Down London Road

always the hope, however, that my relationship with Malcolm would turn into something more significant and selling the watch would no longer be an issue. But I never allowed myself to get my hopes too high.
    It was nine fifteen. My pulse picked up a little and I riffled through my tiny fake Gucci clutch purse for my phone. No messages.
Dammit, Cole
.
    I had just pressed SEND on a text message reminding Cole to call me as soon as he arrived home, when an arm slid around my waist and the woodsy, leathery smell of Malcolm’s aftershave filled my nostrils. Not needing to tilt my head back to meet his gaze since I was wearing my five-inch heels, I turned and smiled, covering my worry for Cole as our eyes met. I’d gone for sophisticated in the Dolce & Gabbana red pencil dress that Malcolm hadbought for me on our last shopping trip. The dress showed off my trim figure to perfection. I loved it. I would be sad to add it to my eBay pile.
    ‘There you are.’ Malcolm grinned at me, his brown eyes bright as they crinkled attractively at the corners. He had a head full of lush, dark hair with a sexy sprinkling of grey at the sides. He wore suits all the time and tonight was no exception, the Savile Row tailoring exquisite. ‘I thought your friends were coming tonight or I wouldn’t have left you all alone.’
    I smiled at that and placed my hand on his chest. ‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. They were here, but they had to leave early.’ I looked at the phone still curled in my hand – where was Cole? Little gremlins awoke in my stomach to nibble anxiously at my insides.
    ‘I’m buying one of Becca’s paintings. Come and pretend with me that it’s brilliant.’
    I chuckled and then immediately felt bad, biting my lip to stall the sound. ‘I’m so glad I’m not the only one that doesn’t get it.’
    His eyes darted around the room, his lips curled in amusement. ‘Well, thankfully these people know more about art than we do, so I’ll at least get a return on my investment.’
    He kept his arm around me and guided me through the gallery and behind a couple of walls, where Becca stood under a huge monstrosity of splashed paintwork. I almost tripped over my own feet when I saw who she appeared to be arguing with.
    Tattoo Guy.
    Crap.
    ‘You okay?’ Malcolm glanced down at me, frowning as he felt the tension in my body.
    I smiled brightly. Rule number one: never let him see you as anything but positive and charming. ‘I’m great.’
    Tattoo Guy was grinning at Becca, his hand on her hip, trying to pull her to him, his expression bordering on appeasing. Wilfully, I ignored the catch in my breath at the flash of his wicked white smile. Becca still looked a bit put out, but I totally understood when she stepped into his embrace. I thought any woman would have forgiven the bastard anything when he smiled at her like that.
    Averting my eyes from Tattoo Guy, I followed Malcolm as he came to a stop and the couple turned to us. Becca’s cheeks were flushed pink, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Just ignore me and Cam. We’re just fighting because he’s an eejit.’
    I didn’t look at him, but I heard him chuckle. ‘No, we’re fighting because we have different taste in art.’
    ‘Cam hates my artwork,’ Becca said with a huff. ‘He can’t be like other boyfriends and lie at least. No. Brutally honest, this one. At least Malcolm likes my work. Did Mal tell you he’s buying my painting, Jo?’
    You’d think I’d be jealous of Malcolm’s obvious affection for Becca, and I know it sounds horrible, but until I saw her artwork I
was
a little jealous. I wasn’t exceptionally smart, I didn’t draw, I didn’t dance, I didn’t sing, I was just an okay cook … Thankfully, I was pretty. Tall with legs that went on forever, I’d been told countless times I hada good body and great skin. Combine those with huge green eyes, long, thick strawberry blonde hair, and delicate features and you were left with an attractive package – one that had been turning heads since I was a teenager. Aye, I didn’t have much, but what I did have, I used to my family’s advantage.
    To know that Becca was cute and talented
had
worried me a little. Perhaps Malcolm would get bored of me and go back to her? Actually, though, Malcolm’s less-than-enthusiastic response to her artwork made me feel better about his relationship with her. Not that that made any rational kind of sense.
    ‘He did. Good choice.’ I smiled at him and I