Free The Queen of New Beginnings by Erica James Page A

profession, that I grew up here, and that I live locally. But that’s all. You don’t know me from a bar of soap.”
    “Wrong. I know that you take your coffee without sugar—sorry, by the way, about the sugar I put in it the other day. I know that a certain man called James makes you smile and turns you pink at the edges, and that you’re probably unhappy with your life the way it is. Maybe you never have been happy with it. Oh, and I also know that you’re thirty-one years old.”
    “That’s nothing but a load of supposition and guesswork.”
    “You think so? How old are you, then?”
    She frowned. “OK, you got that right. But how?”
    “Your driving licence.”
    “Mm…you’re sharper than you look.”
    “I certainly hope so.”
    “The beard—it’s a new thing for you, isn’t it?”
    “It could be.”
    “I think you probably look better without it. Maybe even younger. Are you hiding behind it? Just as you’re hiding here at Cuckoo House?”
    “Have another biscuit and be quiet.”
    “You are, aren’t you?”
    He didn’t say anything.
    “I won’t tell anyone. I’m very good with secrets. Just as long as I’m in on them.” She gave him what she hoped was a deep, dark, penetrating look.
    “That sounds suspiciously like a threat.”
    “In the nicest possible way.” She leaned across the table and smiled. “Tell me who you are. Please.” Back to being winsome and enticing. Good cop, bad cop all rolled into one: how good was she?
    “And if I don’t?”
    “You’ll have to manage on your own.”
    He face twitched with something that could have very nearly passed for a smile. “I think I preferred it when you were Katya. She wasn’t half so manipulative.”
    “You only saw the good side of her.”
    “And which side of you am I currently seeing?”
    “Oh, definitely my good side. Believe me, you don’t want to see my bad side. Why did you say you thought I was unhappy with my life the way it is?”
    “You ask a lot of questions for someone who isn’t a journalist.”
    She drummed her fingers on the table. “Waiting for your answer.”
    “It’s obvious: why else would you choose, and I quote, to spend as little time in the real world as possible , if you were happy with it?”
    Ouch, thought Alice. “And what about you? Are you happy with your lot as you sit here in a strange house wearing a strange comedy beard?”
    “Don’t forget the strange girl I’m sitting with.”
    She drummed her fingers again. “And waiting once more.”
    “I’ve been happier,” he admitted.
    It would be difficult not to have been, she thought. “Well,” she said, “this has been tremendous fun but I really ought to be going.” She stood up, took her cup and saucer over to the dishwasher.
    “What about my shopping?” he asked.
    She closed the dishwasher and looked at him, determined to try one last shot at reeling him in. There was a mystery here and by hook or by crook she wanted to get to the bottom of it. “You know deal, mister. You tell Katya the truth, then she shop for you.”
    He let out a short bark of a laugh. “Not even in the game, kid. I’ll walk.”
    She switched back to Alice again. “Sure you will. All three and a half miles there and all three and a half miles back. With those big heavy bags. In the rain. In the wind. And the snow. We often get snow here in November.”
    “I’ll ring for a taxi.”
    “And he or she will help to keep the house clean for you? Come on, let me help you. Tell me who you really are.”
    “We seem to be stuck in a rut here. Backwards and forwards we go but never getting anywhere.”
    “I hate to break the bad news to you but that well of cynicism will dry up one day.”
    “But it’s working a treat for me now; it’s what makes me so cute and adorable.”
    “If you say so. If there isn’t anything else I can do for you, I’ll be going. Enjoy your stay here.” She pulled on her coat and began gathering together her cleaning