„I gave you my potted life history when we last met. Or, should I say, when you last appeared uninvited at the house? And you promised to give me yours.‟

Starters were brought to them, which she barely noticed because she was so busy concentrating on the man sitting opposite her.

Dominic caught her eye over a mouthful of smoked salmon and looked at her. „I thought you‟d already summed me up. Or so you insisted on telling me every time we met. I thought you knew my potted life history.‟

„Where did you grow up?‟

„Greece and England. Greece for the holidays, England for the schooling. I was boarded from the age of eleven.‟

„What was it like?‟ School had been a nightmare for her. She had loved the work, had been good at it, but the necessity to bend to peer pressure had been acute and she could see, in retrospect, that she had wasted her education. Reading books and studying were things that had had to be done covertly. Not that her parents hadn‟t encouraged her, but she sailed past their lectures on the importance of a good education with the blithe disregard of someone who was the lynchpin of teenage social life. The prettiest girl with the cutest boyfriend.

Now she listened enviously as Dominic chatted about his own school experiences, making her laugh as he told her stories about the other pupils there. Even at that age, he had already learnt to take for granted the fact that he would achieve at school, move on to university, reach the highest echelons of professional life.

And she found herself telling him about her own school days. The girls who had smoked behind the bicycle shed. The boys who had drunk. The truancy. The teenage pregnancy that had caused such a stir at the time. No knives, no actual violence, the school really hadn‟t been that rough, but a lot of giggling in the back at the cool kids who made a point of slouching in their chairs and making ridiculous remarks just to see how far they could push a teacher.

Somewhere along the line, she realised with a little start, they had managed to finish the first bottle of wine and were now well into the second.

She hadn‟t felt as relaxed as this in a long time. She ate her fish, told him that it was not really any better than fish and chips from a certain place she knew in Shepherd‟s Bush.

„And will I get to make that judgement myself?‟ Dominic asked lazily.

„Oh, no!‟ Mattie laughed, looked at him from under her lashes in a way that she knew was provocative. „It‟ll all go downhill if the posh set decide to descend on it.‟ But there was no rancour in her voice, and when he laughed she heard herself laughing along.

„I could dress down,‟ Dominic told her with exaggerated gravity. If a nuclear bomb had been detonated he would have been unaware, because all he could see was this exhilarating creature sitting in front of him, with her mobile, animated face and her expressive, slender hands.

„Hah. I bet you‟ve never dressed down in your life before.‟

„Jeans? Sloppy shirt? Running shoes? I could do that.‟ He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

„‟Course, it would require a shopping trip…‟ He knew she would be amused, would laugh, and he wanted to hear her laughter.

He signalled for the bill, still keeping his dark eyes firmly fixed on her face.

Mattie regretfully thought that the evening was over. „I could get a taxi back to my place,‟ she said as he signed a credit-card slip. „You don‟t have to drop me back.‟

Dominic looked up at her and their eyes met with an understanding that sent a charge of electricity running through her.

„This has a déjà vu ring about it,‟ he murmured, standing up and waiting as she followed suit.

„We can‟t…‟ No use pretending that she couldn‟t read the intention in his eyes. Or, for that matter, understand the answering response it aroused in her. But alarm bells were ringing in her head. Bad enough enjoying his company because that was only one dangerous step away from becoming addicted to it. But to sleep with him…

„Why can‟t we?‟ Dominic murmured.

She felt the gentle pressure of his hand on her elbow as he escorted her to the door and had to clutch the wildly scattering strands of her common sense with an excited, frightening, hot feeling of being sucked under.

„Frankie and I have just finished with one another,‟ she said, pleading to herself and to him as well. „I‟m not on the market for another relationship.‟

„Why should we fight what we feel? I‟m going to call a taxi for both of us. I‟m over the limit.‟

„What about your car?‟

„It‟ll wait here. I‟ll send my driver to collect it.‟

„Which is why we can‟t become involved with one another!‟

„Because I have to leave my car here overnight?‟

„You‟re deliberately misreading me!‟

„And you‟re deliberately trying to find excuses. Why?‟ He bent towards her so that she could breathe him in, that clean, masculine scent that made her suck her breath in sharply. „Why are you so scared?‟ There was dark amusement in his murmured question.

„I don‟t want involvement,‟ Mattie protested weakly. Now the taxi was slowing down for them.

„What sort of involvement are you talking about? A man hanging around your neck like a dead weight? Having your freedom of movement restricted? Or, worse, dictated to? You had that with him, or have you forgotten? Believe me, I‟m not looking for involvement either.‟

The taxi stopped and Dominic‟s head dipped for him to give the cab driver his address, then he looked at her and shot her a slow smile that made the insides of her stomach curl.

“„To be or not to be…?‟”

Mattie shuffled into the seat, sliding along to accommodate him. Hot, slick excitement was pulsing in her veins. She didn‟t quite know why she was arguing. For every argument she raised, he countered it with a response that was utterly reasonable.

„Do you prefer the safety of living with a man you pity and shutting yourself off from all other experiences? Habit can be a destructive thing, Mattie. In your case, the habit of being put down, stepped on, having your wings clipped.‟

„Frankie didn‟t…‟ Oh, but yes, he had. He had wallowed in his own misfortune and used her pity as a battering ram against her. He had exhausted her, laughed at her aspirations and watched her slave to make money to grab a career for herself while he drank away whatever earnings that he could, without bothering to rouse himself enough to go and look for a job. He had been selfish, although his selfishness had had the same quality as a child‟s selfishness. That was probably why she had been able to handle it.