A diamond for Christmas

Flora Morgan is determined to honor her best friend’s dying wish, even if it means relocating to England and accepting the challenge to try to fix Alex Trevelyan’s broken heart.

Except brooding musician Alex, her best friend’s brother, isn’t interested in Flora’s help. She may be beautiful, but he’s no charity case! Until it becomes clear that he isn’t the only one who needs saving. And perhaps he’s the key to showing this beautiful breath of fresh air that love can be found in the most unexpected of places!

‘In case it’s bad luck to ignore it—’ Flora pointed at the mistletoe ‘—I’m just going to kiss you on the cheek.’

But as she leaned forward, angling her head so that her lips were aiming for the side of his face, Alex turned towards her and their mouths connected.

She drew back with a startled gasp. ‘Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

But he cut her off by sliding his hand into her hair and pulling her back towards him, pressing his mouth hard against hers again so deliberately there was no way she could misconstrue it as an accident.

Her insides seemed to melt as he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth to slide his tongue against hers. It was a covetous kiss, full of need and determination, and she sank into it, basking in his hunger.

When he finally released his grip on the back of her head and they drew apart, their mouths remaining only centimetres from each other, they stood transfixed in each other’s gazes, their breathing loud in the quiet corridor.

‘What—? What’s going on here?’ she gasped, staring into his eyes in total astonishment.

‘I’m kissing you this time,’ he murmured, gazing at her with such fierce intensity that her whole body flooded with desire. ‘Is that okay?’

She blinked at him. ‘Uh—yes. Of course. Yes, it’s okay.’ Because it was. It really, really was.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. ‘In that case I’m going to do it again.’

His Mistletoe Proposal

Christy McKellen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Formerly a video and radio producer, CHRISTY MCKELLEN now spends her time writing fun, impassioned and emotive romance with an undercurrent of sensual tension. When she’s not writing she can be found enjoying life with her husband and three children, walking for pleasure and researching other people’s deepest secrets and desires. Christy loves to hear from readers. You can get hold of her at www.christymckellen.com.

Okay, Charlotte, my compassionate, clever, beautiful girl. As promised, this one is dedicated to you.

I love you more than words can say.

And I always will.

Mum

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

To my darling Flora—confidante, cheerleader and anchor to my universe,

So this is weird, right? Me speaking to you from the grave. But I wanted to get all my thoughts down on paper because I knew I’d get all choked up and make a mess of it if I tried to say it out loud. So here goes...

I know this is a lot to ask, but please don’t be too sad now that I’ve gone. I feel as though I’ve made peace with what’s happened to me and I’d hate to think of my passing as something that would hold you back from living your own life to the full. I’ve had a good and happy existence. All twenty-eight of my years have been blessed with love and wonderful experiences and my life’s been all the better for having you in it, Flora.

I’m so proud of you for all that you’ve achieved. I always knew you’d be successful in whatever you did, but your drive and determination have astounded even me. I know you probably won’t take a minute to step back and see the enormity of what you’ve accomplished, but get this: you truly are an incredible person, as well as the kindest, most generous woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Which leads me on to two favours I have to ask of you, Flora. Firstly, and I know it’s a biggie, please look out for Alex now that I’m not around to do it any more. As you know, I was the only family he had left and I hate to think of him being alone in the world. He wouldn’t admit it—I think he was trying to protect my last few weeks on earth so they’d be stress-free—but I think someone broke his heart recently and he’s really hurting.

Secondly, check your breasts for lumps EVERY DAY. Or, even better, get a gorgeous sex-god to do it for you *wink*. Don’t make the same mistake I did and shrug cancer off as something that happens to someone else. Someone older. Or less busy.

You have such a good heart, Flora. You deserve to be happy, so go easy on yourself, okay?

I love you.

Your best friend for ever,

Amy

FLORA MORGAN CAUGHT the tear on her finger before it fell onto the precious, now rather crumpled, piece of paper she clutched in her hand. She’d carried the letter around with her ever since it had dropped through her letter box nearly a month ago, and she’d taken it out regularly since then to read it, hoping to conjure Amy’s spirit during her weaker moments.

She missed her friend so much it made her heart physically ache. She had no idea how she was going to live her life without having Amy around, always ready to jolly her out of a funk and lift her spirits with one of her rousing pep talks.

But she was going to have to. Because her best friend was gone.

The hum and chatter of Bath’s famous Pump Room restaurant faded away as she lost herself in some of the happy memories she’d shared with Amy during the six years they’d known each other. They’d met at their first jobs after graduating from university, sitting side by side in cramped, scruffy cubicles at the blue-chip company based in Glasgow that had selected them for their highly competitive fast-track programme. They’d hit it off immediately—their mutual love of order and precision drawing them together like paper clips to a magnet. Sharing both the professional and personal exciting highs and painful lows over the years that followed had cemented their tight friendship.

Folding the letter carefully away into the Italian leather handbag she’d bought herself for a birthday present, Flora took a deep breath to centre herself. Now wasn’t the time to get all emotionally tangled up. She needed to focus on her reason for being here today and for that she needed to have her wits about her.

Not that her reason for being here today had turned up yet.

Sitting up straighter, Flora became aware of a burst of movement over at the maître d’s desk and she turned to see that her companion for afternoon tea had finally arrived. Eighteen minutes late. But then who was counting?

Shaking off her lingering melancholy, she straightened the neckline of her silk blouse and smoothed her fingertips over her eyebrows to make sure they were both still following the required curve. They were.

Standing up, she tried not to notice how out of place Alex Trevelyan seemed in jeans that looked about ready to lie down and die, black Chelsea boots with scuffed toes and a crumpled leather jacket. She doubted very much that he’d even glanced in the mirror that morning considering how his mussed-up chestnut-brown hair fell over his cobalt-blue eyes and what must have been a week’s worth of stubble darkened his prominent cheekbones and square jaw.

A few years ago, his just-rolled-out-of-bed sexy musician charisma would have been irresistible to her naïve, overly optimistic self, but not any more. She’d learnt her lesson about men like that the hard way. If she dated anyone these days, she went for smart, business-orientated men who were just as focused on their careers as she was. Though, as Amy had regularly pointed out, that was probably why she’d remained mostly single for the last couple of years. Which Flora was fine with. She didn’t need a man to fulfil her.

As he drew nearer, Alex’s bloodshot eyes ringed with dark circles made her heart squeeze. She mentally berated herself for being so critical of his appearance when the poor man’s twin sister had died barely a month ago. He was obviously still grief-stricken.

