‘Supposing it was?’
I laugh. ‘Then I definitely had a great time. Thank you forasking.’
He moves closer, smiling that smile that makes my legs turnto jelly. ‘So if this was a date,’ he murmurs, ‘do you think it would be okayif I kissed you?’
I swallow hard, my pulse racing madly as I gaze into hiseyes. His mouth is so close to mine and if I stand on tiptoe, I can bridge thegap...
His hands are around my waist as we kiss – gently at first,and then with increasing desire. I slide my hands beneath his jacket, lovingfeeling the heat of his skin and the hard-muscled solidness of his back. Wepull apart as my neighbour’s car pulls onto their driveway.
He smiles down at me, his hands still loosely around mywaist. ‘You know, I was thinking I might have a house-warming party,’ hemurmurs.
I nod. ‘You should.’
‘Trouble is, all my friends live in London. I don’t knowmany people here.’
‘You know me.’ I smile shyly up at him.
He laughs softly. ‘You’re right. I do. So, Kenzie Morris,would you like an invitation to my house-warming party?’
‘How many people will be there?’
‘Um...’ He frowns up at the house, as ifcalculating, and I admire his throat... the smooth skin ofhis neck. Then he smiles at me. ‘Just the two.’
‘Including you?’
‘Two, including me.’
I smile, my heart swelling with happiness. ‘Invitationaccepted.’
‘Great. I’ll call you.’
As he wanders back to his car, giving me a little wavebefore he ducks inside, I’m feeling dazed with happiness.
Did that really happen?
Or will I wake up tomorrow and realise it was all just alovely dream?
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Three days before Rachel, Darren and Poppy were due tofly to New York for Christmas, I had an unexpected visitor at my door.
‘Poppy? Are you okay?’
She didn’t answer. She just flashed her gap-toothed smile,dodged past me, and ran into the house.
‘Poppy?’ I followed her into the living room and found hersetting up my ancient DVD player. ‘Does your mum know you’re here?’
I watched her pushing a DVD into the slot, her face screwedup with concentration. She’d watched me do this many times and could probablyperform the series of operations with her eyes closed. Pressing play, she satback on the sofa, her arms folded, staring at the screen.
I sat down beside her, knowing something was wrong. Sheusually danced in, full of chatter and laughter, but not today. Something musthave happened at home.
I took the controller and paused the movie. ‘Tell me what itis, Poppy,’ I said gently, reaching to draw her into a hug. But she flinchedaway and tried to grab the remote from me, tears of frustration springing toher eyes.
‘Poppy, I just want to help. If you’re unhappy, you need totell me so I can make you feel better.’
But she pursed her lips and wouldn’t answer, turning awayfrom me with her arms folded, furious that I wouldn’t give her the remote. Hermouth was trembling with the effort of not crying.
I sighed. ‘Should I be phoning your mum to let her knowyou’re here?’
