Truth-Or-Date.com

CHAPTER TWO

A CHANCE? He took a chance? Oh! Could he be more of a caveman and testosterone driven?

And he knew it! He knew exactly what effect he was having.

And suddenly every alarm bell in her body started sounding all at once.

Why on earth did a man this gorgeous need to meet women on the Internet?

It was obvious from his emails that he was a flirt, but this man looked as though he was getting ready to beat his chest and roar or if that didn’t work, sling the nearest stone club over his shoulder and head out into the rain looking for dinosaurs to slay.

His too-long dark chocolate-brown hair was tousled and so unkempt that one heady thick wave fell forward across his high cheekbone, and he flicked it back with his fingertips. It was a move that any professional fashion model would be proud to have mastered so perfectly—while still looking manly and gruff.

Then there was that mouth.

#sportybloke had an expression that was somewhere between suggestive and cheeky and as infectious as chicken pox. Andy had to fight from smiling automatically in return.

Until now she had believed that she was immune to such charms. After all, she had been exposed to this type of infection many times before and just about survived.

But this man was a carrier for a super powerful version of charm that no amount of medical science and previous experience had a chance of fighting off.

She might have guessed.

#sportybloke was one of them.

According to his online profile he ran a sportswear company with his brother and spent a lot of time promoting water sports overseas. Their speciality was surfing gear.

Well, from the looks of #sportybloke he was just another wealthy, arrogant and handsome entrepreneur who had been in the right place at the right time and had made his pile of money and was determined to flash it at every opportunity. A man like him spent his winters at some luxury ski resort and his summers bumming it around the Caribbean on other people’s yachts while his was being built to his own specifications.

Little wonder that he probably expected everyone to jump when he clicked his fingers, when, in fact, CEOs of international sports companies had all the time and money in the world.

Sheesh. Well, Andy had news for #sportybloke. The dinosaur was right here in the room and she was looking at him. Okay, so that was no hardship, but it was definitely time to get back to the script and earn that bonus that she knew Elise would pay, even if she had pulled the plug on the whole Internet dating business.

Just tell him and get it over with. He can cope!

Andy took a breath for courage, her back braced. But just as she was about to blurt out who she was and why she was there, the food and fresh coffees arrived and she was temporarily distracted by the delicious aroma from two cheese and ham freshly grilled Panini and crisp chocolate-chunk-and-hazelnut cookies.

One of the bar staff actually whimpered slightly under her breath as she slid the plate of steaming hot, fragrant herby omelette in front of #sportybloke, who thanked her with a smile.

Unbelievable.

‘Ladies first,’ he breathed and gestured towards the Panini; he had deftly cut each in half diagonally and left them in the centre of the table. They were oozing with molten cheese and tomato in between the crunchy bread and her mouth was already watering at the aroma, but just as she was about to say no her stomach growled in anticipation of the fat and carb treat that was on display.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, leaning forward towards him, ‘but there is something I need to tell you and it is quite urgent. You see, I’m not who you think I am. When I sent you those emails I …’

Suddenly a chair was knocked over on the next table only inches away from where Andy was sitting. An older man was on his feet, gasping in air through his nose, his hands clutched tight onto the sides of the table. He was panicking, his eyes darting from side to side. Face and neck red.

Without waiting for permission Andy darted out from her seat. ‘Someone please help. He’s choking.’ Oblivious to the sound of people standing and shuffling chairs, she gave the man an almighty thump between his shoulder blades with the heel of her hand. Her hand ached with the effort and she was puffing slightly but her back slap had no effect.

Andy stepped back to inhale and was just about to repeat the process when #sportybloke appeared at her side, stepped into the gap, linked his hands in front of the now very wheezy and panicky diner and pulled sharply upwards with all the force that a muscular man over six feet tall with long arms could produce on a crouched person’s stomach. A sizeable piece of unchewed steak sandwich shot out onto the check tablecloth and the diner sucked in breath after breath, his shoulders shaking with relief.

#sportybloke gave him a quick nod in reply to the handshake and man-thumped the stranger on the arm before stepping back to their table. Apparently oblivious to the slight cheer that had gone up from the other patrons and the anxious waitresses.

But instead of sitting down, he clamped his fingers tightly around the back of his chair and exhaled slowly from deep inside his chest, with a definite wince.

‘Anything the matter?’ she asked, quietly.

His gaze shot onto her face. It was fierce and intense, and for one microsecond she had an insight into the power and strength of this man who could freeze her to ice with just one glance.

But then he blinked and his eyes softened. ‘Leg cramp.’ He coughed and slapped his upper thigh with the flat of his hand. ‘I’m not used to sitting around for long periods. But I’m fine. Thanks.’

