All Bets are On

EIGHT


‘I know we agreed to keep things quiet between us at work but you didn’t have to go quite that far for a cover story,’ Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

A rinse under the tap in the men’s room hadn’t quite removed the stickiness from his hair. He’d abandoned his jacket and mopped the worst of the coffee splashes from his shirt. As a result he’d had no time to eat lunch and only managed to catch up with Alice in the lift at the end of the day.

The situation with Zoe should have been nothing more than an amusing inconvenience to him. Strangely there hadn’t been the usual temptation that might accompany such a conversation with an ex-conquest—she’d practically offered herself on a plate and he couldn’t have been less interested. Taking her out again would only make things worse. Maybe his recent brush with revenge had affected him more deeply than he thought.

‘Oh, so you think it was all about me watching your back and putting people off the scent?’

She gave a cynical laugh and pressed the button for the ground floor. The lift shuddered into life.

He held her gaze, noticing that she didn’t drop her eyes. Instead she looked at him with confidence.

‘Wasn’t it?’

‘Of course not. It was about respect. That poor deluded girl.’

He opened his mouth to protest and she talked right over him.

‘Don’t kick in with all that claptrap about how you’re up front with them and you never make promises. However you dress it up, you basically sleep with these girls and then dump them. You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re treating them fairly. For most women sex isn’t something you do lightly. Don’t you understand what that might do to their self-esteem—that the moment you’ve got that from them you lose interest?’


He looked at her, all fired up and indignant, and heat sparked in his abdomen. The tiny frown-line knitting her eyebrows made her look delectable. He could have Zoe back in his bed with one simple phone call, yet he had no idea what he would need to do to get Alice there. The challenge of that was just tantalising.

She looked down at the box file in her arms for a moment.

‘I’m not sure where gunking you in iced coffee came from,’ she said, shaking her head wonderingly. ‘It just seemed like a good idea at the time.’ She glanced up at him with a little half smile that touched his heart. ‘Maybe I overreacted.’ She paused. ‘A little bit.’

‘Don’t,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Don’t backtrack. You said what you thought. Maybe part of the problem is that girls don’t do that enough. It’s all so easy to just do what you want when someone tells you what you want to hear, whether or not you think it’s right or wrong.’

‘When you put it like that it isn’t much of a step away from bullying,’ she said. ‘I’m not backtracking. You so deserved the gunking!’

Her tone of voice was jokey and she was grinning mischievously at him, but the comment hit him like a sledgehammer nonetheless. Was that really what she thought of him? Why did he even care?

The lift pinged to a standstill and as the doors opened she walked full speed ahead out into the ground-floor reception hall.

‘Maybe a frappé in the face was a wake-up call I could do with,’ he called after her.

She stopped and waited. He caught her up by the doors.

‘Really?’ she said, eyebrows raised, a light smile touching the corners of her mouth.

‘It’s easy to go too far, trample on people’s feelings, when they act like a pushover.’

‘I always thought that was exactly what did it for you—someone who will go along with whatever you want in the name of fun.’

‘Maybe it was. And maybe you’re right and I should think about consequences more.’

Especially as all the consequences he’d encountered recently had been unpleasant ones. It wasn’t just today. There was the whole revenge mess Ellie had unleashed on him, making him wonder if a few dates’ worth of single fun was worth all the grief.

And deep down, deny it though he might, there was this new feeling that women per se were no longer particularly interesting. All thoughts seemed to be consumed by Alice, and she was hardly about to leap into bed and put him out of his misery.

She shifted the box file from one arm to the other and looked at him with narrowed eyes.

‘Is that some kind of apology? To womankind at large?’

He shrugged.

‘Am I forgiven if it is? Still up for going out tomorrow?’

For some reason her answer seemed massively important to him.

She nodded and he felt a happy flash of relief, which was totally uncharacteristic. He really was getting sucked in by his refusal to lose; all his perspective had gone out of the window.

‘There’s a work party in town,’ she said. ‘Roger from Accounts is leaving. Maybe we could go to that.’

His heart sank. Keeping his pursuit of her under wraps out of work time wasn’t likely to be easy. But he would have agreed to anything.

‘I’ll pick you up at eight,’ he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

She grimaced.

