The Morning After the Night Before: Love & Lust in the city that never sleeps! (17 page)

‘What's wrong with you?' Tori asked. ‘I'd do you in a heartbeat and I'm sure Mark would want to watch.' She took a healthy swallow of her coffee then glanced nervously at both of them. ‘Kidding.'

‘My point,' Poppy continued, ‘is that he's good-looking, he cared enough to make you take a taxi, he's clearly into you and he's no longer your boss. A week or a year, it doesn't matter. You have him right here, right now. Enjoy him. And it.'

Why was she overthinking this? She had a tummy full of breakfast, a full day's worth of research ahead of her to keep her mind occupied, and then another date with Harry tonight. After which she would almost certainly be able to mentally cross through a few more numbers in the battered Kama Sutra on the flat's bookshelves.

Even if it did mean limping home in public, certain everyone knew exactly why she was so crippled.

Don't overthink it…

‘Okay. Maybe you're right. And speaking of
enjoying… What do you think my chances are of catching that waiter's eye for another chai?'

‘Screw the chai.' Tori grinned. ‘I want to hear all about number four!'

* * *

Hard to imagine that Izzy had ever worried they'd not yet had a date. They'd been together every day since then in some shape or form. Dinner, breakfast, shopping, movies, the theatre, galleries. Harry had seen more of London in a few weeks with her than five years under his own steam.

And he'd seen more of Izzy than any other woman in his past. Full stop.

It was all very unlike him.

‘What do you think?' She modelled a vest intricately woven from what seemed to be threaded diamonds. If not for the fact it had come from a street market.

‘I think you have expensive tastes.'

‘Of course I do. I'm a woman of class.'

Mmm. ‘So how do you explain me?'

She considered him for moments. ‘I really can't.'

Join the club. It was as if an alien had taken over his body. Not only had she out-survived the single week of good sex he'd mentally as
cribed her, but he'd seen her virtually every evening for the past three weeks. And not because Izzy was pushing it. If anything, she seemed to be trying to put the brakes on a little.

Thank God one of them was able to be a man about this.

Twenty-two dates. Prior to Izzy, his personal best was six dates with the one woman. And that was not all at once.

And now he was
shopping
with her.

What the hell?

Except, could you really call it shopping if you didn't purchase anything? He was thirty-two years old and he'd never even been to markets in his life, let alone come away empty-handed. Izzy seemed to specialise in wandering around discovering things, admiring them with great gusto and then putting them wistfully back.

It was doing his head in.

‘Why don't you just buy it?' he asked as she replaced an ornate picture frame she'd just been gushing over.

‘It's not the one.'

‘The one what?'

‘The one I love enough to spend what I've brought with me.'

‘How much is that?'

She pulled a single note from her pocket and held it aloft.

‘
Ten pounds?
That's it?'

‘I'm on a budget.'

‘I'd happily buy you all of the things you've looked at today if we could just leave.'

She spun on him and something indefinable blazed in her eyes. But she didn't say a word. It saddened him that she thought he was having a crack. That she might assume he was bored trolling the endless rows of stalls when the truth was very different. He just wanted to be alone with her again. To enjoy her. To put an end to the sad little sag of her shoulders as she had to put things back.

‘Let me just buy something for you.'

He'd never realised how instantly gratification came to him courtesy of his platinum credit cards, and the kind of loose change she was sighing over was nothing to him.

Not that she knew that.

If she did, then how would he know why she was in this thing between them?

Patchy crimson bloomed in her cheeks. Like when she'd arrived at his door after the early morning tube dash. ‘
I
can buy something for me
if I need it. Don't worry, I learned this from the master. Window shopping is a family speciality.'

The more he heard about her childhood, the more disconnected he felt from the rest of the world.

‘Being frugal?'

‘At not buying every little thing that catches my eye.'

Guilty as charged. Clothes, meals, women.

