morning that there was no future in it, so I left.”
Gina paused, a piece of toast halfway to her mouth. “The bastard. What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He was sleeping and I figured that I should probably get out of there before he woke up. So I did.” She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could as she reached for a piece of toast.
“Wha-huh? You left before he woke up? Am I getting this straight?”
Charlie chomped into her toast, eyeing her friend stubbornly. Gina’s eyebrows rose toward her hairline.
“Why would you do that if last night was fine? Don’t you want to see him again, see if it goes anywhere? You seemed really into him last night.”
“Last night was last night. This morning is this morning.”
“I don’t really know what that means.”
No way was Charlie about to give a blow-by-blow accounting of the reasoning behind her decision to flee. She knew Gina well enough to know that if she pointed out the fundamental disparity between godlike, perfect Rhys and plain-Jane her, her friend would spend the next hour trying to convince Charlie that she was beautiful and desirable and Rhys’s equal in every way. Last night, with the aid of good lighting, great makeup, a sexy wardrobe and generous quantities of alcohol, she’d allowed herself to be sucked into the same illusion. This morning, in the brutal light of a new day, she knew better.
“It’s really not a big deal. I had a nice time, it was what it was, and now it’s over,” she said firmly.
“So he’ll simply wake up and find you gone?”
“He’s going to wake up and heave a huge sigh of relief that I saved him an awkward morning-after conversation.”
“You don’t know that, Charlie.”
Charlie smiled grimly. She knew that, absolutely. She’d seen herself in the bathroom mirror. She knew how the world worked. She’d known how the world worked ever since Billy Hendricks had refused to go into the closet with her during a game of Spin the Bottle when she was thirteen years old.
“I was thinking that we could go car shopping today, if you’re up to it,” Charlie said. “Is there some area around here with lots of car yards?”
“I take it that’s your way of saying you don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Bingo.”
“Okay. All right. If you want to drop it, we’ll drop it. But I’d like it on the record that I think it’s a damn shame. He seemed like a decent guy and he was really into you.”
“Duly noted. So, tell me, who did you buy your car from? Should I go private or dealer? What do you think?”
This time Gina followed her lead, and by the time the plate of toast had been cleared, they’d formulated a plan of attack. Gina took the tray to the kitchen, while Charlie dressed. She spotted her borrowed clothes scrunched in the corner as she was about to exit the room and took the time to rescue them, smoothing the cool mesh of the top with her hand before folding the satin trousers neatly.
She felt an odd sense of…not quite regret, but something similar to it as she remembered those few heady hours when she’d felt amazing and invincible and glamorous.
It may have ended with a whimper, not a bang, but seeing how the other half lived had been fun while it lasted. But as she’d said to Gina, last night was last night, and today was today.
She set the clothes on the end of the bed, collected her handbag and headed for the door. She would get the outfit dry-cleaned on Monday, then she would hand back her borrowed plumage and get on with carving out a new life for herself. After all, she was a grown-up and a realist. She knew the score.
RHYS WOKE with the mother and father of all hangovers beating down a door in his brain. Rolling over in bed, he pressed his hands against his aching skull for long minutes before making his way to the en suite to stick his mouth beneath the tap. He gulped enough water to fill a wading pool then sluiced a couple of big handfuls over his face. It was only when he lifted his head to inspect his bleary-eyed reflection that he remembered he hadn’t come home alone last night.
“Charlie.”
He stepped into the bedroom. The bed was empty. Frowning, he grabbed a towel and slung it around his waist.
“Charlie?” he called, walking into the living area.
It was empty. Which