Feeling faintly ridiculous, Tilly hesitated outside the glowing windows of the restaurant she was due to meet Anton in. She wore a knee-length black dress with a wide red belt, and black court shoes with a red flower pattern on the toes. Kay had chosen well – she looked smart but sexy – but not overdone.
However, she felt rather different. Her stomach roiled.
By agreeing to this date, she knew she was officially starting to say goodbye to her chances with Jack.
Maybe he was on a date tonight, too. Tilly swallowed. The thought of him caressing another woman’s cheek, touching his lips to hers, made her feel physically sick.
She fussed with her clutch bag for a few moments and then, when she could put it off no longer, she stepped inside. When a pretty young waitress approached her, Tilly shook her head with a smile. “I’m meeting someone here.”
She scanned the tables, and finally near the back she saw a man matching Anton’s picture sitting alone. She knew the moment he clocked her, because he smiled. Tilly found herself smiling back, genuinely. He did look kind – and he was handsome.
Maybe this wouldn’t be a total loss, after all.
Tilly made her way to the table and Anton stood when she reached her seat. He offered a hand. Tilly took it. “Hi.”
“Hello.” He spoke with a slight accent, and Tilly’s hopes rose again. She was a sucker for men with accents. “I’m Anton. As if you couldn’t guess,” he added, with a self-conscious smile.
“Tiger-Lily. But my friends call me Tilly.”
She sat down and they looked at each other across the rose-petal table cloth, all awkward smiles and too much silence.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Anton admitted eventually, running a hand through his dark hair. “To tell you the truth, I have been on a few arranged dates where the lady has…. Changed her mind.”
Looking at him, Tilly’s sympathetic heart squeezed. She had almost done the same thing – although, her circumstances were different. But Anton had no way of knowing that Kay had set them up on this date. “Well, I’m here now. And I’m sure we’ll have a fabulous time.”
He brightened. “Yeah, me too.”
The waitress appeared by their table. “Can I get you any drinks?” She looked at them from under what seemed an endless cloud of eyeshadow.
“Green tea for me,” Tilly requested. Anton ordered a beer.
When the waitress had moved on, Tilly opened the menu sitting before her. It was beautifully laminated, and gold thread laced it together. She was reminded, warmly, of the Chinese restaurants that she and her parents had eaten out at when she was younger.
“What are you thinking of ordering?” They asked each other at the same time.
Tilly laughed. And for the first time in a while, she forgot to think about Jack.
* * *
“Stupid tie.”
Jack stood by the mirror in his hotel room in New York, fussing with a dark blue tie. He’d chosen it because people had commented that it set off his cerulean eyes. Jack usually just said “mmmm” in response. He privately thought, sometimes, that ties were torture devices in disguise.
Tilly wouldn’t care if he wore a tie or not.
But, he reminded himself as he tried to knot the blasted thing once again, this was about making an impression. He wanted to be seen as more than just a friend, more than just the Jack she’d known all her life.
He finally knotted the tie, not without turning the room blue first with his curses, and then shrugged on his dark blue jacket. Too much for a gallery viewing? Probably not, since it was in the evening. He just felt a bit overdressed as he was allowed to wear t-shirts and jeans when he was at work.
Outside the hotel, on the still sunshine-hot streets of New York, Jack signalled a taxi, and gave the gruff-faced driver the address of the gallery Tilly’s showing would be held at
He’d replied to Tilly’s invite – wisely or not – to say he wouldn’t be coming due to work commitments, but he had decided to surprise her. He supposed he’d see tonight if his gamble paid off.
The taxi wound through dinner-time traffic in the bustling city and finally Jack paid the driver and stood outside the glass-fronted gallery. People already milled around inside, drinking what Jack assumed was complimentary champagne or least some sort of juice. As he neared the entrance, he saw the paintings, grouped in their canvases according to colour, inspiration, subject, or whatever Tilly had seen fit to choose.
He gave his invitation to a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile at the entrance, and then meandered through the crowds. He felt rather pleased to see that, despite the heat, most of the invitees had opted to dress smartly.
Then he spotted her.
