All Bets Are On (7 page)

Somewhere between this car pulling up outside her terraced house and the short walk up the path to the front door, she could expect some move from him to kick them up to the next level. He would try to invite himself in for coffee—probable—or he might even go in for a kiss the moment he turned off the engine—toe-curlingly, spine-zingingly possible.

The bet crossed her mind, never far from the surface of her thoughts. She was aware that if he was involved in that she would be playing right into his hands by letting him kiss her.

But if she was to keep to her plans to observe his behaviour, she had to let this happen. And no putting a stop to it halfway through because London’s most eligible bachelor might have money staked on getting her into bed. She still intended to end this whole thing before they got to that point—she could let this progress further without risking the stupid bet pool.

He didn’t need to know that it meant nothing, that it was just part of an experiment, that it most certainly would never lead to sex.

The car turned into her road. She steeled herself mentally. She would experience this as a physical reaction only. No room for thought or emotion. This was all about coming up with a set of objective rules. Certainly not subjective, because she wasn’t personally interested in him. She refused to acknowledge the tiny voice, deep down, telling her that part of her nerves had nothing to do with her project but simply came from the thought of what his mouth might feel like against hers after three kiss-free years.

As the car came to a standstill she curbed the sudden overwhelming desire to lick her lips, aware of his eyes on her as she turned to look at him.

The road was quiet. Lined with cars but no one around. Late afternoon. The shadows were long now, the sun dipping away behind the houses. He probably thought if he played this right they could spend the evening in bed and he wouldn’t need to stay over. Genius. Her heart was pounding away and her stomach was doing cartwheels. And then she became gradually aware of the ongoing quiet burr of the engine. He hadn’t turned it off, had just left it to tick over quietly.

He wasn’t planning on leaving the car.

Which could only mean one thing: a kiss was on the cards. Right here, right now, in the car before he got out.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘For driving me home.’

Anticipation had made her mouth dry so she felt as if she were speaking through a mouthful of dust.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said, putting the car in gear.

For the first time her sweeping certainty slipped a notch. Might he actually be keen to get away?

As soon as the thought was out there it crystallised, and, no matter how hard she tried to squash the reaction, her mind insisted on immediately listing all the reasons why a sharp exit might actually appeal to him right now. Her meltdown in the middle of the boating lake, for example, behaviour he saw as ‘strung out’—what a hideous term that was. She’d followed up his hot statement of intentions by tipping them into the freezing lake. Had he now decided she just wasn’t worth the grief?

The reality of the situation kicked her firmly in the teeth with a whack of insecurity.

Harry, with his pick of London’s women, who wasn’t above having a one-night stand just because he could, didn’t find her attractive enough even to go in for a first kiss. The anticipatory galloping of her heart slowed to a dragging-its-heels pace and the burn of embarrassment rose in her cheeks. If she wasn’t alluring enough to snare someone like him, bearing in mind he already knew she didn’t want anything serious, then it was no wonder she’d been an epic failure at keeping a man’s interest and respect in the past. Hot on the heels of this thought came a boiling flush of anger at herself because she really shouldn’t care whether he found her alluring or not.

‘Goodbye, then,’ she said, getting it in quickly before he could, taking control.

He gave her a chummy smile.

‘’Bye.’

She opened the car door, dimly aware of the uncomfortable way her jeans clung damply to her legs and the squish of her waterlogged shoes. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t made a move.

* * *

Alice climbed out and shut the door behind her. She paused to glance at him as she rounded the bonnet of the car and he gave her another friendly smile and a nod. He really was just going to drive away, then. No mention of a follow-up date. Nothing.

‘Did you forget something?’ The window glided smoothly down. He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

She realised she was standing in front of the car, staring at him through the windscreen and blocking his ability to go anywhere, and she pulled herself quickly together and walked onto the pavement, disbelief still coursing through her.

Her heart was thumping and a blush rose hotly in her cheeks. She should have walked smartly to the front door without looking back. Big mistake.

‘No,’ she lied.

‘You’re sure about that? Not waiting for something?’

The humiliation. He knew perfectly well what had been going through her mind and she stood back on the pavement, angry and flustered that he’d guessed her thoughts.

‘You’re actually going to just drive off? You’re not going to try and wangle your way into my house for a
coffee
?’

She had years of entrenched dating etiquette and women’s magazines on her side. A kiss at the end of a first date was practically an unwritten rule.

