LITMIR.BIZ

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shoes. Scuffed, but as comfortable as wearing a tub of softened butter. And he had other shoes. Good shoes. Italian shoes. He didn’t need more. He didn’t want her goddamned shoes.

      But her hypnotically beautiful mismatched eyes were wide and pleading as he looked back up, and he found himself saying instead, ‘I’ll think about it.’

      She smiled. ‘Thank you. There’s a ton of stuff still to talk about, but I understand you’re on a tight leash tonight, so you get going. And before we meet on Monday I’ll do some legwork on the flowers front. And music... No, I won’t do any legwork on that, because I know you used to go out with that gorgeous singer Natalie Clarke, and she would be perfect. I hope—’ She stopped, bit her lip. ‘Oh, dear, enough about the music. I’m sensing a teensy bit of animosity—that little tic next to your mouth gives it away, you know. But we still have clothes to talk about. Yours and mine, since we’re the closest thing they’ll have to an official wedding party. We don’t want to look too matchy-matchy, but there’s so much we can do to look part of the overall theme.’

      Leo stared. He was doing a lot of that. ‘You mean there’s a theme?’

      ‘I’m not talking about those horrifying Elvis or Medieval or Viking themes. Or Halloween—it’s been done! I’ve seen pictures—with pumpkins! I mean just a touch of complementary colour, a certain style...things like that.’

      ‘You’re scaring me.’

      ‘I promise you’ll love—’

      ‘Really scaring me. Later, okay? Much later.’

      Sunshine wrinkled up her nose—and Leo had now twigged that this meant she was about to put a new argument, so he held up a ‘stop’ hand.

      ‘I’ll see you Monday, Sunshine. And in the meantime try and remember that the marriage will have already happened. This is just a celebratory dinner.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Monday.’

      She made a muted explosive sound, redolent of frustration. ‘All right! Monday! But I’m staying here for dinner—not running away like a good little girl.’ She tossed her hair again. Flick. Over her shoulder. ‘I have a date.’

      Leo kind of liked that huffy hair-flick—it made him feel as if she were the one off kilter for a change.

      ‘Then I’ll send over a Campari for you while you wait.’ Calm. Reasonable. Charming, even.

      ‘Lovely, thank you,’ she responded. Calm, reasonable, charming.

      ‘I won’t be able to come out and speak to Gary tonight, though.’

      ‘That’s okay—Gary’s not coming.’

      Frown. ‘But I thought you said...?’

      ‘Oh, I see.’ Little laugh. Annoying little laugh. ‘No, tonight I’m having dinner with Ben.’

      ‘Another investment banker?’

      ‘No. Ben’s an embalmer.’

      Leo did the stare thing again. ‘You’re joking, right?’

      ‘No.’ Puzzled. Actually, seriously puzzled. ‘Why would that be a joke?’

      ‘An embalmer? How did you even get to meet an embalmer? Are you making shoes for corpses?’

      ‘Not that I wouldn’t make shoes for corpses, but no.’ Pause. He saw the tiny swallow. ‘It—it was a subject I needed to—to research. Two years ago. For my...sister.’

      ‘I didn’t know you had a sister.’ He thought back...something about her eyes? In the womb... Triplets...?

      Twins!

      Oh. Embalmer. Sister. Her twin sister was dead. And he was such a freaking idiot!

      Because—oh, God. no—the face-morph. It was happening again. Emptiness. Ashy skin. Trembling lips. What the hell was that?

      ‘Sunshine...?’

      No response.

      ‘Sunshine!’

      Alarmed.

      She shook her head and the look was gone. But her eyes were filling and she was blinking, blinking, blinking, trying to stop the tears falling.

      Crap! He reached over to the next table, snagged a napkin, held it out to her with a gruff, ‘Here.’

      She took the napkin but just stared at it. Another blink.

      He watched, holding his breath... Just one tear, one drop, and he would have to...to... No, he couldn’t...could he? Hovering, hovering... His heart was starting to pound...

      And then she took a long, slow breath and the tears receded.

      Leo took his own long, slow breath, feeling as though disaster had just been averted, and slid into the chair beside her.

      ‘Sorry,’ Sunshine said. ‘My sister died two years ago. The anniversary is coming up so I’m feeling kind of...emotional about it. I should be over it by now, but every now and then...’ That tiny head-shake, then she looked at Leo and smiled. ‘Anyway, let’s get back to—’

      ‘What was her name? Your sister?’ Leo asked, because he was not getting back to anything quite that easily.

      Sunshine paused, but only for a few seconds—and her smile didn’t waver at all. ‘Are you ready for this, Leo? It’s not for the fainthearted.’

      Leo didn’t know if he was ready, not ready, or why he had to be ready.

      In fact he didn’t know squat.

      He didn’t know why he hadn’t let her change the subject as she’d clearly wanted to do. Why her unwavering smile was bothering him. Why he wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she let those jammed-up tears fall.

      He didn’t know a damned thing—least of all why he should be interested in Sunshine Smart’s dead sister.

      But he said, ‘Worse than Sunshine?’

      ‘Ouch! But, yes—at least Moonbeam thought so.’

      ‘Moonbeam?’ He winced. ‘Seriously? I mean...seriously?’

      Little gurgle of laughter. ‘Yep.’

      ‘Good God. Moonbeam. And Sunshine.’

      She was playing with the hem on the napkin he’d given her, picking at it with her fingernails.

      ‘So what happened?’ Leo asked.

      She looked down at the napkin. Pick, pick. ‘Hippie parents.’

      ‘No, I mean what hap—?’

      ‘Oh, dear, I’ve snagged the hem,’ Sunshine said, and put the napkin on the table. ‘Sorry, Leo.’

      ‘I don’t care about the napkin, Sunshine.’

      ‘Actually, table napkins have an interesting history. Did you know that they started out as lumps of dough, rolled and kneaded at the table? Which led, in turn, to using sliced bread to wipe your hands.’

      What the hell? ‘Er—no, I didn’t know that.’ Thrown. Completely thrown.

      Extra-bright smile. ‘But you were asking about Moonbeam. Actually, it’s because of her that I’m sitting here with you. She and Jonathan dated as teenagers.’

      He was staring again—couldn’t help it. ‘No way!’

      ‘Yes way! But Moon realised pretty quickly that she’d need to swap an X for a Y chromosome if their relationship was going to get to the next level, even though Jon adored her. So—long story short—she encouraged Jon to leap out of the closet, with me hooked in for moral support, and the three of us became super-close—like a ménage à trois minus the sex. And voilà—here I am, planning Jon’s

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