‘Yes.’ She looked out to sea. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’
‘I’m not sure.’ He paused, waited until she switched her attention to him. ‘Why would you want to be?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re great. Why would you want to be someone else, to change?’
‘Great? What are you on about?’ Who was this guy with the blunt, annoying charm? ‘You don’t know me.’
‘But I’d like to. And I’m just going on what I’ve seen so far.’
‘And what do you see?’
‘Someone drenched in colour. An adventurer. Someone who enjoys life, who’s opinionated but not rude. A woman who has burdens to bear but who’s doing her best to shoulder them. A woman who can laugh at herself.’
‘Oh.’ She’d expected him to reel off a cross-examination of her face and body. It was dangerous that she liked that he hadn’t. ‘You saw all that, huh?’
‘Yeah. Along with beautiful curly hair, Roman nose-’
‘Bumpy you mean.’
He waved a large hand. ‘A dignified nose that with your hair makes you look like a goddess from the days when Rome was glorious and debauched.’
‘Pfft-’ She made a dismissive sound. ‘Corny. Have you been watching that Spartacus TV series? You need to work on your pick up lines.’
‘No, and it’s not a line. I also love your belly button ring; it’s sexy. If there were modern slaves I reckon they’d have them. Along with that flowing Celtic tattoo that curls around your arm,’ he pointed to her right bicep, ‘it’s a great contrast. Womanly but tough.’
‘You watch too much TV.’
‘I read too many books.’ He set her right. ‘You’re different.’
‘Some people don’t like different.’ She thought of Stuart. ‘They like normal.’
‘Normal is boring. Who wants boring?’ He wrenched his top off and gestured to the defined abs ridging his stomach. ‘Snap.’
‘Am I supposed to be admiring your body?’
‘You can if you want to.’ His mouth curled into a crooked smile that made her heart flutter. Uh-oh. ‘But no, look.’ Pulling the waistband of his shorts down slightly he showed her the spiky tribal pattern of ink branding the skin on his hip.
‘A tattoo.’ Gorgeous, expressive. Him all over.
‘Right. So, for the last time, dinner?’ He edged nearer, invading her space.
Standing her ground, Melissa bit her bottom lip, wondering. What was the right thing to do? She was sad and cross and sorry. Mostly relieved. She missed Stuart, but wasn’t heartbroken. There were other things in life to focus on. A loving family, good friends, her business. She thought about the paradise surrounding her. Company would be nice. Thought about the man in front of her, what he’d said. Realised that he understood her more, in three short days and a handful of encounters, than her ex ever had.
Still, it was too soon to start something. ‘No,’ she stepped away.
His face dropped. ‘Fair enough. At least I asked.’
She took a deep breath. Yeah, it was too soon to start something … but she wasn’t stupid. You had to begin somewhere. ‘Lunch, not dinner,’ she stated. ‘However, first … ’ Hunkering down on the sand she pulled the toe ring off with only a little resistance. Standing, she put her arm back as far as it would go, and with all her strength tossed it out into the wide blue-green sea. ‘There.’
‘Bad memories?’ he asked, watching the ring sparkle in the sunlight on its impressive arc into the water.
‘Not all of them. But new ones would be better.’ Picking up her book and towel she gestured in the direction of the bar. ‘Drink?’
‘Absolutely.’
Glancing at him as they matched steps over the sand, side by side, she clocked the glint of gold in his hair and the adorable crinkles at the corners of his brown eyes. Felt the warmth of the sun on her skin. Smiled with the hope lifting her heart.
A day in the life of someone else? Right that moment she was perfectly happy to be … her. Just her.
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Love Will Find You
By Teresa F Morgan
Lucy leaned in to clear the jammed photocopier, cursing under her breath. She was doing a favour for a colleague. A very handsome colleague, so she’d agreed more than happily to help him. But it was taking longer than anticipated.
Scott Harridan had come to her only minutes ago, looking stressed, glancing at his watch. She’d been on the phone and as soon as she had ended the call he’d approached her.