‘Besides,' she went on, ‘anything here today is likely to be here again next time we come if I get hit with a sudden pang of
non-buyer's
remorse.'

We.

Why didn't that make him more nervous? Why wasn't all of this making him more nervous? Could it just be because dating Izzy was so…easy? And comfortable. And that somehow being with her energised him. Until he couldn't remember what he'd done with his evenings before they started seeing each other.

Seeing each other.
Too early to call themselves a couple, right? Too late to call it just sex.

He looked at her sideways to decide how casual he felt about her. The light coming off her swelled up and filled all gaps between his organs.

Yep, way too late.

‘Oh, look. It's Toz!'

Izzy raised one long, elegant hand, then tugged him to the left.

The crazy, multicoloured hair he recognised so well flung around as the woman he hadn't seen since the party turned from what she was doing and focused on them both.

‘Izzy!' She air-kissed her friend on both cheeks and then turned on him. Would she even recognise him? She had been pretty hammered.

‘Toz, you remember Harry? My, um…'

Izzy's eyes flared as she belatedly realised what a trap she'd set for herself, and a disturbing kind of pallor flooded her skin.

Harry stepped in easily, wanting nothing to crease that perfect brow. Ever. Certainly not something as stupid as his insecurities. ‘Her boyfriend.'

Izzy's breath sucked in audibly, but Tori covered like the PR pro she apparently was.

‘Harry,' she gushed, a speculative twinkle in her eye. ‘Lovely to see you.'

Something told him introductions were redundant. That he'd been the subject of a conversation or two between friends.

Or some parts of him had.

‘What are you doing here?' Izzy said, regaining a little of her composure.

‘I came to check out Lara's lingerie.'

‘The new tenant downstairs? How do you know she has a stall here?'

‘It's called talking to people, Iz. You should try it.'

Iz. Toz. Pops.

Harry looked from one to the other. ‘Do any of you go by your real names?'

‘Alex does,' Tori defended. ‘Besides, it's a badge of honour to be granted a nickname.'

He'd been around to Izzy's place a half-dozen times. ‘I look forward to the day I get one, then.'

‘You already have one,' Tori blurted. Izzy's eyes rounded wildly and, for the first time, Tori looked genuinely apologetic. ‘You know…kind of.'

But he kept his focus firmly on Izzy. ‘I have a nickname?'

‘It's just a silly thing,' she defended, terribly. ‘Something fun.'

He kept right on staring. ‘I like to have fun.'

Like this. Making two friends squirm for a moment. Evening up the gender imbalance.

‘It's…' Izzy almost seemed pale, and he suddenly
wondered if maybe it wasn't so fun, after all. ‘I'm sure you've had it before.'

And now he was genuinely intrigued. ‘Tell me and we'll know.'

‘Um…'

Had he ever seen Izzy completely lost for words? Normally she was lightning fast with a comeback.

‘Prince Harry,' Tori finally blurted, putting them all out of their misery.

Something tightened up uncomfortably deep inside and he struggled to keep it out of his voice. ‘Because I'm freckled and ginger?'

So evidently
not
.

‘On account of the great fortune you must have hidden away…' Tori ended on a bit of a fizz ‘…somewhere.'

Every muscle in his body drew back like a slingshot and an icy calm frosted through him. Beside him Izzy stiffened as she instantly felt his tension.

Awkward silence fell between them all.

‘Well, this has gone about as well as the last time we met, Harry,' Tori said brightly, hoisting her parcels more firmly into her arms. ‘Whatever will happen next time?'

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the apologetic
glance she shot Izzy as they farewelled each other.

‘I'm off to find Lara.'

Izzy's voice was flatter than day-old champagne. ‘Bye, Toz.'

‘Let's walk,' Harry said.

It was words. Just careless words casually delivered. Tori couldn't know who he was or how well the nickname actually fitted. But the tension remained coiled within him, regardless.

‘Prince Harry?'

‘Don't be annoyed…' Izzy began, weakly.

