Chapter 37
‘So you think you can get through tonight resisting my temptations and pretending to everyone you’re not hot for me, Miss Heart?’ asked Devan, his voice a delicious whisper against her skin, his hand skimming down the bare flesh of her back where her deep red dress dipped low.
His fingertips were warm, and every time he touched her it was as though he left a trail of fireworks.
‘Mmm hmm,’ she managed, her voice quite possibly a helpless whimper.
Locals busied around them in the hall, putting up final decorations for the town’s tango night. Everything looked red and romantic, and a local band were beginning the first twangs of sultry guitar music. Luckily, people seemed too busy to focus on Alyssa and Devan. For now.
His lips were perilously close to her neck, making everything tingle.
‘When are you going to come clean and tell these lovely people how you feel about me?’ He put his hands on her hips and spun her around to face him, the delicate silk of her dress swishing.
His eyes flickered briefly to the exposed flesh of her cleavage, his mouth parting slightly.
Wow, how was he doing that? She was aching for him.
Everywhere his gaze landed came alive with tingling goosebumps.
And it was wildly unfair that he was wearing the tightest trousers and a sheer black shirt that was unbuttoned to the waist, to show off abs that could outdo a washboard.
Abs that she really wanted to touch right now.
Well, two could play the tease.
‘I have no intention of coming clean, Mr Shaw, when you’re so intent on playing dirty.’
He looked at her, his eyes a display of feigned innocence. Admittedly, they were gorgeous – but she hadn’t come to assess his irises.
‘I’m here to help Hartglove shake off its “loveless” title, and to give people a way to meet naturally, without having to undergo a series of daunting love tasks.
And perhaps to network in my capacity as a love coach.
’ She winked at him. ‘We can’t have folk thinking a love app is the best way to fix their romantic troubles. ’
‘Though is ’Appy Together making you fall in love?’ He spoke the words gently against the soft skin behind her ear, before moving his gaze to lock with hers.
The room seemed to swirl around them, his eyes like deep pools, pulling her in.
She hadn’t said the words to him yet – well, not since the turtle costume night – and she was still struggling with them, even if she was falling in a way she could barely control.
She cleared her throat and stepped back, breaking the trance.
If she was falling for him, it had nothing to do with a piece of technology, and so it was surely fair game to avoid any public declarations. Her eyes flitted to the stage, which had been the scene of her last one – and that couldn’t happen again.
‘No comment, Mr Shaw,’ she whispered back. ‘I’ll let you enjoy the thrill of the chase. And then maybe … later at yours?’ She rearranged the straps of her dress, letting one slide to expose her shoulder, before slowly placing it back.
She felt a wave of satisfaction as she saw him gulp, an interesting thought or two appearing to flit across his mind.
‘Mmm hmm.’ Now he was the one trying not to whimper.
She hurried off to help with preparations, before she could get pulled back into Devan’s orbit, where it was almost impossible not to want to stroke a firm bicep.
And though Alyssa’s time with Emmalina may have convinced her to be more open about some things, it had made her even more cautious about publicly admitting her relationship with Devan – because there would be more people to disappoint if things went up in smoke.
As she mingled and helped with buffet- and heart-bunting-related jobs, Alyssa took the chance to talk to people about her love coaching.
Since things had started going well with Devan, so many dormant feelings were reawakening – and if her energy had once repelled potential clients like a rotting frog, the opposite now seemed to be true.
Perhaps she was no longer feeling like a big dating faker, and instead, was beginning to believe in herself and her work again.
She’d once helped her clients to reclaim love using strategies and common sense. But now she was feeling things maybe her coaching would be even better. She could add true empathy to her mix of skills, and that was surely better than trusting the roulette wheel of a love app.
Or if all else failed, she’d had some snazzy flyers printed, and who didn’t love a shiny leaflet with uplifting words?
She did still feel a twinge of guilt that she was almost pitting herself against Devan’s creation, but it was just a bunch of coding, and it would do well with or without her cheerleading.
Devan could probably make a dozen other apps in his sleep, but she only had one love coach business.
One thing she’d ever been good at or respected for.
And she couldn’t go admitting an app could do a better job.
She took a quick selfie and shared it to social media, to promote what she was up to.
The tango night was separate from the love tasks, although she and Devan would be showing off their Love Task Five dancing skills by doing a routine later on.
Teijo would be along soon too, as he was always keen on more social media stories.
Alyssa smiled to see her inbox was filling up with more enquiries from couples who needed her coaching support.
