Who's That Girl by Alexandra Potter Read Free Book Online

peanuts? Without washing it first?' Miles looks aghast. 'I wrote a pretty stern letter to the management afterwards, didn't I, Charlotte? Obviously they refunded our bar bill, but that wasn't the point.'
    'Oh, look, there's a table free over there,' I pipe up, suddenly seeing a couple standing up to leave in the far corner of the pub. 'Let's grab it before it's taken!'
    Jumping up from my bar stool, I scoop up my bags and coat and hurry over to it. Anything to get away from that annoying barman. Honestly. Interfering like that.
    I look over at Miles and wave. Abandoned at the bar, he seems a bit confused as to where I've suddenly disappeared to. As he spots me, he starts politely saying goodbye to the barman. That's the thing about Miles - he's so well mannered. It's like when we have sex. He always asks permission and afterwards he says thank you, which I think is taking your pleases and thankyous to the extreme, but that's a public-school education for you. Tucking the newspaper under his arm, he picks up our bottle of wine and glasses, and makes his way over.
    'Don't worry, I've sorted it all out,' he says, sitting down. 'It doesn't contain nuts and the barman says he'll be sure to warn the kitchen of your allergies.'
    'Great, thanks.' I smile, taking the glasses from him and pouring the wine. 'So how's work?' I ask, swiftly changing the subject. Despite our false start, I'm determined to have a nice evening with Miles. We barely saw each other last week because we were both so busy. And the weekend before that, come to think of it.
    'Oh, you know, the usual.' He shrugs, settling back into his seat and taking a glug of wine. Miles develops and invests in property - both here and abroad - and has what he calls 'quite a portfolio'. He's a real expert when it comes to house prices, and up-and-coming areas, and mortgage rates. That's one of the reasons we don't live together. He says - we should be sensible and wait till the market levels off before we… How did he put it? Ah, yes, that was it: consolidate .
    I remember because he got this meaningful look in his eye and reached for my hand, which is really unlike Miles as he never wants to hold hands. He gets all self-conscious at what he calls PDA or 'public displays of affection'.
    'I signed the Aquarius deal. They start building next month.'
    'Brilliant!'
    'And it looks like I might be able to get investors for my other idea, so I think I'm going to fly up there tomorrow for a couple of days.'
    'Which idea is that?'
    'The project in Leeds?' He raises his eyebrows as if to remind me.
    'Oh, to convert that old warehouse into luxury flats?' 'No, that was Manchester,' he corrects, frowning slightly. 'Anyway, I don't want to bore you with all this, darling.' Smiling, he rubs my hand lightly with his finger. 'Let's talk about something else.'
    'No, please continue,' I say encouragingly. 'It's fascinating.' Well, all right, perhaps 'fascinating' is a bit of an exaggeration, but it's important to show an interest in your partner's career. That's what a loving, caring, mature relationship is all about, according to a book I read recently called Good Listener, Great Lover . I read a lot of those kind of books. They used to call them self-help, but that's so nineties. Now they're called self-awareness. In which case I should be super-aware as I've got stacks of them. A whole bookcase in fact. And I'm always buying more. 'Maybe later,'
    he says, taking a sip of his wine and idly reaching for a section of the newspaper. But I can tell he's glad I said that. I feel pleased with myself and pick up another section. Honestly, it's such a relief finally to be in a proper, grown-up, mature relationship. Two professionals, sharing a bottle of good red wine, eating a bowl of mixed olives, reading different sections of the same newspaper.
    Flicking absently through the pages, I feel a glow of contentment. When I was younger, I used to be so clueless about men. I was attracted to all the wrong