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Stuart came promptly at seven-thirty, and was charmingly flattering about her outfit. He continued to flatter and cajole her into feeling happier than she had since she’d walked away from Alessandro. By ten-thirty, when they arrived back at her house, she felt at ease about accepting the lips that met hers.
But the kiss wasn’t electrifying. Not like…No! She wasn’t going to go there! She wrapped her arms around his neck and really, really tried to inject some passion into returning his kiss. But her mouth wouldn’t oblige, and when he stepped away from her there was a rueful smile on his face.
‘Not working, is it, Megan?’ Stuart said.
‘It might. In time.’
‘And pigs might fly. In time.’ He brushed her cheek gently with one finger. ‘Actually, in time but with another guy. I’d wait around, because you’re the kind of girl a man would wait around for, but somehow I don’t think I’ll ever fit the bill. So…friends…?’
‘Sure. Friends!’
Friends. She could foresee the years stretching ahead, during which time she would make lots and lots of friends and always end up the bridesmaid but never the bride.
And who did she have to blame? Herself. Alessandro had ripped her life apart twice, and she couldn’t help but think that whilst once could be excused as an unfortunate event, twice bordered on downright reckless.
And Stuart would have been such a good catch! She kissed him regretfully on the cheek, and then hugged him before waving him off in the direction of the underground.
The house was dark and quiet without Charlotte around. Megan went to the kitchen, and was gazing thoughtfully at the kettle while it boiled when she heard the sharp peal of the doorbell. Now that Stuart had gone, having had quite a touching farewell, she was a little irritated that he might have returned for a repeat performance. She chastised herself for being so harsh. He was a nice guy, and if he wanted to carry on chatting for a while then she would welcome him in.
She pulled open the door with a smile pinned on her face—and her mouth fell open at the sight of Alessandro, standing on her doorstep. She had been thinking of him only minutes before, as she had waited for the kettle to boil, and she had to blink to dispel the illusion that her feverish imagination had conjured up a ghost.
‘I seem to make a habit of turning up on your doorstep,’ Alessandro told her wryly, breaking the spell. ‘A bit like a stray. I’ve been trying to work out why that is.’
His inclination was to push past her, get inside the house, demand to find out who the guy was he had seen with her outside only ten minutes before, the guy she had been kissing on the mouth, but he hung back. For starters, since when was it acceptable for an ex to be lurking outside his girlfriend’s house, spying? For another, since when did he, a man who could have any woman he wanted, ever do something as weird as that?
But Alessandro had pretty much given up on finding answers to his behaviour as far as Megan was concerned. The past few weeks had been hellish. He had done his utmost to take the reins by getting out there, reminding himself that there were plenty other fish in the sea. But not only had the plentiful fish been spectacularly disappointing, he had not even been tempted to sample any.
Was this love? He didn’t know. He had just reached a point when he knew that he had to see her. And he had. With another man. Kissing him. But he wouldn’t go there.
The knowledge that he might be too late, that she might have moved on, hit him in a tidal rush of urgent panic.
No, he definitely wouldn’t mention the other guy, because that would be certain to get her back up and right now Alessandro just wanted to win some Brownie points.
‘Forget it.’ It took enormous strength to say that, but Megan was rapidly making an assessment of the situation.
Alessandro had been out partying and having fun, had maybe—no, probably—slept with some of those beauties she had seen in the newspaper, hanging on to his arm for dear life, but she was still on his mind. And for all the wrong reasons. Sex, lust, unfinished business—not to mention a healthy dollop of flattened male pride because she had been the one to do the walking this time. He hadn’t had his chance to get sick of her, and now he was back to finish what he had started.
She began closing the door, but he inserted himself neatly into the open space, and pushing against him was like pushing against the Rock of Gibraltar. Megan gave up and glared at him.
‘Didn’t you hear what I said, Alessandro?’ she asked tightly. ‘I don’t want to see you. I’ve said everything I wanted to say and I’ve moved on with my life now.’
Moved on with another man. It was like a punch in the gut. He wondered whether she and the guy had got round to sleeping together yet, and the thought of it sent a red haze of rage through his mind.