And he immediately pushed his chair closer to the wall so that he could sit down with his right leg stretched out in front of him.

Andy slid back in the chair and sat back to wait for her heart to stop thumping before blinking, swallowing hard and pulling her chair to the table.

‘Well. If you’re okay. That was … different,’ she said, looking over #sportybloke’s shoulder. ‘If I was the suspicious type I might think that you set that up just to impress me. Luckily for you I’m not, but I didn’t see emergency first aid on your online dating profile. Is that new?’

‘My first regular paid job was as a lifeguard in Cornwall. Compulsory first-aid training. Although I can’t say that I have used that move for a while. Glad to have helped—but you did okay for a city girl. One tip? Thump harder next time.’

‘Next time? I don’t want there to be a next time, thank you.’

She held out her right hand in front of her and watched the fingers tremble. ‘How can you stay so cool? I’m a wreck.’

His reply was to smile and seize hold of her hand between the palms of both of his, trapping it inside as he slowly moved his hands up and down, inch by inch, massaging life and heat and stimulation into the nerves.

His skin was warm and surprisingly soft except for the callouses on the fingers and inside his palms, but there was no mistaking the hidden strength in those hands and fingers.

She liked hands, always had. It was usually one of the first things she noticed about a person. And this man had spectacular hands. Long slender fingers with clean short nails. His knuckles were scarred and bruised as though they had been bashed at regular intervals.. Sinewy. Powerful.

They were clever, fast, working hands, and for the first time Andy wondered if she had made a mistake slotting #sportybloke into the arrogant CEO slot. These were not the hands of an office worker like the men she usually met. Far from it.

Um. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his surfing line in those emails?

‘Being cool has nothing to do with it. I simply knew what I had to do and did it. Feeling better now? Great. Let’s eat.’

He slid his hands away and her rock-steady fingers waggled back. But to her disgust she already missed having his warm strong hand around hers.

Then he cut the omelette into quarters, then eighths before spearing a portion with some of the salad garnish and carefully closing his mouth around the fork. Then slowly, slowly, drew the fork from his mouth.

And suddenly Andy found that her neck had become amazingly hot for some reason and she put down her dinner to loosen her scarf.

He was eating an omelette using cutlery. That was all. And the whole fork thing was not sensuous at all. Oh, no. Not a bit. Well … Maybe a little.

Well, that clinched it.

This man was way too handsome to be single and looking for girls online. And he could speak in joined-up sentences and use cutlery.

There had to be something wrong with him.

She had heard about married or engaged men who went on Internet dating sites to have extramarital affairs with unsuspecting girls. Perhaps he already had a perfectly charming lovely lady back at home? Or he was actually a journalist doing a documentary about desperate sad girls who met men through Internet dating.

She inhaled sharply.

Focus, Andy, focus. Stop letting your imagination run away with you.

She took a breath and her words came tumbling out in one huge rush.

‘I need to tell you something. I am not the #citygirl executive you were expecting. My boss is. Only she had to go away on urgent business and it was too late to cancel. So, I came instead to apologise. Sorry.’

And then she sat back, dropped her hands into her lap, focused her gaze on his chin and waited for the fireworks to start.

The man on the other side of the table continued chewing for a moment, then put down his cutlery, crossed his arms, stretched out his neck and seemed to double his size. If he was intending to be imposing and maybe a little intimidating, his plan was working perfectly.

He stared at her through slightly narrowed eyes, his eyebrows low and dark, and she had to fight down the sudden urge to start chewing at her fingernails.

‘So let me get this straight. You’re not the girl I was supposed to meet here tonight.’

Andy pressed her lips together and risked a small apologetic shrug.

‘And you’re not a company executive?’

She shook her head very rapidly from side to side.

‘I see,’ he replied with something close to disappointment in his voice. ‘So how do I get to meet the girl who wrote those emails? Or has she got cold feet?’

She blinked twice before answering. ‘Oh, that was me. I wrote the emails. My boss paid me to write them for her, you see, and I really enjoyed chatting to you and learning about your life as …’

A low growl stopped her mid tracks. ‘Paid you? To write them. Right. So just who are you and what are you really doing here?’ he asked, and slid the whole top half of his body across the table towards her.

She tried shuffling backwards as he invaded what little personal space she had left but it was no use. Unless she wanted to leap sideways like a gazelle and make a run for it she was stuck. It was confession time. If he let her get a word in edgeways.

‘Is this some sort of game you and your boss play with men you set up on the Internet? For all I know you could be pretending to be your PA because you don’t like what you see or maybe you’re using your boss’s Internet account to meet someone above your pay scale. Am I close? Which one is it?’

