Mr Right Across the Street

by Kathryn Freeman

  Luke had been battered by an alarming wave of jealousy. ‘You do any sort of dancing with her, ballroom, dirty or otherwise,’ he’d retorted through a clenched jaw, ‘and I’ll…’ Thankfully he’d stopped short of actually threatening his employee. Instead he’d ended with a lame, ‘I’ll be bloody annoyed.’

  The moment he caught sight of Mia though, the still-simmering anger died, replaced by what he was sure was an embarrassingly daft grin.

  ‘My favourite Smurf.’

  She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Thanks.’

  God, she looked so damn cute he felt the urge to lift her up and hug the daylights out of her. Then kiss her until she was breathless.

  But eyes were watching, and though she might be up for the first, he knew Mia definitely wouldn’t thank him for the second, so he bent to kiss her cheek and hoped Mateo was watching. Just because Mia had insisted on ‘friends’ didn’t mean he wasn’t as protective as hell around her. Wet behind the ears barmen could sling their hook.

  ‘Lack of rain hasn’t put you off then?’ he asked as they walked towards the bus stop. It was an easy bus ride to Quay Street and this way he left his options open for after. Plus he refused to pay rip-off NCP car park prices for the privilege of putting the TVR on a few square foot of tarmac for a couple of hours.

  She gave him the look he was really starting to enjoy. The one that said she knew he was winding her up and could handle anything he threw at her. ‘You didn’t cancel, so it clearly isn’t a problem.’

  ‘What about the singing? Are you up for some karaoke?’

  For a brief second alarm flittered across her face, but then she smirked. ‘As long as you go first.’ Laughing, he reached for her hand as they crossed the road, the gesture totally unconscious. She slid him a look. ‘I can cross by myself. I don’t need my hand held.’

  He winked. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ As soon as they’d reached the other side though, she slipped her hand away, leaving him oddly disappointed.

  The bus was busy, standing room only, and as she grasped a handrail he manoeuvred himself so he she could lean against him. A gesture he’d have made for any girl he’d taken out, yet with Mia he’d done it instinctively.

  ‘You know I was wrong about the Smurf,’ he remarked a few stops later when the crowding had eased and they were the only ones left standing. ‘You’re more of a Smurfette.’

  She craned her neck to look up at him. ‘I hope that isn’t a heightist joke.’

  He bit into his cheek to stop from laughing. ‘Smurfette was the female. You’re not small at all. I mean you make it all the way up to my shoulder, so that’s definitely taller than the average Smurf.’

  She elbowed him in the ribs and he couldn’t stop himself. He started to laugh.

  ‘There’s nothing worse than being average,’ she muttered, which only made him laugh harder. At which point she gave up and started to laugh with him. He could see the rest of the bus watching them, but he didn’t care. He was enjoying being with this girl with blue-tinted hair, sparky humour and a take-me-as-you-find-me attitude.

  Enjoying himself so much, he almost missed their stop.

  ‘Shit, we need to get off.’

  Just as the doors were closing, he wedged himself between them and they clambered out. ‘At last we’ve found a use for your hulking shoulders.’

  He grinned as he headed towards Quay Street. ‘You think I’ve got broad shoulders, huh? Like the heroes in all those romance novels?’

  ‘Not in mine.’

  It was the sly look she gave him that made him pull up short. ‘Wait, are you talking about the book you’re reading, or…?’ he trailed off when she raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Damn it, I don’t know if you’re having me on or not.’

  ‘Can you really see me writing a romance novel?’

  He couldn’t. Not that he had any clue what a romance writer looked like, but surely it wasn’t blue hair with attitude? ‘That Barbara Cartland woman. She wrote romance and I remember seeing pictures in the newspapers when she died. She wore pink and had this daft long-haired mutt with her.’

  ‘So you’re saying all romance writers have to wear pink and have a small dog?’

  ‘Well no, obviously not, but…’ He huffed. ‘Put me out of my misery. Have you written a book?’ Now he’d asked her outright, she looked less cocksure. In fact as she turned away from him, he’d go so far as to say she’d gone shy. ‘Wow, you have, haven’t you? You’re a frigging author. That’s awesome, Mia.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ She shrugged, finally turning back to him. ‘I’m trying to write a book, but I’ve got a long way to go.’

