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