He shrugged.

‘Nope.’

Her cheeks burned as he gave her a predatory grin that made her knees feel melty. He pressed a button and the window began to slide back up.

‘You’re really not going to kiss me?’ she snapped at him through the closing gap.

‘Maybe next time,’ he said.

FIVE

Rule #6 How long before he calls? If he doesn’t call or text you within twenty-four hours of your first date, you’re not high on his priority list. He won’t like committing to plans, so don’t be surprised if he finishes a date without setting up the next one. He’ll be keeping his schedule open in case something better comes along. A player will keep you hanging...

An unrestful night
later and Alice gave up on sleep around six and brewed mega-strength coffee. No word from him since he’d dropped her home the previous afternoon. Curiosity gnawed at her. What had he done with the evening? Had he gone out? Another date maybe? She had no clue if he wanted to see her again, yet she knew for a fact that a first date with Harry Stephens often meant second base, or even third.

He’d knocked her right back from first base yesterday.

At around eight o’clock Tilly’s bedroom door slammed and a moment later she walked into the kitchen, face pale against her pillar-box hair, eyes bleary.

‘It’s Sunday morning. Are you insane?’ she said, switching the kettle back on. ‘What the hell are you doing up when you could be lying in?’

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

‘I’ve got a couple of parties today.’

Along with selling jewellery, Tilly had a face-painting business that she was growing via word-of-mouth at school gates.

‘And since you are up, I really need a favour.’

‘Go on,’ Alice said, taking another mug from the cupboard for Tilly.

‘Do you think you could cover for me for an hour or so this lunchtime? I’ve managed to double book so I’ve got two parties overlapping. I was going to leave the first one a bit early but that makes such a bad impression, and if you could set up at the second one I wouldn’t have to.’

It wasn’t as if she had a prior engagement.

‘Go on, then, as it’s just an hour.’

Tilly swiftly made them each a coffee.

‘Now tell me why you’re up at cockcrow,’ she said, shoving a slice of bread in the toaster.

‘My experiment is corrupted,’ Alice said. ‘He didn’t kiss me. For some reason he didn’t behave to type. King of the One-night Stand and he just drove off.’ She covered her eyes briefly with her hand. ‘It must be some kind of record. He beds anything with a pulse but he couldn’t wait to get away from me.’

Overnight her insecurity had moved in and showed no sign of shifting, as if she had a very large, very ugly vulture sitting on her shoulder. She couldn’t bear to tell Tilly she’d capsized the boat and made an idiot of them both in public. Harry had made her feel so much better about that the day before but he must have decided it wasn’t an experience he fancied repeating.

She’d been so surprised by his support that its withdrawal smarted all the more.

She took a sip of her coffee.

‘If I scare off a player like him, what the hell chance do I have of snaring someone decent? He hasn’t called and there was no mention of a second date.’

Tilly picked up a piece of toast.

‘At least now you know he’s probably not got cash staked on landing you or he’d have done everything he could to get you straight into bed, right?’

That had crossed her mind. It didn’t stop her picking at his motives in her head all the same.

‘Whether or not he’s in on the bet, it doesn’t change who he is. Harry’s face value is not thoughtful and considerate. It’s full speed ahead.’

‘Then perhaps he was tired. Or didn’t feel well. Or had to visit his parents. There could be a hundred reasons that have nothing to do with you. Your whole ridiculous idea is flawed.’

Alice shook her head.

‘No, it isn’t. I thought about it overnight and I’m not giving up on my plan. I’m not going to wait for him to make a move and let him mess with my head. I’m going to take control. Maybe I can put him in a test situation that will show his real opinion of me.’

Even as she said the words an idea was forming in her mind.

‘What kind of test situation?’

‘You know, something he would never normally bother with. Some situation that he would find uncomfortable. If he runs a mile or tries to get out of it, well, then I’ll know that he’s just in it for what he can get. And you’ve just given me the perfect opportunity. I’ll drag him along to help me this lunchtime with the kids. See how Mr Single with the buzzing social life handles doing something outside his comfort zone for a change.’

The idea of putting someone like Sewer-Rat Simon in an uncomfortable situation appealed. Let her be the driving force for a change. Men like Simon and Harry sat happily in their comfort zone. That was what being a player was all about. They called the shots. Not letting a woman have access to any part of their lives they didn’t want them to, manipulating every situation to their advantage. This was her chance to take all that away and see how he fared.

