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a bit too, as if she’d been crying. Shelley decided there and then that if it was tears, John Smith was going to get a piece of her mind, expensive gifts notwithstanding.
    ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ the dark-haired girl said, swooping up her bags as they made their way to the kitchen, the heart of the house and the chapel of tea. ‘I was … um … just rushing to the front window, to get a last glimpse of John. But he’d gone by the time I got there.’
    Shelley narrowed her eyes, worried.
    ‘Don’t worry, we haven’t had a row or anything. It’s just that he’s off to New York in the morning and I won’t see him for a day or two.’
    ‘Right …’ Shelley reached for the kettle. Better get brewing the cup that cheers. ‘Men, eh? Here today, gone tomorrow. But at least it looks as if he’s left you some pressies to soften the blow.’ She nodded to the bags. ‘And that’s new too …’ Lizzie was wearing a beautiful shirt that Shelley had never seen before, insanely expensive by the look of it, although suspiciously rumpled at the moment.
    ‘It’s lingerie, mostly … and there was this … and these …’ Lizzie swept aside her thick dark hair and Shelley nearly dropped the teapot.
    Good God. Diamonds. But then, the man
was
a billionaire.
    ‘Lemme see, lemme see.’ Shelley hurried over, and it was her turn to blink, and be dazzled. The diamond studs were
huge
, and breathtakingly beautiful. Pure drama next to Lizzie’s inky black hair. ‘You jammy devil! They’re gorgeous … No wonder you let him do all kinds of kinky things to you.’
    ‘It’s not like that!’ Lizzie’s hazel eyes flared. She looked like a lioness, righteously defending her mate.
    ‘I’m sorry, love. I’m just jealous as hell. I only met him for a few minutes, but he seems like a nice guy, even if he is into spanking.’ Hypnotised by the gems, Shelley stared into their iridescence, but then noticed something else. ‘Good grief, maybe he is Mr Nice … but how old is he,
fifteen
? He’s given you a love bite, Lizzie, didn’t you realise?’ The mark on Lizzie’s neck was as red as a brand of ownership. Men, honestly!
    ‘Oh, sod! I didn’t realise.’ Lizzie flew across the room to the little kitchen mirror, almost tripping over Mulder the cat, who’d just mooched in to see what all the fuss was about, and to check for food. ‘Damn, I said I’d work in the shop tomorrow. Now I’ll have to wear a tastefully arranged scarf, and you can bet some of the golf club matrons will think I’m taking the piss out of them.’
    ‘But how could you not realise he was biting your neck? He doesn’t look like Dracula.’
    Shelley knew the answer, though, without Lizzie articulating it. A man like that could just sweep you away, just make you
feel
, without giving consequences the slightest passing thought.
    ‘He just … I don’t know … you’d have to have been there,’ said Lizzie, touching her throat briefly before she opened the cupboard to get out one of Mulder’s Whiskas pouches.
    I’d
love
to be there. Maybe not with John Smith, but some other man, a bit more my type.
    That thought stayed with Shelley as the two women chatted over tea. It was a debriefing of sorts, a sketch of Lizzie’s day with John, although Shelley had no doubt it was judiciously edited. Envy griddled her, but she tried tosuppress it. Lizzie hadn’t really had the greatest luck with men – even she and Brent hadn’t truly worked out on that score – so she deserved to find a good one.
    But don’t I deserve someone too?
    Shelley lay in the darkness, long after they’d both turned in, unable to stop the swirl of wistful yearnings in her mind. Lately, her dating luck had been worse than Lizzie’s had been: either nothing at all, or arrogant gits who seemed only to care about themselves. It was time she got with a man who saw to
her
needs, and
her
pleasure, in the way John Smith obviously saw to Lizzie’s. He didn’t even