"Yeah, sorry. I don't think so." I felt myself growing angry. Why the hell was I apologizing? I had nothing to be sorry for. I had every right to say no to something that made me uncomfortable. Open-mindedness and second chances be damned.
I was suddenly having flashbacks to my marriage. Just thinking about it, my heart sped up, making my hands suddenly shaky. My throat grew tight, and I started sweating in places a lady is not supposed to sweat. I'd never stood up for myself, not once, no matter what my almost-ex-husband blamed me for. If the shirt he wanted wasn't clean, it was my fault. If he was late for work, my fault. Everything I did was wrong, and I'd been made to feel guilty anytime I'd even thought about growing a backbone.
Another thing to add to the growing list of "must work on." The flashbacks. And the standing up for myself. I was trying. Really I was.
"Right then," Charles said as he not-so-subtly adjusted his trousers. "How about a foot massage? I give really good ones."
I just bet he did. There was no way in hell I was letting any body part of his near any part of mine. "That would be pleasant," I lied through my teeth as the train pulled into Lancaster Gate Station. "But look. Here's my stop. Thanks for dinner, Charles. It was…nice." Boring, but more or less okay, other than Hitler and until the toe-sucking incident. "See ya." I jumped up from my seat and made a dash for the double doors, squeezing out of the car before they slammed shut. The Tube pulled away from the station with a slight jerk, wheels screaming a little against the rails, sparks snapping and zinging. The gritty air had a faint grayish tinge and smelled vaguely of hot metal, but I was more or less used to it.
I caught Charles's forlorn expression as the Tube slid away into the tunnel and out of sight. I felt a momentary stab of guilt which I ruthlessly squashed. That was the old Kate Miller. The doormat Kate Miller. The Kate Miller who'd managed to get herself dumped for a size two Brazilian chick with a big rack and ridiculously long legs. New Kate refused to feel guilty about ditching a perv, even if it meant getting out two stops early.
With a sigh of relief, I sank down on a nearby bench to wait for the next Tube to Notting Hill Gate. Dating was unbelievably exhausting. Especially when they turned out to be frogs.
"How was it on a scale of one to ten?" The rich baritone interrupted my thoughts.
"Um, what?" I glanced up, and I swear my heart stopped. Then it started thumping so hard, I thought it might explode, or I might break a rib or something. Mr. Cheekbones was standing over me, a friendly smile curving his luscious lips. His green eyes sparkled a little, and his golden blond hair held a hint of strawberry. My stomach decided to flip-flop around. I stared at him like an idiot, my mind totally blank.
"May I?" He nodded at the space beside me on the bench.
"Uh, sure." I scooted over a little to make sure he had enough room. I wasn't exactly slim in the hip department. "What are you doing here?" I could have smacked myself in the head for being so blunt.
"This is my stop," he said, sitting next to me, smoothing his neatly pressed charcoal trousers. They were expensive, perfectly tailored. He smelled clean and delicious. Not like aftershave or anything, but like he was fresh from a shower and had used nothing but ordinary soap. His black shoes gleamed in the fluorescent lighting, likely a recent polish job. "I live just around the corner. What are you doing here?" He grinned, and my heart did a little somersault. He was just about the best looking man I'd seen since moving to London from the US and I suddenly felt all kinds of nervous.
Man, he had a sexy accent. You'd think I'd have been used to a British accent by now, but his voice was giving me goose bumps. Way better than Charles's. "I was trying to get away from my date. I'm sure you heard." I could have died of embarrassment. Melted into a puddle of goo on the dusty tiles of the Tube station.
He chuckled, the rich sound rolling over me. I could listen to him talk all day. "Yes, I did. Interesting date. How was it on a scale of one to ten? One being worst date ever."
"Oh, Charles? He was about a five," I said with a smile.
"Is that all?" Mr. Cheekbones's eyes danced with laughter.
That made me giggle a little. "Well, maybe a four. I've been on some seriously bad dates recently." Like always. I swear I had a Loser Magnet attached to my forehead, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I wanted him to think I was witty and experienced and all those things men supposedly want. Even though I knew I didn't stand a chance.
"I'm sorry to hear that. A beautiful lady like you should only date Prince Charmings."
I couldn't help it. I rolled my eyes. What a line. "No such thing. And anybody who tells you differently is either lying or needs to up their meds. Oh, there's my train." I stood as the next Central Line Tube slid into the station. "It was nice to meet you…uh…sorry."
"Adam."
"Adam." I rolled it around in my mouth, liking the way it felt. His name was as
