Three Amazing Things About You Read Online Free

she said, ‘And so do you.’
    ‘I suppose I do. Have a great time in Saint-Tropez.’
    ‘Thanks, I will.’ She picked up the last of her packages, still flustered by what had almost just happened. ‘Well, bye. Merry Christmas, Superman!’
    He hesitated, fat feathery flakes of snow landing in his dark hair, the expression in his green eyes unreadable. Then, as his phone began to ring impatiently again, he raised his hand in a gesture of farewell. ‘Yes. Bye. You too.’
    On the flight to Nice, Tasha found herself squashed between an overweight middle-aged Frenchman who appeared to have been gargling with garlic, and an underweight younger one who reeked of stale cigarettes, fell asleep on her shoulder and snored like a backfiring moped.
    As far as fantasy Frenchmen sandwiches went, this one was singularly lacking in glamour.
    OK, reasons to stop thinking about the man from the café.
    For a start, she hadn’t even found out his name. Mad as it now seemed, she’d kind of hoped he’d volunteer this information so she wouldn’t need to ask him. But he hadn’t, so that was that.
    He hadn’t asked her name either.
    He had a nagging, high-maintenance girlfriend. Well, not absolutely definitely, but from the gist of what she’d overheard on the phone, it was certainly on the cards that she was.
    For heaven’s sake, how could she be obsessing over someone she’d only known for ten
minutes
? She knew nothing whatsoever about him. He could have a million irritating habits she hadn’t had time to experience during their brief encounter.
    Tasha exhaled. She was never going to see him again anyway, which was kind of the main overriding reason. She didn’t know who he was, and in return he knew nothing about her.
    Never mind that he’d seemed really nice and hadn’t had freakishly hairy ears. They’d shared a spark of attraction, that was all. He’d had the opportunity to ask for her phone number and hadn’t taken it.
    His loss.
    Dammit.

Chapter 4
    Well, this was awkward.
    The last of the mourners had left, and Flo was in the kitchen with her high heels kicked off, doing the washing-up. In the living room, the executor of Elsa’s will had just broken the bad news to Elsa’s grandchildren, and from the sound of things, they weren’t taking it too well.
    ‘What?’ Lena’s voice through the closed doors was shrill with disbelief. ‘Oh please, tell me this is some kind of joke!’
    Flo rinsed a long-stemmed glass and placed it on the rack to drain. Hell hath no fury, it seemed, like a woman not being given an airy first-floor flat in the upmarket area of Clifton, in Bristol.
    Not yet, at least.
    ‘But that’s not FAIR,’ Lena bellowed. ‘She can’t DO that.’
    Flo exchanged a look with Jeremy, who was stretched out in his usual spot in front of the radiator. ‘Oh dear, brace yourself. Sounds like someone isn’t too happy with you.’
    Jeremy blinked and lazily swished his tail back and forth. He was the laid-back type who took pretty much everything in his stride.
    The kitchen door burst open and Lena Travis appeared, tall and angular in her tailored black suit and resembling a furious preying mantis.
    ‘So you’ve known about this all along.’ Her ice-blue eyes narrowed in disdain. ‘It was probably your idea in the first place. My God, people like you make me want to be
sick
.’
    Flo dried her hands and said, ‘It wasn’t my idea.’
    Luckily she was used to being shouted at by people who thought they knew better than she did, so Lena’s outburst didn’t scare her.
    Well, not much.
    ‘You’d better come through.’ Lena gestured to the living room. ‘And just so you know, I’m going to be fighting this all the way.’
    In the high-ceilinged living room, Elsa’s friend Mary was helping herself to more coffee from the silver pot on the sideboard. Elegant and precise, she was in her late sixties and had known Elsa for over thirty years. Standing beside the sash window overlooking Caledonia