by Lucy King
Zoe grinned. ‘It’s fine. I’m flattered I had you so befuddled. Anyway, why three?’
‘What?’
‘Well, why not two dates, or four, or something? Why three?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged, but Zoe didn’t entirely trust his air of ignorance. Not when to her it seemed pretty obvious.
‘Let me guess,’ she said, tapping her fingers against her mouth for a moment. ‘A three-date limit means there’s no need for the exchange of too much personal information, no need for intimate chit-chat or any of those pesky strings that come with relationships, yet the chances of sex are pretty good.’
‘You make it sound grubby,’ he said, although she noticed he didn’t deny it.
‘I don’t think it’s anything. It’s your policy, not mine. Does it work?’
He shot her a rueful smile. ‘Not all that well, to be honest.’
‘You mean there aren’t that many women after nothing more than a one-night stand with you?’ She grinned. ‘You amaze me.’
‘Why? Aren’t you one of them?’
Hmm. The man was perceptive, she’d give him that. ‘You have a point, although this is strictly a one-off. But if you’re so worried about a kiss-and-tell why not just get them to sign a confidentiality agreement?’
He stared at her for a moment as if the idea of it had never crossed his mind. ‘Would you do that?’
‘Of course, although I doubt anyone would seriously believe you and I would be involved anyway.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re practically a god,’ she said, waving a hand in his direction and then in hers, ‘and I’m...well...not much of a goddess.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Dan dryly. ‘Some of the things you did last night were pretty divine.’
‘Yes, well, you were very encouraging.’
Snapshots of what they’d done together last night flitted into her head, and his too she thought, judging by the long seconds of silence that followed.
‘Did you actually see the article about us?’ he asked eventually, yanking her out of her very lovely memories and making her pale with his words.
‘Us?’ she echoed.
Reaching over, Dan fished for his phone, messed about with it for a bit, then turned the screen round and handed it to her. ‘Have a look at this.’
Taking the phone from him, Zoe began to read, her heart sinking with every word. First there was the news about their engagement, which was melodramatic and sensationalised and about as far from the rather unromantic truth as it was possible to be. Following that was a paragraph about her, which managed to make her sound dry, boring and totally insignificant. And then came reams and reams about Dan, about his advertising brilliance, his eligibility and the women he’d been seen with, of which there were many, all high-profile.
‘I see,’ she said when she’d finished it. ‘No wonder you had to deny it.’
‘I didn’t have a choice.’
She handed the phone back to him. ‘Of course you didn’t. I mean, really? Why would anyone think you were ever engaged to me for real? The gorgeous hotshot Casanova and the dull, plain statistician? Hah. I don’t think so.’
‘What? No. That wasn’t what I meant.’ He looked at her closely and then frowned. ‘But God, they really did a number on you, didn’t they?’ he said softly.
She glanced away. ‘Who did?’
‘The bullies.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe they did.’
‘Just maybe?’ he asked.
‘OK, so I have a couple of self-esteem issues. But it’s nothing I can’t deal with.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’
‘What I don’t get, though,’ said Dan, flopping back on the pillows and linking his hands behind his head, ‘is why they targeted you?’
Momentarily distracted by the sight of him lying there, his broad shoulders looking even broader with his arms up like that, his entire chest on display for her, Zoe swallowed hard and dragged her eyes away from his muscles and up to his face, the better to concentrate. ‘Why wouldn’t they?’ she murmured.
‘You don’t seem the type to take it.’
‘You’ve only known me for forty-eight hours. I’ve been around for a whole thirty-two years.’
‘Tell me more.’
Zoe frowned. ‘Why? Isn’t this exactly the sort of personal stuff your three-date rule is designed to avoid?’
‘I’d simply like to be able to put Thursday night into perspective, that’s all.’
Maybe she did owe him that much, she supposed, especially since he’d helped her out so magnificently. ‘OK, well, I guess I never really fitted in.’
‘At school?’
‘Anywhere. Right from when I was little I never got what made people gel.’ She sighed softly. ‘At primary school everyone was always huddled in little groups and I could never work out what they were talking about. There they were playing make believe and all I could think was why? What was the point? So I just stood there hanging around on the sidelines, not joining in, not being invited to birthday parties and not going on play dates.’
‘And it bothered you?’
‘A bit, but mainly because I couldn’t work out what to do about it.’
‘What happened when you got to secondary school?’
She winced. ‘Oh, well, things got a lot worse obviously.’
‘Why obviously?’
‘Because what had been instinct became deliberate.’ She shook her head and shot him a look. ‘Teenage girls in a pack on a mission? You do not want to be in their sights.’
‘I can’t begin to imagine,’ he muttered with a frown.
‘I was rubbish at acting and music and sport, which was all any of the girls really cared about when it came to the curriculum, but I did have an affinity for numbers. I was kind of obsessed with them and it made me stand out.’ She shrugged. ‘People thought I was weird.’
