* * *
Inside the pub, Anna watched her sister enter the bar via the door to the outside courtyard which, she knew, led to an apartment upstairs. Apparently, Megan was still living above the pub, despite all her plans to leave and become an actress, or open her own beauty salon, or marry some rich banker. Those had been Megan’s main goals in life the last time they had spoken, but that had been years ago.
Things with Megan could have changed, Anna thought with a flash of optimism. From her vantage point, she studied her sister and tried to gauge the similarities between them. Megan was eighteen months older and would turn thirty next month. Once, their hair had been an almost identical shade of chestnut brown but Megan had darkened hers so that it fell in a dramatic black waterfall down her back. Her skin was always tanned, with a little help from a regular St Tropez spray tan. Like Anna, she was tall, but curvier around the hips and chest, something she had never failed to remind Anna of as they were growing up.
“Don’t worry, Anna. One day you’ll be able to fill your training bra,” she’d say with a laugh.
Megan certainly had her assets on display today, Anna thought dispassionately, taking in the snug, low-cut top over skin-tight jeans which left little to the imagination. Under the harsh lighting of the bar, Megan was heavily made up, her eyes lined with thick black kohl, with long lashes and dark eye shadow. Her full mouth was a slash of red gloss. Anna watched her flirt with one of the regulars, leaning over the bar to give him just enough to think about.
Anna knew then that coming here had been a mistake. She gathered her bag and was about to leave quietly, when Megan spotted her across the room.
“Well, well,” her tinkling voice rang out loudly, causing several heads to turn. “Look who’s come slumming.”
Anna took a deep breath and stood as Megan rounded the bar, hips swaying in her direction, high heels clicking on the slate floor.
“Hello, Megan.”
“If it isn’t my prodigal little sister,” Megan sneered, sharp brown eyes taking in the quietly expensive coat, the well-fitting jeans and suede boots, the classy haircut. It made her voice even harder as she played up for the meagre audience.
“Don’t you look bookish,” Megan jeered.
“You look well,” Anna ventured in return, because she meant it. Underneath the veneer, Megan was a lovely-looking woman.
“Thank you,” Megan said, running a hand through her mane of hair. She said nothing further, letting her expressive eyes do the talking for her as she raked them over Anna’s less glamorous attire.
“Look, I can see that you’re busy,” Anna hurried on, “I only stopped in to say ‘hello’. I can call back another time.”
“No need to rush off when you’ve only just arrived. I might not see you again for another eight years,” her laugh didn’t quite mask the bitterness beneath it. Anna ignored the jibe and worked hard to keep her own resentment buried. If she’d stayed away, Megan knew the reason why.
Megan watched her younger sister’s internal struggle and was frustrated when she chose not to rise to the bait. It would have been fun to have a show down after all this time, but maybe that could wait until there were more people around. If they were going to have it out, Megan thought, she might as well have her roots done.
At that moment, the door swung open and both women turned in reflex. Megan reacted first, recognising the tall, dark man who entered the pub instantly. In fact, she had been watching out for him whenever she could and had even taken to long walks around the village so that she could wander past his cottage whenever she thought he might be home. The curtains were usually always closed, the lights dim. He rarely came into the village and had only been in the pub once before. So far, she hadn’t been able to pin him down, but it was only a matter of time.
“Well, hello handsome,” she drawled, angling her body towards him so that he could see her figure to best advantage.
Ryan turned distractedly towards the sound of a female voice, and met the full force of Megan Taylor. He was man enough to admit that she wasn’t hard on the eyes, with curves in all the right places and good features which she had taken the trouble to highlight. In fact, perhaps to over-cook, he thought belatedly, considering the over-made up face and dramatic fall of black hair which didn’t look like it was the colour Mother Nature had given her. He found his eyes drawn to the woman who stood quietly beside her. This one had an entirely different demeanour but there were definite similarities between the two. Same height, but where the first was all buxom curves, the second had a willowy, bordering on fragile build. Dark, waving hair framed a fine-boned face with pale skin and full lips. Soft, dark eyes met his and held.