“That was to Lucy. I wasn’t talking to myself. I’m not that crazy.”
He sniffed. “Hey, I’ve been known to mutter to myself on the odd occasion. It’s not a sign of madness. It helps me get my head together.”
I held my hand up. “Yep. Me too. It’s a habit that started as a child. I guess being an only child I only had me and my dolls. And I’d chat to them.”
He sat close to me on the sofa and stroked my cheek. His eyes glistened with affection, which warmed my spirit. That gaze wasn’t like his hooded sexual gaze but one of friendship.
Apart from Lucy, I hadn’t seen that in a person before. Least of all my cold mother.
Sipping on champagne, a crisp, complex flavour that tasted of wealth, I loved how the bubbles bounced on my tongue.
Declan went to his turntable. “What would you like to listen to?”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind really.”
“Classical?”’
“No. Not that.”
He smiled. “Really?”
“I’ve been listening to Beethoven all week. I’m learning a piece.”
Jazz filled the air. “How’s that?” He tilted his head and smiled. His brown hair in a tousled wave and his face tanned and healthy, highlighting those eyes that had taken up residence in my soul.
“I like it.”
He returned to my side and faced me. “It’s nice having you here as my guest for a change.”
“It feels odd that I’m not cleaning.”
“I want that to stop.”
I swallowed. “Okay. Sure.”
I would miss the money. But at least I’d paid off my debts.
“I can still set up an account for you,” he said.
My face contorted. “I am not going to prostitute myself.”
He shook his head repeatedly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“This isn’t a good idea.” I shot up off the couch and dashed outside before he could stop me.