‘Where you took shameless advantage of me.’
‘Itook advantage?’ She shook her head. ‘I still can’t believe I did that. It wasn’t like me at all.’
‘Wasn’t it? You were solving what you perceived to be a problem by taking decisive action.’
‘Ah, when you put it like that, I much prefer that version of events.’ Hannah tucked her towel in at the front and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, ducking out of his reach with a laugh as he tried to pull her in for a kiss. ‘If we start all that again, we’ll never get out of here.’
‘Spoilsport.’ Conor pouted and Hannah very nearly succumbed, charmed by his naughty wink.
Sharing a room now seemed like second nature as they got dressed around each other with unconscious ease, although Hannah still took advantage of the dressing-table mirror to ogle Conor’s rather fine backside. It was a sight that she thought might never quite get used to, and she had to store them up since this wasn’t forever.
The bar was just as she remembered; even the barman was the same. He gave Conor a friendly greeting as they walked in.
‘I’ve got your table reserved for you,’ he said and waved to the two armchairs in front of the fireplace where two glasses of red wine awaited them.
Hannah turned to Connor in surprise. This felt like a celebration, almost an anniversary or a proper date.
His mouth quirked in a shy smile. ‘I thought it would be nice to remember how we met.’
Lovely, thought Hannah, her heart doing a salmon leap of surprised delight, trying to decide if this was part of his natural charm or genuine thoughtfulness.
They took their seats and Conor raised his glass. ‘Hello, I’m Conor.’
‘Hannah, nice to meet you.’
They chinked the glasses together and Hannah grew warm as Conor stared at her. ‘You’re a strange mix, Hannah Campbell. In some ways nothing like I thought you were that night – a bit wild and impetuous – and then in other ways you are. It’s almost as if you don’t know either.’
Hannah forced a smile, cringing inside as he’d summed her up perfectly. She started things but never let herself go all the way. When it came to it, she couldn’t take that final leap of faith.
‘Common sense kicks in every now and then,’ she said.
‘At least it keeps me on my toes,’ said Conor. ‘You’re not predictable, that’s for—’
‘Conor, darling,’ a fruity voice burst between them, exploding like a ripe peach.
They both looked up, having been so absorbed in their conversation that neither of them had noticed this panther of a woman slinking towards them. That was Hannah’s first impression: feline and sleek with her glossy black hair that hung in stylish curls tumbling across one shoulder. A slick of pale, glossy lipstick emphasised a wide mouth stretched to full capacity in delight at seeing Conor.
‘What on earth are you doing here? What’s dragged you away from the back of beyond?’
‘You liked it well enough when you were sucking up to my mother.’
‘I was not sucking up to your mother. I love your mother.’
‘Everyone loves my mother.’
‘You know what I mean.’ She tossed her glorious mane of hair over her shoulders with classic put-out disdain.
‘Hannah this is Polly, Polly Daventree. You might have seen her on the TV.’ His next words held a distinct touch of scorn. ‘Polly’s Pantry – Everyday Food for Everyday Folk.’
Hannah wanted to melt into her seat and slide out of sight. In black leather trousers that showed off giraffe legs, a miniscule waist, and a white silk shirt tastefully undone to reveal an attractive swell of creamy skin, Polly was drop-dead gorgeous and as rare and exotic as Hannah was down-to-earth and dull. Even her hair behaved itself, the curls beautifully coiled like glossy snakes instead of spiralling out of control.
It brought Hannah up short, like the reins tightening on a runaway horse. Conor belonged with someone like this glamorous woman. Something plummeted in her stomach, as sharp and brutal as a rock falling from a cliff edge, as she realised that she’d started to get too used to living together with him the cottage.
‘Hannah?’ Conor’s voice came from a long way. Her ears buzzed and she came to, with both of them staring at her.
‘Sorry,’ she said, blinking, hoping Polly didn’t think she was rude or weird. ‘Hello.’
‘Hello there.’ Polly’s wide, bright smile seemed genuine. She held out a slim, artistic hand with short and neatly polished nails. ‘Nice to meet you. How are you going?’