Andy stared at him in horror, the blood pounding in her neck.

‘A game? Of course it isn’t a game. Elise doesn’t even know that I’m here. And I would never use her account to meet people. That’s a terrible accusation. No, it’s nothing like that. Nothing at all.’

‘Okay. Then what is this all about? Why are you here?’

‘Well, I am beginning to wonder, because, if you must know, my boss cancelled less than an hour ago and I didn’t like the thought of you sitting here all alone waiting for a date who has stood you up. There. That’s it. Happy now?’

And before he had a chance to answer, Andy picked up the Panini with both hands and took a huge bite. And the second her teeth hit the toasted bread, a large squeeze of tomato shot out and hit her straight on the chest. And her white blouse. Her only, her favourite, her best and most expensive, white blouse.

Gulping down the rest of her overfull mouthful of food, she tried to scrub at the spot with her napkin. Only it was pink and made out of paper so that she now had a pink dye and a hot tomato stain on her blouse.

She put down her shredded napkin, took a quick glance at #sportybloke, who was looking at her in disbelief.

‘Fast food. Always a risky business. The steak sandwich is not the only dangerous item on the menu,’ she murmured, sighed out loud, picked up the Panini and took another bite. She couldn’t do any more damage so she might as well finish her food.

#sportybloke blinked several times, pushed his shoulders hard back against the chair and unfolded his arms so he could stretch them out on the table, his palms flat on the gingham. The white scars on the backs of his hands and knuckles were just large enough for her to notice, but then she had to look at something, because he was doing the laser stare again.

His gaze seemed to be locked onto her face, as though he was looking for something, and she tried desperately not to squirm. And failed.

‘Happy would be pushing it, but I completely agree.’ He nodded, a strange smirk on his face, then tapped his forefinger against his full pink lower lip, then pointed towards her. ‘About the food. Especially the cheese.’

Cheese? What cheese?

Andy patted her napkin against her lip in a dainty and ladylike fashion and all was going well until she dropped it back to her lap to reveal a string of molten yellow plastic-looking cheese, which must have been dangling from the corner of her mouth.

Well. So much for the sophisticated and elegant look.

‘That’s better,’ he said with a fixed smile, sitting back. ‘And the name is Miles, by the way. Now where were we? Oh, yes. Being stood up. Does that still happen?’

Miles? She looked at him with raised eyebrows.

She had rain-damp hair, a stained blouse and she had been sitting there in blissful ignorance of the fact that cheese strings were dangling from her lips.

Why did he trust her with his real name? If it was his real name.

Her mouth opened, ready to share her name, but then she closed it again. Not yet. But she could answer his question.

She paused and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Oh, yes, it has happened to me more than once. I think that’s why I hated the idea of doing it to someone else. Yes, I know that we have only talked through emails, but texting is not the same as apologising in person. Or at least it isn’t to me. That probably makes me sound very old-fashioned, but that’s the way I am.’

He seemed to think about that for a second before replying. ‘I happen to agree. And your boss doesn’t know that you are here?’

Andy shook her head. ‘She’s changed her mind about the whole Internet dating business. But there wasn’t enough time to call you and cancel. So here I am.’

Then she braved a smile over the top of her sandwich. ‘I hope you’re not too annoyed or disappointed. Especially since I’ve eaten most of your food and I’m not actually your proper date.’

He sat back, eyebrows high, and pressed one hand to his chest. ‘My pleasure. You have seen through my evil plan to win over a lady with toasted cheese and coffee. I feel the shame.’

‘You should.’ Andy nodded and inspected the last part of her Panini. ‘Even though this was a most superior cheesy snack. So thank you for that.’

‘Glad you approve,’ he murmured, and raised his coffee beaker. ‘Here’s to cheesy snacks, although I am curious about something. Does your boss often ask you to pimp for her?’

Only just as the words left his mouth Andy was swallowing some coffee and between spluttering and coughing it took her a while before she could attempt to reply with a raspy voice. ‘First time. And the last. We went to school together so I suppose Elise trusted me not to let her down.’ She flashed him a glance. ‘Did I? Let her down?’

A long, slow, languorous smile crept like dawn across the whole of his face, and then he wrapped his hands around his beaker. ‘I might have chatted to a couple of girls. But this is the first Internet date I have ever agreed to.’

He rested his elbows on the table to support his chin. ‘The only one. Does that answer your question?’

Andy froze, her coffee beaker suspended in mid-air.

‘This is your first Internet date?’

‘Absolutely. So far, not quite what I expected, but getting better by the minute.’

Her hand dropped. ‘Oh.’

