The Incorrigible Playboy

‘That’s because you’re so annoying!’

Her voice had risen to a passionate outburst, loud enough to attract Michael’s and Lucy’s attention, breaking their absorption in each other. They paused in their walk, turning around with eyebrows raised.

‘It’s okay,’ Elizabeth quickly assured them. ‘Harry was just being Harry.’

‘Be nice to Elizabeth, Harry,’ Michael chided. ‘It’s her birthday.’

‘I am being nice,’ he protested.

‘Try harder,’ Michael advised, dismissing the distraction to continue his tête-à-tête with Lucy.

‘Right!’ Harry muttered. ‘We need some control here, Ellie, if you want to pretend there’s nothing wrong in your world.’

‘The only thing wrong in my world is you,’ she muttered back fiercely. ‘And don’t call me Ellie.’

‘Elizabeth reigns,’ he said in mock resignation.

She bit her lips, determined not to rise to any more of his baits.

They walked on for a while before he started again.

‘This won’t do,’ he said decisively. ‘We’ll be at the restaurant soon. If you sit there in glum silence, I’ll get the blame for it and that’s not fair. It’s not my fault that Mickey’s attracted to your sister. Your best move is to start flirting with me. Who knows? He might suddenly get jealous.’

This suggestion stirred a flicker of hope. Maybe …

The shared laughter from the couple in front of them dashed the hope before it could take wing. Nevertheless, Harry did have a valid point. If she didn’t pretend to be having a good time, even Michael and Lucy would realise this birthday treat was no treat at all for her. She had to look happy even though she couldn’t be happy.

She sighed and slid him a weighing look. ‘You know it won’t mean anything if I flirt with you.’

‘Not a thing!’ he readily agreed.

‘It’s just for the sake of making a cheerful party.’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s obvious that you’re a dyed-in-the-wool playboy, and normally I wouldn’t have anything to do with you, Harry, but since I’m stuck with you on this occasion, I’ll play along for once.’

‘Good thinking! Though I take exception to the playboy tag. I do know how to play, which I consider an important part of living—something I suspect you do too little of—but that’s not all I am.’

‘Whatever …’ She shrugged off any argument about his personality. Arguing would only get her all heated again and she needed to be calm, in control of herself. Harry was right about that.

They’d walked past the yacht club and were on the path to the cocktail bar adjoining the restaurant when Harry made his next move.

‘Hey, Mickey!’ he called out. ‘I’ll buy the girls cocktails while you see the maître d’ about our table.’

‘Okay’ was tossed back at him, his attention reverting to Lucy with barely a pause.

‘No doubt about it, he’s besotted,’ Harry dryly commented. ‘How old are you today, Elizabeth?’

‘Thirty,’ she answered on a defeated sigh. No point in hiding it.

‘Ah! The big three zero. Time to make a change.’

Precisely what she had thought. And still had to think now that Michael had proved his disinterest in her personally.

‘Go with me on this,’ Harry urged.

‘Go with you on what?’

‘Something I was discussing with Mickey this morning. I’ll bring it up again after lunch. Just don’t dismiss it out of hand. It would be the perfect change for you.’

‘You couldn’t possibly know what’s perfect for me, Harry,’ she said sceptically.

He cocked a teasing eyebrow. ‘I might just be a better judge on that than you think I am.’

She shook her head, her eyes mocking this particular belief in himself.

He grinned. ‘Wait and see.’

She wasn’t about to push him on it. Harry enjoyed being tantalising. Elizabeth had found her best course was simply to show complete disinterest. In this case, she couldn’t care less what he had in mind. All she cared about was getting through lunch without showing how miserable she was.

Michael left them at the cocktail bar, striding swiftly into the restaurant to speak to the maître d’, obviously in a hurry to get back to Lucy. Harry led them to a set of two-seater lounges with a low table in between and saw them settled with her and Lucy facing each other.

‘Now, let me select cocktails for you both,’ he said, the vivid blue eyes twinkling confidence in his choices. ‘A Margarita for you, Elizabeth.’

It surprised her that he’d actually picked her favourite. ‘Why that one?’ she asked, curious about his correct guessing.

He grinned. ‘Because you’re the salt of the earth and I revere you for it.’

She rolled her eyes. The day Harry Finn showed any reverence for her was yet to dawn. He was just making a link to the salt-encrusted rim of the glass that was always used for a Margarita cocktail.

‘You’re right on both counts,’ Lucy happily volunteered. ‘Ellie loves Margaritas and she is the salt of the earth. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s always been my anchor.’

‘An anchor,’ Harry repeated musingly. ‘I think that’s what’s been missing from my life.’

‘An anchor would only weigh you down, Harry,’ Elizabeth put in dryly. ‘It would feel like an albatross around your neck.’

‘Some chains I wouldn’t mind wearing.’

‘Try gold.’

He laughed.

‘Do you two always spar like this?’ Lucy asked, eyeing them speculatively.

‘Sparks invariably fly,’ Harry claimed.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she invariably hosed them down, remembering just in time that flirting was the order of this afternoon, so she gave him an arch look and said, ‘I would have to admit that being with Harry is somewhat invigorating.’