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oodbye, Mr Goodwin.’ She held out her hand.
He didn’t take it. He studied the brave face she was putting on, the lovely hair, the figure that had so surprised him, her stunning eyes behind her glasses, the fact that she was pale with the effort of being brave and composed.
‘Alex,’ he said on a harsh breath, then forced himself to relax, ‘you will get over this. You’re so young, you’re lovely and fresh—believe me, this will go. You’re also far too sensible not to be able to put it behind you.’
Her lips parted. ‘Am I?’ she said, but immediately shook her head. ‘Don’t answer that. Look, thank you for everything—and I’m sure I will. I just wish—’ She stopped and bit her lip.
‘What?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘Alex,’ he said ominously, ‘you know that never works with me.’
She closed her eyes in sudden frustration. ‘All right!’ Her lashes flew up. ‘I just wish I had something to give you. There, that sounds incredibly silly, no doubt.’ She shrugged.
His eyes softened. ‘No, it doesn’t, but you have. You’ve given me … wisdom where I least expected it.’ He paused, then pulled his car keys out. ‘Take care, Alexandra Hill,’ he said very quietly.
‘You too, Mr Goodwin.’ She couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes and slid down her cheeks beneath her glasses. ‘You too.’
He hesitated one short moment longer, then turned and let himself out.
Alex stood where she was and swayed like a young tree in a gale as the door closed behind him. She put her hands up and removed her glasses and wept until Josie came to stand beside her and she rubbed her head on Alex’s leg.
Alex bent down and picked her up, and cried into her fur. Then she took her over to the settee and apologized.
‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ she said as she dried her eyes and blew her nose. ‘I don’t think I ever believed I would feel like this about a man. I hope he’s right, about it passing.’
She laid her head back and Josie curled up beside her.
‘I hope he’s right,’ Alex repeated as she stared at the ceiling with a terrible, lurking fear in her heart.
CHAPTER NINE
FOUR months later Alex had a busy and fulfilling lifestyle.
Her job at the Chinese Consulate as assistant to the Liaison Officer had proved to be a treasure. Whereas at Wellford’s she’d worked alone and often from home, in this job she was required to be out and about and to deal with the public.
She’d had to acquire a working wardrobe and, while it didn’t equal the wardrobe Max Goodwin had provided her with—she’d left all those clothes behind—she bore little resemblance to the girl who’d looked like a bluestocking and dressed that way. She’d also made friends at work.
At home, as she’d foreseen, Patti had been delighted with Josie, and Josie had taken to her new lifestyle of having two homes, two mistresses, with aplomb.
She’d also been a lifesaver. Coming home to the little dog rather than an empty flat had made a difference. Riding around with her in her bike basket on the weekends was fun.
Knowing she had someone to leave her with during working hours was a relief.
Not that it had been easy at first. The gap Max Goodwin had left in her life had felt like losing a part of herself. It still amazed her that so much feeling had been generated within her in such a short time, a matter of weeks. And she’d had to admit it wasn’t only Max she missed. It was Nicky, Mrs Mills, Margaret, even Stan and Jake—they’d all felt like family in the incredibly short time she’d spent with them.
But it was Max who haunted her dreams, Max who brought her heart-stopping moments. Like the day when she thought she was doing really well, had been for a while, until she thought she saw him going down an escalator ahead of her, a tall, dark man who caused her heart to start to pound, her mouth to go dry and her pulses to hammer.
And although she had no idea what she would say to him if she caught him, she pushed her way past people to get to him because all of a sudden she wasn’t going well at all. Life was like a desert without him, and just to see him, just to say, ‘Hi!’ would be like coming to an oasis, coming to a rich, meaningful landscape. Like coming in from the cold, she thought dizzily without even noticing how she’d mixed her metaphors …
It wasn’t him.
And she’d been lonely and depressed for days before, once again, she’d pulled herself out of it.
As the weeks had slipped by she’d braced herself to read that Max Goodwin had married Cathy Spencer, but if he had done so there’d been no publicity. She’d thought once that Simon would probably know, via his sister, then thought immediately that it made no difference.
Unless she was trying to persuade herself that he’d killed any feelings he had had for her stone-dead because he was going to have to marry Cathy?