She’d only seen him briefly at the funeral; he’d turned up at the last second wearing casual grey trousers and a bright blue shirt that had been open at the neck and glaringly free of a tie. To be fair, Amy hadn’t wanted them to wear the usual black mourning clothes. Afterwards, he’d been busy with the vicar and a group of people whom she’d guessed were old friends of the family. She, in turn, had been caught up talking to mutual acquaintances of her and Amy’s. By the time she’d looked round to offer her condolences to Alex he’d disappeared, not even turning up at the wake afterwards. She’d guessed he’d been too upset to face any more sympathy from strangers.

Amy’s words swam across her vision—I was the only family he had left. He needed her support and kindness right now, not her judgement.

Relaxing her posture so that her hands fell neatly to her sides, Flora gave Alex her warmest smile as he finally navigated past the last couple of linen-covered tables and came to a halt in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she was just about to launch into the short monologue she’d composed in her head about how pleased she was that he’d agreed to meet her so they could talk about Amy and support each other during such a difficult time, when he leaned past her to pick up her glass of mineral water and proceeded to chug the whole lot of it, not even acknowledging her presence until he’d satisfied his thirst.

‘That’s better,’ he gasped, slamming the glass back down onto the table before finally turning to face her with a wink. ‘Don’t let anyone talk you into drinking whisky after four pints at the pub. It’s a life event catalyst.’

She stared at him, aghast.

Instead of looking contrite, he yawned loudly into his hand. ‘Sorry, I’ve only just got up. Late night.’

Flora swallowed back her shock before replying, ‘It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.’

He smiled, his expression one of wry audacity. ‘Like I said, late night.’

This wasn’t the grieving, broken man she’d been expecting to turn up today and the incongruity was playing havoc with her composure—something that made her really uncomfortable. She hated to be on the back foot; years of facing difficult clients in tense business situations had taught her that.

Pulling herself together, she said, ‘Thanks for meeting me. I thought it might be nice for us to get to know each other, what with us being the two people closest to Amy.’

He nodded, then motioned for her to sit down, taking the seat opposite.

‘You were in the States, right? New York?’ he asked once he was settled.

‘Yes, I was working as Head of Marketing for Bounce soft drinks,’ she said proudly. ‘I transferred over there when the company opened up a New York office about a year ago.’

Usually when she mentioned her job and the position she held, people would look impressed and start asking her questions about what that entailed and how she’d risen so quickly up the ranks, but Alex didn’t say a word. And he didn’t seem impressed either; he seemed...bored.

This didn’t surprise her though; Amy had told her all about her brother’s attitude towards people who worked for corporations and how he thought it was ‘capitalist gluttony with a corporate greed cherry on top.’ Flora privately thought that a man who had given up a perfectly good job in corporate finance to faff about as a musician had no right to judge others and their career choices. If he wanted to waste his talents just so he could sit on his high horse, looking down on others who were slogging away to make a success of themselves, then that was his business.

She wasn’t going to rise to it. She had more important things to worry about—like gaining the trust and respect of her new boss. After transferring to the London-based office it was proving harder than she’d expected to do this.

Not for the first time, it had made her question whether she should set up her own business at some point, but she was keenly aware of what a big risk that would be.

She gave herself a mental shake. She really shouldn’t be allowing her thoughts to wander back to work right now.

‘Anyway, since I’m over here now I thought it might be nice for us to get to know each other a bit so we could support each other,’ she said, waving for the waiter, who appeared not to notice her. Biting back a sigh of frustration, she refocused on Alex, who was lounging back in his chair with his arms folded and his brow furrowed.

Was it her imagination or did he really not want to be here?

She cleared her throat. ‘I didn’t want to be one of those people who kept away for fear of not knowing what to say to someone who’s just lost someone close to them,’ she said, deciding just to plough on. ‘Sending flowers and cards is all very well, but sometimes you just need some human contact, you know?’

He cocked his head and gave her a slow grin. ‘Is that why you came back to England? For some human contact?’

She shifted in her seat, feeling heat rise up her neck. ‘I needed a change of scene,’ she said, straightening the cutlery on the table.

What she didn’t tell him was that he was the real reason for moving back here. She was determined to take Amy’s last wish seriously, and if that meant living in the same city as Alex for a while then so be it. London was too far removed from Bath to keep an eye on him easily, and she certainly couldn’t have done it from New York. So she’d jumped at an opportunity for a temporary transfer to the West London office, commuting in from Bath to oversee a UK-only product launch.

Alex appeared to be thinking about what she’d said, and after a short pause he leaned forwards in his chair to look her right in the eye, as if making the decision to finally engage with the conversation. ‘It’s good to meet you in the flesh,’ he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a grin. ‘Amy talked about you a lot over the years.’ He paused. ‘And during the last weeks of her life.’

At last there was a flash of emotion in his eyes, which he blinked away quickly.

Flora nodded, taking a moment to relax her throat, which had tightened with sorrow at the sound of her best friend’s name. ‘It’s good to meet you too. I—’ She took a breath. ‘I feel awful that I didn’t make it back in time to see her in the hospice. I tried to get back to England as fast as I could, but—’ She’d run out of words. The pathetic ring to her excuse made her cringe inside.

She’d thought she had more time. That Amy had more time. Her friend had told her during one of their regular video calls that she was doing better and not to worry about rushing back to see her. But then she’d taken a sudden, unexpected turn for the worse.

As if he’d read her mind, Alex leaned forwards and put his large, warm hand over hers where it lay on the table. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. None of us realised she’d go that soon. She did seem to have a reprieve at one point. You couldn’t have known. Amy knew you would have come sooner if you’d been able to. She told me that.’

Flora could do nothing but nod like one of those tacky toy dogs you saw in the back of cars sometimes. She was suddenly terrified she might start crying in the middle of the restaurant and have to sit there with her make-up running down her face and nowhere to hide.

Alex obviously read her distress because he gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Hey, let’s get out of here. This place is making my headache worse.’ He glanced around the magnificent room with a pained grimace. ‘There’s a really good pub round the corner that does amazing burgers.’

Wrestling her emotions back under control, Flora shot him a bewildered look. ‘But we’ve come here for afternoon tea.’ She gestured round at the magnificent eighteenth-century room with its cut-glass chandelier hanging from the ornate ceiling and the grand piano, which was being expertly played by a gentleman in a tuxedo.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘For a tiny plate of overpriced cucumber sandwiches? Sorry, but that’s not going to cut it for me today.’