  ‘Long as in, what? You’ve only just started? Halfway through?’

  ‘I’ve written fifty thousand words.’

  His jaw dropped open. ‘To a guy who finds writing a shopping list taxing, that’s one hell of a lot of words. Are you sure you need to write any more?’

  The edge of tension he’d seen in her face disappeared and she snorted with laughter. ‘If I want to write a proper book, you know, one with a start, a middle and an end, one someone might want to publish, then yeah. I need to write about the same again.’

  ‘That’s your goal?’ They started walking again and this time when he reached to grab her hand to cross the road, she didn’t tug it away when they’d reached the other side.

  ‘It is. I don’t know why, but something in me has always wanted to write books.’

  ‘You mean instead of developing websites?’ He banged a hand against his forehead. ‘Shit, I forgot to say thanks for agreeing to do ours. Obviously I’ll pay you—’

  ‘No.’ She glanced up at him, a small smile on her lips. ‘Friends don’t charge. I get a free Manchester guide, you get a free website. We’re quits.’ Clearly seeing he was about to argue, she waved a hand at him. ‘In answer to your question, yes, maybe, one day, if I’m good enough, I’d love to write books instead of building websites. For now though, I want to write for fun and see how it goes.’

  For the first time since he’d met her, he was aware of the gulf between them, not in class or wealth, but in education. Intelligence. ‘I can’t imagine writing being fun,’ he admitted. ‘Same as I can’t imagine working on a computer, doing all that whizz-bang techno stuff you do.’

  He was aware of her eyes on him, as if she was trying to see inside his brain. ‘Because you’re a humble bartender, huh?’

  He tried to laugh it off. ‘Nah, I’m not humble. I’m an ace bartender. It’s not just about mixing the cocktails, you know. It’s about multi-tasking, keeping your cool when it’s busy, keeping busy when it’s not. Being what the customer needs you to be, a shrink, a friend.’ He winked at her. ‘A flirt.’

  ‘You’ve certainly got that last one nailed.’ But then she did something that caused his heart to flip. She squeezed his hand and added softly, ‘Don’t put yourself down. You can’t imagine writing a book or writing code. I could never run a bar. I’d get flustered at the first sign of a queue, I’m not sufficiently organised or forward thinking to sort out stock and not good enough with people to make them want to come back every week.’

  A lump rose into this throat and he couldn’t shake the gruffness out of his voice when he spoke. ‘Thanks. And for the free website. It means a lot.’ He swallowed a few times before attempting to speak again. ‘So this book, what’s it about?’ The question had been intended as a distraction but a thought occurred to him and he halted, tugging her round to face him. ‘Holy shit, it’s kinky, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s full of smut, leather and furry handcuffs.’

  ‘Furry handcuffs are the best smut you can manage?’

  ‘Hell no. I can go as smutty, as dirty as you want to go.’ And God help him, with Mia he wanted to go everywhere and anywhere she did. ‘Obviously I draw the line at sheep, or any animal frankly, unless it’s in the background, watching. On second thoughts, that might be a bit intimidating, being stared at by a cow when you’re going at it in a field, but it ta
kes a lot to put me off my stride, so—’

  ‘For the love of all that is holy, stop!’ She put her hand up, laughter bubbling out of her. ‘Can we please change the subject? Maybe tell me where we’ll find this rain you promised?’

  As if he’d choreographed it – and for all her sweet words about his organisational skills, he certainly wasn’t that good – a few steps later they arrived at their destination. Tugging at her hand, he nodded at the advertising screen outside the Everyman cinema. ‘There’s your rain.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  As Mia stared at the advertising screen, it slowly begun to sink in. ‘We’re going to the cinema.’

  Luke pulled a face. ‘Please, don’t insult me. I’m not taking you to any old cinema. This is the best boutique cinema in Manchester.’

  ‘And we’ve come here to watch Singing in the Rain.’ She tried to think back to what she knew about the film, other than it was a musical and really, really old. ‘Is it even in colour?’

