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