Free How to Get Over Your Ex by Nikki Logan

suburbs.
Besides, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.’
    He lifted his chin to match hers. ‘Really? Care to put your
money where your mouth is?’
    ‘You want to bet on it?’ She frowned.
    ‘I want to see it.’
    Oh.
    ‘When?’
    ‘How about now?’
    ‘It’s not tidy—’
    ‘Yes, it is.’
    Yes...it is . She sighed. ‘You have
a race in the morning.’
    His eyes grew serious. ‘I’m not proposing sleeping over,
Georgia, just a quick look.’
    Heat flared up the back of her neck and she worked hard to keep
it from flooding around to the front. She had made
the immediate assumption that this was some kind of line. Zander Rush was a fit
and sexy man. And so of course it wasn’t a come-on. Not for her.
    ‘I just meant...it’s late.’
    ‘I don’t run until noon. And it’s too late for you to be taking
the tube.’
    It wasn’t, but she didn’t mind the idea of a comfortable Jag
ride home. She wasn’t ready for their first night to be over.
    The first night. Not their first night.
    ‘OK, I’ll take the lift.’ And show him the inside of her flat
for a minute or two. And then he and his fascination would be gone. ‘Thank
you.’
    They rinsed their dishes in the cooling water, thanked the chef
who was enjoying a drink with his team out in the now-empty restaurant, and
headed out into the dark.
    ‘You want to drive?’ he asked.
    No. She wanted him to drive. Inexplicably. So of course, she
said, ‘Yes, please.’
    He pulled his coat collar up as high as possible against the
cool April weather. ‘One of these days you’ll stop being so courteous and I’ll
know we’re finally getting somewhere.’
    The drive took about twenty minutes. Conversation was light
between them but not because they had nothing to say. She just didn’t feel the
need to say anything. And besides, the scrumptious dinner was kicking in and
metabolising down into a warm goo that leached through her veins. She worked
hard to keep her focus sharp while driving Zander’s land-yacht.
    ‘Who else lives here?’ he murmured quietly as they crossed into
the shared entry hall of her apartment building.
    She ran her fingers along the four letterboxes by the door.
‘Two students, a long-term resident...’ She traced the last box; its lettering
was cool and smooth under her touch. ‘And me.’
    She led him through to the back of the entry hall where her
door was.
    If Mr Lawler came out for one of his late-night cigarettes now
he’d be in for quite a surprise. Not that she’d never had a man here before, but
not like this...tiptoeing in late at night. All clandestine and exciting...
    She turned her key, wiggled it, put her shoulder to the door,
and popped it quietly open. It swung inwards into the darkened apartment.
‘Acquired touch,’ she whispered.
    Why was she so breathless? Was it just because she was walking
into her home with a virtual stranger? Or was it because she loved her
apartment? It was so...her. So if he judged it, he judged her.
    She flicked on the light.
    His eyes scanned the room, giving nothing away. ‘This
is...’
    Crazy and shambolic? Nothing like the outside? She saw it how a
stranger must, the explosions of random colour, the stacks of books and
home-beautiful magazines. Trailing plants everywhere.
    He touched the nearest green frond. ‘How do you get them to
look like this inside?’
    She crossed to the double doors opening onto her small
courtyard and pulled back the blind. ‘I rotate them every day. One day in, three
days out.’
    His eyes swung to her. ‘How many do you have?’
    It was too dark to see outside, too dark for him to discover
the full extent of her guilty pleasure. ‘I’m kind of the crazy cat-lady of
trailing ferns.’
    He looked around him again, then found her eyes. ‘It’s not what
I expected.’
    That could mean anything, but she chose to interpret it
positively. ‘Surprise!’
    His focus fell onto the stack of brightly packaged CDs stacked
up on her corner desk. He