Even after she’d run away without a backward glance?

It seemed he did.

“That would be nice.” She nodded. “And…” She wanted to say that he didn’t need to keep his hands to himself entirely. She liked his hands, a lot. “And, where are we going?”

“What kind of food do you like?” A smile tugged the right side of his mouth.

“Most things…Italian, Indian.”

“I know a great little Italian, I’ll book us a table. Eight okay?”

“Yes. That’s fine.” A tingle shot over her skin. Could today get any better? A great day for Winter Shoes and now a great day for her love life, even when all hope seemed to have been lost.

Chapter Nine

“You’re going out with Hot Guy? Like seriously, for real?” Brendon let his jaw hang slack and stared at Megan.

“How the hell did that come about?” Georgie asked, still fiddling with her new ring that they’d all spent the last half an hour admiring and cooing over.

“I just bumped into him.”

“Where?” Georgie asked.

“In a canteen.”

“And what, you just drooled all over him and he asked you out?” Brendon asked, passing Gucci a chew stick.

“Well, no, I spilt coffee on him actually and—”

“You spilt coffee on him.” Brendon snorted. “Cool. Way to go, Megan.”

She frowned. “It was an accident.”

“So what’s his name?” Georgie asked. “I’m guessing he wasn’t christened Hot Guy.”

Megan flicked the kettle on and reached for three mugs from her cupboard. “James, James Carter.”

“Oh, excellent,” Brendon said, pulling out his iPhone. “Let’s Google him.”

“What?” Megan shook her head and pointed the tin of teabags at him. “No, you can’t do that. I forbid it.”

Brendon gnawed at the inside of his cheek and tapped on his screen.

“Brendon,” Megan said. “Don’t. Please.”

“Too late.” He grinned and flashed the phone her way. “James Carter. He’s even got his own Wikipedia page.” Brendon whistled and studied the screen again. “Born in London thirty-two years ago to Sally and Benjamin Carter. Went to King’s College and studied journalism and now an award-winning director.”

“Oh, very fancy…” Georgie said, straining her neck to see. “Click on images. I want to see exactly how hot he is.”

Brendon fiddled again, then, “Oh, love a duck, Megan Winter, you lucky cow.” He swiped his hand over his brow and pretended to swoon. “Georgie Porgy Pudding and Pie, feast your eyes on that!”

“Hell yeah, I approve,” Georgie said, smiling. “Not your usual type but well deserving of his Hot Guy title.”