“Lucy, are you busy? I need this report copied for a meeting in half an hour. I’d do it myself, but I haven’t finished my presentation.”
She glanced around the office. Only a couple of colleagues were sitting at their desks, engrossed in their work. Would they miss her for five minutes?
“I know I’m not part of your department, but our assistant is off sick today.”
“Sure, no problem,” she said, unable to say no to those eyes. And maybe, the quicker she said yes, the quicker he’d go. However much she liked making him smile, his presence made her clumsy and her body temperature would rise like a volcano erupting inside her. Always did when he entered her office.
She’d taken the reports, promising to drop them on his desk in ten minutes, and hurried off to the copying room.
“Next on my list - phone an engineer,” she muttered, pulling out the culprit causing the jam, a piece of paper creased and crinkled like a fan. The photocopier had been jamming a lot lately. She pressed the start button and the machine groaned back to life, flashing, whirring, and spitting the copies into the trays. It had run out of staples, too. Another job for her list; staple the reports.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leaned on her elbows, onto the machine. It was only Tuesday and she was already wishing for Friday. But was she really looking forward to this Friday? She’d been invited out with her friends to see the latest chick-flick, but that was the last thing she needed, sitting between her two best friends – and their boyfriends – watching a romantic comedy. She still hadn’t decided whether to go. What better way to feel like a right gooseberry and to be reminded of her own lack of ‘love life’?
The last guy she’d dated had been a total idiot, and luckily, she’d ended it before getting hurt, seeing quickly it was never going to be true love. She could hear her mum’s voice ringing inside her head. “Don’t go looking for love. It will find you.”
So that’s what she was doing, waiting for love to find her. One day Mr Right would show up, on a big white horse, drawing his sword, rescuing this damsel in distress …
Yeah, right.
She quite fancied Scott as her ‘Mr Right’. He’d only joined the company a few months ago. Erica in accounts was convinced he had a girlfriend or something.
“Because no way is a guy that good-looking single,” she’d said.
Lucy sighed. She’d spoken with Scott occasionally, like today, and she’d always feel herself blushing, or her mouth would dry up and she’d speak total gibberish, unable to finish sentences. So unprofessional, what must he think of her. Even when she noticed his name in some document as she typed it up, she was surprised how the words ‘Scott Harridan’ made her heart flutter.
Yes, she was being ridiculous.
She remembered the first time he had her flustered – sitting on her desk, chatting away, looking at her with those hazel eyes of his. Dazzling they were. Hypnotic. Completely distracted, fumbling for a pen and notepad, she had knocked her knee on her drawer as she opened it. But maybe that was just the effect he had on women. Other girls in the office also turned gooey at the sight of him, even the married ones.
But he’d sat there, all professional, co-ordinating his travel arrangements with her. Some big conference all the managers were attending in New York, and he was getting to go on the jolly, too. He talked cheerf
ully, and acted friendly enough, discussing the best flights to take. He sat so close she could smell his aftershave. She wanted to touch him – but she kept her hands firmly over her keyboard. He was being pleasant enough; she didn’t think he was looking down his nose at her. But she hardly thought he’d be checking her out for ‘Mrs Right’ material.
Nice guy, but probably knew he was drop dead gorgeous. He just didn’t act arrogant in the office. What was he like outside of work … in a pub, restaurant, or cinema? She sighed. Probably had a different girl each weekend, swooning around him. Like he’d even see Lucy Smith.
The photocopier stopped and at first she thought it had jammed again. Then she realised she’d been standing by the machine, day-dreaming and it had actually finished its job successfully. She would still make a call for an engineer. Hopefully they’d send the cute guy who came in last time. He had a nice smile … but not as nice as Scott’s.
Oh for pity’s sake, Lucy! You’re twenty-three. Get a grip. You’re hardly spinster material – yet. Listen to your mother. Love will find you.
She sighed deeply and took all the copies out of the tray. The photocopier had collated the reports neatly so all she had to do back at her desk was staple them. She’d have them in time for Scott’s meeting and maybe he’d at least notice her efficiency.
