fear shiver down his spine.
‘You may think it’s none of my business—and it’s not, strictly speaking,’ she said. ‘But it’s not my way to stand aside and not say or do something when death is staring someone in the face. How could I live with myself if I didn’t interfere and then something happened to you?’
‘And you go around giving this lecture to everyone on a motorbike?’
‘No, of course not—only to people I...’ She faltered there. ‘People I...know,’ she finished lamely, putting up her chin.
Leo considered her for a long moment. Not buying it. ‘Your sister. I want the whole story. I assumed...an illness. Wrong, obviously. I should have asked.’
‘I didn’t want you to ask. I didn’t let you ask. Because to talk about that...to you, with your bike...it would have been a link. And I couldn’t... But now...’ Pause...deep breath while she gathered herself together. ‘Sorry. I’m not making sense. I’ll be clearer. Moonbeam had a motorbike. She crashed and she died. I was on the back and I survived. We were the cliché identical twins—inseparable. And then suddenly, just like...like...’ She clicked her fingers. ‘I was...’
The words just petered out. He saw her swallow, as if she had a sharp rock in her throat.
‘Alone?’ he finished for her.
‘Yes. Alone.’
He waited a heartbeat. Two. Three.
She kept her eyes on his face, but apparently she wasn’t intending to add anything.
‘Sunshine,’ he said softly, ‘death is not staring me in the face. I’m not a teenage hothead burning up the road. I’m thirty. And I’m careful.’
‘What if someone not so careful knocks you off?’
‘Is that what happened? Did someone run your sister down?’
She shook her head, looking as if she would burst from frustration. ‘No. She was going too fast. Missed the corner.’
Leo ran a hand over his head. Tried to find something to say. He was scared to open his mouth in case he promised her that, yes, he would give up the one carefree thing he allowed himself. They’d known each other for one week: she couldn’t really care—had said she wouldn’t care. And he would not be seduced into sacrificing his bike by the thought that she did.
‘Look,’ he started, and then stopped, ran a hand over his head again. ‘It’s not your job, Sunshine, to worry about me.’
‘But I do worry about you. Please, Leo.’
There was a loud crashing sound from the kitchen. ‘I have to check that.’ Leo got to his feet, but then he paused, looking down at her. ‘I shouldn’t have started this. Not here, where there are too many distractions. Go home, and we’ll pick it up another time.’
‘I’m eating here tonight,’ Sunshine said. ‘And, no, I am not turning into a stalker. I have a date. Iain.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘The hairdresser? The ex, who’s now just a friend?’
‘That’s right.’
‘As long as it is ex. Because while you and I are sleeping together—even if it is only four times—there isn’t going to be anyone else in the picture. Got it? I’m not into sharing.’ He heard the words come out of his mouth but couldn’t quite believe they had. Okay, so he’d changed his mind and sex was back on, apparently.
‘Well, of course!’ Sunshine said. ‘Actually, the main reason I asked him to come tonight was to check your head.’
‘Check my head?’ Leo repeated, not getting it.
‘To make sure it’s going to be long enough—not your head, because obviously that’s not growing any more, but your hair.’
‘He is not checking my head, Sunshine.’
That damned nose-wrinkle. ‘But I think—’
‘No,’ Leo said, and strode into the kitchen.
Where he burst out laughing and stopped half the staff in their tracks.
‘What?’ he asked.
But nobody was brave enough to answer.
* * *
Sunshine did not enjoy dinner.
Not that the food wasn’t great—because who couldn’t love a Wagyu beef burger with Stilton, and chilli salt fries on the side?
And Iain had brought sketches of the most fabulous hairstyle for the wedding. Finger waves pinned at the base of the neck and secured with a gorgeous hairclip. Her fringe would be swept aside—please let it be long enough—and similarly clipped above her ear.
But neither the food nor the sketches was enough to take her mind off that damned motorbike, and the fact that Leo, who was so sensible, didn’t seem to understand that it had to go.
So she fumed. And, because she’d always supposed she didn’t carry the fuming gene, the unwelcome evidence that she could get as wound up as a garden variety maniac bothered her.
They’d had sex. That didn’t mean she had a hold over him, of course, but it made him...well...someone more important than a casual acquaintance.
She became aware that Iain was sing-songing her name softly from across the table and snapped her attention back to where it should have been all night.
‘That’s better,’ he said.
‘Sorry, Iain. I haven’t been good company tonight.’
‘You’re always good company, Sunny.’
She smiled at him. ‘You’re too nice.’
‘Nice?’ He gave a short, almost bitter laugh. ‘Was that the limiter?’
‘What? No!’ She looked at him, dismayed. ‘The problem was—is always—that I just don’t want...that.’
‘Someone’s going to change your mind, Sunny—and all of us who have been forced to accept the limit are going to be mighty annoyed.’
All of us? Good Lord! ‘You make it sound like there’s a zombie camp of men out there, slavishly doing my bidding! And nobody is going to get annoyed—because I’m not changing my mind, ever. And I also happen to know you’re dating Louise, so— Oh!’
She stopped abruptly. Stared past Iain.
Because Natalie Clarke, accompanied by a pretty guy vaguely familiar as a model—Rob-something—was being seated at the next table.
Natalie was stunning. Gold skin, glorious copper hair, perfect rosebud mouth, pale grey eyes. She was super-slender, wearing a tight black leather skirt and a cropped black jacket. Black suede boots that made Sunshine green with envy.
Natalie