‘You might want to shower a few times before then. You absolutely reek of cheap sugary coffee.’

* * *

Harry kept the taxi waiting outside and rang the doorbell, the unease in his stomach seething there. He really should have seen this coming. Of course she’d want to flex her new dating muscles by going out with work. And shouldn’t he really be pleased with that?

But he’d spent these past days getting to know her without sex on the agenda. And as the time passed the bet felt more and more like a hideous liability than a laugh.

She opened the door and agitation spiralled off the radar.

Her wide brown eyes were highlighted by some smudgy dark make-up that emphasised the soft porcelain of her complexion. She wore her dark hair long, its waves curling softly to the creamy skin of her collarbones, exposed deliciously by the boat neck of the black dress she wore. It fell in a softly flowing skirt of layered chiffon, which ended an inch or so above her knees. All those trouser suits and opaque tights at the office meant he’d never noticed she even had legs, let alone tapered slender ones like that. His tongue felt as if it were melded to the roof of his mouth.

‘You look beautiful,’ he managed, swallowing hard.

She gave a here-we-go-again roll of her eyes.

‘I toyed with the idea of wearing a bin bag, just to see if I got that stock reply,’ she said, reaching behind the door to grab her bag from the side table. She made a move to walk past him out of the door, his compliment instantly dismissed as worthless. He regretted his flip manner on that first date now.

‘Alice,’ he said.

She glanced back at him as she shrugged her jacket on.

‘I mean it. You look beautiful. Far too good for some dull work party. Why don’t I take you somewhere else? For dinner maybe?’

She was looking at him, eyes narrowed.

‘Don’t be daft. I’ve been looking forward to this. Do you realise I’ve worked for Innova for four years and I’ve only been out for a drink with work half a dozen times, all of them in the first month or so when I was trying to settle in? I haven’t even done a Christmas party yet. Oh, I do business lunches, that kind of thing. But they’re work really, not play. I got myself into such a damn rut.’

He didn’t answer and she looked up at him then with an odd little smile and disappointment in her eyes that brought a fresh wave of guilt.

‘I thought you went to all these things. What’s the big deal?’ She frowned. ‘I suppose I could make my own way there if you’re not up for it.’

The thought of her turning up among the pack of wolves he worked with, looking like that with her suddenly open attitude, filled him with horror. Even without the bet incentive any man in his right mind would be blown away by her.

‘No, it’s fine,’ he backtracked. ‘Just a suggestion.’

She slammed her front door shut and walked towards the waiting taxi. He followed her down the path, disquiet churning in his gut.

He knew perfectly well that one stray comment could give the game away tonight and let her know he was only dating her for a bet. Suddenly he couldn’t care less about a few hundred quid and a bit of glory over his mates. All he could think was how it would make her feel if she found out this was all some stupid game. She would be hurt. Their friendship, whatever else this was between them, would be over.

What the hell should that matter? Even if there was no bet it would be over between them anyway in a week or so, was always going to be. That thought made his mood plummet and it dawned on him in that moment with a sudden flash of clarity.

He was in too deep.

* * *

The party was at exactly the kind of bar in West London that she imagined Harry spent every ounce of his spare time in, on the prowl. Already buzzing with people, it had a lively and sophisticated atmosphere. There was a long backlit bar and subtle scarlet-tinged lighting picked out the tables, one of them occupied by the usual suspects from work. A couple of weeks ago there was no way she would have contemplated coming here and, despite what she’d said to Harry, if he hadn’t accompanied her she would never have made her way here by herself. Maybe in another month or so when she’d finished her study of Harry, she’d be ready by then, fully prepped to weed out the dross and find herself a keeper. The bet might have knocked her confidence but at least it had pushed her to take stock of herself. At least she had that. She was gradually coming out of her antisocial shell.

Arriving with Harry was very different from walking in alone. He was the centre of attention at once and she was the subject of curious and definitely envious glances. She was aware of his hand pressed lightly at the small of her back, glad of it. Yet in the few short minutes since he’d left her to buy drinks she turned in her seat to see him surrounded by women and looking as if he was enjoying every second. Her eyes widened when he pulled up a stool as if he was settling in for the evening. The damn cheek of it! He was meant to be her date.

