a dripping frizzy-haired wreck. How unfair.

She felt oddly touched by his behaviour. Sewer-rat Simon hadn’t thought twice about her feelings when he’d humiliated her in front of their friends. He’d laughed right along with them.

Today Harry had taken the embarrassment at full force right alongside her. He hadn’t walked off and abandoned her to the anger of the park staff. He hadn’t lost his temper with her, not that she would have blamed him. He’d done everything he could to dig them out of the situation. Them, not her. He’d treated them as a team, and afterwards had tried to make her feel she could dust herself down and chalk it up to experience.

Maybe he wasn’t quite like her ex after all. She felt herself thaw towards him a tiny bit.

‘Let’s just say I’ve had some experience of smoothing over unruly teenage behaviour and it’s stood me in good stead for this kind of situation,’ he said.

‘You mean you were an unruly teenager? Why am I not surprised?’

He’d probably led a life of irresponsibility since birth. No wonder nothing fazed him.

An odd little smile that she took to be nostalgic touched his lips.

‘Something like that,’ he said.

He stood up and held his hand out for her empty coffee cup. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was closing the subject. Of course he was. Heaven forbid that she actually find out something personal about him.





Rule #4 A player will not want to share in-depth personal details with you. If he tries to keep the conversation superficial and seems reluctant to talk about himself, chances are what he wants from you is superficial too.





‘I was going to suggest lunch next,’ he said. ‘But under the circumstances maybe we’d better make our way back to the car. It’s pretty hot in the sun now, should dry us off a bit more on the way.’

‘Calling time on it before the first date’s even over?’ she said. ‘Not that I could really blame you.’

She glanced down at herself and offered him a wry smile.

‘I mean, look at me! Oven-ready turkey is so not a good look.’

In the soft sunlight her eyes were deep tawny, her damp hair softly tousled from the breeze across the lake. He caught a tantalising glimpse of pink lace underwear as she stood up before she managed to get the foil blanket clamped around her again and heat spiked in his abdomen. The loveliness of her was extremely necessary to counteract the infuriating insane high maintenance of her.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘That look has merit—I was actually thinking I’d like to get you out of those wet clothes. But then that would be a bit of a leap ahead in the dating process.’

She laughed and blushed at the same time and his stomach flipped. He hadn’t counted on her having a sense of humour. It was an unexpected discovery after the ice-cool exterior she kept in place at work.

‘Do you really think I’d bail?’ he said.

‘You can’t blame me for thinking you’d end it after one date,’ she said, standing up. ‘Especially after the way it’s turned out. You have been known to do that, you know.’

‘Only when it stops being fun.’

‘And it’s still fun? Despite my tipping us both in the lake?’

He grinned. The boating-lake date had a good track record for success, which was why he’d chosen it. If it went well he simply followed it up with dinner and then back to his place. Easy. No thought required.

For some bonkers reason, after what had happened today the repetitiveness of that process now felt dull. He had no idea what might happen next with her, and in spite of the soaking-wet clothes and the public stares, he found himself enjoying the expectation of that.


‘It’s still fun,’ he said.

‘What I don’t understand is the appeal,’ she said, looping her arm through his as they walked back through the park. His shoes squelched hideously as he steered her away from the shade and tried to walk her in the sunshine as much as possible.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Haven’t you ever had a longer-than-five-minutes relationship? Don’t you find all the chopping and changing exhausting?’

‘No, I find it liberating.’

He glanced sideways at her for a moment, deciding whether to elaborate.

‘In answer to your question, yes, I have had one or two longer relationships. Not much longer though, maybe a couple of months. Believe it or not I didn’t really date much before I moved to London.’

‘Where were you before?’

‘Bath.’

‘Girls there not good enough?’ She tilted her head towards him and screwed her eyes up against the sun.

‘No. I just had more on my plate back then. Since I moved here I only have to look out for myself. Why would I want to complicate things all over again?’

Right on cue his mind played the age-old flash of memory. His parents in the kitchen, at each other’s throats as usual, and Susie creeping into his room to hide from the row, relying on him to make it go away, to look out for her. It hadn’t been easy.

