Page 12 of Never Too Late

My breath hitched as I opened the door. No Laurent. Instead, it seemed I was to be treated to an action replay of yesterday. Tonight, instead of his casual clothes from the previous evening, Cillian wore an expensive-looking pin-striped suit. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, but the sight after so long wasjarring. If there was one thing you couldn’t deny about Cillian King, it was that he looked good in a suit.

“Hi,” he said before I could speak. “I realize this is a little strange, me just turning up at your door like this, but I saw you last night, and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since.” He extended a hand my way. “Cillian King.”

I stared at his outstretched hand, my brain playing catch-up with what was going on here. Did he really think it was that simple? That we could just erase the past and start again? The idea was ludicrous. Yet, I couldn’t deny there being something strangely alluring about it. Like the man standing in front of me wasn’t the one I’d spent six months with, but someone else entirely. Someone who’d apparently viewed me from afar, had liked what they saw and followed me home, but not in a stalker way.

There was something almost pleading in Cillian’s expression as I lifted my gaze to his, like this really mattered to him. It tipped the scales and had me reaching for his hand, my palm tingling as we made contact. “Finlay Prescott. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” The handshake lingered. My doing? His? Both? I wasn’t sure. “So you followed me home?” I asked.

“I had to. I couldn’t just let you walk out of my life.”

There was no missing the double meaning. “And what is it you want from me, Mr. King?”

“To take you out. To romance you.” I didn’t realize his left hand had been behind his back the whole time until he pulled it out to reveal a single red rose. “A bit cliched, I know.”

Cillian had never bought me flowers when we were together. Maybe because we were both men. Or perhaps it had just never occurred to him. I couldn’t say there’d been any romancing at all squeezed between the hot, sweaty sex. And while that hadn’t been the deal breaker, I had to admit it would have been nice. Itwould have at least told me he’d given more thought to me than the quickest way to get me out of my clothes.

I took the rose. “I don’t mind something being a cliche.”

“No?” Cillian sounded surprised.

“No. There’s a thin line between a cliche and tradition sometimes.”

“I suppose so.”

“What now?” I asked.

“I hope it’s not too forward of me, but I booked a table at a restaurant. If you don’t agree to accompany me, I’ll still go, but I’ll eat alone.”

Even with the suit and the rose, the news that he intended taking me for dinner came as a surprise. I waved a hand at my sweatpants and T-shirt, my feet bare. “I’m not really dressed for dinner.”

“I can wait while you get changed. I booked the table in an hour because I thought I might need time to persuade you to go with me.”

“Because… we’ve never met before,” I said. “And you weren’t sure I would go out with a complete stranger?”

“Exactly.”

I chewed on the dilemma for a few seconds. Back inside to stare at the microwave meal, which would look even less appetizing for having stood around for a few extra minutes, or continue this charade and see where it took us?

Maybe you should give him another chance.

Not my words, Laurent’s from a few hours ago. What would he make of this? He’d probably commend Cillian, both for his creativity and for his determination, when I’d had him giving up and back in his office in London.

“Okay,” I agreed before I thought better of it. “Do you… er… want to come in and wait while I change?”

There was no hesitation before Cillian shook his head. “I’ll wait out here.”

“You don’t have to. I wouldn’t have invited you in if I minded.”

“I don’t think it’s wise,” he said. “We haven’t even gone on a date together yet, and I’m not a man who likes to rush things.”

There was no stopping the laugh that burst out of me. Because that was the opposite of the Cillian I’d known. We’d met at a party and he’d had me in bed before the night was through. Not that I’d put up much of a fight, the attraction between us instant and combustible. But yeah, we’d definitely rushed things, and we hadn’t dated before having sex.

When the look in Cillian’s eyes warned me not to point out the obvious, I settled for a tactful withdrawal instead, leaving the door open a crack in case he changed his mind about waiting out in the corridor.

I threw the microwave meal in the bin before going into the bedroom to change. If Cillian came in, I didn’t want him seeing what I’d almost stooped to eating prior to his arrival. In the bedroom, I went through my wardrobe, discounting most of it before finally settling on a black shirt and trousers teamed with a tan jacket. The clothes were new, bought in a shopping trip Laurent had dragged me on, so at least Cillian hadn’t seen them before, which wasn’t the case with ninety percent of my wardrobe. There was nothing I could do about the stubble I sported, but I spent a few minutes teasing my hair into something that looked less like I’d spent all day at work and then sat on a sofa for an hour.

When I came out of the bedroom, the flat was still empty. Conversation in the corridor had me frowning. Had Adeline stumbled across Cillian? If so, I dreaded to think about what the two of them were discussing. She was probably telling him how noisy I could be and requesting he talk to me about it.

There was no Adeline outside when I opened the door, though. Only Cillian down on his knees, not seeming remotely bothered that he risked ruining his fancy suit as he petted the ginger stray and mumbled things that sounded suspiciously like endearments to it. I closed the door quickly before it could think about darting into my flat and making itself at home.

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