The red-haired girl who’d recently joined the company smiled up at him. Skin-tight trousers under a floating silk top and killer heels. Her red hair fell almost to the middle of her back. With his dark good looks picked out in the mirrored lighting of the bar, Harry looked perfectly suited to her. The pair of them looked as if they were in some TV ad for a cutting-edge new drink.

He hadn’t so much as glanced Alice’s way and it was a sharp reminder of his awful reputation. You didn’t get a reputation like that by magic—you earned it. By behaving in the way he was right now.

Self-consciousness kicked in as if it had never really been away. She felt out of place. And of course she was. Her place was at home on the sofa, not out with the crowd. She toyed with the idea of making a quick exit to the Ladies to take stock and decide what to do.

That’s just about enough.

Something snapped inside her and as boiling humiliation began to rise she forced it back down. She wasn’t about to let him play her like this. Exit to the Ladies? She could do better than that. She hadn’t spent hours observing him for nothing. Playing him at his own game should be a piece of cake.


Compliments—that was how he started out, wasn’t it?

She turned to John, one of the Design team, flashed him her most brilliant smile and rested her hand lightly on his arm.

‘I’ve got to tell you, I thought your new logo ideas were completely fabulous,’ she gushed, although privately she’d thought a toddler with a wax crayon could have come up with them. ‘Genius.’

John beamed at her and immediately grabbed the opportunity to bury her in a ton more of his suggestions. She tried to make her eyes focus on him when they wanted to glaze over. And then a sidelong glance gave her a burst of triumph. Harry was suddenly ignoring his gaggle of women and was staring over at her, a look on his face that could only be described as furious. Hah! Result!

Harry tried and failed to tune out the overenthusiastic babble of Saskia, the new addition to the secretarial team. He could tell by her body language, by the way she hung on every word he said, that with a few well-placed lines he could hook her. He found he had absolutely no interest in doing so.

Unheard of.

He was unable to tear his gaze away from Alice as she spoke animatedly to the rest of the table. He could see the men at the table hanging on her every word and John from his own team actually had the gall to rest his arm along the back of her chair.

Does that oaf have a stake in the bet ring?

If John didn’t have a stake he was no threat, right?

Wrong.

Suddenly the bet seemed utterly unimportant. As he watched Alice laughed at something John said and the fiery stab of jealousy he felt in response told him in a way he couldn’t deny that he had a lot more at stake here than just money.

He was off the stool before he really knew what he intended to do. Maybe cross to the table and join them while crushing the urge to knock John’s head from his shoulders.

He didn’t make as much as a step away from the bar. Last seen gloating after shredding his wardrobe and trashing his laptop, his ex-girlfriend Ellie elbowed her way unexpectedly into the middle of the group, which until then had consisted of himself and four eligible women. She had a glass of red wine in one hand and a look on her face that told him if he thought she’d got the anger out of her system, he was deluded.

Great.

‘Don’t get too keen, girls,’ she announced, her eyes fixed on Harry. ‘There are a few things you should know up front about Mr Perfect before you go any further.’

Oh, for God’s sake. Just what he needed after spending so much effort convincing Alice he didn’t deserve his awful reputation: an angry scene with a jilted ex.

‘You think that gorgeous dark hair’s natural?’ Ellie glanced around at the speechless girls as she waved a hand towards Harry’s head. ‘Wait and see what’s underneath the Just For Men hair dye.’

Harry stared at the aghast faces.

‘You wonder how anyone can actually be that gorgeous?’ she asked, warming to her subject. ‘Well, truth is, he’s not. It’s all fake. And he’ll dump you the moment he beds you. That extreme sports tan? Fake. And he waxes.’ She raised her voice to a shout above the bar’s background music. ‘Three words, Harry. Back, sack and crack!’

Harry choked on his drink. Enough was enough. He slammed his glass down on the counter and took her firmly by the elbow.

‘Outside,’ he hissed.

She went easily, grinning triumphantly around her as he propelled her towards the exit. He was vaguely aware that across the room the table of his work colleagues were rubbernecking in unison to watch, Alice included. He’d have to try and defuse the situation as best he could now and then get back in there and do some serious making up if he wanted to salvage the evening with Alice. If that meant announcing their relationship to the table, he’d have to do it.

