She knew what she was thinking and what she wanted. That she’d quite like to feel good with Hot Guy, or James Carter, as she now knew him to be called. Her body tingled with a sudden longing for intimacy. “One day last month…” she said, repeating his words about seeing her in glittery shoes.

“I haven’t been stalking you, honest,” he said, “but my work has meant that I’ve been based nearby for a while now. I couldn’t help but notice you, a beautiful woman who always sits alone.”

He thinks I’m beautiful. A rush of heat flooded her cheeks and she was glad of the shadows in her tucked away corner to hide her blush. “Well, I was just, you know… I have got friends…”

“I’m sure you have. We all have reasons for wanting to sit alone sometimes.”

“Why do you sit alone?”

He was quiet for a moment and glanced at the pianist again. “I guess I just need the headspace after a day at work. Can get a bit heavy sometimes.”

“Oh, why is that?”

He looked back at her. “I’m working on a documentary about poverty and how it affects children, and it can get intense, here, you know?” He pressed his palm over his shirt, flattening the material to his body.

“Wow, yes, I’m sure.”

He picked up his beer and drained it. “Would you like another drink?”

“No, thank you. I’ve had two.” She glanced at the door. “I really should get going.” Why? She could stay. She didn’t have to get going at all.

“How are you getting home?” James asked.

“I’ll walk to the main road and get a cab. That’s what I usually do when I can’t face the Tube.” She’d run more like—she had no intention of lingering near those shadows. The thought of being out there alone on the cobbles gave her the creeps.

“I’ll come with you.” He reached for his coat.

“No, you don’t have to.”

“I insist. The old lamp posts around here are all very quaint for the tourists to admire but they don’t do anything to enhance safety for women on their own.”

Megan again thought of the bang she’d heard from the dark depths of the doorway. She suppressed a shiver. She would be glad of James’ company if he was willing to give it. “Well, if you insist.”

“I do.” He stood and pulled on his jacket. His limbs were long and lean and he had a slow, controlled way of moving.

Megan slipped her light coat on then headed to the door. She nodded at the barman and raised her hand to the pianist who smiled her way, not interrupting his playing for even a moment.

“After you, Glitter,” James said, reaching the door first and pulling it open.

“Glitter?”