‘And your heart could stop again,’ I chipped in with. ‘Clearly you shouldn’t be left alone either. What if you need CPR?’
‘Do you know how to do it?’
I shook my head. ‘But I could google it on my phone. I can type extremely fast.’
He was all-out smiling now.
‘Seems to me that, having cheated death, it would be nothing less than irresponsible if we parted ways right now. We should at least spend a few hours monitoring each other.’
‘Well, when you put it like that, we really don’t have a choice, do we?’
He took a step back on the short flight of marble stairs that led to my door. His eyes were locked on mine. ‘This is crazy, you know that?’
‘I don’t do crazy. Ask anyone. I was born middle-aged and sensible.’
Rhys descended a further two steps and for a horrible moment I thought he had changed his mind. But instead, he spun around and ran lightly down the remaining four treads.
‘Don’t move,’ he said over his shoulder as he jogged towards the cab, already pulling his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.
‘Wow. This is a really incredible flat.’
The estate agent in me warmed to him even more at that. The rest of me was already a lost cause.
There had been a fleeting moment of sanity when Old Ellie had elbowed her way back into my consciousness. Halfway up the three flights of stairs leading to my flat, she questioned the advisability of inviting a total stranger into my home.
You don’t know this man, she insisted on the second-storey landing. He could be a con artist, a burglar, or something a great deal worse, she pointed out darkly as we crested the final flight of stairs. You’re too street-smart to be this unbelievably gullible, was her final thrust as I slid my key into the Yale lock. That one almost hit home. In my job I was careful never to be alone in a building with a man I didn’t know, and yet here I was, happily breaking my own rules.
Because you know this man. Even though you’d never met him until today... you know him.
It made no more sense than surviving being hit by lightning had done. But I trusted my instincts every bit as much as I trusted him.
I felt a glow of pride when Rhys complimented the period details of my home, the ones that had made me fall in love with it. The intricate ceiling roses, the painstakingly restored shutters, and the polished wooden floorboards all won his admiration.
‘In comparison, my place is a functional, dull, soulless box,’ he admitted.
‘Why did you pick it then?’
It didn’t seem like a tough question, but it certainly made him look uncomfortable.
‘Circumstances.’
He wasn’t looking at me but was studying the walls I’d splurge-painted in Farrow and Ball’s finest.
His gaze travelled to the corner of the room where a chrome and canvas designer chair was artfully positioned. It was all strange angles and sharp edges and the moment I’d seen it featured in a high-end magazine, I’d known I had to have it. The price tag had made my eyes water back then – it still did – but I’d maxed out my credit card to buy it.
‘Cool chair,’ Rhys said, making his way towards it. I shook my head.
‘I wouldn’t,’ I said with a rueful expression. ‘I think it might have been modelled on a rack the Spanish Inquisitors used for torture.’
The rich tones of Rhys’s laughter filled my lounge, and I truly couldn’t remember the last times these walls had heard that sound.
‘If it’s so uncomfortable, why did you buy it?’
‘Because it looks great and all the top designers who I follow were raving about it.’
I felt naked under the scrutiny of his eyes, knowing my reply had revealed far more about how I lived than I’d ever intended. Thankfully he seemed to sense my vulnerability and changed the topic.
‘So how does a person find a flat like this?’