‘Actually, this place is known for having one of the best—’ But he’d already stood up and was waving for the waiter to bring the bill.

Deciding not to fight him on this—she wanted to keep things as friendly and light-hearted as possible considering why they were meeting each other today—she gritted her teeth and stood up, taking her purse out of her bag ready to pay for her drink.

He spotted her pulling out a twenty-pound note and waved it away.

‘I’ll get this.’

‘You don’t have—’ But he’d already taken the bill from the waiter. He proceeded to rummage in his pockets to produce a handful of coins, which he emptied into his hand.

‘Thanks, man,’ he said. ‘Keep the change.’

The waiter gave him a tight smile, then walked away, no doubt cursing them both for being the most awkward customers of the day.

Outside the Pump Room crowds of shoppers were stopping and starting along the pavement, as every now and again someone would halt at one of the little German-style wooden huts belonging to the large Christmas market that had taken over the whole of the city centre.

‘Wow, it’s busy out here,’ Flora said as they waited for a break in the flow so they could join the slow-moving crowd.

‘Warm inside the throng though,’ Alex said with a smile. ‘Free heat.’

He was right. Despite the biting cold of the day, it felt cosy and comforting being encased in the large mob of people. There was an excited, almost magical, feeling in the air too, no doubt an eagerness for the upcoming festivities.

Flora had spent many years in her youth loving the excitement of the run-up to Christmas, but she felt nothing but numbness about it now. It was all too tangled up with the fallout from her last serious relationship.

Pushing away the wave of gut-churning despondency she always felt whenever she thought about that, she looked round and focused on a stall selling silk scarves in every colour of the rainbow, taking comfort in the beauty of the sight.

‘So you live in Bath but work in London?’ Alex asked as they walked away from the scarf stall, stopping at the next one along to peruse a tantalising display of mince pies and Christmas cakes. Alongside them an assortment of delicious-looking pastries covered in snow-white icing gleamed in the soft winter sunshine.

She nodded. ‘Yes. I commute into Paddington and the office is only a ten-minute walk from there. I felt like taking a break from living in the middle of a big city,’ she said, telling herself she wasn’t exactly lying by saying that. Recently she’d started to think that living outside the city where she worked would be better for her health. She’d be less inclined to pop into work at the weekends and less likely to stay as late in the evenings if she had to catch a train home.

Looking round at Alex, she realised that he wasn’t even listening to her, but smiling at the pretty young stallholder instead. ‘Nice buns,’ he said to the woman, giving her a wink and making her blush and giggle coquettishly.

Flora rolled her eyes at the stallholder’s reaction to Alex’s cheesy pickup line. Okay, he was a good-looking man, she supposed—he had the same smile as Amy, which could light up a room—but the guy was a rumpled mess.

He turned and caught her staring at him.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Nothing. It’s just—’

‘Yes?’

‘You don’t seem—’

He appeared frustrated with her lack of words. ‘What? Sad, bereft, miserable? Just because I’m not bawling my eyes out in public doesn’t mean I don’t miss my sister.’

Prickly heat washed over her. ‘I know that. I wasn’t criticising the way you’re mourning her.’

‘Weren’t you?’ He gave her a look that made guilt pool in her stomach. ‘I promised her I wouldn’t let grief get in the way of getting on with my life and I intend to keep that promise. She’d hate it if either of us was sitting around moping.’

‘Yes, okay.’ She held up her hands as a peace offering. ‘I understand that. I guess it’s just taking me longer to adjust to life without her, that’s all.’

His expression softened and he flashed her his beguiling smile, making something twist oddly in her stomach. ‘Fair enough. I know how close you two were. I don’t mean to criticise you either. Each to their own, I suppose. I’ve chosen to move on with my life. It doesn’t mean that I don’t think about her all the damn time.’

Flora gave him a sympathetic smile, her guilt dissipating a little.

‘Come on, let’s get to the pub,’ he said, gesturing to somewhere off in the distance. ‘I could really do with a hair of the dog.’

Nodding, she fell into step alongside him on strangely wobbly legs and they rejoined the crowd, moving slowly onwards.

* * *

Alex Trevelyan took a deep breath and willed his heartbeat to slow down as he and Flora pushed their way through the dense throng of Christmas shoppers.

He really didn’t want to be here right now. His head was pounding and he was having trouble keeping a smile on his face after Flora’s insinuation that he wasn’t mourning his sister properly.

From what he’d seen of her so far, he was surprised this rather uptight woman could have been such a good friend of his sister’s, until he remembered the look of near reverence on Amy’s face when she’d described Flora to him.

‘She’s really something,’ Amy had said with enthusiasm. ‘She comes across as a bit—’ She’d paused, searching for the right word, her nose wrinkling with the effort. ‘A bit spiky, I guess you’d say—especially if you don’t know her well. All the people where we worked were intimidated by her.’ She’d smiled as if remembering her friend’s tyranny fondly. ‘But underneath she’s got a heart of gold. You’d like her. Honestly.’

It was the ‘honestly’ that had spoken to him. Knowing his sister as he did, Alex knew that it meant she wanted him to like Flora, but wasn’t sure that he would.

Well, he could see now why Amy might have been sceptical. He wasn’t entirely sure that he did like Flora, with her side-eyeing and staid pragmatism. Though he’d be a liar to say he didn’t find her physically compelling. Who wouldn’t, with her long sweep of shiny caramel-blonde hair and big grey-green eyes. She was definitely an attractive woman—though more because she made the most of her assets rather than being a stop-you-in-your-tracks beauty and she had a magnetism that kept drawing his gaze back to her. She was dressed as if she was going to a business meeting rather than getting a bite to eat with a friendly acquaintance though. And she was just so polished. Everything about her shone, from the tips of her manicured nails to the toes of her high-heeled leather boots. Wealth and good taste seemed to exude from every pore of her being.

She was not his usual type at all. He preferred women who weren’t afraid to get their hair wet in the rain or get covered in mud on a long walk through the woods. He liked natural and down-to-earth and simple. Like his ex-girlfriend, Tia. The woman he’d thought he’d spend the rest of his life with.

Pushing away the sinking feeling that thinking about his ex created, he stared blankly ahead of him. He’d moved on now. There was no point in looking back. He’d promised Amy he wouldn’t do that.

As they walked on, he noticed Flora turning her head from side to side, as if trying to take in as many of the Christmassy sights as possible. The magic of the season held no allure for him at all this year. In fact, it would be fair to say that he was looking forward to the month of December being over and done with. Christmas Day was only going to remind him of how alone he was now.