Too late. ‘From some hidden fortune I supposedly have?'

His jaw was starting to ache. And his head, too, as he saw the confusion and curiosity both blazing in Izzy's eyes. Too much of this and she was going to start asking questions.

Questions he couldn't answer.

‘That was just Tori's sense of humour. It was from a long time ago.'

‘Your friends didn't know me a long time ago.'

‘No, but I did.'

‘And?'

‘And you weren't always the easiest to get on with.'

‘Uh-huh. So you named me after one of the easiest-going royals in history?'

‘Oh, for goodness' sake,' she hissed and then spun to face him. ‘It's not such a big deal. You lorded it over people back then, but “Lord Harry” didn't have quite the same ring to it. That's all.'

That's all.

So it had nothing to do with fortunes—hidden or otherwise—and everything to do with him being a pain in the arse to work with.

His tension cranked down a few notches.

‘Charming.'

‘No, we tried Prince Charming and it just didn't quite fit.' Then, when he didn't answer, ‘Oh, get over yourself, Harry, it's a nickname. That's all.'

‘Did you ever stop to think that maybe I had a reason for doing what I did, Iz?'

How else could he know who he could put his trust in?

Or tell real from fake?

But telling her he was testing people would only lead to more difficult questions he'd be unable to safely answer. The frustration only added fuel to the conversation.

‘Is there ever a good reason for being an arrogant jerk?' she challenged.

If he needed any further clues that there was something totally unexpected and new between him and this woman it was this. The fact she could speak to him like that and he wouldn't mind. At all. In fact he appreciated that she just spoke to him straight.

As if he were just anyone.

‘You can get the true measure of a person by how they respond under pressure.'

Like this.

Izzy stood her ground. ‘Do you know the toll it takes on a person, living with that pressure day in and day out?'

‘Yes, actually.' Courtesy of Daddy dearest.

More curiosity streamed in but it was destined to go unfulfilled. Somewhere in the past three weeks, she had learned not to voice the multitude of questions she clearly had about him.

And her very evident resignation on that score made him feel about as worthy as a puppy-kicker.

‘And so what do you feel towards that person now? Gratitude for developing your resilience or resentment for making every day a battle?'

A little of both, if he was honest. Which he couldn't be. Not even with her.

What did he feel for his father now? After five years away from his influence and interference?

He released a short breath between his teeth. ‘It's complicated.'

Again with that strange, intense look. ‘I'm getting the sense lots of things in your life are.'

Not that I'd know.

He'd swear that was what she muttered under her breath as she turned and resumed their stroll. Looking for all the world as if they were just having a regular conversation, not stumbling out of a minefield.

He shook his head, baffled, and trailed her closely as they worked their way through the thickening market crowds. ‘Why are you even with me, Izzy? If I caused you that much distress?'

Her face screwed up a little. ‘Because you're different when you're not on my case. You're clever and insightful and easy to be around. I like off-duty you.'

‘You don't think maybe our relationship being different is half on you?'

She turned her surprise up to him. ‘I'm not the one who's changed.'

‘You don't think?'

‘Do you?'

He considered her for moments. ‘I had my own nickname for you, Izzy. “Quickdraw”.'

Her brow arched. ‘The cerebrally challenged cartoon horse? Thanks very much.'

‘Quickdraw because you were always so highly strung and fast to take offence.'

‘I was not!' Her voice ratcheted up an octave.

Heh. Case in point.

‘That minor outburst excepted, you're a different woman now. Relaxed, chilled out. Why is that?'

She could hardly blame it on him not being around any more.

‘Regular sex?' She shrugged.

‘You're under more financial pressure than you were before, and more professional stress servicing your new client base. You should be a basket case. Why aren't you?'

‘Because…I'm freer. Happy?'

‘Is that a question or an answer?'

‘I like what I do, now.'

‘Why?'

‘The obvious things: my hours are up to me, my choices are up to me, my clients are up to me. For the first time.'