‘I don’t.’
Zoe gave him a wry smile. ‘No, but you’re not a teenage girl who thinks studying is square and instead is obsessed with boys, iridescent make-up and snogging.’
His gaze dipped to her mouth and his eyes darkened. ‘I quite like the snogging part.’
‘So do I. Now. But then I couldn’t care less about it. Anyway, weirdness wasn’t a trait that was celebrated at St Catherine’s, so really I didn’t stand a chance.’
‘How bad did it get?’
She shrugged. ‘Pretty bad.’
‘Did you ever do anything about it?’
‘Once. When I saw red and lashed out at random. Unfortunately I caught Samantha on the chin and she fell and got concussion.’
‘Did she report it?’
Zoe shook her head. ‘And have me tell everyone why I’d done it? Oh no. She was far cleverer than that. She force-fed me half a bottle of ouzo that she’d smuggled in after a summer holiday in Greece and got me suspended instead.’ She sighed. ‘I swear I can still taste the stuff sometimes.’ Then she shot him a small smile. ‘But on the bright side at least YouTube wasn’t around then.’
‘I wish I’d known all this on Thursday night,’ he muttered.
‘Why?’
‘I’d have been far less...restrained.’
Zoe felt warmth steal through her and her heart squeezed at the fierce look blazing in the depths of his eyes. ‘The bullying might not have done much for my self-esteem, but, God, you do.’
‘Agree to the three-date rule and I’ll do my best to boost it as much as I can.’
She stared at him. Three dates only. Hmm. She certainly wanted some more of that lovely sex, but could sh
e really give it up in three dates’ time as she’d undoubtedly have to? That might be tough. On the other hand walking away now and not having any more of the lovely sex did seem a bit like cutting off her nose to spite her face.
So the two roads open to her were fabulous sex for a short time or no sex at all. It was a no-brainer.
‘Sounds good to me,’ she said, renewed desire beginning to seep through her and tangle with hunger.
‘Great. How about tonight for date number one?’
‘Doesn’t last night count?’
‘Seeing as how I omitted to mention the rule, I don’t think it should, do you?’
‘A good point,’ she said graciously. ‘And a fair one.’
‘So, tonight?’
‘I can do tonight.’
‘Really?’ he said looking at her quizzically. ‘Are you sure you aren’t impossibly busy for the next week but perhaps could fit me in on Thursday between six and seven?’
‘I don’t play those kinds of games.’
‘Well, what kinds of games do you play?’ he asked, a light suddenly shining in his eyes.
‘Feed me first and then I’ll show you.’
* * *
Oddly enough, the end of date number three, a week later, came round far too quickly for Dan’s liking.
He’d implemented the rule to prevent the need for intimacy and to avoid the disclosure of any personal information that might be of interest to the paper-reading public, which up to now had worked rather too well, as—as Zoe had so perceptively pointed out—not many of the women who expressed an interest in him and vice versa were happy with his conditions. But somehow with Zoe sex on its own didn’t seem to be enough.
He wanted to know more about her. A lot more. The taster she’d given him when he’d asked her about the effect the bullying had had on her had left him wondering what she felt about and how she dealt with other things, like her family, her business, her friends. He wanted to know what she thought about politics, current affairs, whether she had any hobbies. But as he’d been so bloody pig-headed about the rule in the first place he’d hardly been able to break it and ask her.
However, now they were coming to the end of it, he was thinking that if Zoe were amenable and if they agreed to keep things low-key perhaps they could renegotiate the deal.
It would require something of a leap of faith because even though what he was about to suggest wouldn’t expose him to the possibility of a kiss-and-tell, it would leave him vulnerable nonetheless. But then what was he going to do? Stick to his guns and be alone for ever? That sounded even less appealing.
‘So I guess this is it, then,’ said Zoe, sitting on the edge of the bed all dressed and ready to leave, her expression unfathomable.
‘It doesn’t have to be.’
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘No?’
Dan took a deep breath and hoped to God he wasn’t making a colossal mistake. ‘What would you say to signing that confidentiality agreement you mentioned?’
* * *
Well, that was a suggestion she’d never anticipated, Zoe thought, staring at Dan in surprise as he watched her closely. He’d been so intractable about the three-date thing that she’d worked herself up to leaving without a backward glance and burying the week somewhere deep in her memory, but not so far that she couldn’t visit and indulge herself from time to time.
But now he’d thrown a curve ball, one that appealed more than it should, which meant she was going to have to have a rethink.
‘Why?’ she asked, mainly to give herself some time to do just that.
‘Because I don’t want this to be over.’ He paused for a second, then asked, ‘Do you?’
‘I don’t know.’
