It Started with No Strings.... Kate Hardy

on a night that would’ve been difficult for you otherwise. Nothing serious, no consequences. Just live for the moment and enjoy it. And, actually, snogging Hot Guy there will be very good for you. It’ll produce more endorphins. We like endorphins. Endorphins are good.’

      Trust Bailey to take that tack. Joni couldn’t help smiling. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

      ‘I’m sure,’ Bailey confirmed. ‘Stay and have some fun. Call me tomorrow, OK?’

      ‘I will.’ Joni hugged her goodbye, then carried on dancing with Aaron until her feet were sore.

      ‘Shall we have a break and get a drink?’ she suggested.

      ‘Great idea,’ he said.

      She liked the way he walked with her towards the bar, with a hand protectively at her back and yet not making her feel helpless and pathetic, the way her exes had always ended up making her feel. Aaron had beautiful manners, and he didn’t seem the sort who would put a woman down to make himself feel better. Not that she trusted her own judgement on that score any more. She’d got it wrong so many times in the past, thanks to the rose-tinted glasses she couldn’t seem to remove.

      ‘My shout,’ she said as they reached the bar. ‘Bailey and I were drinking champagne, earlier. Would you like to join me?’

      ‘Are you celebrating something?’ he asked.

      She certainly was. The luckiest escape of her life. Though, at the same time, part of her mourned the wreckage of her future plans. It should’ve been so good …

      For a second Joni looked sad, and then Aaron wondered if it had just been his imagination because she gave him a broad, broad smile. ‘It’s Saturday night, and that’s always worth celebrating, isn’t it?’

      He had a feeling that she didn’t mean anything like that at all, but he didn’t push her to elaborate. He simply smiled and accepted the glass of champagne she’d offered.

      Then they danced until most people had either drifted home or gone elsewhere, and the dance floor was almost empty. Aaron noticed that Tim hadn’t bothered trying to find him or say goodnight when he left. But that was Tim all over—a good-time guy who didn’t think too deeply. Maybe he ought to take a leaf out of his old friend’s book.

      And he wasn’t quite ready to see Joni home just yet.

      ‘There probably aren’t any cafés open nearby, so would you like to come back to my place for a coffee?’ he asked.

      She looked wary. ‘Thanks for the offer, but—’

      ‘Hey,’ he cut in softly, ‘when I said coffee, I meant just coffee. I’m not expecting anything else.’

      She bit her lip. ‘Sorry, I’m not used to … well …’

      She had to be kidding. That gorgeous, and she didn’t date?

      Or maybe she’d just come out of a relationship, one that had left her confidence shaky. Making him Rebound Man. Which was fine, because that meant she wouldn’t want forever from him. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Me, neither.’ He didn’t date much. In between work, studying, work and more work, he simply didn’t have time.

      Wanting to lighten the atmosphere, he said, ‘Though I can tell you that my coffee-making skills are a lot better than my dancing.’ He’d worked as a barista to help put himself through university, and his expensive Italian coffee machine was the one gadget he’d never part with.

      ‘Then thank you,’ she said. ‘I’d love a coffee.’

      As they left the club, they were lucky enough to see an empty taxi passing. He hailed the cab, gave the driver his address, and held the door open for her to get in.

      Joni was quiet in the back of the cab and Aaron didn’t push her to talk; he simply curled his fingers round hers, and eventually the pressure was returned.

      How long was it since he’d held hands with someone in the back of a taxi?

      He reminded himself not to think. This relationship wasn’t going anywhere. This was just for tonight; he didn’t do ‘for always’. Never had and never would.

      When the taxi stopped outside his flat, he paid the driver and ushered her across to his front door.

      She removed her shoes as soon as they were inside the front door. ‘Um, may I borrow your bathroom, please?’

      ‘Sure.’ He indicated the bathroom door. ‘I’ll be through here in the kitchen when you’re ready.’

      She was a while in the bathroom. When she joined him in the kitchen, she said, ‘Can I be immensely rude and cheeky and ask for a glass of orange juice and a sandwich as well as the coffee, please?’

      Oh, help. He’d come across this before. Someone who was suddenly hungry and thirsty after going clubbing and then going to the bathroom. If he looked closer, he’d just bet her pupils would be pinpoints.

      His thoughts must have shown in his face because she said, ‘Actually, yes, a needle was involved.’

      Uh-oh.

      ‘But not drugs,’ she said crisply.

      ‘Not drugs.’ He really wasn’t following.

      She took something out of her bag to show him. ‘I’m a diabetic and this is a blood glucose monitor. I prick my finger and test the blood on a strip to check my blood sugar levels. Right now, my blood sugar’s a bit out of whack—probably because I had a couple of glasses of champagne tonight and I don’t usually drink very much, plus I’ve spent all night dancing. So right now I could do with some carbs to get my blood sugar stable. I’m not going to pass out on you or anything like that,’ she reassured him swiftly. ‘This just happens sometimes, and a sandwich and some orange juice will sort me out pretty quickly.’

      He relaxed, then. Diabetes explained a lot. Joni might still be trouble with a capital T, but at least it wasn’t going to get complicated and he wouldn’t feel responsible for someone else making a bad lifestyle choice. And clearly Joni was very used to looking after herself properly because she’d explained exactly why her blood sugar was a problem right now and how it could be fixed.

      He almost told her he was a doctor, but he didn’t want to make her feel awkward. Instead, he poured a glass of juice and handed it to her.

      ‘Thank you.’

      He rummaged in the fridge. It had been years since he’d done a stint on the endocrine ward, but he remembered that a protein and carbohydrate snack was good for someone whose blood sugar was a bit low but not in the unmanageable range. ‘Would a bacon sandwich be OK?’ he asked. And please don’t let him have offended her because she was a vegetarian. He’d already made enough of an idiot of himself.

      ‘A bacon sandwich would be absolutely fantastic. Thank you so much.’ She gave him another of those sweet, sweet smiles. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

      ‘No, it’s fine. You can sit and chat to me, if you like.’

      He put bacon under the grill and grabbed the bread, then turned to face her. ‘What kind of coffee would you like? Cappuccino, latte, flat white?’

      She looked surprised. ‘You can really do all those sorts of coffees?’

      He gestured to his coffee machine. ‘Yup. My one bit of self-indulgence.’

      ‘Impressive.’ She smiled. ‘A cappuccino would be lovely—but no chocolate on the top for me, please.’

      ‘You don’t like chocolate? Or is that a diabetic thing?’

      ‘A bit of both,’ she said. ‘I’m probably the only woman in the world who doesn’t really like chocolate. My best friend says I’m weird.’

      He laughed, and made her a cappuccino.

      She took a