started to turn her head in his direction, so he dived behind a pillar and stayed there for a few breathless seconds. Then, when he was sure she wasn’t looking, he slunk over to the bar and ordered something. He sat there, hunched over his glass, hoping to heaven she hadn’t noticed him. But that didn’t seem possible. He was sure every molecule in his body was screaming Look at me and waving its arms in her direction.
He risked another glance.
She was looking at the menu. He was safe, for now.
An enigmatic smile curled her lips, as if she were remembering a secret joke. In fact, it looked very much as if she were trying not to laugh.
His fingers traced the rim of his tumbler, but it stayed on the bar as he let his mind wander.
Last night, as they’d driven through the crowded London streets, he’d prayed that every traffic light would stay red, just to keep them locked in the private world of her car a few seconds longer. He’d been fascinated by her movements as she drove, hadn’t been able to stop watching the little silver bracelet that danced on her wrist as she moved her hand from steering wheel to gearstick and back. Everything she did was fluid and graceful.
He’d even admired the cool way she’d pulled away and left him gaping in the street. It served him right for his lack of finesse. He’d been too sure she was going to call him. Minutes after her departure he’d been pacing round his flat, scorning himself for being so smug. He’d tried desperately to remember if he had any business contacts who could trace the owner of the blue Porsche.
But it looked as if he didn’t need to worry about that. She was here. In fact, he didn’t need to worry about anything—except, of course, that she would have a ring-side seat to his blind date with Serena.
Serena! He’d almost forgotten about her.
He looked at his watch. Four minutes to go. Time to pull himself together. He couldn’t let her find him sitting at the bar all a-jitter. Perhaps the situation could be salvaged by a bit of quick thinking.
He summoned a waiter and asked to be shown to his table. With any luck he’d be seated in the corner, facing the other direction. Maison Blanc was large, and there were plenty of square white pillars to hide behind.
His step faltered as the waiter led him not to the far corner, but straight towards his mystery woman. Rats! He was going to have to walk right past her table. There was nothing for it but to ooze charm and hope the matter of a lunch-date with another woman could be swept aside once he’d claimed her promise of dinner another time.
However, his best, knock-her-socks-off smile never made it past the planning stage—mainly because the waiter had stopped at the table and pulled out the chair opposite her.
He just stood and stared.
The waiter fidgeted and she waved him away. Then she smiled at Jake. He wanted to crawl under the table and hide.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Jacobs. I’m pleased you could make it—this time.’
‘But you’re … You can’t be …’
‘I’m Serena. Pleased to meet you, Charles—or is it Jake?’
He swallowed.
She couldn’t be Serena—her teeth were far too lovely.
She cocked her head on one side, waiting. Reading his mind, as it turned out.
‘I wore my hair this way just for you,’ she said, and turned her head so the ponytail swished towards him. Then she leant forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Just so you could tell which end of the horse was which.’
Something inside him snapped to attention. She knew! She’d been ready and waiting for him, and he’d walked straight in to her little trap.
‘Touché,’ he said, his voice unusually croaky.
She was really enjoying this. Her eyes were bright and smiling, but without a hint of malice. She wasn’t angry, just teasing him, asking him to share the joke.
He held his hands up in surrender. ‘Okay, you got me. When did you know?’
She took a sip of her drink.
‘Oh, not until after you stood me up. I found your business card in my pocket. An amazing coincidence, don’t you think? I suppose I could have phoned you this morning and warned you, but the opportunity to have a little fun was too good to pass up.’ She stopped and gave him a very genuine smile. ‘I can’t really be cross, can I? It was my fault entirely. You only cancelled because I drowned you. I suggest we start again. Deal?’
‘Deal.’ He dropped into the high-backed leather chair and offered her his hand. ‘Charles Jacobs. But nobody calls me that any more—except my sister when she’s angry with me. My friends call me Jake.’
She clasped his hand and shook it. Hers was small and delicate and unbelievably soft. The smile he’d abandoned earlier returned without his bidding.
‘I don’t think I need to tell you my name again, do I? I think, after today, you’re never going to forget it.’
‘You don’t look like a Serena.’
‘You don’t look like a Charles, either. Why Jake?’
‘Boys called Charles got punched where I grew up. Some of my friends shortened my last name and it stuck. It was easier, anyway. I’m named after my father, and it was a relief to have a way to tell us apart.’
‘You didn’t fancy Junior, then?’
Her smile was warm and easy. He didn’t mind her teasing him one bit. Somehow it made him feel welcomed—part of an elite club where they were the only two members—rather than putting him on the defensive. People didn’t normally get away with ribbing him like this.
‘Don’t say you think it suits me!’
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Her chocolate-brown eyes held him hypnotised. It took the waiter appearing for their drinks order to break the spell.
They both ordered something non-alcoholic. Thank goodness he’d remembered he was driving before he’d downed that Scotch in one! The waiter moved away unnoticed.
‘Your turn to spill the beans,’ he said.
‘Which beans would those be?’
‘You could tell me your name.’
She frowned. ‘It’s Serena. Don’t you believe me? Do you think I’m really called Mildred or Ethel?’
‘Of course I believe you. I just want to know the rest of your name. You can’t be just Serena.’
‘Why not? Madonna only uses her first name.’
‘But she has a last name too—she just doesn’t need to use it. The same thing wouldn’t work for you. If I tried to look up Serena in the phone book,