Walking down the corridor on autopilot, both arms laden with the papers, and again worrying about the coming weekend, she backed through the double doors. As she pushed, someone came through the other door, bumping into her, knocking the reports clean out of her arms.
“Oh, no!” she said, forgetting herself, cursing. Sheets of paper were strewn across the floor as she fumbled to pick them up. “This is all I need,” she mumbled in annoyance.
Two large, male hands scrabbled to help collect the papers. “Sorry, it was my fault.”
Lucy looked up to see whom the two hands belonged to. Following the hands, the arms, the rolled-up sleeves, she looked directly into the eyes of Scott Harridan, his face inches away from hers.
Oh, no.
She swallowed and looked back to the mess on the floor, shaking her head.
“Oh, uh, it was probably my fault,” she said, unable to look at him.
“No, I was in a rush. I should’ve seen you coming through the doors.” Scott continued to help. “Are these my reports?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. The photocopier ran out of staples, and then it kept jamming … ” You’re babbling, Lucy.
“I’ll sort them out if you’re busy. I need them in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’m not busy,” she lied. “Look, I’ll put the reports together.” She smiled, trying to ignore the irrational thumping heartbeats. “Where is your meeting? I’ll run them straight up to you.”
Lucy had all the papers gathered in her arms as they rose to their feet. He still stood close. The scent of his aftershave triggered things inside of her she was embarrassed to think about.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged and smiled, hoping it didn’t look nervous. Silently she prayed her cheeks were not shining red hot – like they felt – and that her makeup had her covered.
“I’m in the large meeting room, top floor. It’s called–”
“The Wentworth.”
“That’s it! Lucy, I owe you one.”
Lucy giggled. “Yeah, buy me dinner or something.”
Where had that come from? I’m joking! Sort of.
Someone walked through the double doors, saying hello as they stepped awkwardly around them. Lucy quickly broke the gaze, looking at the papers, as Scott slung his hands into his pockets.
“Right, well, I’ll be getting on,” she said, turning on her heel. She pushed one of the doors, Scott holding it for her, and she nodded. “The Wentworth, right?” Then she walked, fast, towards her office, hoping it didn’t look like she was running.
Why did it have to be him of all people? And why did I mention dinner?
She arrived, exasperated, dumping the papers on her desk. Most of the people she looked after were away from their desks. If no one pestered her in the next five minutes she could do this. She let out a deep breath.
With no time to lose, she separated and sorted the muddled papers, and as she completed each report, she stapled it, for fear it could get messed up again. She kept replaying her stupid dinner comment and how Scott had reacted. Horrified? He’d certainly gone quiet.
Had anyone else heard her? Would Scott be gentlemanly enough to pretend he hadn’t?
Once all of the reports were stapled, she re-clipped her hair and applied some lipstick, wanting to look her best, and then hurried up to the meeting room. Glancing at her watch, she saw she was a little early, but she knocked, just in case, before entering. There were only three people sitting at the oval table, but no Scott. She relaxed, actually relieved he wasn’t there.
She nervously greeted them with a smile and made her way to the top of the table. Seeing a notepad and pen, she grabbed a sheet and wrote;
‘Scott, here are your reports. Apologies for any delay. Lucy.’
She placed the note on top of the reports, feeling pleased that she looked resourceful, as all assistants should do, and left the room as more attendees filtered in. She had mixed feelings about not bumping into Scott, but reminded herself it was probably for the best. She’d only turn into a blithering mess, again.
Settled back at her desk, Lucy started through her in-tray. She frowned at a pink sheet of paper tucked underneath other papers in her tray. She swallowed, reading the handwritten message - twice to make sure - and smiled excitedly.
Can you make Friday, 7.30pm? I’ll pick you up. Scott.
She would always remember the smiley face he’d drawn.
Storm in a Coffee Cup
By Teresa F. Morgan
“He’s coming!” Chloe, who’d been wiping down some tables near the front window, hurried back behind the counter.
