Take a Chance on Me. Fiona Harper

      

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      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

Blind-Date Marriage

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       Saying Yes to the Millionaire

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       Copyright

Blind-Date Marriage

       CHAPTER ONE

      JAKE knew only two things about the woman he was going to meet: her name was Serena and her father had money.

      Serena.

      Sounded kind of horsey. She probably wore jodhpurs. Mel had refused to comment on whether she was pretty or not, so she probably looked like a horse as well. He could see it so clearly: the gymkhana trophies, the chintzy bedroom. Serena wore her mousy hair in a bun and had too many teeth.

      He stepped off the kerb of the busy London street and zigzagged through the gaps in the traffic. Headlights lit up his knees as he squeezed between the bumpers. A horn blared.

      That was why he liked to walk. It gave him a sense of freedom in the midst of the cloying traffic. He wasn’t about to take orders from anyone, especially not a pole with coloured lights on top.

      Once on the pavement again, he stopped to shake the drizzle off his hair. It was more mist than rain, only visible in the orange haloes of the street lamps, but somehow he was wetter than if he’d been hit by big, splashing drops. He was going to look less than perfect when he arrived at the restaurant.

      His long strides slowed as he contemplated the evening ahead. Should he be marching this briskly towards the unknown? Probably not. But he wasn’t going to be late. He speeded up to his former tempo. This evening he would be polite, he would be charming, and then he would be high-tailing it out of there as fast as possible.

      As long as Serena didn’t have a horsey laugh to match her appearance, he could endure the temptation of the pocket-sized window in the restaurant toilet. At least he hoped there was a window. Just for emergencies.

      He should have checked.

      In future he would do a reconnaissance of any potential venues when forced on blind dates by his meddling little sister.

      Not that there was going to be a next time if he could help it.

      He was still a bit hazy about how she’d talked him into going on this one. Mel had rung him at work and slipped it into the conversation while he was studying a balance sheet and saying ‘mmm’ and ‘yup’ at suitable intervals. Before he knew it, he was meeting a total stranger for drinks and dinner at Lorenzo’s.

      One day he would have to put his foot down with Mel. She’d been able to wind him round her little finger ever since she’d bestowed her very first smile on him. He was pretty sure she knew he hadn’t been listening when she’d arranged this date. Most likely she’d planned the exact timing of her call to maximise his suggestibility.

      He cut through a little park in the centre of the square rather than keeping to the busy street. It was a refreshing change from the unrelenting grey of the city. Not that there was much green within the park’s wrought-iron railings at this time of year.

      At least it smelled like November—acorns and rotting leaves. He took a deep breath and savoured the warm, earthy aroma. That was when he became aware of the tramp, more noticeable by his body odour than his appearance. He might easily have taken him for a forgotten coat on the bench otherwise.

      The old man was oblivious to the rain. Saliva trailed from his open mouth down his chin, and the wind rolled an empty beer can to and fro beneath the bench. Jake removed the copy of the Financial Times from under his arm and spread a few pages over the man’s shoulders and torso, making sure he didn’t accidentally touch his coat. Hopefully, by the time the pages were wet through, the old guy would be sober enough to move himself somewhere drier.

      He hurried through the park gate and re-entered the rush hour. The restaurant was only a few minutes