Page 29 of Unapologetic Love Story

He fumbled, handing her one pound and five pence in perfect change, which she discreetly passed to Marc.

‘Have a good day, Stephen,’ she said softly.

‘Thank you, little girl,’ he replied, making his way to the back of the pub before happily sitting down with his pint glass of lime and lemonade and his paper.

Raina returned to Tom, avoiding his gaze and saying not one word.

‘You used to work here.’

It was a statement, not an invitation to explain. She nodded, though. ‘Yeah, a long time ago. A very long time ago. I’m not that girl any more.’

‘He’s a regular?’

‘Yes. He comes in every other day. Always that drink.’

And I think he’s like me. Only, he’s from a generation that didn’t have the label.

They watched Stephen talk quietly to himself, perfectly content with his own company.

‘He used to commentate on the radio,’ Raina finally said. ‘He still thinks he’s on air.’

She waited for the protectiveness to dissipate. She could feel Tom watching her, reading her.

‘That was good of you.’

His words surprised her. She leaned over and spoke directly into the little microphone once more to ask, ‘Was that a compliment?’

‘I’ve got plenty of compliments for you, Raina.’

She backed off at that, not willing to play the game any more. She answered all of his remaining questions with as much mundanity as she could manage. Flat, monosyllabic answers. It didn’t deter him, though. In fact, it seemed to egg him on. He finally switched off the Dictaphone, smiling to himself.

‘Well, that will all add up to a few lines of a paragraph,’ he said stoically.

‘Lovely,’ Raina retorted.

‘Are you single?’

She stopped, struck by the question. ‘Why?’

‘For the potential piece.’

She glowered at him. ‘Single and happy about it.’

‘That surprises me.’

‘Because I’m a certified romantic? I told you – it’s a lens. It doesn’t mean other people see what you see.’

‘Surprised because you’re so beautiful.’

She stared. ‘What?’

‘Beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of attractive single people. But you’re beautiful. Kind of, like . . . down to your soul, I suppose.’

The little grasp of power she’d been enjoying slipped away. Tom Branimir was infuriating, but that was doing nothing to lessen Raina’s unwanted desire to sit in his lap. The Chesterfields were so deep and soft, two people could get swallowed up in them, and Raina saw nothing unpleasant about that idea. His big hands, his slight stubble, there was really nothing at all unpleasant about him in that moment. If there had been before, she suddenly couldn’t remember it.

‘I think you’ve got enough to work on,’ she said quietly. ‘At least for now.’

Masking only worked if the person you were trying to hide from was too careless to look closer. And Tom Branimir didn’t seem careless. Not even a little.