Amber quickly checked her make-up in the chrome of the coffee machine, even though it distorted her reflection. She fingered her fringe to neaten it, tightened her strawberry blonde ponytail, and rubbed her lips to distribute her lip-gloss evenly. To make herself look busy, she nervously tidied the cups and saucers stacked on top of the machine.
Dear God, why had she let herself get like this? She was twenty-eight, yet acting more like fifteen.
He pushed open the front door and entered the cafe with a confident stride. Handsome as ever, wearing a light blue tie and a smoky-grey suit, with short, black hair waxed to perfection.
“Good morning. The usual?” Amber asked as coolly as possible, ignoring the feeling that her heart had jumped up to her throat. All messages from her brain on how to speak properly were blocked the second she’d looked into his green eyes. She prided herself on being an intelligent woman, but the minute she had to confront her mystery man, it was as if her IQ dropped. Luckily, Chloe helped her out – usually by giving her a kick under the counter.
“Takeaway, please,” he said, smiling at her. He paid Chloe while Amber worked the coffee machine. Somehow, she managed to make the perfect cappuccino, though her hands trembled and her brain buzzed just knowing he was watching her.
Chemistry. It had to be, like invisible electricity passing between them. That’s what had started this all off. It had hit her with a jolt, and she’d convinced herself the feeling was mutual. Then, thinking she could never be that lucky, she convinced herself he didn’t like her at all. Which now meant she couldn’t look him in the eye without becoming a furnace. Why was she a pale, freckled creature who turned red at the slightest embarrassing moment?
She noticed his hand, resting on the counter. No wedding ring – not that it meant anything. But he never talked about a wife or girlfriend.
Still hopeful, Amber sprinkled the coffee with chocolate, put on the lid, and handed it over. Their hands touched briefly, their eyes meeting. She was determined to keep eye contact, not look down at the counter, or over his s
houlder.
“Thanks, Amber,” he said.
“Oh.” She blushed. Damn the name badge. “That’s not fair. I don’t know your name and you come in often enough.” What was she doing?
“Yes, I work in an office around the corner,” he replied, chuckling. “I’m Nathan.”
“Busy day ahead?” she asked, desperate to keep him talking to her.
Nathan nodded. “Yes. Boring meetings most of the day.”
“Well, hopefully the caffeine will keep you awake.”
He laughed again. She loved the sound. “True.” He glanced at his watch. “Right, see you later,” he said, waving. Amber watched him walk out of her cafe and out of view, then sighed. Was that the best she could do? She sounded like a babbling wreck. Could have been worse, though – they could have discussed the weather. At least now she knew his name.
“Did you use the heart-shaped stencils?” Chloe said, interrupting Amber’s thoughts.
“No!”
“Why not?”
“I’ve decided it was a silly idea of mine. Besides, he had a takeaway, so wouldn’t notice what he gets on his coffee. He won’t even take off the lid.” Currently, they were using a swirly pattern to top the coffees with chocolate sprinkles, or cinnamon if preferred. The hearts usually came out in February.
“So? You should still use it. Just in case. The odd chocolate love heart sprinkled on his coffee might make him realise you like him,” Chloe said. Another customer arrived, and Amber took the order while Chloe dreamily continued, “Love messages by chocolate. So romantic … ”
Amber pulled a face as she made two espressos for the customer. Would it be romantic … or downright embarrassing?
“He’ll be back at lunchtime, so you can do it then.” Chloe whipped her with a tea towel.
Amber decided not to argue. With a nervous smile, she placed the espressos on a tray, with two napkins. Her customer smiled back, like he was trying not to laugh. Another regular. Male. Not bad looking either. But girlfriend in tow by the looks of things. Gosh, and had they heard every word Chloe said?
Feeling warmth rise to her cheeks, she turned her attention to wiping down the surfaces and tidying the toppers, making sure the heart-shaped one was tucked amongst them. Maybe she would get brave this lunchtime and use it. What did she have to lose?
Be My Valentine Page 3