Of course it is—fool. He doesn’t need to go on the Internet to meet women. But it did make her wonder. Why? Why now?

‘I enjoyed reading about all the wonderful countries you have visited for your work.’ She twirled one hand towards his shirt. ‘I suppose that must be a problem for your, um … romantic relationships.’

Oh, shut up now before you make an even greater fool of yourself, you idiot. Andy winced and picked at some salad, to avoid looking at him.

‘My romantic relationships?’ He sniffed. ‘Actually my romantic relationships, as you call them, are just fine. That isn’t the problem. Just the opposite if anything—I spend my days surrounded by sporty girls of all shapes and sizes, and usually they are wearing remarkably little in the way of clothing.’

He lifted his chin and smiled. ‘Did I mention that we specialise in water sports? Everything from paddle boarding to kite surfing. Our bikinis are very popular.’

A short chuckle and a nasal snort made her blink. ‘No, I have plenty of female company. But I don’t get to meet other kinds of women. And now I’m back in London, it might be interesting to meet girls who know more about the city than surfboards and sunblock. Plus I happen to enjoy meeting new people and getting to know them.’

She leant forwards, glancing from side to side as though about to tell him a secret of some sort.

‘I have a terrible fault.’

His eyebrows rose towards the ceiling but he did not take the bait.

‘Curiosity.’ Andy nodded. ‘I am well known for it. So you see, I can’t help but wonder … why now? What made you decide to come out on a wet night to meet this particular girl when you don’t even know her name?’

And without permission or any kind of warning, he clasped his long fingers around the palm of her right hand, raised it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles for two seconds before releasing her hand.

‘I wanted to meet the girl who wrote those emails. The girl I am looking at right now.’

His lips had been warm and full and soft and she was so totally taken back by how gentle and tender that ultra-soft whisper of his lips on her skin had been that she just sat there, still, and in silence. While he smiled at her. And this time his eyes were smiling as well as his mouth and all she could hear was the sound of his breathing, slow and deep, which matched hers perfectly, breath for breath.

The coffee shop and the background clatter of people and machine and chairs being dragged on wooden floors faded into some other world which she no longer had any part in.

The air in the space between them seemed to bristle with electricity, tense and thick with unspoken words and silences. The pulse at the side of his neck was mesmerising, strong and steady in tune with his breathing.

Killer. Absolute killer.

Then he leant slightly forwards and said in a low whisper, ‘I have a confession too. My brother Jason was the one who set up my profile and filled in the forms. Apparently he got fed up of my constant complaints about not being able to find a date for when I am in London.’

He raised his coffee cup and looked at her over the top of it—but his gaze was locked onto hers and somehow it was impossible for her to look away. ‘To online dating virgins everywhere,’ he whispered and took a long sip of coffee. ‘Perhaps we should exchange notes?’

Ah … so that was it. She should have worked it out. Miles was a sailor with a girl in every port. Online dating virgin indeed!

They looked across at one another in silence, his mouth curled into a smile for so long that the air crackled across the table.

Andy felt as though a small thermonuclear device had just been planted somewhere low in her stomach and was threatening to emerge as a girly giggle.

She did not do giggling, simpering or anything that came close. Not even for hunky hotties like the one sitting opposite her nonchalantly drinking his coffee as his gaze stared into hers, waiting to see how she responded. Maybe this was some sort of test?

‘I’ll drink to that,’ she replied, with a smirk. ‘Although it does make me wonder.’

‘Wonder?’

‘What were you planning to do with the hazelnut cookies?’ she replied in a flash, and pressed both of her lips tight together before sitting back in her chair, her head tilted to one side.

He roared with laughter. A real laugh, head back, shoulders shaking, holding onto the flimsy table, making it rock as his whole body joined in the joke, and this time she could not help herself. And for the first time in a very long while, Andy Davies laughed. Really laughed. Laughed until the tears were running down her cheeks and she was starting to wheeze.

She never laughed like this. Ever. And it was wonderful.

Even if people on the other tables had started to give them furtive glances.

Oh, Nigel would have been so mortified if she had made this kind of a scene on the few times when he was with her.

Nigel. Andy felt as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over her head, and she instantly sat up straighter in her chair and tried to clear her head.

Stupid girl. She was not here to flirt and laugh with Miles. No matter how much he had brightened up her cold, wet evening. She was not ready to flirt and laugh with anyone.

She glanced up into his smiling face and a small shiver of disappointment and regret fluttered across her shoulders.

This was a horrible mistake.

It should be Elise sitting here, not her.

But he was worth meeting. If anything he was more open and extrovert than his emails had suggested. She couldn’t lie.