‘Take a left here,’ he said into Flora’s ear, attempting to cut through the noise of the crowd as they approached the side street leading towards the pub. The expensive scent of her perfume wafted into his nose, making him shiver in the strangest of ways. It had been months since he’d been in intimate contact with a woman and his body seemed to have gone a little haywire from the absence of it.

She nodded in acknowledgement and they moved slowly towards an opening in the crowd.

He watched her sashay ahead of him—elegant but entirely self-aware.

It made him think about something else Amy had said about Flora. ‘I worry she’s losing herself in her ridiculous quest for perfection.’ Well, that fitted with what little he’d seen of her so far.

He wondered what else he was going to discover about her before the end of the day.

CHAPTER TWO

FLORA TRIED NOT to wrinkle her nose at the smell of stale beer that seemed to rise up in waves from the ugly red-and-brown patterned carpet as they entered the gloomy pub that Alex had insisted on bringing them to.

‘I’m going to order a burger at the bar. Want one?’ Alex asked as she settled herself at one of the sticky mahogany-stained tables, trying to avoid sitting on a suspicious-looking brown stain on the vinyl padded bench.

‘Er...no, thanks. I’ll just have a drink for now.’

He gave her a bemused frown, then shrugged. ‘Okay. What would you like to drink then?’

She thought about it for a moment, then decided that alcohol might actually make this situation a little bit easier. ‘I’ll have a pint of the local cider.’

His brows shot up. ‘Really? It’s pretty potent stuff.’

She bristled. ‘I might look like a lightweight, but I bet I can drink you under the table.’

‘Now there’s a challenge,’ he said, grinning at her before turning away to head over to the bar.

She watched him charm the barmaid, wondering how on earth she was going to successfully insinuate herself into his life without it looking really suspicious. She was pretty sure he’d be entirely resistant to the idea of her keeping an eye on him if he knew that was what she was really here for.

He was so different to Amy, she mused while waiting for him to come back with the drinks. It was odd, considering that they’d both been brought up in exactly the same environment at the same time. But then she and her younger sister weren’t exactly alike either. Violet was vivacious, artsy and beautiful, the total opposite of her: sensible, conventional and, if she was being totally honest with herself, only modestly attractive. Violet had always cast Flora into shadow whenever she was around; she was just one of those people with a natural joie de vivre that drew people to her.

Men, particularly.

An uncomfortable tightness had formed in Flora’s throat and she coughed to clear it as Alex finally returned to the table with her cider and a pint of lager for himself.

‘Thanks,’ she said, forcing her mouth into a smile as she took her drink from him.

He gave her a nod and sat down in the chair opposite. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll have something when I get home.’ She really didn’t fancy eating here. Their table looked as though it hadn’t been wiped in ages, which didn’t give her much confidence in the state of the kitchen.

Picking up her drink, she took a few good gulps of it. The alcohol warmed her as it rushed down her throat to her stomach, lifting her spirits a little.

‘So how long have you been living in Bath?’ she asked, watching him knock back half of his own pint in one go.

His eyes met hers and she saw a reaction in them that she couldn’t quite decipher. Wariness, maybe?

‘Just over a year. I was in London for a long time, but then I got together with the band I play with now. They’re mostly based in Bath, so it made sense to move here so I could practise with them more easily.’

‘Amy told me you play jazz.’ She hadn’t meant that to sound so derisive, but she’d never understood the lure of jazz and couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to listen to it every day, let alone make a career out of playing it.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, but he didn’t pick up on her disparaging tone. ‘Yeah, we specialise in thirties-inspired jazz and blues, but sometimes we give our sets a more modern slant if we’re in the mood and the occasion calls for it.’

‘And how’s it all going?’ she asked, this time making sure to keep her tone upbeat. ‘Is it fulfilling? How do you make it lucrative? Do you play at weddings and parties?’

He gave her a look that made her stomach clench with discomfort.

‘It’s not all about the money for me.’ He rested his arms on the table. ‘Look, I know jazz isn’t to everyone’s taste, but it’s worth giving it a chance before you write it off,’ he said bluntly.

She wondered whether there was an underlying meaning to that. Don’t write me off until you know me better, perhaps. He had a point, she supposed. It was wrong of her to judge before she had all the facts.

‘Perhaps I could come to one of your gigs some time?’ she said, trying to pull back favour.

He nodded and smiled in a manner that made her think he was just humouring her. His food arrived then and he thanked the server, then tucked straight into it as if he’d not eaten in days.

This wasn’t exactly going how she’d planned. She’d really not expected him to be like this: so...blasé. If she so much as thought about Amy, her whole body flooded with a heavy sort of dread and she had to think about work or something practical so as not to start welling up.

There was a good chance he was burying his pain though, so she needed to be patient and vigilant—ready to support him as and when he needed her.

‘You okay?’ Alex asked after finishing the last bite of his food, his satisfied expression morphing into a worried frown.

She realised with a start that she’d been staring at him.

‘Fine. Just thinking about my week at work,’ she lied.

‘Want to tell me about it?’ he asked, though she could tell from the edge in his voice that he was really hoping she wouldn’t.

Pushing aside a sting of hurt, she shook her head. She didn’t want him to know how difficult she was finding it to impress her new boss. ‘I’d rather just forget about it,’ she said, picking up her drink and taking a few more gulps of it for courage.

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

‘So when is your next gig?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone light and conversational.

‘In a couple of weeks,’ he said, spinning his now-empty glass between his hands and glowering into the distance, as if picturing it unfavourably.

‘You know, I really would love to come,’ she said.

He turned to shoot her a look of deep scepticism. ‘I got the impression it wasn’t your type of music.’

She felt her face heat, embarrassed now by how dismissive her tone had been. ‘Yes, well, perhaps I should give jazz a chance.’ This struck her as funny for some reason. ‘Hey, you should work up a marketing campaign with that as your strapline. Give jazz a chance.’ She guffawed at her own joke, but for some reason Alex didn’t seem to find it funny.

Grump.

‘But seriously,’ she said, rearranging her features back into a sober expression. ‘I really would like to come and support you.’

‘Well, that’s very selfless of you, Flora, but I’m afraid the gig’s sold out.’

‘Oh.’ This news shocked her. Perhaps he was more successful than she’d realised. She squinted at him suspiciously. Or was he just telling her that because he didn’t want her there?