He rounded on Ellie as soon as they were out in the lobby.

‘What the hell was all that about? Why all the lies?’ he asked her. His hair was all his own, he’d never used fake tan and no amount of money could have induced him to do something as girly as waxing.

Ellie looked at him defiantly.

‘I was warning them off,’ she said. ‘Trouble is, you’re so bloody perfect I had to make up some faults.’

He rubbed his forehead wearily with a thumb and forefinger.

‘And you turned up here just to do that? You’re stalking me now, is that it?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ she spat. ‘I’m out with friends. I’m well over you. But when I saw you at the bar playing the same old game the opportunity was too good to pass up. Same old Harry. On to the next one-night stand.’

For the first time the hurt in her voice actually registered. To be fair, the last time he’d spoken to her he’d been so consumed by anger over his trashed belongings that he hadn’t really considered how she might have been feeling. He took a closer look. Her face was twisted into an angry frown and he felt a sudden twinge of guilt. He had liked Ellie; she had been fun. The merry smile he remembered was a world away from the bitter way she looked now.

He had done that.

It occurred to him that he hadn’t even apologised for the way things had turned out between them; he’d simply believed their relationship had been as casual to her as it was to him—in fact had blamed her for making too much out of it.

Was this what a conscience felt like?

‘Ellie, I’m sorry,’ he said, on impulse. ‘For the way things turned out between us.’

She gave him a cynical look.

‘’Course you are, Harry. Am I ruining your evening—is that it? Need to get me out of the way so you can get on with finding the next girl?’

He held his hands up and shook his head.

‘I’m not here to pull women. It’s just a work thing.’

A cold pause. She made no response.

‘I know I treated you badly and I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I behaved like a total jerk. I didn’t think for a second about your feelings.’

Her face took on an amazed expression and he felt slightly piqued. Was it that hard to believe that he was a decent guy?

‘Seriously?’ she said.

He nodded, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way and, too late, he saw the sudden spark of hope light up in her eyes. Before he could put any space between them she’d moved in and thrown her arms around him.

‘I knew it,’ she whispered into his shoulder. ‘Deep down, I knew you’d see sense.’

He stared down in horror as she lifted her head and planted a kiss on his lips.

As the door from the bar opened behind him he finally wrenched himself free. Ellie switched her gaze over his shoulder.

‘Harry?’ Alice said. ‘What’s going on?’

He felt a lurch of nausea in his stomach because he knew how this would look to her. How she would assume it looked. Giving a damn about that wasn’t a sensation he was used to.

It dawned on him suddenly that what was meant to be a great laugh of a bachelor lifestyle was really not much fun any more. Was this what he’d turned into—someone who trampled roughshod over people’s feelings and never got to know anyone beyond the most superficial of levels? He wondered what the hell he’d ever thought was good about living that way.

‘Nothing is going on!’ he snapped, looking pointedly at Ellie as he put a good couple of paces between them.

The hopeful light in Ellie’s eyes went instantly out. He caught a glimpse of her hurt expression as she put her head down and took a huge hitching breath, then she pushed past him back into the bar and was gone. It could have been worse. At least she didn’t say anything to Alice. Then again, she’d said and done enough already.

The agonised expression on Alice’s face tugged painfully at his heart. He could feel her regard sliding through his fingers like sand.

‘Who was she?’ Alice asked, her face pale and tight.

She’s my ex-girlfriend who’s been hell-bent on revenge since I dumped her like a bag of rubbish. Oh, yes, that would sound just great.

‘She’s nobody,’ he said.

A frown. And the hurt expression was replaced by one of stony coldness.

‘For nobody, you seemed to know her awfully well.’

‘She temped at Innova for a while.’

She flung a hand up.

‘I knew it! She’s one of your exes. What, did you decide on an action replay?’

The unfairness of that comment riled him and he remembered with a hot stab of jealousy that she too had been ramping up her social interaction back in there.

‘She came on to me, not the other way around,’ he snapped. ‘Which you might have noticed if you weren’t so busy flirting yourself. You were totally surrounded in there.’

