Gentlemen Prefer... Brunettes. Liz Fielding

when he spotted Cassie Cornwell pushing an overloaded trolley that seemed to have a mind of its own.

      She was too distracted by the task of preventing the shopping cart from knocking down the tower of cornflakes to notice him. The urge to let them tumble was, for just a moment, wickedly tempting. But then he realised that this was a God-given opportunity to pick her brains so he took pity on her and, taking hold of the front of the cart, pulled it straight.

      Cassie looked up, a smile of thanks already on her lips, but as their eyes connected over a bumper-sized pack of breakfast cereals she blushed. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

      ‘It was the last time I looked in a mirror,’ he agreed. The blush was oddly gratifying; her lack of enthusiasm at encountering him was not. ‘I take it this mound of food is for your camping trip? Or are you an impulse shopper?’ he enquired.

      Cassie had an impulse to throw something at the man. For appearing suddenly like that, before she could warn her body not to do anything stupid. She just knew she was blushing like an iced fancy that had been mugged by the cochineal.

      ‘No.’ He picked up the box of frosted cereals and turned it over. ‘No. Somehow I don’t see you eating these for breakfast.’ Cassie wondered what he did see her eating, but she managed to restrain herself from enquiring. He told her anyway. ‘A girl like you understands that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I see you tucking into something wholesome and filling. Soft creamy scrambled eggs with cnsp bacon, toast, home-made marmalade and Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee?’ he suggested.