‘Can’t you get hold of extra tickets as one of the band members?’ she asked. Surely he’d be able to swing something? She really wanted to show him some solidarity. She felt sure Amy would have approved of that.

‘Nope. Sorry. I’ve already given all of mine away,’ he said, standing up so suddenly it made her start. ‘I’m going to the bar again—want another one?’ he asked, nodding to her much-depleted drink.

‘Well, I shouldn’t—’ she hedged. The alcohol had already had quite an effect on her, making everything look a little hazy and causing her to slur her words a little, but it was plain he was determined to have another and she didn’t want to leave just yet ‘—but hey, it’s Saturday, so why not?’

He gave her a curt nod and headed over to the bar without another word.

His denial of her request for a ticket to his gig still stung and she pondered how to get him to stop resisting her attempts at being friendly.

What would Amy have done?

She probably would have been upfront about the things he was trying to conceal and forced him to discuss them. But could she really talk to Alex like that without getting his back up? She didn’t have Amy’s light touch and easy wit—the woman could have talked the birds down from the trees—and she didn’t want to blow her chance of getting closer to him.

It was obvious that he needed a friend right now though, judging by the way he wasn’t taking care of his appearance.

She watched him slouch back over to where she sat, his body language self-assured but just a little bit weary.

He gave her a questioning look and she realised that she had been staring at him again.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked with one quizzical brow raised.

She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Yes, fine. Are you?’

He blinked slowly. ‘Yes. I’m fine, thanks, Flora.’

‘I was just thinking you looked a bit worn out.’

He sat down, rubbing a hand over his eyes. ‘Yeah, well, I’ve not been sleeping well recently.’

‘Hmm, I’m not surprised. It’s been a difficult few months for you, hasn’t it?’

He shrugged, then took a sip from his drink. ‘I guess.’

Apparently subtlety wasn’t going to cut it. She considered hedging around the subject of his failed relationship, which Amy had alluded to in her letter, but decided she might as well just go for it and see what happened.

‘So are you seeing anyone at the moment?’ she asked, attempting an offhand tone.

His shoulders stiffened at the question. He folded his arms, then frowned, as if something had just occurred to him. ‘Amy asked you to keep an eye on me, didn’t she?’

‘No!’ The lie came out before she had time to modify it. ‘I was just wondering, that’s all. Being friendly and taking an interest.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ He looked at her steadily for one long, loaded moment and she felt her cheeks start to heat.

‘Okay, yes!’ she burst out defensively, unable to handle his intense scrutiny any longer. ‘Amy mentioned that you’d recently split up with someone and that she thought you were a bit cut up about it.’

‘I see. So that’s why you really called me, is it? To make sure I wasn’t about to jump off the Pulteney Bridge?’

Flora shook her head jerkily. ‘I wanted to see you so we could talk about Amy. You were the person that knew her best after all.’ There was an uncomfortable beat of silence while she took a shaky breath. ‘And I miss her.’ She felt the tears start to well in her eyes again and blinked them back. No way was she going to cry in front of him now.

Her words seemed to have had some sort of effect on him, because his posture relaxed and he reached over the table to put his hand on her forearm. Her skin tingled alarmingly under his touch, but she didn’t pull away. He probably needed some human contact too, she reminded herself.

‘Okay, yes.’ He sighed, a rueful smile appearing on his face.

‘Yes what?’ she asked, a little lost.

‘I am fairly recently out of a relationship, but I’m fine. I was cut up for a while because I thought it could become serious, but it didn’t work out. It’s okay though. I’m fine. Still in one piece,’ he said, taking his hand off her arm to thump his chest right over his heart.

His bravado had a false ring to it though. Maybe it was the repeated use of ‘fine’ or perhaps it was the flash of pain in his eyes that he hadn’t quite managed to conceal.

Her resolve strengthened. Obviously he was still hurting but wasn’t willing to talk about it with her. Well, she could bide her time. Perhaps once they’d got to know each other a bit better he’d soften and let her in. He probably needed to talk it all through with someone he trusted, and she was more than willing to become that person.

If only he’d let her.

* * *

Alex sat back in his chair with a sigh, feeling the burger and beer boosting his blood sugar levels and improving his irascible mood.

When Flora had questioned his relationship status he’d been ready to close her down fast, but had checked himself at the last minute. It was pretty clear she wasn’t the sort of person to take a brush-off lightly—she had fire and determination in those big, bright eyes of hers. He’d decided that an approximation of the truth would be the best course of action.

Hopefully she’d leave it at that now. He didn’t feel like rehashing the pain and misery of the last few months to satisfy the curiosity of a near stranger. Just because she’d been Amy’s closest friend didn’t mean she deserved his total trust and honesty.

Except it sort of did.

He sighed to himself, thinking back to the conversation he’d had with his sister in the hospice, the day she’d passed away.

‘She may seem as tough as nails,’ Amy had said, her voice weak and slurred from the painkillers they’d been pumping into her, ‘but she’ll need a friend once I’ve gone. Promise me you’ll be kind to her, Alex, especially if she comes to you looking for atonement. She’ll beat herself up about not being here to say goodbye.’

And it seemed his sister had been right.

It also looked as though he was going to have to keep the hurried promise he’d made to her as he’d watched her life ebb away.

He remembered now how her request had seemed like the only positive thing at a time when he’d felt so horrifically impotent, unable to do anything to save his sister. It had given him just a little sliver of power over the situation. He suspected Amy might have known that too.

‘I’m just going to the bathroom,’ he said, suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to escape from the poignant memories that were pressing in on his head like a vice.

‘Okay,’ Flora said, producing an overly bright smile, as if sensing his pain.

In the gents bathroom he stared at himself in the mirror, noting the dark rings around his bloodshot eyes and the unhealthy pallor of his skin. He’d not meant to get so drunk last night, but he hadn’t had the willpower to say no when his bandmates had suggested going to the pub after rehearsals. He’d also not been entirely straight with Flora earlier when he’d suggested that someone else had persuaded him to drink whisky until the early hours of the morning.

He’d done that entirely of his own volition.

Yesterday had been a difficult day and he’d felt the overwhelming need to get out of his head for a while and drown his raging thoughts. Music was usually his salvation, but it had become increasingly difficult to lose himself in it over the last few months and it was slowly driving him insane.

He slapped his cheeks, seeing colour bloom on his pale skin. Time to pull himself together.

Returning to the table, he bit back a wry smile as he noted how uncomfortable Flora looked perched on the edge of the bench, as if afraid that sitting on it fully might sully her impeccable image.