Which was the truth. The last three dates had been great, light on small talk, heavy on sex, which had suited her perfectly because it had meant that while she’d been having a lot of fun he hadn’t asked any more probing and potentially humiliation-inducing questions about her past and she hadn’t had to answer. It had also meant they hadn’t gone out and therefore hadn’t been anywhere where the press might express an interest.
If she started dating him properly, however, as he seemed to be implying he wanted, then that would change. They’d inevitably go out from time to time, and the press would undoubtedly take an interest. Depending on how long things lasted, they might even dig around for stuff about her. They might talk to Samantha and her pals, which wouldn’t be pretty. Even worse, her appearance would be scrutinised and would inevitably be criticised. She knew how stuff like this worked. Sort of. And would she be able to handle it? She wasn’t sure.
But on the other hand, now she was being presented with the offer of an extension to their mini-fling, she was wavering. She’d finally got round to Googling him and, although she’d tried not to be too interested in what she read by telling herself that there was no point in thinking of questions she’d never be able to ask, she couldn’t deny that her appetite to learn more about him had been whetted.
And really if anything did make its way into the papers would it really be such a big deal? She hardly ever read the things anyway.
‘Would it still be just about the sex?’ she asked, teetering on the tipping point.
He arched an eyebrow. ‘I don’t see how it could be, do you?’
At the thought she might be on the brink of a real relationship with a man like Dan her pulse began to race. ‘Could we be discreet?’
He grinned. ‘I can’t believe you have to ask when you know how in favour of discretion I am.’
‘OK,’ she said, feeling a thrill ripple through her as over the edge she went, ‘then why not?’
NINE
Four weeks later, and Zoe could hardly believe that at one point she’d ever seriously contemplated not wanting to go out with Dan.
She must have been nuts, she thought, pushing through the revolving door at the entrance of her office and stepping out onto the street, because quite honestly these last few weeks had been some of the best of her life. Better than her A-level fortnight, better than her finals and better even than her viva, which was saying something.
And it wasn’t just the sex, although that was pretty high up there on her list of things to be pleased about. It was the conversation too, the exchange of personal information that neither of them had ever intended to do.
Tangled in sheets and basking in the aftermath of explosive passion, they’d conversationally meandered through topics such as siblings, parents and careers, and he hadn’t once tried to deflect her questions the way she’d half expected him to.
She’d told him about her love of numbers, the black and white nature of them and their fail-safe reliability, and he’d confessed to the thrill he still got when everything came together to create a great advertising campaign and his regret that he no longer had the time to do much on the creative side. She’d talked about her future plans for her business and he’d mentioned his intention to expand his operations by putting in an offer for the US agency that was up for sale.
She’d touched on her sister and her disaster of a marriage, and he’d told her about Celia and the devastating effect their parents’ divorce had had on her.
She’d told him more about her school years and he’d told her about the traumatic time he’d had during his, when his parents had been at the height of their arguing and things had been tough for a while.
The only thing they didn’t talk about was their relationship and where it was going, but that was fine with Zoe because she wasn’t sure where she wanted them to be going.
At the moment, for her at least, things were going just great. Dan didn’t seem to be put off either by her idiosyncrasies or her insecurities; on the contrary he seemed respectively fascinated by and supportive of them, and if she’d been more into the arts than th
e sciences she’d have said she was blossoming beneath all the attention he showered her with.
As agreed they’d kept a low profile, staying in more than they’d been out, and that suited Zoe just fine too because despite her self-assurances to the contrary she had been worrying a bit about the possibility of press intrusion and what might be said about her.
And yes, a couple of photos of them had popped up on the Internet and in the papers, with a comment or two that she didn’t much care for, but generally she didn’t warrant much interest. She wasn’t a glamorous actress, after all—and of course she’d Googled Jasmine Thomas even though she’d immediately wished she hadn’t because the woman was absolutely gorgeous—and she wasn’t famous or newsworthy or anything. She was just someone who was having fun. A lot of it.
And with any luck she’d be having some more of it tonight, she thought, smiling to herself as she gripped onto the strap of her handbag and weaved her way through the crowds towards the tube station.
Dan was off to the States tomorrow to go and check up on the company he was planning to buy, and she was cooking him a farewell dinner, which involved hours of preparation, lots of expensive ingredients and going home early for a bit of pampering.
She was trying not to think about how much she was going to miss him, but that was proving to be nigh on impossible because she feared she was going to miss him hugely. She’d got used to his calls, his emails, the hot hard kiss he always gave her whenever they met up that was better than any hello, even the light snoring he swore he didn’t do. The calls and emails she guessed she’d still get, but the kisses and the snoring she’d pine for terribly.
The disproportionate strength of her reaction to the thought of not having him around for what was only a week would have made her stop and wonder if she hadn’t been feeling so jittery and tense and sick.
Of course the nerves and the edginess and the nausea churning through her could well be PMT, she thought, swearing beneath her breath when someone bumped into her, because she always felt a bit tense and snappish a day or two before her period.
