Truth-Or-Date.com. Nina Harrington

quick glance at #sportybloke, who was looking at her in disbelief.

      ‘Fast food. Always a risky business. The steak sandwich is not the only dangerous item on the menu,’ she murmured, sighed out loud, picked up the Panini and took another bite. She couldn’t do any more damage so she might as well finish her food.

      #sportybloke blinked several times, pushed his shoulders hard back against the chair and unfolded his arms so he could stretch them out on the table, his palms flat on the gingham. The white scars on the backs of his hands and knuckles were just large enough for her to notice, but then she had to look at something, because he was doing the laser stare again.

      His gaze seemed to be locked onto her face, as though he was looking for something, and she tried desperately not to squirm. And failed.

      ‘Happy would be pushing it, but I completely agree.’ He nodded, a strange smirk on his face, then tapped his forefinger against his full pink lower lip, then pointed towards her. ‘About the food. Especially the cheese.’

       Cheese? What cheese?

      Andy patted her napkin against her lip in a dainty and ladylike fashion and all was going well until she dropped it back to her lap to reveal a string of molten yellow plastic-looking cheese, which must have been dangling from the corner of her mouth.

       Well. So much for the sophisticated and elegant look.

      ‘That’s better,’ he said with a fixed smile, sitting back. ‘And the name is Miles, by the way. Now where were we? Oh, yes. Being stood up. Does that still happen?’

      Miles? She looked at him with raised eyebrows.

      She had rain-damp hair, a stained blouse and she had been sitting there in blissful ignorance of the fact that cheese strings were dangling from her lips.

      Why did he trust her with his real name? If it was his real name.

      Her mouth opened, ready to share her name, but then she closed it again. Not yet. But she could answer his question.

      She paused and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Oh, yes, it has happened to me more than once. I think that’s why I hated the idea of doing it to someone else. Yes, I know that we have only talked through emails, but texting is not the same as apologising in person. Or at least it isn’t to me. That probably makes me sound very old-fashioned, but that’s the way I am.’

      He seemed to think about that for a second before replying. ‘I happen to agree. And your boss doesn’t know that you are here?’

      Andy shook her head. ‘She’s changed her mind about the whole Internet dating business. But there wasn’t enough time to call you and cancel. So here I am.’

      Then she braved a smile over the top of her sandwich. ‘I hope you’re not too annoyed or disappointed. Especially since I’ve eaten most of your food and I’m not actually your proper date.’

      He sat back, eyebrows high, and pressed one hand to his chest. ‘My pleasure. You have seen through my evil plan to win over a lady with toasted cheese and coffee. I feel the shame.’

      ‘You should.’ Andy nodded and inspected the last part of her Panini. ‘Even though this was a most superior cheesy snack. So thank you for that.’

      ‘Glad you approve,’ he murmured, and raised his coffee beaker. ‘Here’s to cheesy snacks, although I am curious about something. Does your boss often ask you to pimp for her?’

      Only just as the words left his mouth Andy was swallowing some coffee and between spluttering and coughing it took her a while before she could attempt to reply with a raspy voice. ‘First time. And the last. We went to school together so I suppose Elise trusted me not to let her down.’ She flashed him a glance. ‘Did I? Let her down?’

      A long, slow, languorous smile crept like dawn across the whole of his face, and then he wrapped his hands around his beaker. ‘I might have chatted to a couple of girls. But this is the first Internet date I have ever agreed to.’

      He rested his elbows on the table to support his chin. ‘The only one. Does that answer your question?’

      Andy froze, her coffee beaker suspended in mid-air.

      ‘This is your first Internet date?’

      ‘Absolutely. So far, not quite what I expected, but getting better by the minute.’

      Her hand dropped. ‘Oh.’

      Of course it is—fool. He doesn’t need to go on the Internet to meet women. But it did make her wonder. Why? Why now?

      ‘I enjoyed reading about all the wonderful countries you have visited for your work.’ She twirled one hand towards his shirt. ‘I suppose that must be a problem for your, um … romantic relationships.’

      Oh, shut up now before you make an even greater fool of yourself, you idiot. Andy winced and picked at some salad, to avoid looking at him.

      ‘My romantic relationships?’ He sniffed. ‘Actually my romantic relationships, as you call them, are just fine. That isn’t the problem. Just the opposite if anything—I spend my days surrounded by sporty girls of all shapes and sizes, and usually they are wearing remarkably little in the way of clothing.’

      He lifted his chin and smiled. ‘Did I mention that we specialise in water sports? Everything from paddle boarding to kite surfing. Our bikinis are very popular.’

      A short chuckle and a nasal snort made her blink. ‘No, I have plenty of female company. But I don’t get to meet other kinds of women. And now I’m back in London, it might be interesting to meet girls who know more about the city than surfboards and sunblock. Plus I happen to enjoy meeting new people and getting to know them.’

      She leant forwards, glancing from side to side as though about to tell him a secret of some sort.

      ‘I have a terrible fault.’

      His eyebrows rose towards the ceiling but he did not take the bait.

      ‘Curiosity.’ Andy nodded. ‘I am well known for it. So you see, I can’t help but wonder … why now? What made you decide to come out on a wet night to meet this particular girl when you don’t even know her name?’

      And without permission or any kind of warning, he clasped his long fingers around the palm of her right hand, raised it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles for two seconds before releasing her hand.

      ‘I wanted to meet the girl who wrote those emails. The girl I am looking at right now.’

      His lips had been warm and full and soft and she was so totally taken back by how gentle and tender that ultra-soft whisper of his lips on her skin had been that she just sat there, still, and in silence. While he smiled at her. And this time his eyes were smiling as well as his mouth and all she could hear was the sound of his breathing, slow and deep, which matched hers perfectly, breath for breath.

      The coffee shop and the background clatter of people and machine and chairs being dragged on wooden floors faded into some other world which she no longer had any part in.

      The air in the space between them seemed to bristle with electricity, tense and thick with unspoken words and silences. The pulse at the side of his neck was mesmerising, strong and steady in tune with his breathing.

       Killer. Absolute killer.

      Then he leant slightly forwards and said in a low whisper, ‘I have a confession too. My brother Jason was the one who set up my profile and filled in the forms. Apparently he got fed up of my constant complaints about not being able to find a date for when I am in London.’

      He raised his coffee cup and looked at her over the top of it—but his gaze was locked onto hers and somehow it was impossible for her to look away. ‘To online dating virgins everywhere,’ he whispered and took a long sip of coffee. ‘Perhaps we should exchange notes?’

       Ah