Page 118 of Who’s That Girl?

Shit.

‘So, um … would you like to sit outside?’ I say, walking briskly through into the kitchen and opening the French windows that lead out on to the small wrought-iron balcony.

‘Wow, it’s so pretty out here,’ he says approvingly.

‘Thanks.’ I smile. ‘Though I can’t take credit – I have a gardener to do the plants.’ I gesture to the medley of blue, yellow and pink flowers that I don’t know the names of that climb up trellises and spill over the balcony. ‘That’s my contribution.’ I gesture to a string of fairy lights that I’ve wrapped round a plant pot.

‘I think your contribution probably makes it,’ he replies, his lips twitching with amusement.

‘It does!’ I laugh in protest. ‘Just you wait till it gets dark!’ And then I suddenly realise what I’ve said and feel my cheeks prickle. That sounds as if I’m going to keep him trapped here until night-time, doesn’t it? Like I’m going to try and have sex with him or something.

OK, scrap that thought. I can’t believe sex just popped into my head like that. I only invited him in for a cup of tea and here I am thinking about sex. Except I’m not thinking about sex. I was thinking—

Oh, who am I kidding? I was thinking about sex.

‘So, I didn’t see you the other night …’

I snap back to see Oliver looking at me expectantly.

‘I thought you’d stood me up again,’ he says, then smiles. ‘Just joking.’

‘Oh, no, I had to stay in and …’ I’m about to say ‘pack up all Miles’s things’, but I quickly change my mind. ‘I had to do some stuff,’ I finish, wandering back into the kitchen. Flicking on the kettle, I set about making tea.

‘Yeah, me too,’ he says from the balcony, where he’s taken a perch on one of my garden chairs. ‘I got back pretty late from my granddad’s. There was loads to do. We were packing for ages.’

The kettle quickly boils, and pouring water on to the teabags, my hand trembles and I feel my insides clench with dread.

‘Poor guy, he was pretty cut up,’ he continues, anger seeping into his voice. ‘And then to top it all off, he had some people over at his shop today, talking about how they were going to rip the whole place apart.’

OK, this is it. I’ve got to let him know about Larry Thompson, about the shop, about me. My heart thudding loudly in my ears, I grasp the back of my neck, trying to brace myself.

‘You know, you should really put some ice on that.’ Oliver’s voice makes me jump and I turn round to see him standing right behind me. ‘Your neck will feel a lot better.’

‘Oh, no, it’s fine,’ I say hastily.

‘You won’t be saying that when you wake up tomorrow and can’t move.’ Without further discussion, he tugs open my freezer. I watch wordlessly as he takes out the ice-cube tray, spreads out a tea towel and lays it on the countertop, then deftly cracks out the cubes and ties them up in the tea towel.

‘You look as if you’ve done that a few times,’ I say after a pause.

‘Yeah, well, I’ve had a few knocks in my time. I used to like to think of myself as a bit of a boxer, but I wasn’t very good. I gave it all up five years ago when this happened.’ He gestures to the scar running above his top lip. ‘You know, I used to be pretty handsome before.’ He smiles ruefully.

‘You’re handsome now,’ I protest, then realise what I’ve said and blush like a schoolgirl. I hadn’t really realised just how sexy he is, but now I have, I can’t seem to think of anything else. ‘Why? What happened?’ I ask, quickly changing the subject.

‘A mean left hook, twenty-two stitches and a broken nose.’

‘Ouch. Did it hurt?’

‘Hurt?’ he repeats, and looks at me as if I’ve affronted his masculinity. ‘I cried like a baby,’ he confesses.

I laugh, then wince as my neck twinges painfully.

‘OK, now go and sit outside,’ he orders, picking up the ice-pack.

‘But what about the tea?’

‘This will only take a minute.’

Without arguing, I dutifully walk outside and sit down on one of my garden chairs. As he moves behind me, I feel a stab of anticipation.