He spoke through it, making his voice gentle.
‘Come on. Tell me what’s up,’ he encouraged. ‘Is it family stuff? I know what that can be like.’ He certainly did. Putting family stuff out of his mind was pretty much up there at the top of his priorities.
‘No,’ she mumbled, between sobs.
‘Boyfriend stuff, then?’
A perfunctory suggestion and he knew it. The word was that there had been no boyfriend in years—the surprisingly high-stakes bet proved that. But no harm in confirming the fact, confirming the challenge.
‘You don’t know the first thing about it!’ she howled angrily through the door. ‘With your life-is-a-cabaret attitude.’
‘Oh, OK, so tell me the first thing about it. Has some bloke dumped you? Because if he has, he’s an idiot.’
In Harry’s opinion, flattery was always a good starting point.
She snorted bitterly.
‘Are you having some kind of a laugh?’
‘No. I just assumed that the main reason women cry in toilets is over men.’
‘Well, of course, you’d know that, wouldn’t you? I bet there have been plenty of tears shed in here over you.’
He chose to ignore that.
‘If it’s not over a man, then what the hell is it?’
‘Will you please just leave me alone?’ The anguished note rose in her voice. Maybe if he just pushed her a bit harder.
‘No. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.’
The answer came in a sobbing shout and the cubicle door rattled as if she’d beat a fist against it. He stepped back in surprise.
‘All right, then, it is over men! Plural! Not just one man, the whole damn lot of you! You think I’m having a meltdown because some bloke’s dumped me? I haven’t dated in three years. Go on and laugh it up now!’
She dissolved into a flurry of sobs again, coming up every so often to blurt out more details.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to date, it’s just been so long I haven’t a clue where to start. I can’t face the whole nightmare of meeting a guy, investing all that emotion, all that time and energy, only to be kicked in the teeth a few months down the line.’ A sob. ‘I’ll be single for ever and end up one of those women in a houseful of cats smelling of wee.’ A loud snuffle followed by a furious snarl. ‘And my clock is ticking!’ Another sob, tapering off into sniffles.
He took a moment to consider how best to play this. He couldn’t quite believe his luck. By pure coincidence he’d happened to come back to the office early, find her like this and now here it suddenly was. The chance he needed.
Insider knowledge.
A way into her life where he could then stay put long enough to win the bet and scoop the cash and the kudos.
This year or so in London, the job here, were beginning to pay dividends. Finally a sense of freedom. New place, new people. After the last few weeks he was definitely ready for a new challenge. Arabella had just been a diversion. This would be something else entirely. It was common knowledge that Alice was a workaholic who kept all men at arm’s length. Now he knew that wasn’t what she really wanted, he could use the fact to his advantage. She was just too used to being single; that was all it was.
She needed some persuasion.
‘Alice, listen to me,’ he began.
His voice was gentle and kind, and Alice’s stomach gave a sudden melty flip-flop. Apparently even in the depths of emotional meltdown her body was as receptive to his charm as the rest of the female workforce, who cared only that he looked like an Adonis with his dark-hair-blue-eyes combo and the muscular build and leftover tan from whatever sporty summer holiday he’d taken.
Fortunately she was able to rely on her mind, which knew only too well the kind of man he was.
‘You just need to get out more, that’s all,’ he said, jump-starting her temper, which up to now had been squashed into submission by humiliation and disbelief. She unwound a huge wad of toilet roll and wiped her eyes angrily.
‘I need to get out more?’ she snapped through the door. The simplicity of the suggestion, pigeon-holing all her problems into one easy sentence, infuriated her. ‘Like you, you mean? Your social life is the talk of the post room. You must be barely ever home. I’m surprised you’re able to fit work in. Don’t you ever wonder what the point of it all is?’
There was a surprised silence.
‘The point is to have fun,’ he said. ‘Look, I’m not trying to criticise. I’m just saying that the sun doesn’t rise and set with Innova. When did you last go out? Socially, I mean. For a drink or a meal?’
‘I go out,’ she said defensively, glaring at the back of the cubicle door, imagining him on the other side of it, with his dark tousled hair, crinkly-eyed smile, and his endless string of girlfriends and rampant social life. An image of her own previous evening flashed into her mind. Herself on the sofa, Kevin the cat on one side, stack of work files on the other, laptop open, CSI box set on the TV in the background. Hell, it might as well be an image of any evening this week. This year.
‘When? Where? Who with?’
‘What are you, my father? I see people.’ She frowned indignantly at the closed door.
‘See me, then,’ he said in a low voice and that soft melty sensation bubbled hotly back up inside her. She slid her hands across her middle and pressed hard to make it stop as she groped for a suitable response. Any response.
‘Alice?’ he said. Her stupid heart had begun to beat madly.
She took a deep calming breath.
‘What?’
His voice was low and close. She knew he must be literally right on the other side of the door.
‘If you haven’t dated for a long time and you’re thinking of getting back out there—’
‘I didn’t say that!’ she snapped. Oh, what the hell was she thinking, blurting out all her problems to him? At best he could go back to the office and report that Ice-Queen Ford was having a crying fit over being perpetually single. At worst, there really might be a Page Two of the damn bet pool and Harry Stephens could be right there on it with a big fat stake.
His voice was serious though, steady, making her feel as if he could see perfectly well through her bravado. Her insides felt suddenly squiggly.
‘Because if you were...’
‘Were what?’
Her thumping heart seemed to be working independently of her mind.
Please. Was she actually having a swooning moment over Harry Stephens of all people? After all she’d been through in the past had her body learned nothing? Did her heart have no reservations
