Page 23 of The Player

But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he wanders into the kitchen, and I follow him, desperately trying to think of something to keep him here. I missed him while he was away, and I needmore of his company. I’m coming to the awful conclusion that I’ve developed feelings for my husband’s best friend somewhere along the way. Feelings he’ll never return.

Oblivious to my turmoil, he stops and opens the fridge to peer nosily into it. “What’s this?” he asks prodding a container.

I peer past him. “It’s the remains of an old pasta dish I made a few days ago. I’m thinking of having it for tea.”

“Why? Have you been naughty?”

“Don’t be rude. I cook very well.”

“I know you do. You’re an amazing cook. It’s just that old pasta on your birthday is sad.” He stands up. “Come on. Get changed.”

I blink. “Why?”

“I’m taking you for dinner. You’re not eating that sh—” He pauses when he catches my eye. “Thatlovelypasta,” he finishes, and I suppress a smile. My heart is beating fast, and I feel anticipation run through my veins.

“Really?” I say breathlessly.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and it may be my imagination, but I’m sure he’s standing closer to me. The air seems thick, and it’s hard to breathe with the scent of him all around me.

“So, dinner, yes? Just me and you?” he says huskily.

I stare at him. He’s so gorgeous. Full of life and vitality. A lovely, kind man. My thoughts stutter and stop with a sudden horrible jerk.And that’s what he is doing now, I think with a sick realisation. He’s being kind to his dead best friend’s husband. Oh, I know I’m his friend too, but what on earth would he see in me? I’m sharp and thin and somewhat quirky-looking.

I’m well aware that my confidence has suffered from being with David and having him be unfaithful to me, but even in my best days when I was full of life, I would never have been able to compete with Tim. He’s gorgeous.

At the thought of the man waiting at home for him, my heart sinks to my feet so fast I feel sick, and I know what I must say. “Oh–oh no, it’s alright,” I say faintly. “Let’s not bother.”

His eyes narrow. “What? Why do you sound like that? You were all for it twenty seconds ago.”

I wave a dismissive hand. “You should go with Tim. I don’t want to be in the way. Go and have a nice night with your lovely boyfriend. You need to pay attention to him.”

He stares at me for a long second, his expression clouding, and then, without another word, he turns and leaves the house, shutting the door behind him with a final click.

I stand alone in my living room, my heartbeat pounding loud in my ears. “Shit,” I say softly. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

chapter

five

I putthe phone down just as there’s a gentle knock on the office door, and Joan pops her head around.

“All done?” she asks.

I nod and stretch my neck, which has developed a crick after being on the phone for an hour. “Accounts say they can’t imagine why the payment wasn’t made.”

“Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they,” she says tartly.

“Anyway, they paid by bank transfer. Probably just to get me off the phone. I outstayed my welcome about twenty seconds into the call.”

“Then they should pay on time.” She wrinkles her nose. “Seeing as you’re in the mood for putting out fires, there’s one in the workshop that requires your attention.”

“What? I hope it’s not a literal one. My shoulders aren’t equipped to carry all the firemen’s gear.”

“Well, luckily for your childlike shoulders, it’s a symbolic fire. Con is shouting. A lot.”

“What?” I say in amazement. “Con?OurCon is shouting?”

Her lip twitches. “So it would seem.”

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