‘Who else did you have to look out for?’

He shrugged the question off quickly. He certainly didn’t need to be discussing the depths of his family life with her.

‘Family ties,’ he said vaguely. ‘You know.’

‘Not really. I don’t have many of those.’ She looked straight ahead. ‘My family are all...’

He waited.

‘Very independent.’ She shrugged. ‘Like I said before, I don’t see much of them.’

He could tell by the throwaway comment followed by the bright smile that there was a lot more to it than that.

* * *

‘So what’s your success rate, then?’ she asked him as he drove back to her house. ‘With the boating-lake date.’

He grinned, not taking his eyes off the road.

‘A hundred per cent.’

‘Does that include me?’

‘You’re a work in progress. You don’t count yet. But I’m kind of working off-plan now. No one’s made swimming part of the outing before.’

She laughed.

‘At least I can’t be accused of being boring.’

‘No,’ he said, glancing across at her and smiling his gorgeous smile. ‘You certainly couldn’t be accused of being that.’

Something in the depth of his voice caused a dizzying flip of anticipation in her stomach, followed up by crazy racing of her heart, and Tilly’s comment from the other night flashed suddenly into her mind.

Just when would a guy like him go in for the first kiss?





Rule #5 First Kiss. A player will want to move things towards the physical as quickly as possible. Remember his main aim is not to get to know you but to get you into bed.



* * *

Harry was acutely aware of her next to him, the car feeling cosier this time because he’d closed the roof and put the heating on. Too damn cold having the wind pelt at you when you were wearing damp clothes. He could see by the way she was tautly upright, sitting forwards in her seat and staring through the windscreen that she was on edge. Just the way he wanted it. With his track record she’d be expecting him to leap on her like some predator, if not when he stopped the car then outside her front door. And let’s face it, the usual Harry Stephens practice wouldn’t be to make it to the door before he tested the water with a first kiss. Get it in right away and by the time you made it up the garden path you’d teased them into such a frenzy that you had a damn good chance of talking them into bed.

Which was the exact reason he wouldn’t be doing any of those things.

The usual Harry Stephens practice wouldn’t work on her. If he was going to get Alice into his bed, Alice with her player of an ex-boyfriend lurking in her past, he needed to prove there was more to him than a quick lay. He’d been doing pretty well on that front with his out-of-the-ordinary yet still intimate, carefully thoughtful choice of date, until the damn boat attendant had given him away. He needed to gain some ground back now, keep her guessing. And so acting to type wasn’t an option. Plan of action: keep her hanging, then go all out to sweep her off her feet with the second date. By then, she’d be falling at his feet.

He wasn’t about to let the behaviour of some guy in the depths of her past screw things up for him now.

Some guy like him.

No, he refused to accept that. His conscience was clear. She knew perfectly well this wasn’t going to lead to hearts and butterflies, with the pair of them skipping off into the sunset. They both knew the only question between them was how far down the line it would go before one of them bailed; he just needed to make sure they made it to bed before that happened. The thought of reaching that point was slowly filling him with more and more anticipation as he got to know her, with her tightly wound attitude and the occasional glimpse of what fun she might be if she let her guard down. Unwinding her would be an experience to relish. And since she’d be expecting him to push things along as quickly as he could, now was his chance to buck her expectations and grab the upper hand.

* * *

Alice sat, hands bunched in her lap, stomach a squirming knot. She fixed her eyes on the road as he drove back to her house. On edge because she knew perfectly well what was coming next. She knew because she knew him. Her thoughts touched briefly on Arabella, one of many one-night stands. She knew his modus operandi. Simon had been just the same. No qualms about moving things forwards quickly.

Somewhere between this car pulling up outside her terraced house and the short walk up the path to the front door, she could expect some move from him to kick them up to the next level. He would try to invite himself in for coffee—probable—or he might even go in for a kiss the moment he turned off the engine—toe-curlingly, spine-zingingly possible.

The bet crossed her mind, never far from the surface of her thoughts. She was aware that if he was involved in that she would be playing right into his hands by letting him kiss her.

