Page 7 of For Love or Money
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Two months later, Lesley was beginning to question whether she was cut out for working from home. Business was good, but the latest big SEO project she’d taken on was boring the pants off her, and it was a constant struggle to resist the twin lures of social media and the biscuit cupboard, and focus on her work.
When her doorbell rang at eleven one Monday morning, she promptly sprang out of her chair to answer it, grateful for the distraction. Expecting it was Romy calling for a coffee break, she hurried into the hall. But her welcoming smile died on her lips when she saw the unfamiliar head of a man through the bubbled glass of the door. Damn! It was probably someone selling something or collecting for charity. Still, it was too late to hide and pretend there was no one in as he’d already seen her through the glass – and besides, any diversion was better than nothing. Maybe she could persuade him to come in for a cup of tea and a chat, whoever he was. She’d invited a couple of very nice Mormons in last week and had managed to keep them talking for almost an hour.
When she opened the door, she vaguely recognised the tall, russet-haired man standing in her porch, but couldn’t quite place him.
‘Lesley, hello!’ he said with a friendly smile.
As soon as he spoke, she remembered. He was the posh English guy she’d met at Dinner Dates – the one who’d followed her home and asked her out. She was surprised he’d turned up. He’d seemed to accept her brush-off the night they’d met, and she hadn’t pegged him as a stalker. He’d waited long enough, but maybe that was part of his MO – biding his time and lulling her into a false sense of security.
‘Hello, um ...’ She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew it was something preposterous. ‘I want to say Algernon?’
‘Aloysius,’ he said cheerfully, holding out his hand.
Of course – how could she have forgotten?
‘But you can call me Al.’
‘Like the song.’ She gave his hand a brief but firm shake.
‘Yes. Quite,’ he said in a jaded tone.
‘Oh, I suppose people say that to you all the time.’
‘No, you’re the first.’
‘Really?’ She smiled, surprised.
‘Well, the first today.’
‘Oh.’ She laughed.
‘So, can I come in?’ Al asked.
Lesley hesitated. He seemed so sure of his welcome, like a big, friendly dog that was used to people doting on him. But while she’d be glad of the distraction, even if it did come in the shape of a stalker, she didn’t fancy him, and she didn’t want to lead him on. Better to let him down quickly so he could get on with his life and find some other woman to pester.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said.
‘Oh.’ He seemed taken aback. ‘But I haven’t even told you why I’m here yet.’
‘Well, it’s not hard to guess. I mean, we met at Dinner Dates. You followed me home.’
‘Walked you home,’ he corrected her.
‘You say potato. Whatever. The thing is I didn’t feel we ... hit it off really.’
‘I’m not here to ask you out again, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘You’re not?’ Lesley felt irrationally miffed that he seemed to have given up so easily.
‘No. So, can I come in?’
‘Well, all right.’ Puzzled, she stood back to let him in, and he strode off down the hall before she’d even closed the door behind him.
‘In here?’ he asked, pointing to the open kitchen door.
‘Yes,’ she said, trotting after him.