She grabbed the house phone from the side table.

‘What are you doing?’ Tilly said.

‘Taking control away from him,’ she said, punching in numbers from memory. She felt hideously lost without her mobile. ‘I should never have relinquished it in the first place, sitting in the car waiting for him to make a move like an idiot. I’m calling him.’

‘Are you mad? Step away from the phone.’

‘He hasn’t made any reference to when he’s going to see me again,’ Alice said, not looking up. ‘No phone call—he’s just left me hanging. In any other situation I wouldn’t mope around making a dash for the phone every time it rings. Why the hell should I? I’d clarify the situation myself. And that’s just what I’m going to do right now.’

Tilly held out a hand and snapped her fingers for the phone.

‘What?’ Alice said, holding it out of reach.

‘No good can possibly come of this. You called Simon after your first date with him and look how that ended up. You wait for him to call you, not the other way around. Do
not
call him.’

Alice flapped a shushing hand at her as she pressed a last button and clapped the phone to her ear. Tilly threw exasperated hands up and retreated to the kitchen.

After five or so rings she was resigned to the fact it would switch to voicemail so when he unexpectedly picked up her heartbeat zipped into speedy action.

‘Hello?’ His voice sounded a little slurry, as if she’d woken him up. Good.

‘It’s me,’ she said deliberately, ears tuned to pick up the slightest floundering, whether he would recognise her immediately or hedge his bets in case it was another conquest.

‘It’s Sunday morning,’ he said. A pause as if he was turning to look at a clock followed by a groan. ‘For God’s sake, it’s just gone nine!’

‘And?’

‘We were together yesterday.’

So he did know instantly it was her. Perhaps she’d underestimated him. A tiny bit.

‘And your point?’

‘The whole idea of you dating me was to get you back out there—right? Well, you’ve got a long way to go if this is the way you normally behave. No wonder you’ve been walked over if you’re this clingy.’

She felt a flash of defensive indignance.

‘Clingy?’

‘You ring guys the next morning?’ he said. ‘Not just the next morning but outrageously
early
the next morning. Do you have any idea what message that sends out?’

‘Enthusiastic?’ she said brightly.

‘Needy,’ he corrected.

* * *

Harry had thought the previous evening’s holding off kissing her had been a stroke of genius that would intrigue her. Turned out it had. He just hadn’t considered it might also feed her insecurity. Big time, by the sound of it. He felt a twinge in his gut, which might have been guilt at messing with her head. Then he remembered he hadn’t had breakfast yet, it was obviously just hunger.

‘It’s been less than twenty-four hours,’ he protested. With previous girlfriends, twenty-four hours would have been super-quick.

‘How long would you leave it before ringing, then?’ she said. ‘Come on, tell me how long is reasonable in your opinion?’

He paused. In some circumstances never was too soon. He groped for a length of time that wouldn’t seem too outrageous.

‘Couple of days maybe,’ he said cautiously.

She made an exasperated noise.

‘Seriously? If I wait for you to move things forward I could lose the will to live.’

‘I thought you wouldn’t want to rush things after so long on your own,’ he protested.

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘It’s been three years. Now I’ve made that decision I want to get on with it. So I thought I’d crack on and organise another date myself. That is, if you’re up for it. Or was yesterday your way of telling me you want to bail?’

For a moment he was wrong-footed because his planned pull-out-all-the-stops second date was a sure-fire winner. Wining and dining at an exclusive high-rise restaurant with views over the city at night, followed by cocktails, followed by his place.

Then again, letting her have her head might be even more successful. What better way to impress her than to go along with what she wanted? He remembered her expectations the previous day—dating to her involved going out for a drink or the cinema. It screamed cliché. Tried and tested. How hard could that be?

‘Oh, I’m up for it,’ he said, wide awake now and thinking on his feet. ‘At least if you organise it I can’t be accused of using a formula. Over to you.’

‘Great,’ she said. ‘I need to do a favour first for my flatmate. You can give me a hand with that and then maybe we can have lunch. Meet me at twelve. I’ll get Tilly to text you the address.’

‘Today?’ he said. She wasn’t wasting any time. ‘Another daytime date?’

‘Sounds like you were only planning on sleeping anyway,’ she said. ‘And didn’t you know? Daytime dates are the new dinner-and-cinema.’