Swilling back the water, he made himself relax his limbs. It was ridiculous to get het up like this. She was leaving Yorkshire at the weekend, and that would be that. His mouth tightened. And Susan Richards had made it very plain she was up for a bit of fun with no strings attached. His perfect kind of woman, in fact.

His scowl deepened. When he replaced the empty glass on the table, it was with such force he was fortunate it didn’t shatter.

WHATEVER had possessed her? Why had she challenged him like that? Gina stood, staring at her flushed reflection in the spotted little mirror in the ladies’ cloakroom, mentally groaning. He had looked absolutely amazed, and no wonder.

Grabbing her bag, she hunted for her lip gloss and then stood with it in her hand, still staring vacantly. It had been his attitude that had done it. It had brought out the devil in her, and the temper that went with the hair. When she and her two sisters had been growing up, her father had repeatedly warned them about the folly of speaking first and thinking later—often lamenting the fact that he was the only male in a household of four red-haired women, while he’d been about it.

‘A homebody.’ And, ‘you’re bound to meet someone in London.’ How patronising could you get? And why shouldn’t she be a career woman, anyway? It wasn’t only scrawny blondes like Susan Richards who had the monopoly on such things.

Suddenly she slumped, her eyes misty. She had behaved badly out there, and if she was being honest with herself it was because the sight of Harry and Susan had acted like salt on a raw wound.

Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, she sniffed loudly and then repaired her make-up. This was all her own fault—she should never have come out to dinner with him. She had known it was foolish, worse than foolish, but she had done it anyway. Harry couldn’t help being Harry. Being so drop-dead gorgeous, he was always going to have women panting after him, but at least after tonight she wouldn’t have to watch it any longer.

The lurch her heart gave made her smudge the lip gloss down her chin. She stopped what she was doing and held herself round the middle, swaying back and forth a number of times, until the door opening brought her up straight.

A tall matronly looking woman entered, nodding and smiling at her before entering the one cubicle the tiny room held.

Gina wished she was old, or at least old enough for this to be past history. She wished she didn’t love him so much. And more than anything she wished she wasn’t so sure that she would never meet anyone who could stir her heart like Harry, which meant she wasn’t likely to get the husband and children she’d always imagined herself having. She bit hard on her lip, her eyes cloudy. Harry was right. She was a homebody. And because of him she was being forced down a road she had never seen herself walking.

It was all his fault. She glared at her reflection, wiping her streaked chin, and then packing her make-up away. He was so content with his lot, so happy, so completely self-satisfied. The rat.

Taking a deep breath, she told herself to get a grip. He was buying her dinner, hardly a crime. And the watch was beautiful, made even more so by the fact he had noticed she wasn’t wearing her old one. It had been kind of him to round off her time at Breedon & Son by taking her out, when all was said and done. So…no more griping. Get yourself in there and be bright and sparkling, and leave him with a smile when the time comes.

When Gina walked back into the dining area the sight of him caused her breath to catch in her throat, but then it always did. Which was at best annoying and worst embarrassing—like the time she had been eating a hot sausage-roll in the work canteen and had choked, until Natalie had slapped her on the back so hard she’d thought her spine had snapped in two.

She arrived at the table just as the waitress brought their main course, which was good timing. She could bury herself in the food to some extent, she thought, sliding into her seat and returning his smile. At least he was smiling now. He’d looked thoroughly irritated with her when she had left, and she couldn’t altogether blame him.

‘More wine?’ He was refilling her glass as he spoke, and Gina didn’t protest. She needed something to help her get through the evening without making a complete fool of herself, and in the absence of anything else alcohol would do. Although, that was flawed thinking, she told herself in the next moment. The wine was more likely to prompt her to do or say something silly.

Warning herself to go steady, she took a small sip and then tried the tagliatelle. It was delicious. The best she had ever tasted. Deciding that she was definitely a girl who would eat for comfort rather than pine away, she tucked in.

By the time the main course was finished, Gina had discovered that you could laugh and really mean it, even if your heart was on the verge of being broken. Harry seemed to put himself out to be the perfect dinner companion after their earlier blip, producing one amusing story after another, and displaying the wicked wit which had bowled her over in the first days of their acquaintance. Back then she had desperately been seeking a way to make him notice her as a woman; now that strain was taken off her shoulders at least. He saw her as a friend, and only as a friend, and she’d long since accepted it.

She chose pistachio meringue with fresh berries for dessert, and it didn’t fail to live up to expectations. She didn’t think she’d eat for a week after this evening, and she said so as she licked the last morsel of meringue off her spoon.

Harry grinned, his eyes following her pink tongue. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. If I’d thought I could have introduced you to this place months ago.’

If he had thought. Quite. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. I’d be two stone heavier by now.’

‘You could have taken your parents’ dogs for a few extra walks and worked off the pounds,’ he said easily.

‘There speaks someone who’s never had to diet.’ Why would he? The man was perfect.

‘Do you—have to diet, I mean?’

A bit personal, but she’d brought it on herself. Gina nodded. ‘My sisters—wouldn’t you just know?—follow after my dad, and he’s a tall streak of nothing. My mother on the other hand is like me. We go on a diet every other week, but just as regularly fall by the wayside. My mum blames my dad for her lapses. She says he gives her no incentive because he likes her to be what he calls “cuddly”.’ She grimaced.

‘I’m with your father.’

Gina smiled wryly.

‘I mean it.’

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Purposely changing the subject, she said, ‘Thank you for a lovely meal, Harry. I’ve really enjoyed it. It was a nice way to end my time at Breedon & Son.’

He seemed to digest that for a few seconds. ‘It’ll be odd, coming into work each day and you not being there.’

Be still, my foolish heart. She forced a smile. ‘I think you’ll find Susan a more than adequate replacement. She’s very keen.’ In more ways than one.

‘I guess so.’

He didn’t sound overly impressed, and Gina’s heart jumped for joy before she reminded herself it meant nothing. If it wasn’t Susan it would be someone else. Her voice even, she said, ‘It’ll all work out fine. Things always do, given time.’ Except me and you.

‘I think we’re both long enough in the tooth to know that’s not true,’ he said drily. ‘It goes hand in hand with accepting there’s no Santa Clause.’ He cleared his throat, his heavily lashed eyes intent on her face. ‘Look, this is none of my business, and tell me to go to blazes if you want, but is this decision to leave Yorkshire anything to do with your personal life?’

She stared at him.

‘You know what I mean,’ he said after a moment. ‘A man. Has a relationship ended unhappily, something like that? Because, if that’s the reason, running away won’t necessarily improve your state of mind.’