‘Oh, you know I’m offering. But I reckon the first round is on you,’ he replies with a naughty wink.
‘I was hoping to show my appreciation in some other way.’ As though drawn by invisible strings, we find ourselves in the centre of the room
‘Oh, were you, now?’ he almost purrs.
‘That sounded bad, didn’t it? How about I buy you a drink for business advice rendered, and then maybe I’ll appreciate the hell out of you.’ I let my gaze roam over his chest so there really is no doubt about my intentions.
‘Let me take you to dinner first.’
First. So much meaning in that one little word—a meaning I’m more than ready for. So I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak.
‘Eight?’ I nod again. ‘I’ll text you the address of the restaurant.’ He pauses, his expression taking on a wicked light. ‘Should I bring a toothbrush?’ This time, my answer is a peal of laughter. ‘What about pyjamas?’
Blood rushes through my veins as I raise my hand, almost sliding it around the back of his neck. But as I remember where we are right now, I settle for brushing invisible lint from his bicep.
‘I have a spare brush,’ I almost whisper, clasping my hands demurely in front of me now. ‘I also prefer to sleep naked.’
Chapter 3
OLIVIA
Retracing my steps, I head home to my tiny flat in Shepherd’s Bush, an area not as quaint as it sounds, especially the end where I live. Hopefully, I’ll manage to retrace my steps without falling over this time. Bonus!
It’s still sunny when I exit the Tube station, though it could be raining monsoonal levels for all I care because when I pull out my phone to check my messages, I see a very welcome email.
‘Yes!’
I find myself fist-pumping the air, drawing censorious looks from the pensioner pair next to me, the elderly man wrapping his arm tightly around his equally doddery wife as though I’d aimed that punch at her. But it doesn’t matter, nothing can make me feel bad right now, especially things beyond my control, because the PA of my favourite person in the whole wide world (currently) has emailed me to request a second meeting!
Mr Jones, I knew you were a man of discerning tastes.
Opening the door to the imposing Victorian townhouse, or terrace as they call them here, I grab the pile of mail from the console table in the hall before climbing the stairs to my little flat on the top floor. Technically, my home is in the attic of this once rather grand household. I live in the rooms where the maid would’ve resided; only these days, my exposed brick-and-white-walled home is a perfectly bijou dwelling rather than a place you hide the help. It’s the first place I’ve ever lived alone, and I love it. Sure, the rent puts a hefty dent in my rapidly diminishing bank balance each month, but I try not to dwell on the figures so much because, quite frankly, I’m not a fan of the heart palpitations that accompany the trip to the ATM.
Dropping the pile of circulars and reminders, and final notices to the kitchen worktop, I pull a bottle of Pinot from the fridge before making my way to the sun terrace. I saysun terracewhen what I really mean is the little bit of flat roof I have access to when I climb out of my bedroom window. I can’t even begin to say how difficult it was to get the little table setting out there at the beginning of the summer. It now takes pride of place in the shade of one of those grand chimney stacks that dot the London suburban skyline like a scene fromMary Poppins.
I pull out one of the pair of spindly chairs, depositing my wine bottle and glass on the intricate wrought-iron tabletop before twisting off the cap and rewarding myself with a generous pour. It’s then that I pick up my phone.
‘Ask me how clever I am?’
‘Is this a trick question?’ Reggie yawns, and I curse myself for not checking the time zones again.
‘Did I wake you?’
‘I needed to be out of bed anyway,’ she says sleepily. A voice murmurs from Reggie’s bedroom somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic. ‘We’re supposed to be on the road before nine.’
‘That’s right. You’re off to meet the parents this weekend.’
In the background, Josh dramatically adds a little background suspense.
‘Dun-dun-dunnn!’
‘Josh says to say hi, by the way,’ my friend adds. Sheets rustle, a door opens, and a kettle switches on. ‘You’re on loudspeaker now. Why don’t you just tell me how clever you are.’
‘Who have I been chasing for five freaking months?’
‘Luke Bedford!’ she begins excitedly. ‘The guy you’ve been crushing on since college.’
‘I have not!’