‘I swear that’s the last time I drink whisky straight from the bottle,’ he said flippantly as he sat back down, noticing Flora flinch a little. It reminded him of her less than impressed reaction earlier when he’d told her he’d only just got up. He’d laughed it off at the time but, truth be told, he’d found it virtually impossible to drag himself out of bed today.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment, both sipping from their nearly empty pints.

‘It’s no wonder you’re depressed if you spend all your time in places like this,’ Flora said suddenly in a voice that she’d perhaps meant to be jokey but actually came off as a little officious.

‘I’m not depressed,’ he stated firmly, feeling discomfort flood through him.

‘Really? Are you sure? From what you’ve told me it sounds like you could be.’

He sighed in frustration, wishing she’d change the subject. ‘If I need a shrink, I promise you I’ll give one a call.’

She ignored his pointed sarcasm and waved a hand at him, her movements suspiciously exaggerated. ‘You know, it can be a great help to get out and socialise after ending a relationship.’ She took an audible breath. ‘Perhaps if you went on a couple of dates? It might give your spirits a bit of a lift.’

He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Are you serious?’

Fixing him with a cool stare, she said, ‘Totally.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t seem to be having much luck in the dating department at the moment,’ he muttered, his mind spinning back to the way he’d crashed and burned last night when he’d drunkenly attempted to chat up a woman at the bar. Not that his heart had really been in it.

She seemed to be studying him closely now, her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that how you usually dress when you go out?’ she asked after a beat.

‘Yes,’ he replied gruffly, guessing where this was going and trying not to grind his teeth.

‘Maybe if you smartened yourself up a bit you’d have more luck.’ She waved her hand at his favourite T-shirt. ‘I always find a new outfit and a haircut does my confidence the world of good.’

He dug his fingers into his thighs under the table. ‘I happen to like the way I dress.’

She shot him a patronising smile. ‘Well, I don’t mean to be rude but your clothes look so old I suspect they’re about to get a telegram from the Queen any day now.’

A heavy pulse had begun to throb in his head. ‘Oh, really? Well, at least they have personality. You look like every other fashion victim on the street.’

She blinked at him in shock before regaining her composure. ‘At least I made an effort with my appearance today,’ she replied tightly, her words sounding more slurred now. ‘It’s clear you couldn’t care less. You didn’t even turn up on time to meet me, just left me sitting there like a lemon on my own for twenty minutes, only to turn up looking like a vagrant.’

He leaned forward in his chair, aware of his heart thumping hard against his chest, and matched her fierce gaze. ‘Look, I get it. You feel some misplaced obligation to “take me in hand” and alleviate your guilt about not being there at the end for Amy.’ He pointed a finger at her. ‘But I don’t need another sister figure and I certainly don’t need some uptight do-gooder telling me how to live my life!’

‘I’m only trying to help, Alex,’ she snapped back.

‘I don’t need your help, Flora.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Yes!’

‘Well, you know what? Since we’re being so honest with each other now, perhaps you should know that Amy really struggled with your arrogant determination to keep everyone at arm’s length,’ she bit out, the increased volume of her voice causing the couple at the next table to turn and stare at them. She seemed to have hit her stride though, so didn’t appear to notice. ‘And it was incredibly frustrating for her that you found everything you did so easy when she had to work so hard for success. Then she had to watch while you just squandered your brain and your talents when she would have killed for them!’ she hissed, her tongue obviously completely loosened now by strong cider and frustration.

Anger and guilt battled inside him. He was acutely aware of what a risk he’d taken, jacking in his steady job to follow his ambition to be a professional musician, but he didn’t need to be reminded of it right now. ‘I think what you really mean is that a slacker like me should have been the one to die, rather than my hard-working sister,’ he bit out defensively.

‘What? No!’ She looked absolutely horrified that he could even suggest that.

He sighed, feeling his conscience prick, then held up a weary hand in recognition that he’d gone a bit too far with that statement. ‘Okay, okay.’ He took a steadying breath. ‘Actually, I did know she felt like that—we talked about it before she died. But she told me to do what made me happy. She realised there was more to life than selling your soul just so you can wear overpriced designer clothes to eat at overhyped restaurants.’

Her eyes widened as if his words had hit her right in the solar plexus. ‘So now you’re having a go at me for enjoying the fruits of my success?’

He sighed in exasperation. ‘No, that’s not what I’m doing.’ A voice in the back of his mind pointed out that it was exactly what he was doing.

‘Well, it seems like it to me!’ She took a deep, juddering breath. ‘You know what? I’m going home. I know when I’m wasting my time.’ Picking up her drink, she downed the rest of it, then stood up, wobbling a little on her heels. ‘I was just trying to be friendly, Alex!’ she said in a strangled voice. With that parting shot, she spun on the spot and stormed away from him, only just avoiding stumbling into the wall on her way to the door.

Alex dropped his head into his hands and cursed under his breath.

He really shouldn’t have had a go at her like that, but when she’d started her character assassination of him something inside had snapped. He’d had just about enough of women telling him what was wrong with him.

The look of hurt on Flora’s face had brought him up short though. Clearly she was still struggling to come to terms with his sister’s sudden death and was desperately trying to find a way to give her life some meaning—by attempting to fix his.

Sighing, he got up from his chair and pulled his coat on. He couldn’t just let her storm off in that state. He at least needed to make sure she got home safely, even if she refused to speak to him again.

After giving the barmaid a wave of thanks he followed Flora out of the pub. It was cold outside and he pulled his lapels across his throat and folded his arms against the icy wind as he trudged after her lone figure, watching in alarm as she swayed along the pavement, almost bumping into a couple coming the other way. He had no idea where she lived, but he hoped it wasn’t far.

It wasn’t.

She turned into the next street along, which housed a row of grand terraces, and strode up to a pillared entrance a few doors down. Fumbling in her handbag, she pulled out a key, which she proceeded to stab at the lock.

He watched her, half amused, half exasperated, as she failed to get the key into the lock over and over again. Shaking his head, he walked up behind her and took the key from her hand, feeling her jump in surprise at his unexpected presence.

‘I don’t need your help,’ she said archly, but he ignored her, sliding the key into the lock and swinging the door open for her.

‘After you,’ he said, gesturing for her to go first, then rolling his eyes when she snatched the keys from his hand and swept past him with her head held high. This time, she managed to get the key to the inner flat into the lock on her second try. She barrelled inside, shrugging off her coat and haphazardly kicking off her shoes in the small but elegant hallway. Her whole posture was stiff now as if she was desperately trying to keep her composure under control and as he followed her inside the flat—just to make sure she wasn’t going to walk into a wall and knock herself out—he saw her shoulders slump as if she’d lost the battle.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked quietly, worried that he’d gone too far in his anger and really upset her.

