Caught in the magic of the moment, I hardly notice it at first. But slowly, I become alert to my own reflection in the glass. And my heart beat catches, falters, returns with a vengeance … because I’m not alone. There’s a figure behind me.
I open my mouth, sense the beginnings of panic, inform myself that I must be dreaming because this just isn’t possible.
‘You took your time,’ he says, his voice rich and deep and velvety.
I stay exactly where I am, fixated on the window. I can see him clearly in the darkness, the tousled hair, the black suit over a white shirt, tie-less and open at the collar. Hands in pockets, head tipped slightly to one side, he’s looking straight back at me.
‘Dan?’
I get no further. In a fluster, my body launches into its habitual Daniel Foster fiasco. Bones turn to jelly, muscles to blancmange. My pulse races and my lungs shrink to a fraction of their normal size. I’m not entirely sure whether I’m breathing in or breathing out … or even breathing at all. I’d urge my brain to deal with the mess, but there really is no point. It’s currently pre-occupied with the question to end all questions.
‘What the fuck?’ I murmur, letting it into the open.
He takes his hands out of his pockets and moves closer. I fizzle with anticipation. I can smell him now, that signature scent of his, fresh and clean. He slips an arm around my waist, watching me for a few seconds before he leans in, gently skimming his lips across my skin. I feel his breath against my neck and fizzle some more … shortly before I come to my senses.
‘Stop.’
He pulls back at my command, and I jolt with surprise. This isn’t the Dan I know. He’d just carry on, regardless of complaints.
‘Let go of me.’
Again he complies, backing away a few feet and keeping his eyes firmly fixed on mine. I’d like to ask him what’s going on, but I’ll have to figure out the whole ‘personality transplant’ thing after I’ve dealt with the anger. It’s already sparking into life.
‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ I growl. Swivelling on the spot, I note the fact that he looks ruddy gorgeous, and then remember he’s an arrogant prat. ‘You treat me like dirt and come back for a second helping?’
‘There’s more to this than meets the eye.’
‘Of course there is. I suppose you’ve locked me in.’
‘Naturally.’
‘Why break the habit of a lifetime?’
‘It’s not the habit of a lifetime. I’ve only taken to false imprisonment where you’re concerned.’
He moves forward slightly, causing a frisson to travel down my spine. I hold up a finger in warning.
‘Do not lay a hand on me.’
‘I won’t. I promise. Not until you want me to.’
‘Until?’ I gasp incredulously. ‘Like it’s ever going to happen.’
I give him a damn good glare, knowing full well I already want both of his hands on every part of me. It’s quickly followed by a damn good mental slap. I will not cave in to lust. Not this time.
‘I don’t know what you’re up to,’ I tell him, ‘but I’m out of here.’
I begin to move and so does he, quickly positioning himself between me and the doors.
‘Look.’ He holds up a hand. ‘I know you think I’m a huge fucked-up disaster zone. You made that perfectly clear. But you need to hear me out. All I’m asking is five minutes of your time.’
‘Demanding, not asking. There’s no asking when you’re the one with the keys … unless you’re lying again.’
I spot a hint of panic in his eyes.
‘Just five minutes,’ he repeats. ‘And then … possibly … the rest of your life.’
I blink, barely able to believe what I’m hearing. The man who totally withdrew from me, who paraded his latest conquest in front of my eyes and then told me to fuck off, has actually changed his mind? Well, apparently so. Reaching into his pocket, he produces the sweet pea necklace and offers it to me.
‘This thing doesn’t know whether it’s coming or going.’
I gaze at the necklace, and then at his hand. I’m pretty sure it’s shaking.
‘Keep it.’
‘It’s yours.’
‘I don’t want it.’
‘It belongs to the woman I love.’
I force out a laugh.
‘You don’t love me. You’re plain lazy, Dan. It doesn’t work out with Little Miss No Tits so you’re down to recycling your ex.’
‘You were never my ex.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’
I wave a hand in the air. After the weeks of torture, I should be relieved, but I’m not. I should be swooning into his arms, but I’m far too busy weighing up the practicalities of kneeing him in the nuts. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, especially in public, and if he thinks he can just pick up from where we left off, he’s in for a massive surprise. He takes another step forwards, smiling gently and causing my fury to double in size. ‘No contact!’ a voice cries out at the back of my head. ‘You’ll lose all sense, and he’ll get exactly what he wants.’
‘I said don’t touch me,’ I sneer, astonished when he comes to a halt.
‘Somebody’s pissed off.’
‘I wonder why.’ I stare at him. ‘Where’s Gordon?’
As if I need to ask. It’s suddenly completely clear. Gordon’s been in on this all along.
‘You’ve got me to yourself, and you’re worried about Gordon?’ He shakes his
