then drew his attention to the barman, who was waiting for payment. Before Sinclair handed over the money he turned to her in enquiry.
‘Let me buy you a drink.’
‘I already have one, thanks. I just wanted some nuts.’ She gave a surreptitious glance at the table in the corner, where everyone was watching, riveted, as Sinclair insisted on paying for the packet of nuts Rose didn’t want, signalled to a friend to take the tray of drinks away, then leaned against the bar with the air of a man prepared to linger.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
Nerves rendered her answer so quiet Sinclair had to bend his head to hers.
‘I didn’t hear you.’
‘Rose,’ she said in his ear. ‘Rose Dryden.’
‘Mine’s Sinclair.’
Fascinated to find he pronounced it to rhyme with ‘sprinkler’, Rose gave him a polite little smile, thanked him for the nuts, then went back to her table.
‘That went off well,’ said Con in her ear.
‘Yes. He remembered me from the track.’
‘I knew he would!’
Normally Rose would have enjoyed the evening, but suddenly the crowd she was with seemed immature and noisy, and the usual overtures from the male contingent, more persistent tonight due to her new look, failed to amuse. After an hour or so she’d had enough.
‘I’m going,’ she whispered to Con. ‘Headache.’
‘Want me to come with you?’
‘No, it’s early. You stay. I just need fresh air.’ Rose chose a moment when everyone was embroiled in a heated argument, made for the cloakroom, then changed direction and slid through the exit door unnoticed.
Rose had never walked back to campus alone at night. As she left the town to climb the hill to the college she heard footsteps behind her and felt suddenly afraid. And at last began to run, her worst fears confirmed when someone began to run after her.
‘Rose—Rose Dryden,’ called an unmistakable voice, and she whirled round to find Sinclair gaining on her.
‘Sorry,’ she said breathlessly, and tried to smile, but her lips felt stiff. ‘I didn’t know it was you.’
‘I saw you leave and came after you.’ He wagged an admonishing finger. ‘You shouldn’t wander around alone at this time of night.’
‘It’s quite safe,’ she said defensively.
‘Then why did you run when I followed you?’
Rose shrugged. ‘Instinct, I suppose.’
‘I’ll see you to your door. Are you in hall?’
‘No, one of the college flats.’ She fell into step with him, hardly able to believe her luck. Con and Fabia would be over the moon.
‘So tell me about yourself,’ ordered her companion. ‘How old are you?’
For a moment Rose thought of lying, but something about James Sinclair decided her against it. ‘Eighteen,’ she admitted reluctantly, certain that from the lofty heights of twenty-two he would instantly lose interest. Then she remembered her coaching. ‘And, if you want my CV, I’m reading English Literature, like foreign films, and go for the occasional run to keep fit. Sorry you asked?’ she finished, laughing.
‘Not at all.’ He smiled down at her when they paused at the entrance to her building.
‘How about you?’ she said casually.
Sinclair hesitated, then gave her the information she already knew, that he was doing business studies and economics.
Time to go before he got bored. Rose smiled at him and held out her hand. ‘Thank you for troubling to come after me. I appreciate it. Goodnight.’
His eyes narrowed in warning. ‘Before you go, Rose Dryden, promise you won’t walk home alone at night again.’
She nodded obediently.
‘Say it,’ he ordered.
‘All right—I promise.’
‘Good. See you on the track some time.’ He shook the hand solemnly, gave her the slow-burning smile, and Rose, heart thumping at the sight of it, managed a friendly little nod and went inside.
When Con arrived, earlier than usual, she checked to see Rose was awake, then beckoned Fabia into the room with her. ‘Are you all right, Rose?’
‘Fine.’ She abandoned her book and sat up cross-legged on the bed, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
‘Someone looks pleased with herself!’ said Fabia, lolling at the foot of the bed. ‘Mind you, I would be too, if Sinclair had bought me some nuts. Have you eaten them?’
Not for the world would Rose have admitted that the unopened packet was zipped safely away in her tote bag. ‘I think I left them in the pub.’
Con settled herself in the room’s only chair. ‘Admit it, Rose, the plan’s working like a charm.’
‘Better than you think!’ said Rose in jubilation.
The other girls stared, wide-eyed when they heard Sinclair had gone after her to see her home.
‘Did he kiss you goodnight?’ demanded Fabia.
‘Of course not!’ Rose smiled demurely. ‘We shook hands.’
The other two laughed their heads off, then Con got up to make some coffee, respect in her eyes. ‘I never thought you’d pull it off, you know. Sinclair’s immunity to our sex is legendary.’
Rose pulled a face. ‘I don’t think he sees me as one of the opposite sex, exactly.’
Fabia shrieked with laughter. ‘Are you kidding? With all that hair and the magnificent paint job we did, not to mention a shape to die for in that sexy little sweater of Con’s—of course he thinks of you as a girl.’
‘But a very young one,’ said Rose, depressed. ‘He gave me a right old lecture about walking home alone.’
Con was undeterred. ‘Sinclair noticed you, remembered you, wanted to buy you a drink, then came after you to make sure you were safe. Don’t worry about the little girl aspect, ducky—remember Lolita!’
Embarking on phase two of Con’s plan, Rose missed the next day’s run, but after completing a third circuit in solitude the following morning had begun to think all the heart-pounding effort was in vain by the time the familiar athletic figure appeared. She returned the smile Sinclair gave her as he passed, completed the circuit, then left before he could lap her, or she fell in a heap. Whichever came first.
She wouldn’t have admitted it to the others, but it was an effort of will to stay away from the