Tilly stood between an elderly couple, by one of her paintings. The couple seemed rapt, hanging on her every word as she gesticulated with her hands, the joy in her work sketched all over her face. She wore a dress – was it just him, or had she only just started to dress like a woman?! – in black, embroidered with large blue and white flowers on the left side. A powder-blue flower secured her hair in some complicated bun arrangement.
Jack swallowed, and made his way over. His heart felt like it lay in his throat. By his sides, he unconsciously curled his fingers into his palms.
He knew the moment she saw him. Something in her face changed – and a huge smile spread over her rouged lips.
She made polite excuses to the couple, and then he heard the gentle click of her shoes on the polished wooden floor as she zig-zagged through the crowd to see him. She poked him square in the chest. “Liar. You said you couldn’t make it.”
That made him grin. “I wanted to surprise you.”
She hugged him, pressing her cheek against his chest. Jack wondered if she could tell how hard his heart pounded – as if it wished to escape from his chest and flutter off into her hands.
“I have a surprise for you, too. Oh – there he is. Anton!” She waved.
Jack turned, a sinking feeling already instilling itself in his gut. Sure enough, a tall, lithe man, his skin swarthy like a handsome pirate’s, headed towards Tilly, a more-than-acquaintances glint in his eyes.
Tilly held out her hand and Anthon slid his fingers through hers. He gave Jack that look, a look Jack knew well. It said: Well, who are you and how do you know Tilly?
“This is Anton. Anton, this is my best friend, Jack.”
The two men shook hands. Looking on, Jack wondered if anyone noticed that they eyed each other with mutual distrust and suspicion. “The famous Jack,” Anton said in a New York accent with a hint of the exotic. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Really?” It made Jack feel childishly smug. “All good, I hope.”
Tilly poked Jack. “Of course. When have I ever had anything bad to say about you?” Then her gaze softened as she looked at him. Something flickered across her face, and she opened her mouth to say something, but then a woman arrived and patted her arm. “Are you artist? I’d love to talk about a commission.”
Tilly sent Jack and Anton apologetic smiles and then she was off again, her eyes sparkling as she spoke about her love of painting.
“She is really something,” Anton said, half to Jack, half to himself.
Jack nodded, his gaze tracing her retreating figure. “Yeah. Excuse me, I’m going to find the bar.”
* * *
Some time later, the guests dwindled, and Tilly said goodbye to Anton outside the gallery. He bent his head to kiss her, and she let him. His lips felt pleasantly soft and cool against hers – a nice kiss, a vanilla kiss.
But nothing that set her pulse aflame.
She watched him hop into a taxi, waved, and then went back inside to find Jack. She hadn’t seen him since she’d be plucked from him and Anton by the zealous woman. That hadn’t been a bad thing – she had a big commission to look forward to. But something niggled at her and she worried that she’d upset Jack.
She found him in the bar, nursing something that looked like whiskey. He’d unknotted his tie and it lay on either side of the open collar of his shirt. Looking at him, Tilly felt something inside her warm.
Sliding on to the stool beside him, Tilly nudged him. “Why the long face?”
Jack glanced at her. “Oh. Hi. How’d it go?”
Tilly sniffed. “You’re drunk.”
“Hmm?” Jack looked down at the glass of whiskey as if seeing it for the first time. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“He went home. And I wouldn’t say he’s quite my boyfriend.” Tilly folded her arms. “Anyway, the showing’s over. Where are you staying?” It hurt a little, more than she would admit, that he hadn’t asked to crash at her apartment.
He named the hotel, a short cab ride away. Tilly hooked her arm through his. “Come on, let me take you back there. It’s pretty late.”
Jack didn’t protest when she led him towards the door. He wasn’t as drunk as he seemed, but he still reeled from seeing her with Anton – what a stupid name, too – and seeing her looking so…. Happy.
In the darkened interior of the cab, Tilly sighed. “What’s the matter, Jack? You haven’t been yourself all evening.”
Jack turned to her. Her black hair spilled loose over her shoulders, bare in the expensive-looking dress she wore. The red gloss she’d painted on her lips had faded, making her look as if she’d been thoroughly kissed by someone. Not him.
Tilly’s brow furrowed and she touched his cheek. “Jack…”
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe he was just tired of keeping his feelings to himself. But Jack did something he never thought he’d have the courage to do. He leaned over, cupped Tilly’s chin, and whispered his mouth over hers.
