I'm in physical pain. 'I tend to go pretty early.' I need to divert this conversation quickly before I tell any more lies. 'What about you? What do you do?'

He accepts my request for information and dives right in with a detailed report of him and his life. Over the next half-hour, I learn so much about Luke. He has a lot to tell, and I don't doubt that all he's saying is the truth and is as interesting as it seems, unlike my poor attempt to express me and my life. He's a stockbroker and lives with his mate, Charlie, after splitting with his girlfriend of four years, but he's in the process of buying his own place. He's twenty-five, far closer to me in age, and genuinely a nice, stable, sensible bloke. I like him.

'So no ex-boyfriend I should be wary of?' he asks, finishing his pint.

I'm enjoying listening to him. I'm engrossed, contributing the odd opinion or thought, but it's mainly Luke talking, and I'm happy with that.

Until now.

'No.' I shake my head and take a tiny sip of my wine.

'There must be someone,' he laughs. 'A girl who looks like you.'

'I was looking after my grandmother. I didn't have time for dating.'

He slumps back in his chair. 'Wow! I'm stunned.'

My relaxed state has been shifted back to uncomfortable now the conversation has reverted to me. 'Don't be,' I say quietly, fiddling with my gla.s.s.

The look on his face tells me he's curious, but he doesn't press further. 'Okay.' He smiles. 'I'll get another drink. Same again?'

'Yes, thanks.'

He nods thoughtfully, probably wondering what the h.e.l.l he's doing wasting his time on a guarded, ambiguous waitress, and makes his way to the bar, shifting through the crowd to get to the front. Letting out an aggravated sigh, I flop back on my chair and twirl my gla.s.s, scolding myself for . . . everything. My life approach, focus and direction need some serious rethinking. But I don't know where to start.

I jump a mile when I feel hot breath in my ear and a firm grip of my nape. 'Come with me.'

I stiffen under his hold, my eyes darting to the bar to see where Luke is. I can't see him, but that's not to say he can't see me.

'Get up, Livy.'

'What are you doing?' I ask, ignoring the heat that's being injected into the flesh of my neck from his touch.

He takes a grip of my upper arm with his free hand and pulls me to my feet, then starts pushing me to the back of the bar. 'I haven't a f.u.c.king clue what I'm doing, but I can't seem to stop myself from doing it.'

'Miller, please.'

'Please what?'

'Please stop doing this.' I'm begging quietly when I should be fighting him off and slapping his face. 'I'm on a date.'

'Don't say that.' He grinds the words out and I'm sure if I could see his face, it would look p.i.s.sed off. But I can't see his face because he's behind me and his grip on my nape is preventing me from turning. He pushes on, leaving me no choice but to scuttle to keep up with his long, determined strides.

The fire exit door is pushed open and kicked closed, and I'm spun around and pressed gently up against the wall, his hard body pushing into me. 'Are you going to sleep with him?' His lips are straight, his eyes piercing. He's still mad.

Of course I'm not, but that has nothing to do with him. 'That's none of your business.' I raise my chin in a little act of defiance, fully aware that I'm provoking him. I could've said no, but I'm too curious about what he's going to do. I'm not falling to my knees to please him, to tell him what he wants to hear.

I want to, though.

I want to swear that I'll never look at another man again, as long as he worships me for ever. His tall body flush against mine, his clear eyes burning into me, and his parted lips releasing subtle steams of air are all coaxing those inconceivable feelings to the surface. I'm starting to quiver under him.

I want him.

He brings his lips closer to mine. 'I asked you a question.'

'And I'm choosing not to answer,' I breathe, pushing myself further back. 'I've had to endure seeing you on a date more than once.'

'I've explained that a hundred times. You know how much I hate repeating myself.'

'Then perhaps you should explain yourself better,' I retort.

'Why is there a gla.s.s of wine on your table?'

'None of your business.'

