Once a Playboy…

CHAPTER FOUR

‘HI.’ GEORGE’s smile made Serena’s knees weak. ‘Busy morning?’

‘Yes.’ She dragged in a breath. She really hadn’t been expecting this. ‘George, I texted you. I said I couldn’t make lunch.’

‘True. But you didn’t give me an alternative date or tell me why you couldn’t make it.’ His eyes glittered. ‘So I guessed that you were actually free, but you’d panicked at the idea of having lunch with me and you’d chickened out.’

She had to admit it. Even though it was embarrassing and made her feel like a gawky teenager instead of a sensible thirty-year-old. ‘Yes,’ she muttered, feeling colour flood into her face.

‘Just as well I’m brave enough for both of us, then,’ he said lightly. ‘I brought some lunch. I thought we could have a picnic in the park opposite the hospital.’

She noticed then that he was carrying a small wicker basket and a blanket. This clearly hadn’t been a spur-of-the-moment decision to grab a couple of sandwiches, some fruit and a drink from a shop and then head out into the sunshine. To bring a wicker basket—the sort that looked as if it contained proper cutlery and crockery, as well as food—meant that he must have planned this. ‘You brought a picnic?’ Stupid question. It was obvious. But she didn’t know what else to say.

He shrugged. ‘It seemed like the best solution, in case you were short on time.’

And it also made it difficult—practically impossible—for her to refuse to have lunch with him now.

‘How long have you got until your next appointment?’ he asked.

‘Just over half an hour.’

‘OK. That gives us five minutes to find a nice spot, twenty minutes to eat, and five minutes to walk back so you’re not late for work.’

She appreciated the fact that he took her work seriously and wasn’t expecting her to play hooky just to indulge him. But all the same … ‘George, I know this is really rude of me, and I’m sorry about that, but I just don’t understand why you’re here.’

‘To have lunch with you. As we agreed last week.’

Until she’d backed out. ‘But why me?’ That was what she couldn’t understand. She didn’t belong in his world. ‘Apart from the fact you date a different woman every week, I’m not exactly your type.’

‘Firstly, I don’t date anywhere near as many women as the gossip rags make out; and, secondly, when it comes to you being my type, allow me to be the judge of that.’ He gave her another of the knee-melting smiles. ‘You intrigue me, Serena.’

‘Because I turned you down, and you’re not used to that?’

‘You’re a challenge, you mean? There may be a little truth in that,’ he allowed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘And I like the fact that you’re straight with me. But mainly you just intrigue me. I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, Ms James. And I want to find out if my theory about you is right.’

‘What theory?’

‘Have lunch with me, and I might tell you.’

But that wasn’t her only worry. ‘The paparazzi follow you about, don’t they?’

‘Only at parties,’ he said. ‘A few of them followed me to my physiotherapy sessions. But, as soon as they realised what was going on and they weren’t going to get any juicy gossip or photographs because my life is incredibly quiet and slow and boring right now, they stopped following me. So don’t worry—your picture isn’t going to be splashed all over the gossip rags tomorrow.’

‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m just used to … well, a more ordinary life.’

‘No problem. So, shall we go and have some lunch?’

They found a quiet spot in the park; he spread out the blanket and gestured to her to sit down. Even though they were in a public place, this felt oddly intimate. As if it were only the two of them in the park, even though it was the middle of London and the park was full of people enjoying the late summer sunshine.

George opened the basket and removed two plain china plates. Then he looked up and caught her smiling. He gave her a questioning look. ‘What?’

‘I’ve never met anyone who actually owns a proper picnic basket, let alone one that contains real crockery. Wow.’

He smiled back. ‘Picnics are more fun if you do them properly.’

‘So you made the picnic yourself?’

‘No. Though I did I choose the food myself,’ he said. ‘I happen to know a very nice deli. That probably sounds disgustingly lazy, but I should perhaps warn you that I’m a bit challenged in the culinary department. My brother says I’m the worst cook in the universe.’

She laughed. ‘Anyone can make a sandwich, George.’

‘Don’t bet on it.’ He laughed back. ‘Next time, I’ll make them myself and see if you can tell the difference.’

