This Could Change Everything(106)

Yee-ha!

‘Are you saying I’ve grown on you? Like ivy?’ Scarlett looked mildly amused, Mirren-style.

‘I suppose.’ He raked his fingers through his already tousled hair. ‘Look, it’s never happened this way round before. But it has now. And I’m wondering if maybe this is the way to go.’

‘How . . . romantic.’

Conor grinned. ‘Sorry. I’m just trying to explain how I feel. I wasn’t expecting any of this to happen.’

‘Except you seem to have forgotten one thing.’ Oh my God, will you listen to me? I’m brilliant at this! Helen Mirren is the best!

‘What have I forgotten?’ said Conor.

‘I started off really liking you. Then you made it very clear that you weren’t interested, so I stopped.’ Scarlett tipped her head to one side. ‘I told you the other night, remember?’

He looked taken aback. ‘But now I am interested.’

‘But it’s too late. I switched off that switch, closed that door, deleted that app.’

‘Seriously?’ said Conor.

‘Seriously.’

‘Can you not . . . switch it back on?’

Heeee!

Scarlett frowned. ‘That’s not the way it works for me. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.’

‘Oh.’ He looked dismayed.

‘Although there might be one thing we can try . . .’

‘What’s that?’

‘Kiss me.’ Thrilled by the flare of surprise in his eyes, Scarlett slid across the bench towards him. ‘Go on, give it your best shot. Let’s see if we can’t manage to jump-start this cold, dead heart of mine, bring it back to life.’

And as their lips met, she waved goodbye to Helen Mirren. She had done her job, and done it well. It was no longer necessary to keep up the super-cool facade.

To be honest, even if she’d tried to, the way her entire body was now trembling would have given her away.

Finally they paused for breath. Phew. And Conor was smiling down at her.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘Any good?’

Scarlett reached up and rested her fingertips in the little hollow at the base of his throat; how many times had she looked at this hollow and longed to touch it?

She smiled too. ‘Not bad. Although we might need a bit more practice.’

‘Let me consult my diary. I think we could probably manage that.’

She dropped the facade completely. ‘You’re gorgeous.’

‘Thanks. You have excellent taste.’ Conor tucked a wayward strand of purple hair behind her ear. ‘Not so bad yourself.’

‘I’m free for the rest of the afternoon.’ As she said it, Scarlett gazed with longing at his mouth.

‘Damn, I wish I was.’ He checked his watch. ‘But I need to be back in Bath by four thirty. Two-hour job in Albert Street.’ He grimaced at the prospect.

‘Albert Street? My friend Carrie lives at number twenty-two.’

‘My client’s Geraldine Marsh at number eighteen.’

The name rang a faint bell. ‘Is she the bossy one who complains a lot?’

‘The very same.’

‘Oh!’ Her eyes widened. ‘I was at Carrie’s party on the night of the storm! A huge tree came down in Geraldine’s back garden and someone spent hours with a chainsaw chopping up branches . . .’

‘It wasn’t the best night of my life.’ Conor’s tone was rueful.

‘I was watching you! Feeling sorry for you! I was going to bring you a hot drink to cheer you up!’

‘That would have been brilliant. Why didn’t you?’

‘I think my favourite music started playing,’ said Scarlett, ‘so I went back downstairs and had a dance instead.’

‘I’ll let you off.’ He leaned forward and gave her another kiss. ‘You didn’t know it was me.’

Every single touch of his warm mouth on hers set off a Disney-sized firework display in her chest. ‘What’s Geraldine’s number?’ she said.

Conor found it and she held out her hand for his phone.

‘Hello?’ she said when the call was picked up. ‘I’m calling on behalf of Conor McCauley, to let you know that he won’t be able to come to you this afternoon. He fell off a ladder earlier and is currently in the A and E department here at the Royal United . . . No, he’s hurt his back, but the X-ray was clear. He sends his apologies and says he’ll give you a call as soon as he’s able to work again . . . Yes, I’ll tell him. Bye!’

‘Tell me what?’ said Conor.

‘She said it’s very inconvenient because the tulips need digging up.’

‘That sounds about right.’ He paused. ‘And you knew my surname too.’

‘That’s because I asked Essie what it was, so that I could practise writing my new name if we ever happened to get married.’

He looked amused. ‘You see, you come out with things like that and I used to hate it. But now I just think it’s funny and honest. Did you really write your name with my surname?’

‘Well, not on paper,’ said Scarlett. ‘But I tried it out in my head. Just a few times.’ She grinned, utterly unrepentant. ‘Anyway, looks like you’ve got the rest of the afternoon off now.’