The Girl He'd Overlooked. Cathy Williams

the little things the class had done. The cliques that had subdivided the groups. The quiet girl, usually in the background, who had come out of her shell because she was one of only a handful who had been any good at skiing.

      ‘Yes, that’s right.’

      ‘And who did you go to Prague with?’ James enquired casually. ‘I’ve actually been twice. Romantic city.’ He turned to fill the kettle and found that he was keenly awaiting her response.

      Jennifer frowned. She was relieved that he had his back to her. Her first instinct was to tell him that her private life was none of his business. She quickly decided that it was one thing being scrupulously polite, but if she began to actively push him away he would start asking himself why and they would be back to the subject she was most desperate to avoid: her mistimed, unfortunate pass at him. He would really be in his element then, she concluded bitterly, holding her hand and trying to assure her that she shouldn’t let the memory of it interfere with her life, that their friendship was so much more important than a silly non-escapade. She would be mortified.

      ‘Yes. It’s a very romantic city. I love everything about it. I love the architecture and that terrific feeling of a place almost suspended in time. Don’t you agree?’

      ‘So who did you go with? Or is it a deep, dark secret?’ He chuckled and turned round to face her, moving to hand her a mug of coffee and then sitting down and pulling one of the chairs in front of him so that he could fully relax, using the spare chair as a footrest.

      ‘Oh, just a guy I met over there.’

      ‘A guy!’

      ‘Patric. Patric Alexander. Just someone I met at a party a while back…’

      ‘Well.’ He didn’t know why he was so shocked at this. She had always been sexy, although it was fair to say that she had never realised it. She was still sexy and the only difference was that Paris had made her realise just how much.

      ‘French guy, is he?’ James heard the inanity of his question and his lips thinned although he was still smiling.

      ‘Half French. His mother’s English.’ She gulped down her coffee and stood up with a brisk smile. ‘Now, I really think it’s time for you to head back to your house, James. I have unpacking to do and I want to be up fairly early to make a list of what needs doing. Hopefully not that much. I noticed that the rug in the sitting room’s already been rolled. Thank you for that.’

      ‘Thank God there’s no carpet downstairs. The joys of flagstones when there’s a flood! Why didn’t this Patric guy come to help you?’

      ‘Because he’s in Paris.’ She moved to the door and frowned when he remained comfortably seated at the table.

      ‘The name doesn’t ring a bell. I’m sure your father would have mentioned him to me in passing—’

      ‘Why would he?’ Jennifer snapped.

      ‘Because I’m his friend…? How long have you been going out with this Patric guy?’

      ‘I really don’t want to be having this conversation with you.’

      ‘Because you feel uncomfortable?’

      ‘Because I’m tired and I want to go to sleep!’

      ‘Fair enough.’ James took his time getting to his feet. ‘I wouldn’t want to be accused of prying and I certainly wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way…’ He walked towards her and, the closer he got, the tenser she could feel herself becoming.

      ‘I’m perfectly comfortable.’

      ‘I just wonder,’ he mused, pausing to invade her personal space by standing only inches in front of her, a towering six-feet-three inches of pure alpha male clearly hell-bent on satisfying his curiosity, ‘whether you avoided me over the years because you were reluctant to let me meet this man of yours…’

      ‘I was not avoiding you over the years,’ Jennifer muttered uncomfortably. ‘I thought we corresponded very frequently by email…’

      ‘And yet every time I happened to be in Paris, you were otherwise occupied, and every time you happened to be in this country, I was out of it…’

      ‘The timings were always wrong.’ Jennifer shrugged, although she could feel hot colour rising to her face and she stared down at the ground with a little frown. ‘Patric and I are no longer involved,’ she finally admitted, when the silence became unbearable. ‘We’re still very good friends. In fact, I would say that he’s my closest confidant…’

      This time she did look at him and James knew instantly, from the genuine warmth of her smile, that she was being completely truthful.

      The girl who had always turned to him, the girl who had matured into a woman he hadn’t seen for nearly four years, now had someone else to turn to.

      ‘And what about you?’ she asked, because if he could ask intrusive questions then why shouldn’t she? ‘Is there anyone significant in your life at the moment, James?’

      James was still trying to get over a weird feeling of disorientation. He tilted his head to one side, considering her question.

      ‘No. No one at the moment. Until recently, I was involved with an actress…’

      ‘Blonde?’ Jennifer couldn’t resist asking and he frowned at her and nodded.

      ‘Petite? Fond of very high heels and very tight dresses?’

      ‘Did my mother mention her to you? I got the impression she wasn’t bowled over by Amy…’

      ‘No, your mother didn’t mention anyone to me. In fact,’ she added with a hint of smugness, ‘your mother and I haven’t really discussed you at all. I’m just guessing because those are the sort of girls you’ve always been interested in. Blonde, big hair, small, very high heels and very tight dresses.’ Jennifer couldn’t help herself, even though dipping into this subject would be to open a door to all the insecurities she had felt as a young woman, pining for him and comparing herself incessantly to the girls he would occasionally bring back to the house. Amy clones. She took a deep breath and fought her way through that brief reminder of a time she would rather have forgotten.

      James flushed darkly.

      ‘Nothing changes,’ she said scornfully.

      ‘Really? I wouldn’t say that’s true at all.’

      ‘You still go out with the blonde airheads. Daisy still despairs. You still only have relationships that last five seconds.’

      ‘But you don’t still have a crush on me…’

      That softly spoken remark, a lazy, tantalising question wrapped up in a statement, was like a bucket of freezing water thrown over her and she stepped back as though she had been slapped.

      What had she been thinking? Had she been so shocked to find him in the cottage that she had forgotten how efficiently he could get under her skin? She had managed to keep her distance so how was it that they had somehow drifted into a conversation that was so personal?

      ‘That was all a long time ago, James, and, like I said, there’s nothing to be gained from rehashing the past.’

      ‘Well…’ He finally began strolling to where his coat was hanging over the banister. She wondered how she had managed to miss that when she had walked in but, of course, she hadn’t been expecting him. ‘I’ll be heading off but I’ll be back tomorrow and please don’t tell me that there’s no need. I’ll roll the other carpets. Get them into one of the outbuildings and keep them dry so that they can be assessed for damage when this snow decides to stop and someone from the insurance company can come out.’

      ‘I’m sure that can wait,’ Jennifer said helplessly. ‘I won’t be here long. I plan on leaving… well… if not tomorrow evening, then first thing the following morning…’

      James