And then her jaw clenched – because there was another message from @whoami23456.
The same unknown profile who’d shared the photo of her kissing Devan.
Her wide eyes scanned quickly. They were threatening to expose her as a liar hiding behind a fake persona – again – and there was a warning of more photos.
Of what? She remembered Devan saying he often ignored weird messages, and Rufus telling her scandal sells.
She had no clue, but she had enough to deal with right then, and random trolls were not on the list. With a frustrated huff, she deleted the message and threw her phone back into her clutch bag.
‘Teijo!’ she called, relieved to see him arriving at the doorway of the hall, camera around his neck.
Yes, this was the perfect distraction. He’d even brought a polling box so people could vote on whether they were feeling more love in Hartglove.
It would bring a bit of buzz and would help them to assess how their efforts were going.
From what Alyssa had seen, the shared allotment gardens had attracted more couples as a place to relax and chat, and more people were volunteering and meeting through the animal rescue centre.
And now Hartglove Hall was sparkling again, there would be more events, clubs and togetherness in the town.
Teijo waved at her. Maybe she could persuade him to put in a good word for her love coaching in his promo material.
She went to greet him, linking her arm through his and walking him to the table of weak sangria and questionable nibbles.
Precisely no sparks flew between them, though the rest of the room didn’t know that.
Perhaps he’d make a useful decoy. She threw in a feigned laugh at whatever he was saying, like when she’d been dating men like Arnaud.
Though now it just seemed empty – unlike the addictive electricity whenever Devan was near.
Her errant eyes looked up. And there he was, watching her from across the room, with deep, brooding gaze, even if she didn’t have him down as the moody type.
But wow. Being brooded over was intense. Subconsciously, she dropped Teijo’s arm. Was Devan undressing her from across the room, with his eyes? She took a deep, shuddery breath, suddenly feeling hot.
‘Are you OK?’ Teijo asked, looking concerned.
Well, she was fanning her burning cheeks with an Alyssa Heart, The Love Coach flyer.
She saw the edges of Devan’s mouth twitch into the smallest smile.
He was tall and confident, not fazed that he was a hot-blooded man in sequins, or that old ladies were swooning over him.
And yet the way his hand ruffled his hair when he looked at her, his mane always a bit dishevelled in a young Hugh Grant kind of way, told her he was nervous under the bravado too.
Urgh, she was falling hard. Being in the same room but not being near him was torture – but if she got too close, people would see the sparks coming off her.
‘Not worried about your dance, I hope,’ Teijo continued. ‘Maybe you two could get up on the stage? I could film it? You could both say a few words about how you’re feeling …’
Not the stage of doom.
‘I need a drink!’ said Alyssa quickly. But not an alcoholic one – she’d never get drunk in this hall again. ‘Got to go.’
This night was getting trickier by the moment, and it wasn’t even the brainchild of that algorithm. She’d planned this one herself.
It was time to escape to the kitchen, which was surely the only bearable place at any party. She needed to stick her head near a fridge.
‘Thank goodness,’ she said, as she pushed through the door of the quiet kitchen.
She filled a paper cup with iced water and sat up on the worktop.
The hall’s kitchen was now clean and well stocked, after she and the locals had worked on it.
She didn’t mind admitting she felt good seeing it come together.
It still surprised her that she cared, and that now and again she pondered sticking around – but there was no chance of that if she couldn’t brave a certain excruciating conversation. Later. Maybe.
Several people bustled through as she sat there cooling off.
Mrs Halfpenny marched in wearing an ‘It Takes Two to Mango – Be a Banana’ T-shirt, which from the knitted cape she was once again wearing, Alyssa assumed was part of her new self-love quest. She raided the cupboard for biscuits for the Clucky Ducks gang, because they apparently couldn’t stomach the ‘tiny spicy olives’.
Sylvie and Emmalina came to grab their coats, as Emmalina had to be up early for football practice.
Emmalina gave Alyssa her usual ‘I still think you’re snogging my dad’ wink and hugged her fiercely.
Even Alyssa’s mum shimmied in to chop more apples for the sangria, wiggling her hips to the guitar music and telling Alyssa, a little tipsily, what brilliant work she was doing.
Her instinct was to bristle, and then the pep talk from Emmalina jumped back into her head.
‘I wouldn’t mention it if I thought they were creeps. ’
Was it time to find out for herself? She jumped down from the worktop, gave her mum an awkward wave, and then darted back in the direction of the buffet table, where she could almost bet her dad would be hovering, not one to miss out on free nibbles.