by M K Farrar
“Where is he now?”
Michael shrugged. “No idea. Last I heard, he was puking in the toilet. I figured I’d leave him to it.”
Liv wrinkled her nose. “I don’t blame you.”
“Can I buy you a drink somewhere a little more civilised? There’s a wine bar around the corner that will still be open.”
She smiled. “Yeah, that would be great. Let me go and tell my friend where I’m going. We’re sharing a taxi back to Shepherd’s Bush, and she’ll be mad if I disappear on her.”
It was her way of letting him know she wouldn’t be going home with him tonight, but also making sure he knew someone would miss her if she didn’t show back up. A single woman in the city, she needed to take precautions.
“I’ll make sure I get you back safely.”
Liv ran up to Ellen and dragged her off to one side to tell her what was happening.
“Okay, but be careful,” Ellen yelled back. “He looks hot, but it’s often the ones you don’t expect who are the psychos.”
Liv laughed, thinking how true that statement was. “I’ve got my phone. I’ll call you as soon as we’re done, okay?”
“Sure. Have fun, honey!”
She hugged her friend, and tried not to think about the sweaty imprint Ellen’s cheek had left on hers.
She found Michael waiting for her near the exit. He put out his elbow for her, an old-fashioned gesture, and she smiled and took it. Relieved to be out of the noisy, hot, sweat-permeated club, she inhaled a lungful of fresh air. They walked a few streets until they found a wine bar which catered to only a handful of customers at this time of night.
“Do you drink red wine?” he asked as they were seated at a table. “Or are you a white drinker?”
“Honestly, I’m happy with either.”
“I’ll get red, then, shall I?” He lifted a hand to signal the waitress, and she re-appeared with a wide smile. “Can we have a bottle of your New Zealand Pinot Noir?”
Liv flapped a hand. “Oh, just a glass is fine for me.” Mentally, she calculated what she’d already had. The shot of tequila, the half a lager, and one glass of red wine. That was enough for her. Perhaps most single women her age would be drinking their own body weight in alcohol on a night out, but Liv was meticulous about the number of units she drank.
But he waved away her concerns. “I’m sure I can manage more than a glass. We can always leave anything we don’t drink.”
A blush heated her cheeks. “Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”
The waitress returned with the bottle, and Liv was relieved when she poured a drop into Michael’s glass to taste. She had no idea about wines, really, and would have been mortified to accept a bottle, only for the handsome man sitting opposite to say it was off.
He nodded to accept the wine, and the waitress filled their glasses. Michael picked up his and lifted it towards Liv in a salute. “To making new friends.”
She copied his actions and clinked hers against his. “Making new friends,” she parroted.
He sat back in his seat, his head tilted slightly to one side as he regarded her. “So, tell me everything there is to know about you, Liv.”
She laughed, a little embarrassed at the scrutiny. “There isn’t really much to tell.” Or at least there wasn’t much she was able to tell him. “I’m twenty-seven, and I’m an estate agent.”
“Have you been doing that long?”
She shrugged. “A few years now. I enjoy it. Means I’m not stuck inside an office all day every day. What about you?”
“Recruitment.” He leaned in, conspiratorial. “And will you think differently of me if I tell you I’m thirty-four?”
She pulled a face but was teasing. Flirting. “Thirty-four, huh? Practically an old man.”
He mock shuddered. “Pension will be on the horizon soon.”
They both laughed.
They sipped the wine as they talked. Liv was relieved the conversation flowed with places they’d travelled to—his were far more exotic than hers, though she managed to come up with some stories a few of the younger crowd at work had recounted to her—what foods they liked, television shows, and books.
Her phone buzzed, and she realised the last hour had flown by.
“Sorry,” she told him as she checked her mobile. People checking their phones while they talked was a pet hate of hers. It was a message from Ellen. “My friend is expecting me.”
He shrugged. “No problem.”
She looked at the message, expecting Ellen to be complaining about her not having called yet, but it was something different.
Heading on somewhere else, honey. Call me if you want to join us. Have fun with Mr Tall Dark and Handsome. Be safe.
Liv hid a smile.
“Everything okay?” Michael enquired.
“Yes, fine.” She was tempted to stay, to order another bottle of wine, and sit, feeling glamorous and desired opposite this gorgeous, intense man who seemed to hang on her every word. But she knew how it would end—with her getting too drunk and losing control, and then everything would go wrong. It had happened before, and she didn’t want it happening again. Especially not with this guy. Some of the men she’d picked up in the past were nothing to her—antipodeans who were travelling and passed their time by working in bars and partying. They were fine for one night, and most of the time she wouldn’t have even been able to remember their names. But this guy was different. He was sophisticated, classy. She wanted him to think she was, too.
“I have to get going,” she said, regretting her words with every syllable, but knowing it was the right thing to do. “I’ve got things to do in the morning.”
“Oh, of course. I totally understand.” Did she see a flicker of regret across his handsome features? “Is your friend meeting you?”
“She’s already gone home and is waiting for me there.” It was a white lie, but she wanted him to think someone would miss her if she didn’t arrive home.
