Blind-Date Baby (5 page)

‘Well, Grace…’ He swallowed the last of his espresso and stood up. ‘I think I’d better be going.’ He shrugged. ‘Can I call you a cab or give you a lift somewhere?’

She shook her head. ‘No need. I am home. I live in the flat upstairs.’

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that. It kind of left him with nowhere to go.

‘It’s been nice…’

A small smile curved her lips. ‘Yes it has.’

The words
See you again some time?
were ready on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them. But once they were gone he had nothing else to say, so he walked to the door, aware of her following close behind him. When they reached it, she flicked a couple of catches and turned the handle, oddly silent.

Before he crossed the threshold into the damp night he turned to look at her. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Grace.’

‘So you already said.’

He took a step backwards beyond the shelter of the doorway and the rain hit him in multiple wet stabs. He shuddered. For an instant, rational thought hadn’t come into it—
he was only aware of his body’s physical response to the drop in temperature, the cold water running down his skin.

Grace stood in the doorway, in front of one of the angled panes of glass, her eyes large and round. All the laughter had left them now, but they were focused intently on him.

‘Bye, Noah,’ she said, and looked down at the floor.

Suddenly, he was moving. He took two long steps until he was standing in front of her and, without stopping to explain or analyse, he placed a hand either side of her head on the window and leaned in close. Her lips parted and she sank back against the pane and jerkily took in some air.

And then he kissed Grace the way he’d wanted to all evening.

G
RACE
clung to Noah for support. She had to. If she released the lapels of his jacket, she’d be in serious danger of sliding down the glass and landing in a heap at his feet.

It had been quite a long time since she’d been kissed. Perhaps the memories were a little fuzzy, but she didn’t think she remembered it being this good. Every part of her seemed to be going gooey. And he wasn’t even using his hands. They were still pressed against the glass as he towered over her and it was merely the brushing, teasing, coaxing of his lips that was making her feel this way.

She’d never been kissed like this before. Never.

And with that thought an icy chill ran through her.

Surely Rob’s kisses had excited her like this? He
had
to come top of her list. He was Daisy’s father, her soulmate, her grand passion. Anyone else would only ever be second place. But when she thought of him, she could remember youthful exuberance, raw need, but never this devastating skill that was threatening to…

Her fingers unclenched and she laid her palms flat against Noah’s chest, intending to apply gentle pressure as a signal that she wanted him to stop. But she didn’t stop him. Noah chose that moment to run his tongue along her lip and she moaned gently, reached behind his neck with both hands and pulled him closer.

When Noah’s hands finally moved off the window and started stroking the tingling skin of her neck, her cheeks, that little hollow at the base of her throat, she stopped thinking altogether. And she had no idea how long they’d been necking in the doorway like teenagers when he finally pulled away.

She was shaking—literally quivering—as he stood there looking down at her with his pale eyes. His thumb was still tracing the line of her cheekbone. Just that alone made the skin behind her ears sizzle.

This was so
not
what she’d been expecting on her first date. The chat rooms on Blinddatebrides.com that afternoon had been full of stories of nerdy guys and boring evenings, lots of jokes about kissing frogs. After getting her head around Daisy’s whole madcap plan, that was what she’d been anticipating. She’d been expecting to feel a sense of relief that the ordeal was over, to chalk it up to experience and carry on with her life. She certainly hadn’t been expecting to feel
this
.

‘Grace?’

Even his whisper was sexy. Low and growly. She tried not to shiver more than she already was doing.

‘I’d really like to see you again.’

Her body was telling her to yell
yes
, drag him back into the coffee shop and make use of one of those squashy sofas. And just that thought alone was enough to throw a bucket of cold water all over her. She didn’t
do
one-night stands, or necking in doorways. She did
soulmates
and
love at first sight
—with marriage and baby rapidly following. This wasn’t for her. Blinddatebrides.com wasn’t for her.

She wriggled out of Noah’s arms and retreated behind the door, using it as a shield as she held it half-closed. ‘I’m sorry, Noah. I just don’t think that’s a good idea.’ And before she could talk herself out of it, she shut the door, flipped the catches and walked through the shop without looking back.

Noah stared at Grace as she disappeared into the barely lit café. In the gloom, she became a dark grey blob, then, suddenly, the interior of The Coffee Bean was plunged into darkness.

He just kept on staring, even though he was now staring at his own reflection in the glass. The one woman he’d found who’d really caught his interest had just given him the brush-off. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened in the previous five years. The irony of it hit him so hard he started to chuckle.

Aware that the pubs were emptying and people were starting to fill the High Street, he pulled himself together. Men who stood and laughed at their reflections in shop windows were likely to be carted down to the local police station to sleep it off.

He looked himself in the eyes.

Well done, Mr Best-selling Author. You’ve finally found the secret to repelling women: be interested.