She turned back to look at him and his stomach dropped at the dejection he saw in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, surprising him with the genuine tone in her voice. He hadn’t been expecting an apology.

‘I’ve had such a terrible week. My boss doesn’t trust me to do my job properly and you think I’m annoying and stuck-up.’ She rubbed her hands over her eyes, smudging her make-up. ‘I just wanted to do something good, Alex.’

‘I know, I understand,’ he said, moving towards her.

‘I miss Amy so much.’ Her voice broke on his sister’s name and he swallowed in empathy.

‘Don’t you have other friends to talk to?’ he asked gently.

‘Yes, I have other friends! But I’ve grown apart from a lot of them since moving to the States and getting so swamped with work.’ She flapped her hand in an overly dramatic gesture that gave away just how drunk she was. ‘And anyway, none of them understand me the way that Amy did.’

Feeling out of his depth, he held up a hand, palm forward, to gesture for her to stay there. ‘I’ll get you a drink of water,’ he said, backing away to find the kitchen. After locating a clean glass in the cupboard and filling it from a bottle of mineral water in the fridge, he returned to the living room to find her pacing up and down.

He held out the glass and she took it from him with a nod of thanks.

‘She was always so good at giving it to me straight, then finding the perfect way to cheer me up,’ she said, as if needing to get it all out now that she’d started talking about Amy. ‘I need that.’ She let out a big sigh, then looked at him beseechingly. ‘Who’s going to tell me to stop getting so wound up about nothing and “take a step back and breathe” now? Who’s going to tease me about buying the exact same outfits year after year, whilst also complimenting me on my good taste? Or roll her eyes at my terrible jokes whilst also making me feel loved and respected? Who will ever understand me the way Amy did?’ she finished on a whisper, her voice heavy with pain.

He had no idea how to make things better for her so, despite his frustration, he remained silent. It didn’t seem as if Flora was really asking him for answers though. They both knew there weren’t any right now.

She cocked her head to one side and gave him a smile that was full of anguish. ‘We’re never going to see her again, Alex. How can that possibly be? She was so young; she had so much to live for. I’ll never see her cuddle the babies she wanted so desperately. She would have been such a good mother. I was going to be their favourite honorary aunt. It’s such a waste of a good life. She had so much to offer the world. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair, Alex.’

‘I know,’ he said quietly, fighting back the swell of emotion he’d kept firmly under wraps since Amy had died. He had a horrible feeling if he let it go he’d lose himself completely.

Her eyes glimmered with tears as she looked at him, shaking her head.

‘I hate the idea of moving through life without having any kind of a clue about what’s lying in wait for me. When Amy was around I felt like I could cope with that fear because she’d always be there, at my back, ready to catch me. But I’m all alone now.’ Sloshing water out of the glass with her drunken gesticulations, she put it down onto a side table next to her.

‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ he said. And he did. It was something that terrified him too.

She put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. I must sound so selfish. I know I’m not the only person to lose someone, but that’s how I feel when I wake up in the dark in the early hours—swamped with this cloying sense of dread and anger at the world.’ She fisted her hands and shook them as if trying to throttle her emotions.

‘Yeah, well, grief affects people in all sorts of ways.’

Looking back at him, she gazed right into his eyes, as if searching for something specific there. ‘It doesn’t seem to have affected you in the same way though. And I don’t mean that as a criticism.’ Her posture slumped now. ‘I guess I’m just a weaker person than you.’

He moved towards her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

‘I was lucky. I got to spend a lot of time with her at the end of her life,’ he said quietly, realising now just how grateful he was to have had that opportunity.

‘You see, that’s the thing,’ Flora said, then swallowed hard, as if forcing back her tears. ‘I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye and it’s eating away at me. If only I’d booked my flight a day earlier. Twenty-four hours. That’s all it would have taken to have been there to hug my best friend one last time.’

Her pain reached right inside him, twisting his guts. He drew her towards him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly to him, at last feeling a real connection to her—that they were in this together.

She hugged him back with a fierceness that nearly broke his heart, as if she was hoping that touching someone associated with Amy might bring back the peace she’d felt when his sister was around.

And then, as she drew back to look at him, the atmosphere switched in a second. Her pupils were blown in the dim light, making her eyes look huge. There was a strange expression in them now. Of longing. At least he was pretty sure that was what it was.

She raised her hand to his face and slid her fingertips along his jaw, frowning as they juddered across the bristles.

‘You’re a good person, Alex. Amy was so lucky to have you as a brother. I wish I had someone like you looking out for me.’

Before he realised what she was about to do, Flora lurched forwards and pressed her mouth against his, her lips warm and soft. The sweet scent of her invaded his senses as he stood there, stunned and rooted to the spot. His blood pounded hard through his veins as he fought off the strongest impulse just to let himself sink into the kiss.

But he knew he couldn’t do that.

Carefully, reluctantly, he drew back from her, feeling her hands instinctively tighten around his back for a second before she realised he was deliberately pulling away.

‘That’s a really bad idea, Flora. One I think you’ll regret in the morning when you’re stone-cold sober.’

She shook her head, looking a little bewildered. ‘I won’t—’

But he wasn’t prepared to argue this with her when she was drunk and hurting. ‘Come on, it’s time for you to go to bed.’

Her shoulders slumped as if all her energy had drained away now and she meekly allowed him to lead her out of the living room and into what he correctly surmised was her bedroom.

‘Just sleep it off, okay? Things will seem a bit better in the morning. We just need to take each day as it comes.’

She nodded, then yawned loudly. ‘I’m so tired,’ she murmured.

‘I can tell,’ he said, pulling back the duvet so she could crawl into bed, still wearing her clothes. He figured it was probably better to leave her like that than attempt to undress her—that could only lead to more misunderstandings. Once she was settled, he pulled the duvet over her and went to fetch her glass of water from the living room. By the time he returned with it she seemed to be asleep already, her breathing soft and regular in the quiet of the room.

He watched her for a moment, just to make sure she really was asleep, feeling a sudden swell of compassion for her. Shaking off the weird twitch of nerves this produced, he crept out of the room, letting out a big yawn of his own. His insomnia seemed to have well and truly caught up with him today. Moving over to the sofa, he lay down, pulling a blanket he found neatly folded on the arm over his body.