She stared at him, eyes wide and incredulous.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘I had no choice but to try and socialise since my date for the evening disappeared to flirt at the bar. And then, next up, he disappears outside with a pert blonde. I don’t know why I’m even surprised—we both know you’re just waiting for the next best thing to come along. And you certainly had your pick tonight.’

This was what she thought of him. And she had the weight of his past reputation to prove her point. He felt a surge of angry frustration.

She began to shrug herself into her jacket.


‘What are you doing?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m going home. I’ve had enough.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I don’t need this. We’re not even a proper couple. This is just a...a warm-up!’

That last dismissive comment really tore at him. He meant nothing to her beyond a few sample dates and now she was bailing? His heart plummeted with such sudden force it made him gasp for breath. She pushed open the door to the street and a rush of cold air filled the lobby. He darted after her as she crossed the pavement and raised an arm to hail a taxi.

‘It wasn’t what you think,’ he shouted. Just this need to protest was alien to him. Why did he care so much what she thought of him? Why didn’t he just let the bet slide, forget about the money, forget about the whole thing? Nothing was worth this much grief.

But he had a lot more than money staked on this now and convincing her that he’d changed seemed nigh on impossible.

A taxi pulled up beside her. She turned back to him, her face set.

‘OK, fine. Is she or isn’t she an ex of yours?’

He couldn’t lie to her. Not to her. Not now.

‘She is, but—’

‘And did I not just see the pair of you kiss? Or was I hallucinating?’

He threw his hands up in exasperation.

‘You did, but—’

‘Then it is what I think,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve seen and heard enough.’ She yanked the door of the taxi open and got in. ‘Enjoy your evening.’

The door slammed and she was gone.

* * *

‘Let me get this straight,’ Tilly said, pushing her red hair back from her face. ‘You saw him kissing another woman and you’re actually debating whether you might have got it wrong. What have you done with the real Alice Ford?’

Alice stopped pacing the sitting room long enough to speak.

‘She’s one of his ex-girlfriends. He tried to insist it was all down to her, said she came on to him. And now I think about it he did seem to be trying to fight her off. I didn’t hang around to hear him out and now...’ she clenched her fists at the ceiling in frustration ‘...now I don’t know what the hell to think. I don’t even know why I’m giving him a second thought—his reputation should speak for itself, right?’

She looked at Tilly for reassurance.

‘Not necessarily. Maybe he’s changed.’

Not the answer she was looking for.

‘Oh, honestly, people don’t really change, do they? This is Harry Stephens we’re talking about. Not all men are like lovely, straight-down-the-line Julian, you know.’

She could do without one of Tilly’s rational chats right now. When her stomach was churning like this with hurt and confusion. What she needed was a pat on the back and to be told she’d done the right thing. An offer to break out a bottle of wine and a tub of ice cream might be nice too.

Tilly grinned.

‘That’s what you get when you go out with someone who believes in karma. And I did offer to set you up with one of Julian’s friends, remember? Someone with no hidden agenda, with scruples and a moral code. You declined. Which tells me that perhaps straight-down-the-line doesn’t float your boat as much as you’d like it to.’

Alice ran a distracted hand through her hair. Maybe that was the problem. Despite her past she was still drawn to exactly the same kind of man as she always was: smart, funny, exciting and challenging. And because of her past, the payoff for that had to be lack of trust.

It was true she’d done her own share of flirting too, swept along by the idea of playing him at his own game. Despite her protestations to Harry it had actually been fun to be the centre of attention for a change. Maybe she just hadn’t liked it when he’d tipped the balance of power a bit too far his way. Maybe he was telling the truth. Perhaps he had changed, as Tilly said. Maybe for the right woman he could be a keeper after all. Was she just jumping to conclusions and thinking the worst of him because of her own damn baggage?

But his past spoke for itself, didn’t it?

She’d reacted to the thought that she was being played by him by doing exactly what she’d done when Simon had betrayed her. She’d got herself out of the situation as quickly as possible. She hadn’t left time for lame excuses. Why prolong it? Why drag out the humiliation?

She so desperately wanted to believe she’d moved on from that awful time, that she was stronger now. And maybe the only way to prove that would be by giving him the chance to explain. She wasn’t operating blindly here, was she? She was still in full mental control. She could hear him out and make a proper decision, like the calm controlled woman she was now.

She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair on her way back out.