Sweet Lies. Catherine O'Connor

taunted, and Megan swung round, uncharmed by the amused grin on his face. She exhaled slowly before glancing up and giving him a half-hearted smile. She ran her fingers through her hair, unconsciously curling its already natural wave. His grin widened still further as he recognised the familiar gesture of nervousness.

      ‘We’re tired. It’s been a long day.’ Her cheeks turned pink as she spoke, but her voice was firm despite the white lie.

      ‘Who’s this “we”?’ objected Luke instantly, flashing her a look of discontent. ‘I was on a roll, in Dracula’s castle,’ he complained, ignoring the grim expression on Megan’s face as she glared at him.

      ‘That’s settled, then,’ agreed Darrow, beaming a smile at Luke for his help in what Megan was convinced was a conspiracy against her. ‘Try typing in PQRS, then go through the second door and…’

      Megan was totally confounded by the code but knew it was something to do with the computer game. Her heart shrivelled a little inside her. She had tried numerous times to get to grips with the new game technology but had always failed miserably, and she knew it was an important part of Luke’s life that she was unable to share. She felt excluded. A cold sense of loss swept over her; she had never had to share Luke before and it hurt.

      ‘And?’ demanded Luke, unable to bear waiting.

      ‘One hundred extra lives. And if you can’t get to level five now you never will,’ laughed Darrow, rubbing Luke’s head in a natural gesture of affection, and Megan was stunned when instead of shying away Luke stretched up his neck, like a cat wanting further strokes.

      ‘PQRS,’ repeated Luke.

      ‘You got it.’ Darrow smiled as Luke ran off without so much as saying goodbye to Megan.

      She tried to pretend she didn’t care but she did, very much. The relationship between her and Luke was very intense—she had showered him with all her love from the moment he had been handed to her. That moment was branded on her mind.

      ‘Well done, he’s a lovely little boy,’ the nurse had gushed as he’d placed the tiny bundle of life into her open, eager arms.

      ‘My son,’ Megan had whispered in his ear as she’d held him close to her breast. She had inhaled the warm, sweet smell of him, forgetting all her feelings of fatigue. She was now fully awake, alert to every little nuance of her son. ‘Thank you,’ she had breathed, clasping her child even tighter, mentally swearing that no one would ever come between them.

      A shiver of apprehension ran the length of her spine when she thought of the consequences that could develop if Luke ever knew the truth. Darrow turned to face Megan, arching his arm so that she could link hers into his, but Megan was not taken in by the easy charm that had fooled her all those years ago. Her eyes flicked to his arm but she hesitated, still unsure of the strength of her resolve.

      ‘Come on, Meggie,’ he cajoled, his eyebrows arched in a challenging look which he knew she would be unable to resist.

      ‘Lead the way.’ She nodded bravely, knowing full well she was walking straight into the jaws of hell.

      ‘Relax,’ laughed Darrow, drawing out her chair and noting the strained expression on her face. ‘It’s not such an ordeal, is it?’ he questioned lightly, but there was a definite undercurrent to his tone that Megan alone was sensitive to. She looked at him cautiously, her heart skipping a beat as she caught the stray scent of him.

      ‘Yes, it is,’ she confessed, then, noting the mocking rise of his eyebrows in horror, she hurriedly explained, ‘No, no—it’s not you,’ she began, ‘it’s the whole thing…’ Her voice faded away as her embarrassment grew still further. Her cheeks took on a rosy glow as he stared at her, willing her to continue, and enjoying her discomfort.

      ‘The whole thing?’ he prompted.

      ‘Going out to dinner. It’s like…’

      ‘A dinner-date,’ Darrow offered with a teasing lilt to his voice, and he picked up his white linen napkin and flicked it open. His action drew Megan’s eyes and she looked at his long, slender fingers, perfectly manicured, and for a fleeting moment she longed to reach out and touch them, to have her hand locked in his as it would have been all those years ago, she thought painfully.

      ‘A date.’ She repeated the words softly, struggling to fight an inner desire to allow herself to remember their first date. She felt that nervous again, and wondered how he felt. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve had a date,’ she admitted ruefully, with a half-hearted smile.