The narrow flight of stairs that led up to her flat seemed especially steep this evening. Grace opened the door at the top and, once she’d taken her coat off, she looked down at herself. Who was she kidding? In Daisy’s prom dress and Daisy’s shoes, she looked like someone playing dressing-up.

Sophisticated? I don’t think so!

She stripped the clothes and the stockings off right where she stood and marched into the bedroom to find her pyjamas. Once dressed in her striped three-quarter length trousers and vest top, she stood, hands on her hips, and glared round her room. It was cluttered with lotions and potions, clothes borrowed from Daisy and clothes Daisy had returned.

There was no point trying to go to sleep. Not going to happen.

She fetched Daisy’s laptop and took it into the sitting room,
where she collapsed onto the sofa with it. Once it had booted up, she logged into Blinddatebrides.com.

Grace clicked on the ‘New to the site’ chatroom where she’d found Kangagirl and Sanfrandani earlier on, but none of the names listed in the conversation were theirs. She shook her head. It had to be midday in Australia and she had absolutely no idea what time it would be on the west coast of America. Sanfrandani was probably fast asleep.

She was about to turn the blasted machine off when it beeped at her and a little window popped up.

Grace didn’t hesitate. Another window popped up.

Juicy details indeed. There
were
no juicy details. It had just been a kiss.

Yeah, right. And caramel moccachino was just plain coffee.

Grace’s fingers hovered above the keys. It was so tempting just to type
no
and save herself all the post-mortems. But these girls had been really helpful when she’d needed them this morning and she just couldn’t lie to them.

Grace shook her head. That would have been so much easier. She’d been out to a beautiful restaurant with a charming, cultured man, who kissed like a dream, and she’d done a runner? How did she explain that without seeming stark raving bonkers?

She blew out a breath. None of those descriptions applied to Noah. How did she put it into words?

Too much of a lot of things, but that was all she could put her finger on right now.

Grace typed the next reply so fast she surprised herself.

Englishcrumpet: I’m not looking for true love.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. The cursor just blinked at her.

How did she explain? She knew true love existed, because she’d had it with Rob.

Rob had been her other half. How could anyone else take his place? And she didn’t know if she could settle for less. Even if she was lonely sometimes. Even if, secretly, in a dark place where she didn’t even want to admit it to herself, she was a little bit jealous of the easy companionship Daisy had had with her last serious boyfriend.

Grace sat back in the sofa and stared at the screen. Sanfrandani had a point. Just because it wasn’t going to be the same as she’d had with Rob, it didn’t mean she couldn’t find a different kind of happiness with someone else. That was what Noah had been talking about, hadn’t he? Could she see herself making that kind of mature, adult decision about a relationship?

The Coffee Bean was virtually empty, as it normally was on a Sunday morning before the shoppers were out in full force. It was Grace’s ritual to treat herself to breakfast down here just one day a week—any more than that and she’d be the size of a house. Around ten-thirty, she crawled down the stairs from her flat, propped herself against the counter and yawned so hard she thought her jaw might dislocate.

Caz was resplendent this morning in a lurid Paisley kaftan, her silver-blonde hair caught into a loose bun that looked as
if it might disintegrate under its own weight at any second. The owner truly was as original as her kooky little café.

Caz looked her up and down. ‘Either you’ve had a really terrible night or a
really
good one. Which was it?’

That was the point. Grace wasn’t quite sure. Whichever it had been, insomnia had come as part of the package.

‘A tall skinny latte with two shots, please.’

Caz winked at her. ‘Say no more. Coming right up.’

Grace yawned again and looked round the café. It was a charming place, full of interesting knick-knacks. Old enamel jugs sat on random tables, filled with daffodils. Old road signs and mirrors covered the walls. Best of all was the ornate Victorian mahogany counter, still with some of the original etched glass, that filled one side of the café and the black and white tiled floor—a reminder of its former life as a butchers. The Coffee Bean always smelled of something comforting. The locals loved it but, with two new coffee houses on the High Street—both international chains—they were feeling the pinch.

But the buying public obviously were dull enough to enjoy the same old plastic-wrapped nonsense in whatever town they were in. The same menu of coffees. The Coffee Bean was unique, with an ever-changing menu and warm staff who really loved their jobs. But, unfortunately, that didn’t stop the profit margins falling and the costs going up.

Caroline handed Grace her coffee and returned to frowning over some printed-off spreadsheets.

‘How are this week’s figures?’

Caz shuffled the papers and tucked them under the till.

‘Come on, Caz. I’m family. And I’m supposed to be your assistant manageress. Even if you keep the happy, smiley face for the other staff, put me in the picture.’

The other woman shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter what we do. Java Express is running promotion after promotion.’
She shrugged. ‘If things don’t pick up, we’ll be out of business in three months.’