He’d stay here for an hour or so, just to make sure she wasn’t ill. He knew how evil that local cider was—he’d been caught out by it himself before.

Shifting onto his side, he felt the waistband of his jeans dig in to him, so undid them and shucked them off. Yes, that was much more comfortable. Though he was pretty hot now. She seemed to have her heating turned up to full. He tugged his T-shirt off too, feeling relief at the sensation of cooler air on his hot skin. His whole body felt overstimulated after the kiss she’d planted on his mouth.

Pushing the memory far out of his head, he let out a deep sigh to expel the tension. After the soul-crushing end to his relationship with Tia, the very last thing he needed right now was to get caught up in something new. He had a strong suspicion, from what he’d seen of Flora so far, that someone as intense and focused as her would be the kind of woman who would want to go all in on a relationship too. He needed to look after himself right now, so there was no space for anyone else in his life.

Fluffing up the cushion, he flopped back down and let out a groan of tiredness. There, that was better. He’d just close his eyes for a minute, then get out of there once he was sure she’d be okay on her own.

CHAPTER THREE

BRIGHT WINTRY SUNLIGHT playing against his eyelids woke Alex up from a deep sleep. Peeling his lids open he looked around him, wondering where the heck he’d woken up. He didn’t recognise the cornice on the ceiling or the glass chandelier hanging from it. Turning his head, he looked around the room to find he was lying on a large red velvet sofa, surrounded by expensive-looking antique furniture. There was a large Christmas tree in the bay window adorned with tasteful decorations and sprigs of holly jauntily arranged in an elegant vase on the mantelpiece. Well, this definitely wasn’t his place.

Then it all came rushing back to him. He was still at Flora’s flat.

Sitting up, he rubbed his hand over his skull, attempting to get the blood flowing to his brain. He’d not meant to stay all night, but her sofa had been so comfortable he hadn’t woken up after the two-hour stretch he usually managed these days.

His mouth felt as if someone had rubbed it with sandpaper. Too much beer again last night. Swinging his legs off the sofa, he stood up and stretched, feeling the air on his sleep-warmed skin. He’d grab a quick drink of water, then get dressed and out of there. She didn’t need to know he’d stayed the whole night.

As he moved towards the doorway his gaze caught on a framed photo on the sideboard. Stopping to pick it up, he examined the picture of Flora and his sister, arms flung around each other, smiling at the camera. They both had deep, healthy-looking tans and sunglasses pushed jauntily back on their heads. They looked so carefree it made something tighten uncomfortably inside him. The photo must have been taken during one of the summer holidays to Greece or Italy or France that they’d taken together each year. Something Amy had loved doing.

The sight of his sister looking so happy brought a lump to his throat. He thought about what Flora had said last night about how unfair it was that Amy’s life had been cut so cruelly short. She’d died before she’d had time to do all the things she’d wanted to do. Particularly have a family of her own.

He’d never really been that interested in having kids himself, but Amy had wanted them desperately ever since they were little. It had probably been something to do with not feeling as if their own family was as complete and functional as it should have been, what with their father running off to Thailand when they were six and never getting into contact with them again. Their mum had been a trooper, giving them every material thing they’d ever needed, but he knew how hard it had been for her on her own. She hadn’t always had the patience or the time to give him and Amy the hugs and love they’d craved. Or perhaps it had been down to her having a broken heart, which had failed her when she was only forty-seven, leaving them parentless aged nineteen.

At least he and Amy had had each other to lean on.

Not wanting to dwell any longer on that thought, he put the photo back with a trembling hand. There was a gasp of surprise behind him and he twisted round to see Flora standing there, blearily rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

‘Alex!’ she said, her eyes widening as she ran her gaze up and down his nearly naked body. At least I left my boxer shorts on, he thought wryly, taking in the thunderstruck expression on her face.

She slumped against the door frame, as if needing it to hold her up. Hangover, he thought, though he didn’t say it. He didn’t think she’d appreciate him pointing out the obvious right then. She’d changed out of yesterday’s clothes and was now wearing a blindingly white fluffy bathrobe. He guessed she hadn’t looked in the mirror yet though because she had panda eyes from her smudged make-up and her hair was a mess. She looked like a completely different person from the polished perfectionist of yesterday. He actually found her much more attractive like that, rumpled and sexy, not that he was going to admit it out loud.

‘What are you doing here?’ Her eyes widened even more as a thought seemed to strike her. ‘Oh, God, we didn’t—?’

Her hands flew to her face. ‘Oh, no, we didn’t, did we?’

He shook his head, riled by her over-the-top alarm. ‘No. We didn’t. You tried to kiss me, and I stopped you. You passed out on your bed—alone—and I slept on your sofa.’

‘I tried to kiss you?’ She looked even more horrified by this. ‘Oh, God, I must have been really drunk.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

She flushed and held up an apologetic hand. ‘I just mean I wouldn’t normally do something like that. You’re a lovely guy, but I think we can safely say we’d never naturally date. We’d make a very odd couple.’

‘Very odd,’ he said, though he felt a strange reluctance about agreeing with her. They weren’t that dissimilar, not really. His sister never would have been friends with Flora if she hadn’t seen the good in her.

Not that he was interested in her in a romantic way, of course. The way he’d instinctively responded to her when she’d kissed him had been a shock, sure, but she was right—they would never work as a couple. He’d only reacted like that because he’d been missing human contact recently.

‘Hey, speaking of dating,’ Flora went on, pulling her robe more tightly around her body, ‘I meant to say last night—before I messed up by being really rude to you about your clothes and—’ she paused as a sheepish look flashed across her face ‘—the other things.’ She produced a strange sort of grimacing grin, clearly hoping that would suffice as an apology.

‘I have a friend who lives just outside Bath. I think you’d really get on with her,’ she went on quickly before he could get a word in. ‘She’s big into music—she plays the harp, I think.’ She flapped her hand as if annoyed with her less than perfect memory. ‘Anyway, I met up with her for a coffee the other day—we hadn’t seen each other since school—and she’s single at the moment. I mentioned you to her and she seemed really interested in meeting you.’

His heart sank. ‘You’re trying to set me up on a blind date?’

‘Sure, why not? Isn’t that how most people meet their partners these days? Internet dating or through a friend of a friend?’

‘I don’t think so, Flora.’

Folding her arms, she fixed him with a concerned stare. ‘Well, I think you should put yourself out there again. Didn’t you say yesterday that you’d promised Amy you’d get on with your life and not mope about?’

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