Maybe he thought it strange that she and her friend hadn’t grabbed a taxi together, but if he did, he was too polite to say so.
“Can I take your number?” he asked with a shy smile that made something in her chest clench. “I’d really love to see you again.”
She nodded, heat rising to her cheeks, having to suppress a little smile of happiness. “Sure.”
They exchanged numbers, and then he walked her out to the taxi rank. He made no attempt to try to get in with her—something she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or happy about—but instead leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “It was lovely meeting you tonight, Olivia. I hope we can do it again soon.” And he gave her a final smile before slamming the taxi door shut.
Liv lifted her hand in a small wave as the taxi pulled away from the stand. Michael returned the wave. She sat back around to face the front, but then glanced over her shoulder again.
He was still standing on the pavement, watching the car drive away.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Liv was stepping through her front door. The flat was quiet, just as she’d expected it to be. Her flatmate Tammy tended to stay away most weekends, hanging out at friends’ flats or with the latest boyfriend. She usually reappeared Sunday night, having partied most of the weekend away.
Liv slipped out of the dress and kicked off her shoes. She was relieved to rid herself of the heels, and stretched out her toes, rolling the balls of her feet on the soft carpet. She threw on a vest she slept in and went to the bathroom to scrub off the remains of her makeup and brush her teeth. Her shared flat was one of those new builds that insisted on having as many bathrooms as bedrooms, even though it meant the bedrooms themselves were tiny, but it did mean she was able to have her own en-suite, while her flatmate used the main bathroom as her own. It was a little luxury, but an added privacy Liv appreciated. There was even a walk-in wardrobe which was also ridiculously tiny, but meant the agents got to boast about it on the listings.
She reached into the cabinet for a new tube of toothpaste and
knocked down a small pot into the sink. The pot broke open, spilling capsules onto the porcelain.
“Shit!” A couple vanished down the plug hole before she’d managed to scoop them up again. Another couple already started to dissolve in the small pool of water gathered around the plug. “Fuck it,” she swore again as she did her best to scoop them up and put the ones that weren’t ruined back in the small plastic pot. She had to leave the half dissolved ones as a lost cause, but managed to retrieve the rest and put the pot back in the medicine cabinet. She’d need to get a repeat prescription, which was annoying. The doctor always acted suspiciously of her, as though she was taking too many or selling them out on the streets. She understood that he could see her medical file, and had good reason to be cautious of her, but years had passed now. At what point was she going to be allowed a clean slate?
She finished getting ready for bed then went into her room and slipped between the sheets. Her thoughts drifted to the man she’d spent the better part of the evening with. Would she hear from him again? It was hard to tell. Quite often the men she thought were the keenest were the ones who completely vanished off the radar once the night was up. She didn’t want to get her hopes up only to have them dashed. A guy like him was too good for someone like her. He was way out of her league, and he’d probably get home and realise that.
As she reached out to switch off her bedside lamp, her phone buzzed.
Had a great time tonight. Hope we can repeat it again soon. Michael. X.
She studied that kiss and smiled.
Chapter Three
Four Weeks Earlier
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU on Friday night?” Callie asked as Olivia slipped into her seat at her desk. “Meeting some hot guy and then vanishing on us.”
Liv laughed and held up her hands in defence. “We shared a bottle of wine, and talked.”
Her colleague gave a cheeky smile. “And then?”
“I went home.”
Callie lifted her eyebrows as though to say, oh yeah?
“Alone!” she protested. “I swear.”
The older woman sat back in her seat. “Well, that’s disappointing. I was hoping for some juicy gossip.”
“Nothing exciting happened with the rest of you guys after I left?”
“No, Ellen called Ryan to come and pick her up, so she disappeared with him. Stevie and Philip vanished off somewhere together. I ended up eating a kebab at two-thirty in the morning and waking up with half of it stuck to the side of my face.”
Liv laughed. “Oh, nice.”
“Yeah.” She grimaced. “Don’t let me do tequila shots again.”
Ellen arrived in the office late, flustered and frantic, and making noises about bad traffic, even though she could have just as easily caught the Tube rather than Ryan driving her.
“You heard from Mr Handsome again?” she called over to Liv, once she got settled.
Liv shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “It’s only Monday. Give the guy a chance.
“Just asking! I thought after his goodnight text, he might have been eager.”
“Too eager isn’t good,” she said, though deep down she wished he’d texted her again. Sure, she could always text him, but she didn’t like to be the one to do the chasing.
Liv settled into work, catching up on emails and returning phone calls she’d missed. They’d had a couple of new listings over the weekend, and she needed to make sure the properties were all showing on the relevant websites.
A number she didn’t recognise lit up on her mobile, but she answered, expecting it to be a client. “Olivia Midhurst speaking.”
A male voice spoke. “Hi, Olivia, it’s Michael from the other night. I hope you don’t mind me calling.”
She sat back in surprise, her stomach doing a flip. “Michael? No, of course not. Your number didn’t come up on my phone.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m calling from my work phone.” He paused, and she wondered what he was going to say. “Um, I know it’s short notice, but I wondered if you’d like to meet for lunch? I was supposed to be meeting a client, and he’s cancelled on me. I have a table booked in a restaurant around the corner from Covent Garden. It seems a shame to let the booking go to waste—you have to book several weeks in advance. But I understand if it’s too short notice.”
