Edward, Edward, Edward.
I grit my teeth, shake out the taunt. I feel like a teenager mooning over him again.
But I had an excuse back then.
I was young, not quite naive—no child can live through foster care and be that—but foolish enough to believe in real-life fairy tales. He was the first guy to show me the right kind of attention, looking beneath the bad-girl exterior, the cocky arrogance, to the girl beneath. He saw the real me, listened to me, and I let him in...started to care...
‘So, the smoking—it’s all part of the image, right?’
We’d taken a run up into the mountains, the second summer he’d come home. He’d been determined to get me fitter and I—well, I never could resist seeing him working up a sweat. We’d collapsed against a sunbaked rock, our eyes on the blue sky, our conversation turning deep.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because you rarely roll up any more.’
I’d shrugged. ‘I haven’t wanted to.’
He’d pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at me, his hair flopping forward in its sexy habit, and my entire body had thrummed with the possibility that this might be it. Today he might kiss me and fulfil the dream I’d had since the first day I’d met him.
‘I think it’s more than that...’ The sincerity in his chocolate-brown eyes had set my heart racing, my lips bone-dry.
‘Oh, you do, do you...?’ Husky. Low. I hadn’t even sounded like me.
‘I think you know you don’t need to be like that around me...you don’t need the front.’
‘No? And why’s that?’
‘Because I like the person you are beneath the shield, Summer. And you should like her too.’
My laugh had been awkward, cut short by my heart bursting against my ribs as he’d leaned that little bit closer.
‘Just remember that, okay...?’
‘Oh, how times change,’ I say now, into the bathroom mirror.
Now I know better, and I only wish my body would get the message.
I snatch up my mascara, give my lashes a quick sweep, put some gloss on my lips and the slightest hint of blusher. If anything, it’ll give me some protection when my cheeks flush, as they inevitably will. I towel-dry my hair and run a brush through it. I don’t have time for more.
‘It’s not like he expects to be dining with the country’s finest, so get over yourself,’ I mutter, heading for the door and wishing I’d purchased slippers on our impromptu shopping spree.
These big houses are cold at floor level, and even the thickest socks I have aren’t seeing out the chill. But wearing my walking boots to the dining room is uncouth even by my standards, and my sneakers are as threadbare as Ted.
So, cold tootsies it is.
I reach for the handle as the sound of the door opening next door reaches me. I pause, press my ear against the wood. Sure enough, I can hear Edward approach and I hold my breath—why, I have no idea. He pauses just outside and I lean back, eye the door as if it might suddenly explode. And then...the footsteps continue on.
A smile plays about my lips. Edward Fitzroy, future Lord, billionaire CEO, confident, revered, desired by the female population, is afraid to call on me for dinner.
Afraid?
You’re the one hiding behind the door!
I leap forward and pull it open before the inner laughter can take hold and pad out after him, my sock-clad feet silent against the floor. He hasn’t heard me and I don’t call attention to myself. I’m too content enjoying the sight of his rear. How can a man look just as delicious from behind as he does from the front...?
He’s freshly showered too. There’s a tantalising scent on the air—citrus, sandalwood, patchouli, perhaps—and it’s all him. He’s swapped his suit for dark chinos and a navy sweater. His hair, still damp at the edges, catches the golden light of the chandelier as we walk down the stairs, its layered style making my fingers tingle with the desire to reach out and play.
James is waiting outside the dining room as we approach, and he gives us a respectful nod. ‘Mr Fitzroy, Mi—Summer.’