Free Her Fortescue Diamond by Alicia Hope

 
    Her Fortescue Diamond
     
    ‘You write such wonderful heroes in your books , Alicia. I’ve fallen in love with every one of them so far. So how come you still haven’t found a hero of your own?’
    Alicia studied Polly for a moment. She had to admit it was a natural enough question for her friend to ask, and she wasn’t the only one . It seemed everyone was curious to know how a successful young romance writer—who, although no Barbie doll, was attractive in a bright and interesting way—could remain so resolutely single while all her friends moved in with, married or martyred the men of their dreams.
    A waitress brushed past their table and left a tantalising whiff of garlic and caramelised onion in her wake. Alicia watched her deliver the aromatic order to a bunch of gourmands whose expressions lit up gree dily . Without taking her eyes off the delicious-looking platter, she murmured, ‘ Yeah, well t hat’s because the heroes in my stories are make-believe men. No real man could live up to them.’
    ‘Well of course they’re not real , Luvvy. Y ou’re a fiction writer. But writing about impossibly handsome, heroic types in your books shouldn’t stop you from finding one in real life?’
    ‘But , Polly, real-life heroes just don’t exist. O r if they do they’re as rare as.... ’
    ‘As what? Hen’s teeth?’
    Alicia frowned. ‘Oh no, that’s not a worthy comparison for my lovely heroes! Let’s just say they ’re as rare as ... the Fortescue Diamond.’
    ‘D on’t tell me. That’s the world’s largest vivid blue diamond isn’t it? The one you keep going on about?’
    ‘I don ’t “go on about it” at all . In fact, I think I’ve only mentioned it to you once before. You SO e xaggerate things. ’ Alicia raised a reproachful eyebrow and shook her head at her friend.
    ‘Oh, shut up. As if you don’t exaggerate in your books.’
    ‘That’s different. It’s permissible exaggeration, under literary license.’
    Polly snorted and blew some steam from the top of the coffee mug she held between both hands. ‘Literary, shiterary. It’s all the same to me.’ She took a sip of coffee and her eyes sparkled defiantly over the top of her mug.
    ‘Classy , Poll, real classy.’
    ‘Whatever. So, what are you doing to find your Mr Perfect?’
    ‘Nothing. Like I told you, he doesn’t exist.’
    ‘But you go out on dates?’
    ‘Of course. No woman is an island you know.’ It was Alicia’s turn to glance significantly at her friend through the steam rising from her cup.
    ‘So thes e dates are just for ... ?’
    ‘For company. For research. For fun.’
    ‘I see. And do the blokes know they’re just research subjects; lab rats if you will?’
    ‘Of course they’re not lab rats ! I’m not that hard-hearted y ou know, despite what you obviously think.’
    Polly grinned an apology at her friend. ‘I know you’re not , Hon. B ut you gotta admit, it does make you sound a bit ... mercenary.’
    ‘No more so than most of the guy s I’ve dated. Let’s face it , their agendas are unlikely to include anything deep and meaningful. Most of them are too busy taking orders from “General Testosterone”.’
    Both women giggled wickedly and sipped their coffees.
    ‘But what about that one guy, the tall, dark and handsome you went out with a few times ? He had a “toff” sounding name .... ’
    ‘You mean Gideon?’
    ‘Yeah, that’s him. What happened there? S econd and third dates are virtually unheard of in Alicia World, so he must have been something of an anomaly.’
    Alicia paused, pressing her lips into a tight line. A far-away look crept into h er eyes, but when she became aware of her friend’s scrutiny, she dropped her gaze and gave a small, wry smile.
    ‘Yes, even I have to admit Gideon was a bit different.’
    ‘OK, spill the beans.’
    ‘But i t’s a long story. We don’t have time—’
    ‘Don’t be silly. I was just about to order another cappuccino anyway, one’ s never