Next time. Her smile faded. ‘George. This is really sweet of you to treat me to lunch, but …’ She needed to be kind about this, but she also had to be honest. She needed to be fair to both of them. ‘I don’t think there ought to be a next time,’ she said gently.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m a single mum. I’m not really in the market for a relationship.’

‘Seeing me doesn’t have to involve your child,’ he said softly. ‘Do you have a boy or a girl?’

‘A boy.’ Guilt at turning George down, when he was being so sweet, nudged her into adding his name. ‘Ethan.’

‘That’s a nice name,’ George said. ‘How old is he?’

‘Five.’

‘So he’s at school. Well, you and I are simply having lunch together and, right now, Ethan doesn’t need to know anything about me. And he definitely doesn’t need to worry that I’m trying to push his dad out of the picture.’

Serena blew out a breath. It warmed her that George was clearly thinking of her son’s needs, but she couldn’t let him labour under that misconception about Jason. ‘Ethan’s dad isn’t actually in the picture.’

George said nothing, just waited.

She gave in and told him the rest of it. ‘Jason couldn’t cope with being a dad. Especially as Ethan was a colicky baby. He left us when Ethan was six weeks old. I gave him his engagement ring back, and he hasn’t seen Ethan or me since.’

‘That’s tough on you.’

In some respects, she hated that Ethan was missing out on a father’s love. He didn’t have a dad to play football with him in the park or teach him to ride his bike or do any of the mad, exciting things that dads did with their children. But he had a grandfather who was more than willing to do all those things, and a mother and a grandmother who loved him to bits and were there to kiss scraped knees better and give him a hug when he needed one. So they didn’t need pity. She and Ethan were doing just fine. ‘I don’t regret Ethan for a minute. He’s the light of my life.’

‘And he’s lucky to have a mother who loves him as much as you obviously do.’

That sounded personal. Then she remembered what she’d read in the paper: that George’s mother had walked out on him when he wasn’t much older than Ethan was now. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad stuff for you … About your mum, I mean.’

‘You haven’t. I grew up with a mother who loved me. Just because Frances isn’t my biological mother, it doesn’t make her any the less my mother.’ He shrugged. ‘She’s the one who was always there when I had a bad day at school or a nightmare at three in the morning. She’s the one who listened to me and then made everything all right again with a hug.’

Just as Serena did for Ethan, and she hated it when her son came home in tears, all upset and angry because someone had been unkind to him in the playground. The idea of George as that same kind of vulnerable little boy needing a hug brought tears to her eyes. ‘Sorry. Now I’m being truly wet.’

‘Not at all. But today was meant to be about having fun—and right now I think things are getting a bit heavy for both of us, so we need to take a deep breath and change direction.’ He took her hand, drew it to his mouth and pressed a kiss into her palm before folding his fingers over it.

The cherishing gesture made the lump in her throat even bigger.

‘Don’t apologise,’ he said.

‘How did you know I was going to apologise?’ she asked, feeling the colour flood into her face.

‘As you’ve apologised three times already in the last five minutes, let’s call it an educated guess,’ he said dryly. ‘We need to set some ground rules. Starting with no apologies being necessary, OK? We’re still getting to know each other. We’re bound to find the odd sore spot while we’re talking. It won’t be a deliberate attempt to hurt each other.’

‘OK.’ She looked straight at him. ‘What are the other ground rules?’

‘You’re not in the market for a relationship. That’s fine, because neither am I.’

‘Don’t you have to … well, settle down and marry someone suitable?’

‘To keep the title going, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

That was the big question. The one he was trying not to think about. The crash had left him with some less visible injuries; and, given the results of the test he’d had last week, he’d made very little progress in healing. It was looking more and more likely that he wouldn’t be able to provide his family with an heir. Which meant that the whole issue of finding a suitable bride and settling down was something he could push to the back of his mind for a bit longer.

He shrugged. ‘Hopefully Dad will live until he’s a hundred so it won’t be an immediate issue.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I’m not looking for forever, Serena,’ he said quietly. ‘Not right now. I’m just enjoying the present.’