'I'm making it my business.' He presses in further, pushing a breathy gasp from my lips. 'You're planning on sleeping with him, and I'm not going to let that happen.'

I turn my head away from him, losing the desire and gaining some irritation. 'You can't stop me.' I don't know what I'm saying.

'You still owe me four hours, Livy.'

My head swings back towards him in shock. 'You expect me to commit another four hours to you, just so you can turn cold and hard-hearted on me again? I shared something with you. You made me feel safe.'

His lips purse and his breathing becomes heavier, more forced, like he's trying to control himself. 'You are safe with me,' he growls. 'And yes, I do expect you give me more. I want the rest of the time that you owe me.'

'You're not going to get it,' I proclaim confidently, disgusted with his absurd demand. 'Do you really think I owe you anything?'

'You're coming home with me.'

'No, I'm not.' I fight the urge to scream yes. 'And you didn't answer my question.'

'I'm choosing not to.' He hunkers down and levels his lips with mine. 'Let me taste you again.'

The desire is fighting its way forward. 'No.'

'Let me take you to my bed.'

I shake my head desperately and clench my eyes shut, wanting to let him, but knowing it would be a gargantuan mistake. 'No, not so you can toss me out again.' I feel the warmth of his mouth closing in, but I don't turn my head.

I wait.

I let it happen.

And when the moist softness of his lips connects with mine, I go lax and open up to him on a low moan, my hands finding his shoulders, my head tilting to give him full access. I blank out. My intelligence has been blocked again.

'There are sparks,' he mumbles, 'full-on, electric sparks, and we're creating them.' He pecks my lips. 'Don't deprive us of this.' He kisses his way into my neck and nibbles up to my ear. 'Please.'

'Just four hours?' I whisper.

'Stop overthinking.'

'I'm not overthinking. I can barely think at all when you're near me.'

'I like that.' He encases my neck with his palms and tilts my face up. His stunning features cripple me. 'Let it happen.'

'I already did, more than once, and you turned distant on me every time. Will it be like that again?'

'No one knows what's going to happen in the future, Livy.' His lips move slowly, holding my attention at his mouth.

'That's a poor answer,' I murmur. 'And you can tell me what will happen because you're in control of it.' Annoyingly, I've laid my cards I've made it perfectly clear that I want more than he's willing to give.

'I really can't.' He moves in to kiss me, but I force my face to the side, leaving him hovering over my cheek. 'Let me taste you, Livy.'

I have to resist him, and his vague answer to my question gives me the strength I need to do it. 'You've already had too much.' If I fall now, there will be no getting up. By accepting this, I'm giving him the power to turn his back after he's taken what he wants, and I would never have a valid reason to hold it against him, because I allowed it . . . again.

'Have you?' he asks. 'Have you had enough of me, Livy?'

'Too much.' I push him away. 'Way too much, Miller.'

He curses and runs his hand through his hair. 'I'm not letting you go home with that man.'

'And how will you stop me?' I ask quietly. He doesn't want me, but he doesn't want anyone else to have me either. I don't understand him, and I'm not going to let him swallow me up again, just so he can spit me back out.

'He won't make you feel like I can.'

'You mean used?' I retort. 'You make me feel used. I've never exposed myself emotionally to a man before, and I did you. I've built up a pile of regrets in my life, Miller. And you're at the top of it.'

'Don't say things you don't mean.' He reaches forward and runs his knuckles across my cheek. 'How can you regret something that was so beautiful?'

'Easily.' I take his hand from my cheek and drop it gently to his side. 'I can regret it easily when I know I'll never have it again.' I shuffle past him, ensuring there's no contact, and start my journey home.

'You can have it again,' he calls. 'We can have that again, Olivia.'

'Not just for four hours,' I reply, clenching my eyes shut. 'I'd rather not have it at all.' My feet are moving, but I can't feel them, and I'm vaguely aware that I have a date inside the bar, who's certainly wondering where I've got to. But I can't go back inside and feign a good mood, not when I'm feeling so utterly broken. So I text Luke a feeble excuse about Nan falling ill. Then I drag myself home.

