Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris. Fiona Brand

hadn’t they ever spoken before? Had she really seemed so unapproachable? So caught up in her own world?

      She watched as he looked in his cupboards, trying to find something to eat. Eventually he pulled some glasses and a bottle of soda from the cupboard. She could see the taut muscles across his back through his thin T-shirt. She tried not to stare at the outline of his behind in the well-worn jeans.

      Her eyes automatically went downwards. Would he look at her the same way? Maybe she should have given some more thought to what she was wearing.

      ‘I see you’ve finally got some clothes on.’

      She gave a little smile as she walked over and sat down at the table. ‘I didn’t really have time to think earlier. I don’t often roam around strange men’s apartments in my nightclothes.’

      ‘You don’t?’ He had a gleam in his eyes. He was trying to lighten the mood. Ease the stress they were both under. ‘Is your apartment cold upstairs? You were bundled up like you live in an igloo.’

      She took a sip of the soda he’d just poured for her. ‘No. It was comfort clothes. I was freezing when I got in—I ruined my suede boots walking in that mucky slush. My raincoat was covered in muddy splatters and all I could think about was getting inside, heating up and eating myself silly.’

      He tilted his head as he sat down. In this dim light in the kitchen he had really dark brown eyes. Comforting kind of eyes. The kind you could lose yourself in.

      ‘And what does eating yourself silly involve?’

      She shrugged. ‘Chocolate. In all varieties. Macaroni cheese. Grilled bagels with melted cheese. Porridge. Pancakes.’ She pointed towards the ceiling. ‘I bought some stuff at Mr Meltzer’s before I came home. I was worried I’d be stuck inside for a few days with no comfort foods.’ She gave him a grin and shook her head. ‘Believe me, that would not be pretty.’

      He eyed her closely, the smell of pizza starting to fill the apartment. ‘And would you be willing to share some of your stash?’

      Her smile widened. The atmosphere was changing between them. They were going from frantic neighbours to something else entirely. Were they flirting here? Was that what was happening? It had been so long for Carrie she wasn’t sure she remembered how.

      She rested her elbows on the table, sitting her head in her hands. ‘Oh, I don’t know about sharing. I might be willing to trade.’

      ‘Aha, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’

      ‘What does that mean?’

      The gleam wasn’t disappearing; in fact, if it was possible, it was getting naughtier. ‘You come down here with your innocent smiles, woolly socks and grandma pyjamas—not forgetting an abandoned baby—with your tales of a huge pirate haul of comfort foods upstairs, and now you’re trying to hold me to ransom.’ He leaned back in his chair and tapped the surface of the table. ‘You’re not really a grandma-pyjamas girl, are you? That was all just a ruse—you’re really a sexy negligee kind of girl.’ He lifted his hand and tapped his chin. ‘The question is, what colour?’

      She could feel her cheeks start to pink up. She hadn’t been imagining it. He was flirting with her. And the thing that amazed her—or terrified her—was she wanted to flirt right back. Could she trade her bagels for a kiss?

      Wow. That thought made the blood rush into her cheeks. ‘What’s wrong with grandma pyjamas? They hide a multitude of sins.’

      He didn’t hesitate. ‘You don’t have any sins to hide.’

      She felt her breath stall. She couldn’t breathe in. She definitely couldn’t breathe out. She was stuck in that no man’s land. He’d said it so quickly. He didn’t even have to think about it twice.

      What did that mean?

      She made a vague attempt to laugh it off—feeling like a nervous teenager instead of a capable twenty-seven-year-old woman. ‘You’re a man. You really have no knowledge of water-filled bras or hold-your-gut-in underwear.’

      He leaned across the table towards her. A cheeky smile across his face. ‘And you have no need for either.’

      He stayed there. Inches away from her face. Letting her see the tiny, fine laughter lines around his eyes and the smattering of freckles across his cheeks.

      Up close and personal Daniel Cooper looked good enough to eat.

      And then there was the smell. His cologne. It was affecting her senses. Everything seemed heightened.

      Her skin prickled, her hairs standing upright. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue running across her lips.

      She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. Or maybe it was his brown eyes. The kind you could melt into. Both were distracting her. Both were making entirely inappropriate thoughts about a man she hardly knew invade her brain and send a warm feeling to her stomach.

      A feeling she hadn’t felt since...

      It was like a bucket of cold water being tipped over her head. That, and the awareness of the little contented noises from the crib off to the side.

      That was why she was here.

      Not for any other reason. Dan wasn’t interested in her. Not really. He just didn’t want to be stuck with some strange baby on his own. He’d made that perfectly clear.

      The rest?

      She hardly knew the guy, and with handsome looks and a job like his? He probably had women eating out of the palm of his hand.

      The thought made her pull back in her chair, her sudden movement causing him to blink and a wrinkle to appear on his brow.

      She fixed her eyes on the table. They were safe there.

      ‘Don’t you have a friend you can call to help you with Abraham overnight? I’m sure you must have plenty of female friends who’d be willing to give you a hand.’

      ‘What does that mean?’

      She shrugged, trying to look complacent. Trying to pretend she hadn’t just almost asked him out loud if he had a girlfriend. ‘It means there must be someone other than me who can give you a hand.’

      He shook his head. ‘All the female cops I know are currently run off their feet on duty. My friends who are married all stay too far away to get here and help.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘And the past few female companions I’ve had—I wouldn’t let within fifty feet of this little guy.’

      She almost choked on her soda. ‘Then maybe you should be more selective with your female friends.’ It was meant to sound playful, but it came out like a chastisement. All because her insides were wound up so tightly.

      He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe I should.’

      It was left hanging in the air between them.

      She had no idea what to make of that. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair. ‘You mean there’s absolutely no one you can ask to help you out?’

      ‘Just you.’

      ‘Dan...’ She looked out at the falling snow. If it were even possible, it seemed to be falling even heavier.

      She looked around the apartment and threw her hands in the air. ‘I don’t like this, Dan. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. It doesn’t matter that you’re a cop and one of the “good guys”.’ She put her fingers in the air and made the sign. ‘Baby or no baby, I can’t stay in an apartment with some strange guy. I’m just not comfortable.’

      He leaned back in his chair, watching her with those intense brown eyes.

      ‘What if I promise not to come near you at night? You can sleep in my room and I’ll sleep on the sofa. We can move the crib during the night. That way—you’ll still have some privacy but we’ll both know the other is there if we need a hand.’

      Her.