  ‘Of course.’ He hesitated, then frowned back at the advert. ‘Well, I assume it is.’ His smile was typical cocky Luke, but his eyes said he wasn’t as confident as he looked about his choice of date. Non-date. God, how easy to slip into thinking this was a real date. Holding her hand, using his big body to cushion her against the jolts on the bus. Even the way he’d greeted her, as if he’d wanted to kiss her but then realised he shouldn’t.

  The easy self-assurance was part of his charm. Yet how could a woman trust that charm when his track record showed how quickly he became bored, moving from conquest to conquest? Leaving a trail of women wondering what they’d done wrong. She’d spent too much of her life wondering why, had too many rugs yanked from under her feet. Now she wanted to focus on finding her feet

  ‘If you don’t fancy the film we can try somewhere else.’ His quietly spoken words jolted her out of her head. ‘Or we can just have a drink here because it is a really cool place and you might want to come back if there’s something more, I don’t know – funny, gory, sci-fi.’ He gave her a sheepish grin. ‘Honestly, I only picked this film because it made a funny message. I really wanted to watch Star Wars but I figured if I put a Death Star symbol up you might run a mile.’

  Mia burst out laughing. ‘And here’s me thinking you were some sort of film buff.’ She stared back at the screen advert. ‘Star Wars is my favourite, so I’d have totally gone with you for that, but you know what, I’ve never seen Singing in the Rain. Just snippets of Gene Kelly twirling his umbrella.’ She linked arms with him. ‘Let’s do it.’

  And wow, by the time she’d settled into the plush red velvet sofa – yes, the place didn’t have grubby seats but real, honest-to-God, two-seater velvet sofas – she didn’t actually care what film they were about to see. It was stunning. A real luxurious old-world vibe, taking people back to the days when going to the cinema was a rare treat, not something they did when they were bored on a rainy day.

  ‘You’re kidding.’ She gaped as a waiter placed two fancy-looking cocktails and a selection of nibbles – cashews, almonds and of course popcorn – onto the wooden table fixed to the arm of the sofa. ‘I don’t get Coke in a plastic cup with a straw?’

  ‘You know I’ve been dying to get a cocktail down you.’

  Cautiously she eyed up the vivid turquoise and blue creation. ‘What is it with you and nuclear cocktails?’

  ‘It’s not on the menu. I had to ask them to make it specially for you.’ He leant in to her, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. ‘It’s an Electric Smurf.’

  Her gaze flew to his and she could see he was struggling not to laugh. ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I know.’

  Merriment danced in his eyes, making them twinkle, and the breath caught in Mia’s throat. This man was stunning. Beyond good-looking, with his beautiful green eyes, his dimpled smile.

  In front of them the screen came to life. Mia was grateful for the diversion and the chance to regain her balance. Luke was her friend, this wasn’t a date. Even though they were sitting side by side on a velvet sofa, his thigh occasionally touching hers.

  Around them the lights went down, the atmosphere becoming even more intimate.

  She cleared her throat and took a sip of the cocktail. Not bad. ‘What’s in this deadly concoction?’

  Angling his head, he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. ‘Blue curacao, Malibu, pineapple juice, some lemonade. It should have pineapple rum too, but they didn’t have it.’ She could feel his smile against her skin and a shiver went through her. ‘I didn’t think you’d notice.’

  ‘Any more rum and I’ll sleep through the film.’

  He shifted closer, so now it wasn’t just the occasional brush of his body against hers. The contact was there, warm, solid and … God, she was tingling. And then, just as she was trying not to make a big deal of it, he raised his right arm and slid it across the back of the sofa behind her. ‘If you feel yourself nodding off, lean on me. I’m a pretty good pillow.’

  She had no sarky response, her brain too full of him; the citrus tang of his aftershave, the heat of his big body. It wasn’t how she imagined friends should feel. Wasn’t how she wanted it to feel.

  For God’s sake chill, Mia. It’s not a big deal. You’ll get used to him.

