Megan laughed. “I won’t order spaghetti, I promise, and I’ll try not to slurp my food either.”

“You should wear that French Connection black dress, the one you wore on your hen night.” Georgie nodded. “It’s really sexy.”

“A bit safe, don’t you think?” Brendon frowned. “No, wear that tight pink dress, you know, the one that makes your hips look amazing. He won’t be able to resist.”

Megan thought for a moment. Wearing jeans and a plain silk top had made her pretty irresistible to James the night before—goodness only knew what wearing that shiny pink dress would do. It hit just above her knee but the neckline plunged so low that leaning forwards in it was an absolute no-no.

A small shiver ran over her shoulders and the nape of her neck. God, the way James had held her, slotted his fingers into her hair and kept her just where he wanted her as he’d kissed her. The memory alone was enough to send heat racing around her body. Would he kiss her like that again?

No. Of course not. She’d ruined any chances of that happening tonight. He’d even said he’d keep his hands to himself. Which of course meant lips and all other parts of his anatomy. She’d be lucky to get a peck on the cheek at the end of her date.

“So, which one are you going for?” Georgie asked.

“I think I’ll play it safe and go with the black.”

Brendon tutted. “Oh well, have it your way. But at least team it with those glorious red shoes that just came through for next season’s collection.”

“Mmm, I might.” Actually that would look nice. Plus she had a slim belt that matched the shoes and a beautiful purse that would complete the outfit.

“Very elegant,” Georgie said, nodding. “Perfect for a date with a gentleman.”

“I suppose,” Brendon conceded. “This James bloke is, after all, a whole different kettle of fish to Dylan.”

“Yes, Dylan liked tighter, shorter, low-cut dresses on me.”

“Yet complained if another guy looked at you,” Georgie said, finishing her tea and rinsing her cup.

“Yes, he was a bit like that.”

“More than a bit. Remember that time we went to Cecconi’s and he’d bought you that tiny purple skirt?”

Megan groaned. “Yes, I do. He went mad when the taxi driver wolf-whistled as he drove away.”

“And blamed you because you’d sat in the front. He said you’d flashed him.”

Megan shook her head and sighed. “He could get so jealous. And there was never any reason for it. I never cheated on him. I’ve never cheated on anyone—it’s just not something I’d do, you both know that.”

“Well let’s hope James Carter appreciates you for the good and honest woman you are,” Georgie said.

“Yes, you’re quite a catch, especially after this morning.”