Chapter 15.

'How did it go?' Gregory asks when I call him the next morning. No 'h.e.l.lo' or 'how are ya doing?'

'He's nice,' I admit, 'but I don't think I'll be seeing him again.'

'Why aren't I surprised?' he grunts, as I hear shuffling in the background.

'Where are you?'

There's a lengthy silence, then a few more shuffles, and definitely the sound of a door closing. 'I caught up with Ben last night,' he whispers.

'Oh yeah?' I grin down the phone. 'Dirty stop-out.'

'It wasn't like that. We went out and had coffee back at his place.'

'And breakfast.'

'Yeah, yeah, and breakfast.' He's smiling around his words, making my own grin widen. 'Listen. You know I said Ben wanted to meet you?'

'I do recall.'

'Well, there's an opening of a nightclub tonight. Ben's been planning it for weeks and he's invited me. He wants you to join us.'

'Me?' I blurt. 'In a nightclub?'

'Yes, come on. It'll be fun. It's a dead plush place called Ice. Please say yes.' His beseeching voice won't shift me. I can't think of anything worse than subjecting myself to a London nightclub. And anyway, three's a crowd.

'I don't think so, Gregory.' I shake my head to myself.

'Oh, baby girl,' he groans. If I could see him, I know he'd be pouting. 'It'll take your mind off things.'

'What makes you think my mind needs taking off things?' I ask. 'I'm fine.'

He almost growls. 'Cut the c.r.a.p, Livy. I'm not taking no for an answer. You're coming and that's it. And there will be no Converse, either.'

'Then I'm definitely not coming,' I grumble. 'You're not putting me in those heels again.'

'Yes, you are. And yes, I am!' he snaps. 'You've got so much to offer the world, Livy. I'm not letting you waste any more time. This isn't a practice session, you know. One life, baby girl. Just one. You're coming out tonight, and you're going to make an effort of it, too. Put those heels on and walk around the house in them all day if that's what it takes. I'll be there at eight to pick you up. I expect you to be ready.' He hangs up, leaving me with my phone at my ear and my mouth open, ready to object. He's never spoken to me like that before. I'm shocked, but wondering if I've just received the kick up the a.r.s.e I deserve, and which has been a long time coming.

Too many years have been wasted; too much time spent pretending to be content with my closed-off life. Not any more. Miller Hart may have sent me into unfamiliar emotional turmoil, but he's also made me realise that I have so much more to offer the world. No more closing myself off and hiding away, too afraid to be vulnerable too afraid of becoming my mother.

I jump off the bed and slip my feet into the black stilettos and start pacing around my room, concentrating on walking with poise and with my head held high, not looking down at the ridiculous angle that my usually flat feet are at. While I'm doing this, I search Google on my phone for local gyms not Virgin and I call to arrange an induction for Tuesday evening. Then I try the stairs, taking them carefully and at a slight angle to maintain my ladylike posture and gracefulness. I'm doing well.

Walking down the hall, I smile when I hit the wooden floor of the kitchen, having got here without a stumble, stagger, or slip.

Nan swings around at the sound of heels clicking on the floor, her mouth falling open.

'What do you think?' I ask, taking a little turn to demonstrate my stability, to both my nan and myself. 'Obviously with a dress,' I add, registering my pyjama shorts.

'Oh, Livy.' She clutches the tea towel to her chest on a sigh. 'I remember the days when I pranced around in high heels like they were flats. I have bunions to prove it.'

'I doubt I'll be prancing, Nan.'

'Do you have another date with the nice young man?' She looks hopeful as she takes a seat at the kitchen table.

I'm not sure whether she means Miller, who she's met, or Luke, who she hasn't. 'I have a date with two men tonight.'