But if she was to keep to her plans to observe his behaviour, she had to let this happen. And no putting a stop to it halfway through because London’s most eligible bachelor might have money staked on getting her into bed. She still intended to end this whole thing before they got to that point—she could let this progress further without risking the stupid bet pool.

He didn’t need to know that it meant nothing, that it was just part of an experiment, that it most certainly would never lead to sex.

The car turned into her road. She steeled herself mentally. She would experience this as a physical reaction only. No room for thought or emotion. This was all about coming up with a set of objective rules. Certainly not subjective, because she wasn’t personally interested in him. She refused to acknowledge the tiny voice, deep down, telling her that part of her nerves had nothing to do with her project but simply came from the thought of what his mouth might feel like against hers after three kiss-free years.

As the car came to a standstill she curbed the sudden overwhelming desire to lick her lips, aware of his eyes on her as she turned to look at him.

The road was quiet. Lined with cars but no one around. Late afternoon. The shadows were long now, the sun dipping away behind the houses. He probably thought if he played this right they could spend the evening in bed and he wouldn’t need to stay over. Genius. Her heart was pounding away and her stomach was doing cartwheels. And then she became gradually aware of the ongoing quiet burr of the engine. He hadn’t turned it off, had just left it to tick over quietly.

He wasn’t planning on leaving the car.

Which could only mean one thing: a kiss was on the cards. Right here, right now, in the car before he got out.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘For driving me home.’

Anticipation had made her mouth dry so she felt as if she were speaking through a mouthful of dust.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said, putting the car in gear.

For the first time her sweeping certainty slipped a notch. Might he actually be keen to get away?

As soon as the thought was out there it crystallised, and, no matter how hard she tried to squash the reaction, her mind insisted on immediately listing all the reasons why a sharp exit might actually appeal to him right now. Her meltdown in the middle of the boating lake, for example, behaviour he saw as ‘strung out’—what a hideous term that was. She’d followed up his hot statement of intentions by tipping them into the freezing lake. Had he now decided she just wasn’t worth the grief?

The reality of the situation kicked her firmly in the teeth with a whack of insecurity.

Harry, with his pick of London’s women, who wasn’t above having a one-night stand just because he could, didn’t find her attractive enough even to go in for a first kiss. The anticipatory galloping of her heart slowed to a dragging-its-heels pace and the burn of embarrassment rose in her cheeks. If she wasn’t alluring enough to snare someone like him, bearing in mind he already knew she didn’t want anything serious, then it was no wonder she’d been an epic failure at keeping a man’s interest and respect in the past. Hot on the heels of this thought came a boiling flush of anger at herself because she really shouldn’t care whether he found her alluring or not.


‘Goodbye, then,’ she said, getting it in quickly before he could, taking control.

He gave her a chummy smile.

‘’Bye.’

She opened the car door, dimly aware of the uncomfortable way her jeans clung damply to her legs and the squish of her waterlogged shoes. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t made a move.

* * *

Alice climbed out and shut the door behind her. She paused to glance at him as she rounded the bonnet of the car and he gave her another friendly smile and a nod. He really was just going to drive away, then. No mention of a follow-up date. Nothing.

‘Did you forget something?’ The window glided smoothly down. He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

She realised she was standing in front of the car, staring at him through the windscreen and blocking his ability to go anywhere, and she pulled herself quickly together and walked onto the pavement, disbelief still coursing through her.

Her heart was thumping and a blush rose hotly in her cheeks. She should have walked smartly to the front door without looking back. Big mistake.

‘No,’ she lied.

‘You’re sure about that? Not waiting for something?’

The humiliation. He knew perfectly well what had been going through her mind and she stood back on the pavement, angry and flustered that he’d guessed her thoughts.

‘You’re actually going to just drive off? You’re not going to try and wangle your way into my house for a coffee?’

She had years of entrenched dating etiquette and women’s magazines on her side. A kiss at the end of a first date was practically an unwritten rule.

He shrugged.

‘Nope.’

Her cheeks burned as he gave her a predatory grin that made her knees feel melty. He pressed a button and the window began to slide back up.

‘You’re really not going to kiss me?’ she snapped at him through the closing gap.

‘Maybe next time,’ he said.