Frankly, he preferred the Harriet who’d wept in his arms.
‘You’re not eating your bagel,’ she said as she coolly stirred her flat white. ‘And your coffee will get cold. You know how you hate lukewarm coffee.’
‘I also hate not having my questions answered,’ he ground out, sweeping up his mug of black coffee and glaring at her over the rim.
* * *
Harriet knew she had annoyed him; knew he’d taken her statement as a personal criticism. It had been seriously foolish of her to tell him about Dwayne’s accusation. But it was too late now. Somehow she had to explain her remark without offending Alex further.
Make light of it, girl. Turn it round so that it’s your failing and not his. And don’t, for pity’s sake, repeat the word ‘stupid’ in context with falling in love with him. No wonder he took umbrage!
‘The thing is,’ she said in a lighter, less emotional voice, ‘I realised a few years back that if I wanted to get married and have children...which I did; which I still do, actually...that I had to stop dating a certain type of man. I—’
‘And what type is that?’ Alex interrupted before she could go on.
‘Oh, you know. Your type.’
‘My type?’
Oh, dear, she’d done it again. She’d opened her big mouth and put her foot in it. ‘Well, not exactly your type, Alex,’ she said with a ‘butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth’ smile. ‘You are rather unique. As you are aware, I’ve worked in real estate ever since I came to Sydney when I was twenty. Girls usually date men they meet at work. It was inevitable that I would end up dating real-estate salesmen. Invariably, they were tall and handsome, with the gift of the gab, but not exactly the most faithful kind of guy.’
‘I see,’ Alex said thoughtfully. ‘Go on.’
Harriet was glad to see that Alex had lost his disgruntled expression, his blue eyes no longer cold and steely.
‘By the time I turned twenty-seven, I decided I was wasting my time on men like that. So I sat down and made a checklist of what I wanted in a husband.’
‘A checklist?’ he repeated, looking both surprised and amused.
‘Find it funny if you like. Emily certainly does.’
‘Who’s Emily? Your sister?’
‘No. Emily’s my best friend. She’s an English teacher who flatted with me for a while. It was through her that I met Dwayne.’
‘I did wonder how you two met. Frankly, I never thought you were all that well suited. Still, Dwayne must have met your checklist to begin with.’
Harriet sighed. ‘I thought he did, till he moved in with me and eventually showed his true colours. I now appreciate that it’s impossible to know a man’s true character till you live with him. Dwayne certainly met the first three requirements. When I made up my checklist, I decided that I wouldn’t even go out with a man till he ticked those three boxes. That way I hoped to avoid falling in love with any more Mr Wrongs.’
* * *
Alex’s mind boggled over what those three requirements might be. Harriet was right about his finding the idea of a checklist funny. He did. Though he shouldn’t have. Didn’t he have a checklist of his own when it came to the girls he dated? They had to be in their early twenties, pretty and easy-going. He had a feeling, though, that Harriet’s checklist would be a lot more fascinating. And, yes, very funny indeed.
‘Do tell,’ he said, trying to keep a straight face.
‘Promise me you won’t laugh.’
‘I promise,’ he said, but the corners of his mouth were already twitching.
‘Okay, well, the first requirement is he can’t be too tall or too short. Whilst I find tallness attractive, I’ve found that too-tall men are often arrogant, whilst too-short men can suffer from the “short man” syndrome.’
Alex realised that at six-foot-four he probably came into the ‘too tall’ category.
‘Do you think I’m arrogant?’ he asked.
‘A little. But not in a nasty way.’
‘Thank God for that. And requirement number two is?’
‘He can’t be too handsome or too ugly.’
Well, Dwayne had certainly been on the money there. As for himself... Harriet would probably label him in the ‘too handsome’ category.
‘And number three?’
‘He can’t be too rich or too poor.’
‘Right.’ Well, that certainly ruled him out as a prospective date for Harriet. Not that he would ever ask her out. He’d have to be mad to date Harriet.
But, as he looked into her big brown eyes, Alex was struck by the startling realisation that that was exactly what he wanted to do. Take her out, then take her back to bed.