Free Kiss by Jill Mansell

Sheridan did it, but it worked. And Sam himself, treating the whole thing as a huge private joke, lived life to the full, never seemed to sleep and made sure he extracted as much fun as possible from his extended American holiday.
     
    But although New York was magical, over-the-top and indeed his kind of town, it wasn’t home. For the past couple of years his trips back to England had become not long enough, had gradually increased in importance. When he had begun to dream - seriously dream - about English rain and girls without shoulder pads, Marmite on toast and people who’d never been psychoanalyzed in their life, he knew that the time had come to return home.
     
     
    Meanwhile, back in Gina’s dining room, Izzy’s steadily increasing interest in Sam was being monitored by Gina with anxiety bordering on dismay. Dinner wasn’t even over yet and already they had achieved an easy, mutual rapport.
     
    Sipping her wine, she gazed across the candlelit table at Izzy, who was so obviously enjoying herself. And she made it look so effortless too, thought Gina with resentment. Why, she was positively glowing . It would have taken years for her to get to know someone well enough to ask them the kind of questions Izzy was asking after just a couple of hours.
     
    ‘But how can you possibly have spent six years in New York and not got married?’ Izzy was demanding now, pushing up her sleeves and resting her brown arms on the table. Idly, she picked a slice of courgette from the vegetable dish and paused to admire it before popping it into her mouth. ‘Everyone gets married in New York.’
     
    ‘Maybe I’m gay.’ Sam’s dark eyebrows arched with amusement.
     
    ‘But you aren’t.’
     
    ‘Mum,’ said Kat warningly. ‘You don’t know that. Stop being embarrassing.’
     
    ‘Of course he isn’t gay,’ said Izzy with an impatient gesture. ‘So, come on, Sam, tell us everything. Did you leave New York because of a woman? Was it true love? Was it sordid? Was she too rich or too poor? Was she—’
     
    About to say married, she stopped herself just in time, out of deference to Gina’s feelings. Sam, second-guessing her and stepping effortlessly into the breach, said, ‘She was certainly persistent. Every fisherman’s dream, in fact. The one who wouldn’t go away.’
     
    ‘Pushy,’ observed Izzy, helping herself to another slice of courgette. Then she grinned. ‘I couldn’t be like it myself.’
     
    ‘My mother,’ sighed Katerina. ‘The original pre-shrunk violet.’
     
     
    ‘I don’t want this to sound funny,’ Gina began, lacing her fingers together and looking decidedly ill at ease.
     
    ‘In that case,’ replied Izzy, deadpan, ‘I won’t laugh.’
     
    Having known Sam for as long as she had, Gina was only too well aware of his reputation where women were concerned. In his apparently irresistible presence they simply forgot how to say no. And now she could see it about to start happening all over again, right here in her very own home.
     
    But inveigling Izzy into the kitchen in order to talk to her alone had been the easy part. Finding the right words for what she knew she had to say wasn’t easy at all.
     
    ‘Look, this might not sound very fair,’ she began, then paused and took a deep breath. Her fingers, of their own accord, were reducing a paper serviette to shreds.
     
    ‘It’s certainly frustrating,’ observed Izzy good-humouredly, ‘waiting to hear what “this” is all about.’
     
    ‘Sam’s a very attractive man,’ Gina blurted out, and Izzy’s eyebrows shot up.
     
    ‘My God, I don’t believe it,’ she laughed. ‘You’re secretly crazy about him and you want me to put in a few words on your behalf. Well, say no more . . . I shall be the soul of discretion and before you know it you’ll be—’
     
    ‘No!’
     
    Izzy was still smiling. Gina was so easily shocked. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if it isn’t that, what is it?’
     
    ‘I’ve seen the way