The waitress didn’t bat an eye; instead she asked how many glasses.
‘Just the one.’
She was given a little bowl of nuts too!
‘Celebrating?’ the waitress asked as she poured her drink.
‘Sort of,’ Allegra admitted, and then, left alone, she decided that she was. For months she had put up with her boss’s thinly veiled leers and skin-crawling comments. It was worth celebrating just to finally be past all that, so she raised her glass to the window, in the general direction of her old work place.
‘Cheers!’
As she turned she caught Mr. Gorgeous watching her—not staring, just idly curious—and she couldn’t blame him for that. After all, she was raising a glass to the window. She gave him a brief smile and then turned back to her thoughts, took out a pen and the notebook and list of contacts that she always carried and set about making copious lists, determined, determined, that by the end of the week she would be back in work.
Halfway down the bottle and she didn’t feel quite so brave. If anything, half a bottle of champagne on an empty stomach had her emotions bubbling and she was dangerously close to tears, especially when the waitress came over.
‘You didn’t sign the register when you came in,’ the waitress said, and even before she continued Allegra knew what was coming and inwardly flinched as realization dawned. ‘You are a member, aren’t you?’ She felt a blush spread on her cheeks. Of course it was a private club that she’d entered, not some bar she’d just wandered into, and just as she was about to apologise and fling down her fifty-pound note and flee, a voice that was as pleasing as its owner saved her the embarrassment.
‘Why are you hiding there?’ A deep warm voice had both Allegra and the waitress turn around and she found herself looking now into the eyes of the pensive stranger—very brown eyes that stayed steady as hers blinked in confusion. He turned and addressed the waitress. ‘Sorry, she’s my guest. I’ll sign her in in a moment.’ The waitress opened her mouth to say something—after all, Allegra had been sitting there alone for a good half an hour or so and he had made no effort to join his guest—but perhaps he was a favourite customer, or maybe it was just his impressive stance, because, without comment, the waitress left them to it.
‘Thanks,’ Allegra said as he took a seat in front of her. ‘But no thanks. I’ll just settle my bill….’ She went to go, but as he moved to stop her, his hand reaching across the table, she shot him a look that told him unwelcome contact would be a very foolish mistake on his part. Given the day she’d had, Allegra had enough pent-up energy to give this stranger a little piece of her mind.
‘As I said, thank you, but no thank you.’
‘At least finish your drink,’ said the stranger. ‘It would be a shame to waste it.’
It would be a crying shame actually.
Maybe she could take it with her, Allegra thought wildly, having visions of herself walking down the street, half-drunk bottle in hand, bemoaning her situation. She found herself smiling at the very thought—not smiling at him, of course, except he interpreted it as such, because he clicked slender fingers in the direction of the bar and summoned another glass. Allegra sat bristling as the waitress poured him a glass of her champagne.
‘I’m just trying to enjoy a quiet drink alone,’ she said pointedly.
‘Then sign in,’ he suggested.
‘Ha, ha!’
‘Or,’ he offered, ‘you can be my guest, which means you sit with me. I wouldn’t hear of it otherwise.’ She couldn’t place his accent. He spoke English terribly well; in fact, his voice was clipped and well schooled, unlike Allegra’s rather more London accent, but there was a slight ring to it, Spanish or Italian perhaps. She was determined not to stay long enough to find out.
‘Anyway,’ he carried on despite her lack of response, ‘you don’t look as if you are enjoying it. In fact, apart from the small salute to the window you seem as miserable as I am.’ She looked at him and saw that the impressive suit he was wearing wasn’t just dark, it was black, and so, too, the tie. Not just from the attire, but from the strain on his face, he had clearly come from a funeral. Now he was close, she could smell him—and he smelt nothing like the usual man in a bar. It wasn’t just the delicious hint of cologne that was unusual; he actually smelt of clean—there was no other way to describe it. His eyes were clear and bizarrely she felt herself relax just a little, for this was surely not a man who usually pressed attention, and it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else that she needed to be.
‘Are you usually so invasive?’
He thought about it for a moment. ‘No.’ He took a sip of drink and seemed to think about it some more. ‘Never. I just saw you looking so fed up and then when the waitress came over I thought…’
‘That you’d cheer me up?’
‘No.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘I thought we could be miserable together. Don’t look, but there are a group of women…’ He gestured his head and as instructed she didn’t look, but she knew who he meant. She’d heard their flirting laughter, and had easily guessed it was aimed towards him. ‘One of them in particular seems determined to join me.’
‘I’d have thought you’d have no trouble at all fighting off unwelcome attention.’ Unlike me, she didn’t add, but then she wasn’t particularly used to men vying for her attention—well, not gorgeous ones anyway. But knowing how to deflect unwelcome attention was surely a prerequisite to him stepping out on the street, because wherever he went he surely turned heads.
‘Normally, I have no problem.’ He didn’t say it in arrogance, merely stated the fact. ‘Just today.’ She looked at his suit. ‘I was just trying to have a drink, to think, to have some silence, perhaps the same as you….’ And while she’d have chosen to have some peace, she’d settle for silence too.
‘Okay.’ She gave a begrudging smile. ‘I can manage silence.’
He must be someone, because all she had been given was a small bowl of nuts, but now that he’d joined her she was treated to lots of little bowls of goodies. She didn’t care if she looked greedy; the rumble in her stomach reminded Allegra that she hadn’t eaten since the slice of toast she’d had while dashing to the Underground some seven hours ago.
‘I’d better sign you in,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised you got to a table. They are normally very…’ He didn’t finish, but the insinuation that she didn’t belong had her blushing to her roots.
‘Particular!’ Allegra finished for him, and again she went to reach for her bag. She did not need his charity and certainly not his insults. Today really wasn’t proving to be the best.
‘Thorough.’ He actually smiled at her indignation, a lovely smile that suited him—the very first smile from him that she had seen—and it changed him, changed those haughty, guarded features in a way she rather liked. It was a small smile, not a wide one, a smile she somehow knew was one that was rarely shared. It had to be rare, she figured, because the effect was completely devastating. It fostered awareness, made even listening somehow terribly difficult, because what had offended just a moment before hardly mattered a jot as he spoke on. She had to remind herself that a few seconds ago she’d been rather disgruntled, had to force herself to not sit there like an idiot and smile back. ‘I meant that they are usually very thorough.’
‘You’re forgiven then.’ And despite her best intentions, Allegra realised she was smiling back.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Allegra,’ she said. ‘Allegra Jackson.