Promised (One Night 1)

I want to hold back my answer, just to drag out this exquisite kiss, but I’m rapidly falling deeper with each second he spends seducing my mouth. ‘I can’t,’ I gasp, turning my face to the side to break our mouth contact. ‘I’d want more.’ I know I’ll want more, as crazy as it might seem. I’ve never looked for that connection, but if I had, then this would be it – something painfully good, all-consuming . . . something special and out of my control – something that will put my previous conclusions about intimacy to shame. I’ve stumbled across it by accident, when I least expected it, but it’s happened and I can’t fall further knowing there is no hope and nothing but heartbreak waiting for me at the end of that twenty-four hours.

He releases a frustrated growl and pushes himself away from the wall. ‘Shit,’ he curses, striding away, looking up at the ceiling. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you here.’

I gather my muddled mind and straighten myself out, all the time leaning against the wall to hold myself steady. ‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ I agree, proud for sounding certain of that. ‘I should go.’ I gather my bag from the floor and head quickly to the door, not looking back.

When I’m in the safety of the stairwell, I collapse against the wall, my breathing laboured, my body shaking. I’m being sensible. I need to keep reminding myself of that. Nothing good could come of this, except memories of an incredible day and night that I’ll never get to relive. It would be torture, and I refuse to tease myself, give myself a taste of something amazing – because I know it will be – just to have it robbed from me. Never. I refuse to become my mother. Resolute and satisfied with my decision, I take the stairs and find my way to a Tube station. For the first time in many years, I need an alcoholic drink.

Chapter 5

I’ve not been myself all week. It’s been noticed and mentioned, but my despondent state has halted further interrogation, except from Gregory, who I’m sure is reporting back to Nan, because she went from curious and pushy to concerned and sympathetic. She’s also made me lemon cake every single day.

I’m clearing the last table, absent-mindedly swishing my cloth from side to side when the door to the bistro swings open and I’m confronted with Mr Wide Eyes.

He smiles awkwardly, shutting the door quietly behind him. ‘Am I too late for a takeaway?’ he asks.

‘Not at all.’ I grab my tray and dump it on the counter before loading up the filter. ‘Cappuccino?’

‘Please,’ he says politely, his footsteps getting closer.

I busy myself, ignoring Sylvie when she passes with the bins and pauses, clearly after clocking my customer. ‘Cute,’ she says simply, before continuing on her way. She’s right; he is cute, but it’s too much like hard work trying to fight another man from my mind to appreciate it. Mr Wide Eyes is the type of man I should pay more attention to – if I’m going to give my attention to any men – not moody, dark, enigmatic ones, who only want twenty-four hours and nothing else.

Firing up the steam pipe, I start heating the milk, swirling the jug and making a rushing hissing of noise in time with my racing mind. I pour, sprinkle, and secure the lid, then turn to deliver my perfect coffee. ‘Two-eighty, please.’ I hold my hand out.

Three pound coins are placed carefully in my palm as I stab the order through the till with my free hand. ‘I’m Luke,’ he says slowly. ‘Can I ask your name?’

‘Livy,’ I flip, tossing the coins into the drawer carelessly.

‘And you’re involved with someone?’ he asks cautiously, drawing a frown from me.

‘I’ve already told you that.’ For the first time, I allow his charming looks to push past my mental protective wall and the images of Miller. His mousy hair is floppy, but lies just right, and his brown eyes are warm and friendly. ‘So why are you aski—’ I halt mid-sentence and cast my eyes over to Sylvie, who’s just pushed her way back through the bistro door, minus two rubbish bags. I hit her with a reproachful look, knowing damn well she’s told Mr Wide Eyes here that I’m perfectly available.

She doesn’t hang around to soak up my animosity, instead skulking off to the kitchen where she’s safe. Mr Wide Eyes, or Luke as I now know him, is shifting nervously, blatantly ignoring my guilty friend as she disappears from sight.

‘My friend has a big mouth.’ I hand him his change. ‘Enjoy your coffee.’

‘Why did you fob me off?’

‘Because I’m not available.’ I repeat myself because it’s still true, even if it’s for a totally different reason now. I might have refused Miller’s offer, but it hasn’t made forgetting him any easier. My fingers reach up and rest on my lips, feeling his soft, full ones still there, lingering, tickling, biting. I sigh. ‘It’s closing time.’

Luke slides a card across the counter, and taps it lightly before releasing it. ‘I’d love to take you out sometime, so if you decide you’re available it would be great to hear from you.’ I look up and he winks, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

I return his small smile and watch him leave the bistro, whistling happily as he goes.

‘Is it safe?’ Sylvie’s apprehensive voice drifts in from the kitchen, and I turn to see her black-haired head popping up over the swing door.

‘You told him, you traitor!’ I start yanking at my apron string.

‘It might have slipped.’ She still doesn’t venture into the bistro, choosing to remain protected behind the swing door. ‘Come on, Livy. Cut him a break.’ Her attention is firmly set on Luke now, after I followed through on her request to call before midnight the night Miller snatched me from the roadside. I didn’t tell her the details, but my despondent state down the line told her all she needed to know – no enlightenment of shocking propositions required.