‘Feeling lucky to be alive?’

That was exactly how he was feeling; and he appreciated the fact that she understood that. ‘Obviously it’s not the first time I’ve ever had an accident. There’s always a risk when you do the more physically demanding sports. But it’s the first time I’ve been in such a serious crash. And it’s the first time I’ve been banged up for weeks and weeks and weeks. The first time I’ve had to rely on other people so much.’ And he’d hated every second of it.

‘And it gave you too much time to think?’

‘Way too much time.’ And he didn’t want to go into those thoughts. They were too dark, too much, and he’d rather just ignore them and enjoy the sunlight. Maybe he was a coward, locking everything away in a box in his head marked ‘Do not open'—but what was the point in going over and over things he couldn’t fix? He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Women either saw him in terms of his title—and no way was he settling for someone like his mother—or, like Rebecca, they saw him for himself but didn’t feel they could fit into his world.

‘Right now, I need time out. Some fun. I think you do, too. So you and me—this is all about having a good time. No pressure, no seriousness, and it’s most definitely nobody else’s business. Oh, and just in case you were wondering, I only date one person at a time. So any pictures you see in the papers of me with my arm round someone will have been manipulated by the editors purely to sell copies of their gossip rags. So do you think you can stop panicking now and relax with me?’

It was easy for him to say, Serena thought. She hadn’t dated in years, she didn’t have a clue what she was doing, and George … She had a nasty feeling that George could really break her heart if she let him close. OK, so he’d been up front about this thing between them being just fun. But that was from his point of view. If he could make her that dizzy with a single kiss, almost a week ago, what would happen if she spent more time with him? What would happen today? What if he kissed her again?

As if he guessed at her fears, he said softly, ‘I’m not going to pounce on you, Serena. I’m not expecting you to have sex with me in the middle of the park. Today’s about getting to know each other a bit more, having a bit of fun. I get the feeling that you don’t get a lot of time for that.’

‘That’s your theory about me?’ She grimaced. ‘Everybody seems to be saying that to me, this past week,’ she said ruefully. ‘I must be coming across as the most humourless person in the world.’

‘No. You come across as very serious and professional, but you also have a twinkle in your eye and during our appointments you gave as good as you got, teasing me back. That’s what intrigues me. You want to know my real theory about you?’

‘Yes.’ She really did.

‘I think there’s a woman inside you who knows how to have fun, but you’re keeping her locked up. And I’d like to know what would make you let her out.’

‘As I said.’ She sighed. ‘Humourless.’

‘No, that’s not what I said. You’re being too hard on yourself. Let’s have lunch.’ He took out two glasses—proper glasses, not plastic ones, she noticed—and poured in what looked like freshly squeezed orange juice, topping up the drinks with sparkling water. ‘This was the nearest I could get to a non-alcoholic Buck’s Fizz,’ he said.

She was touched that he’d recognised she needed a clear head for the rest of her shift and wouldn’t want to drink wine. ‘Thank you. That’s lovely.’

‘To the beginnings of a new friendship,’ he said, lifting his glass.

‘I’ll drink to that. Just friends,’ she felt compelled to add.

‘Good friends,’ he said with a smile.

The sandwiches—at least, she thought they were sandwiches—were all wrapped neatly in greaseproof paper. He’d definitely gone to a posh deli, Serena thought. ‘What’s in the packets?’

‘I was hoping you’d ask that.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Close your eyes.’

‘Why?’

‘So you can take a bite and guess.’

Oh, help. This was a dangerous game. And hadn’t they just agreed to be friends? This was more like the kind of game lovers played.

Clearly her worries showed on her face, because he said softly, ‘Relax. This is going to be fun.’

What could she do but go along with him and close her eyes?

The bread was gorgeous, soft and full of grains and seeds. There was a distinct peppery taste, mingled with something sweet with a hint of fieriness, and something juicy.

‘So what do you think?’ he asked.

‘Rocket, prawns and sweet chilli sauce?’ she guessed.

‘Excellent. You’ve just earned your first sandwich. You can open your eyes now.’

A neatly cut triangle—with a bite taken from the apex—sat on the plate in front of her.

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