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once, but that didn’t mean he was miraculously cured, did it? He still might not want a woman in his bed all night, and if he couldn’t sleep,
she’d
have to leave. Nobody could function properly without rest. Especially a high-octane lover like John, who invested one hundred and ten per cent energy into sex.
    ‘Yes, we’re at the Waverley, but I’m not sure about whether I’ll be coming home or not. It’s very possible I will. I’ll try and phone you again later. Don’t worry about supper or anything. We’re just about to go and eat.’
    ‘OK, sweetie. Enjoy yourself. Not that there’s much doubt on that score. Think about me when you’re scoffing posh nosh with a billionaire at the Waverley, and me and Mulder are eating beans and dry bread here.’
    ‘And I’m playing my violin here.’ Lizzie smiled to herself, knowing her friend’s tendency towards drama. ‘Look, you can have my deluxe paella out of the freezer if it’ll cheer you up … and there’re some roast chicken slices for Mulder.’
    The two friends chatted for a few minutes more, and then, with an instruction to pet Mulder the cat on her behalf, Lizzie rang off, and got back to her final preparations.
    The shirt fitted like a dream, and despite its superficial simplicity, Lizzie admired the clever darting that made it hang so elegantly on her body. She made a mental note of the positioning and technique, for future reference. With her dressmaking skills, it should be easy enough to adapt a pattern and run up a shirt or two like it, only using a slightly cheaper fabric of a similar weight.
    Beneath the shirt, the pretty, floral-trimmed bra and knickers fitted perfectly too. Had John scrutinised the labels of her clothes during their previous time together? He must have done. Either that, or he was so used to women that he could size them up, purely by eye.
    Don’t think about his other women. Of course he’s had them. He’s older and too gorgeous and too eligible for him not to have scores of exes … but he’s here with you now, and that’s what matters.
    ‘Ready to eat?’ said John as she finally emerged from the bathroom, with the best attempt at make-up and hair that she could manage with the contents of her bag. Her ‘Bettie Page’ fringe wasn’t quite as accurate as she’d have liked it to be, and her nude lip tint was a bit pale, but lifted by the glorious shirt, she still felt pretty confident that she looked good. She hadn’t heard John come back into the bedroom while she was primping, but she hoped he liked what he saw, too.
    ‘Yes, I’m starving. Let’s go down!’
    ‘Splendid,’ said John, but then he paused and fished insidethe pocket of his jacket. ‘You look utterly gorgeous, but perhaps there’s just one final touch we can try.’
    On the palm of his hand, he held out a small, dark-blue jewellery box.
    Oh no, it can’t be … he said he wasn’t interested in all that …
    Settling her heart, and sternly admonishing her subconscious, Lizzie stepped forward and took the box. There were plenty of other things that came in jewellery boxes; it wasn’t just rings.
    And this was a pair of earrings.
    A pair of diamond earrings.
    Diamond earrings … with very
big
diamonds.
    Lizzie’s heart did a flip-flop. It was too much.
They
were too much. Girls like her didn’t wear rocks like these.
    John looked a bit worried, presumably by her gobsmacked silence. ‘I hope you like them. I noticed that you just wear very plain studs, so I thought something simple like these would be your kind of thing.’
    ‘They’re gorgeous … They’re beautiful …’
    Simple though the diamond studs were, even with only a slight knowledge of gemstones, Lizzie would have bet good money on the fact that they were worth more than the house she lived in.
    ‘But?’ John gave her a steady look, as if he’d read her every qualm.
    How to tell him, without seeming like an ungrateful bitch? There probably wasn’t a way. ‘They’re