in, his mother, father and grandmother stepped out of the office, together with Fran. Fran counted them in, and they started singing ‘Happy Birthday to You’ to him, along with Ian and Sally.
Even the customers joined in.
He’d barely registered that today was his birthday—the post hadn’t arrived before he left, and he never really bothered making a fuss over the day anyway.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said. ‘Balloons?’
‘There are twenty-nine—one for every year of your age,’ Fran told him with a grin. ‘Count them, if you like. Now sit down and I’ll make you a coffee.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘When did you do all this?’ Then the penny dropped. ‘That call this morning from Amy—you set it up, didn’t you?’
She nodded. ‘I needed you out of the way until we’d put up the balloons and banner. But she was going to talk to you about the writing-group thing anyway.’
‘You know about that?’ At her raised eyebrow, he sighed. ‘You did the business plan, didn’t you?’
‘It was a joint effort with Amy, but, yes,’ she admitted.
She made an espresso, then heated the milk. And Gio watched, open-mouthed, as Fran made him a latte and free-poured a perfect rosetta on the top. ‘Happy birthday, honey,’ she said with a smile.
He stared at the mug, and then at her. ‘You made me a rosetta.’
‘Mmm. I should’ve made it a cake and a candle, really. But that would mean using a needle and cocoa, and I thought you might like this a little bit more.’ Her eyes glittered with mischief. ‘Not to mention a little wager we had—which had a deadline of this Friday, I believe.’
He groaned. ‘Oh, no. You’ve been practising, haven’t you?’
‘Yup.’
‘Which means you win the chocolates.’
She spread her hands. ‘Don’t blame me. You’re the one who set high stakes. Which were, and I quote, “I’ll take you to Fortnum’s and buy you the biggest box of chocolates of your choice.”’
He noticed Sally was beaming, and leaned against the counter. ‘You’ve been giving her coaching, Sal, haven’t you?’
‘For a half-share in those chocolates? You bet I have!’ The barista chuckled. ‘Though, I admit, my pupil worked pretty hard.’
‘It’s cheating. Absolute cheating,’ Gio said.
‘Ah, no. You merely gave me a time limit. You didn’t say that I couldn’t get anyone else to help me,’ Fran reminded him.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ He gestured at the balloons and the banner. ‘I really wasn’t expecting this.’
Her smile broadened. ‘Well, I haven’t quite finished yet. In fact, I’m expecting a delivery—’ Gio heard the door click open ‘—about right now.’
GIO frowned as he saw Ingrid in the doorway. From the look of the baskets on the counter, they’d already had their cake delivery for the day. Why on earth would their baker need to come back a second time?
The answer lay in the large white box she was carrying. ‘One special delivery, Fran,’ she said, and put the cake between Fran and Gio.
‘Thanks, Ingrid.’ Fran removed the lid and opened the box to reveal a birthday cake, in the shape of a cup of coffee, covered in what looked like pure chocolate. ‘Happy birthday Gio’ was written on it in white icing, and there was a rosetta piped underneath his name.
There were no candles; instead, there were tiny indoor sparklers along the top of the cake. And Gio had to swallow the lump in his throat when Fran lit them.
She’d arranged all this—just for him.
At really, really short notice.
‘Sparklers?’ he asked.
‘Well, with twenty-nine candles, we would probably have set the cake on fire and then the café’s sprinkler system would’ve gone off,’ Fran teased. ‘Besides, these are meant to look like froth on top of the coffee. Smile!’
Before he’d realised her intention, she’d taken a photograph of him next to his sparkler-topped cake.
‘Make a wish,’ she said as the sparklers burned out. ‘And remember to keep it secret or it won’t come true.’
A wish. There was one right in the middle of his heart, but he wasn’t quite prepared to name it to himself. Not yet.
She produced a knife from behind the counter and a stack of plates and napkins; he cut the cake into slices and Fran handed them round to everyone sitting in the café.
‘Is this pure chocolate brownie?’ he asked.
‘Special order,’ Ingrid confirmed.
‘For a special guy,’ Fran added, then kissed the tips of her fingers, leaned over the counter and dabbed them on the end of his nose. ‘Happy birthday, honey.’
Gio caught the slightly misty look in his mother and grand-mother’s eyes. Fran was playing her part to perfection.
But he had to remember it was just a part—and it was going to stay that way, because he knew she wanted something he just didn’t think he was capable of giving her. Security and a happy ever after.
And he wasn’t supposed to be letting his heart get involved.
All the same, when everyone had gone and Fran had disappeared into the office to do her usual magic with the admin, he went out to the back and gave her a hug. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I honestly wasn’t expecting this.’
‘It’s your birthday. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I let it pass without comment?’She fished under the desk and brought out a neatly wrapped parcel. ‘By the way—happy birthday.’
She’d bought him a present? But…‘You didn’t have to do this,’ he said. ‘The cake was more than enough.’
‘Hey. You said I could choose whatever chocolates I liked in Fortnum’s. Of course I’m going to buy you a birthday present.’ She grinned. ‘You’ll be spending a lot of money on me. I’m just as greedy as you are—’
Yes, please, he thought.
‘—when it comes to chocolate.’
Oh, lord. He needed to get his mind back to real life, not fantasy.
He opened the parcel to discover a black cashmere sweater that felt like a soft caress against his skin. Like her mouth tracing a path down his throat, all warm and sweet and incredibly sexy. ‘Fran, this is…I don’t know what to say.’ He leaned forward to kiss her cheek in thanks, and somehow ended up brushing his mouth against hers. A soft, sweet, gentle kiss that made his body feel lit up from within, like the sparklers she’d put on his birthday cake.
He broke the kiss, and for one crazy moment he almost marched over to the door so he could lock it behind them and then stride back to his desk and kiss her properly, until they were both dizzy with need and took the kiss to its ultimate conclusion. The conclusion maybe it should’ve reached on Sunday, when they’d been kissing on her sofa. The conclusion he hadn’t been able to get out of his head ever since.
And then common sense washed back in.
She’d agreed to help him out by pretending to be his girlfriend, for his family’s sake. And he was really going to need her when he expanded the business. So the last thing he should be doing was taking advantage of her. ‘Thank you, Fran,’ he said quietly, and left