  She took another sip of the cocktail, and then another, feeling the alcohol start to relax her. ‘It’s really called an Electric Smurf?’ she whispered.

  ‘Of course. Thank God you didn’t go for the red highlights. The Red Riding Hood cocktail is a nightmare. Strawberry liqueur and champagne. It would have blown the budget.’ He fake shuddered. ‘We’d have had nothing left for popcorn.’

  Laughing softly, she grabbed the container of popcorn and shoved it at him. ‘Here, get your fill now. I don’t want to hear you munching when the film starts.’

  ‘Spoilsport, that’s all part of the cinema experience.’ Once again he shuffled closer to her so he could whisper in her ear. ‘As is making out on the back row.’

  Her stomach flip-flopped and she turned round to check there was still a row of seating behind them. ‘We’re not on the back row.’

  His grin turned wicked. ‘Yeah but nobody is sitting behind us, so technically you could argue we’re at the back.’

  Now her heart was pumping, knocking against her ribs. ‘Technically you could argue friends don’t make out.’

  There was beat of silence, followed by his quiet laughter. ‘Neatly put in my place.’

  Finally, thankfully, the film began to start and it wasn’t long before Mia lost herself in the musical. She couldn’t believe how many songs she recognised. Nor when she looked back on it later, would she believe how quickly she became used to sitting close to Luke. Once she’d turned off her paranoia, the act of leaning into him became as natural, and as pleasurable, as relaxing against the pillow he’d said he’d make. Except pillows weren’t as solid, or as warm. They didn’t move gently up and down as they breathed. And her body didn’t feel so achingly aware of them.

  As the credits rolled, Luke stood to stretch his legs, hoping the tightness around his groin area wasn’t as obvious to anyone else, as it was to him.

  He’d loved every moment of feeling her soft body pressed against his.

  But she wanted to be friends, so where he’d spent most of the film itching to draw his hand away from the back of the sofa and onto her shoulder, down her arm, over her breasts … yeah, when he’d thought of doing that, he’d had to reel himself back. He could truthfully say it was the first time he’d been to a cinema with a woman and not spent a lot of the time with his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her body.

  Bizarrely though, he’d enjoyed himself more tonight than he could remember doing in ages. Maybe he was one of those guys who got a buzz from being denied.

  Or maybe Mia was the most fascinating, funny, straightforward woman he’d ever met.

  Reaching out his hand, he tugged her to her feet. ‘Has an old movie and two cocktails do
ne you in for the night, or…?’ He paused, trying, and failing, to judge her mood.

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or, has it put you in the mood for more cocktails?’ He flashed her a hopeful smile. ‘I can probably even rustle up a place that does beer.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be called The Bar Beneath by any chance?’

  He tapped her lightly on the end of her cute nose. ‘Funny, but no. I was thinking somewhere you hadn’t been. Another one to cross off on your top one hundred places to visit in Manchester list.’

  ‘Top one hundred?’

  He shrugged. ‘Of course. You didn’t think I was going to fob you off with ten, did you?’

  ‘You must really want help with this website,’ she muttered as they made their way out of the theatre.

  He turned to her. ‘You think that’s all this is about?’

  ‘What else?’

  I can’t stop thinking about you. She’d run a mile if he phrased it like that. Yet when they exited into the balmy Manchester evening, he found he couldn’t simply make a joke of it, so he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘I enjoy being with you.’

  He watched her throat move as she swallowed. ‘You do?’

  He nodded, wondering what was going on behind those huge blue eyes. The longer he stared into them, the longer he took to reply, and the more charged the air around them became, until it felt as if electric sparks were pinging between his hands and her skin. She must have felt it too, because a shutter fell across her face and Luke silently cursed himself. Keep it light, you muppet. ‘I do,’ he repeated, his voice sounding gravelly. ‘I can truly say this is the most fun I’ve ever had with a Smurf.’

  It was exactly what she needed, because the tension left her face and she laughed. ‘Then you obviously haven’t met the right Smurfs.’

  ‘Clearly, but in the absence of any of your more entertaining blue cousins, I’m going to have to make do with you. So what is it to be – home, or cocktails?’