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Alex heaved a deep sigh. ‘Amanda’s expecting us.’

Leigh slid off her lap with absolutely no grace whatsoever and sat back down in her seat. She buttoned her shirt back up, humiliated, dejected, rejected. ‘Let’s go,’ she muttered.

Alex nodded and started up the car.

No one said anything else, and eventually, Leigh picked her laptop from the footwell—where it had fallen during the passionate break in their usual rivalry— and went back to her emails.

***

Ten minutes later, they pulled up on a small, cheap suburban street. The houses were pressed together in a tight concertina, two up, two down, repeated ad infinitum.

For the first time since the layby, Alex turned and looked at Leigh. She smiled like absolutely nothing had happened. ‘OK, let’s see who’s a liar, shall we?’ She got out of the car.

Leigh climbed out next, watching Alex’s well-tailored figure move up the street. And she knew that there was no chance she would ever understand this person. Alex Walker was a mystery that refused to unravel. Just when you thought you were on a straight path to the heart of her, you found yourself on a roundabout, with no clue which lane you should be in, where the right exit was, your turn signal on the fritz, and your check engine light going off.

Leigh needed to stop making this mistake with Alex. It would never end well. Alex was Alex, a one-woman island, and Leigh was done with it.

She joined Alex at the door of number eight, Marlington Road.

‘I’ll do the talking,’ Alex said.

‘I’m sure you will,’ Leigh said sourly.

Alex had time to shoot her one quizzical look before they heard the door unlocking.

The door opened, and there she stood—Amanda Bradley, the face that launched a thousand tweets. She looked like she’d lost some weight since that fateful day in the private members club. She was washed out, her hair greasy, her clothes not on their first day.

‘Hi,’ Alex said.

‘Come in quickly. It’s cold out,’ Amanda said.

In they went.

Twenty-Nine

An Alaskan Malamute jumped up Alex’s front and knocked her on her arse.

‘God, sorry. She’s friendly, I promise,’ Amanda said, trying to pull her off. ‘Betty! No!’ The malamute reluctantly climbed off, and Amanda got ahold of her collar and began to pull her gently into the kitchen. ‘I’m just gonna put her in the back.’

Alex got to her feet in the small, dark hallway. She dusted herself off unsuccessfully. Her beautiful black pure wool maxicoat was now grey with dog hair. She turned and saw that Leigh had been watching her with a look of smug pleasure.

‘Adds something, I think,’ Leigh smiled.

‘Yeah, the smell of dog,’ Alex snarked back.

She was amazed she was managing to be even halfway normal with Leigh. What the hell had she let come over her in the layby? It was like she was an animal.

Well, Alex wasn’t an animal. Or if she was, she wasn’t some humping malamute. She was a sleek black panther. Or an arctic fox. Anything with a killer instinct and a nice coat.

Speaking of which, this bloody thing was going to have to go to the dry cleaners now. She hated looking dishevelled at the best of times. But in front of Leigh, now? It wasn’t what she needed. She needed to be Alex Walker, and she wasn’t feeling very much like her right now.

Alex was making mistake after mistake lately. Why? What had broken her stride?

Well, that was obvious enough.

Amanda came back in, rubbing the back of her neck self-consciously. ‘Sorry about her. She’s just friendly.’

‘No problem. So, I’m Alex Walker, and this is Leigh Calloway,’ she said with a gesture to Leigh, who gave a smile wave.