“No, no, not at all.” She caught Ellen’s eye across the office and pointed at the phone while mouthing ‘it’s him’ at her. Ellen’s face lit up, and she grinned and gave Liv a double thumbs up.
“What time?” she asked, smiling down the phone.
“One o’clock.”
“Perfect.”
He gave her the address. She wished she’d put more effort into choosing her work clothes that morning—a white shirt with a tulip skirt and heels.
Ellen came over to help her get ready, and undid a couple of the top buttons of her shirt, and rifled through her makeup bag for some red lipstick. “There. You look gorgeous. The epitome of a modern businesswoman.”
“Thanks. I hope I don’t scare him off.”
“If a man can be scared off by a strong woman, then he’s not man enough for you, anyway.”
“Thanks.”
She glanced over at Tony’s closed office door, hoping he hadn’t noticed her making the extra effort. She could always say she was going to meet a new client—someone who was interested in their agency to manage a string of investment properties, perhaps—but she didn’t like lying to him. He’d done her a favour by giving her the job in the first place, and besides, there were enough lies in her life without adding more. But her boss’s door remained shut, and she figured she’d get away with sneaking out, just as long as she wasn’t too long.
OLIVIA WALKED INTO the restaurant, scanning the crowd. She suddenly realised she didn’t know Michael’s surname. She wouldn’t be able to tell the hostess what name he’d booked under, other than Michael. She didn’t want to end up looking silly and out of place. That imposter syndrome was coming into play all over again.
She hesitated near the doorway, frantically hoping she would spot him. She breathed out a sigh of relief as he half stood from a table near the back, his hand lifting to signal her.
The hostess approached. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, that’s okay. I already spotted him.”
The hostess gave her a nod and a smile and left Liv to wind her way through the busy lunchtime crowd. It was loud in the restaurant, everyone talking at once, glasses clinking, and knives and forks striking plates. Below the clamour, music played, but it was too faint for her to recognise.
Her smile widened as she approached Michael. He wore a dark suit with a tie which had threads of pink running through it for a playful splash of colour. He was just as handsome as she’d remembered, perhaps even more so. As he smiled in return and leaned in to kiss her cheek, his hand pressing into the small of her back, a waft of expensive aftershave filled her senses.
“Olivia,” he said. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself. Are you always so smartly dressed?”
He chuckled. “I do wear clothes other than a suit, I promise. I will have to take you out one weekend when I’m allowed to be more casual.”
Her heart hummed at the mention of him wanting to take her out again. They hadn’t even started this date yet.
He pulled her chair out for her, and she took a seat. She wasn’t used to men treating her with such old-fashioned gestures, and couldn’t decide if it was sweet or made her feel awkward. Maybe a little of both.
To hide her discomfort, she picked up the menu and studied it.
“The Carpaccio of beef looks amazing,” she said, thinking she didn’t want to order anything too heavy for a lunch dish.
“Mmm, it does look good.” He looked up at her, his dark eyes fixing on hers. He was intense, in a way she felt he was looking at her too deeply, and held eye contact for a little longer than was truly comfortable. “Don’t you think we’re eati
ng too much meat now, though? It’s been all over the news about how bad it is for us, and the environment. Did you know they liken eating a piece of bacon to being as bad for us as smoking a cigarette?”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t know that. How awful.” She resisted adding, I love bacon.
He maintained eye contact. “So, you’ll have the salmon instead?”
“Oh, I ... Yes, well, the salmon looks delicious as well.”
He smiled, and she was relieved when he finally looked away. “Excellent.” He lifted a hand and signalled over to the waitress. “Two salmon Carpaccio, and we’ll need a good white wine to go with that.”
“I shouldn’t drink,” she said. “I have to get back to work.” Her job was important to her, even though being an estate agent often meant she was the butt of jokes, and she didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.
“Nonsense. You can’t have lunch without white wine. It’s practically law.” He flashed her that perfect white smile, and she found herself agreeing. One glass of wine wasn’t going to hurt. She’d drink plenty of water with it, and chew some gum before she got back into the office.
The waitress returned with the bottle of wine, but just set it down with the glasses, rather than making them go through the awkward tasting routine. Michael removed the bottle from the cooler and poured them both a glass.
“To second dates,” he toasted, and they clinked glasses.
“Is this our second?” she asked, tilting her head to one side as she smiled at him. “Does Saturday night count as a first date?”
“Oh, absolutely. And I hope I’ll get a third and forth date, too.”
His phone, which sat beside him on the table, buzzed, and he glanced down at it, a frown marking his brow, his lips pinching.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes ... Well ... Yes, it’s fine.”
“If you need to make a call, I don’t mind.”
He glanced up at her, and she could see he was anxious. Perhaps he didn’t want her to think he was being rude, but then she didn’t want him to think she was completely uptight. This was a lunch date in the middle of a working day. She hoped if something urgent came up, he wouldn’t mind her making a call either.
