by Ella Hayes
‘Hello, Mia.’
There was a length of wet grey fabric dangling from his hands—what was left of his tee shirt, she supposed, given that his torso was bare. It was impossible not to notice his smooth golden skin, the washboard stomach, the trim, well-muscled legs. He must have been out running; that would account for the shorts and the trainers. The sight of him practically naked would account for the inconvenient rush of heat she felt. She adjusted her hold on Cleuso, wishing the onlookers would disappear, but if anything they were pressing closer, evidently curious as to what would happen next.
‘I...’ She stepped closer, trying to block out everything except his eyes, his smile. ‘I can’t thank you enough. If I wasn’t holding Cleuso, I’d give you a big hug.’
Why was he laughing? And then she knew why. Someone was lifting Cleuso out of her arms, pushing her forward gently, and suddenly she was laughing too, laughing, and blushing and stepping forward, putting her arms around him, carefully because of the scratches. Almost immediately she heard the soft slap of wet fabric hitting the ground, and then his arms were drawing her in, warm and tight. He was hugging her right back, and it was heavenly. Her hat fell off as she rose to kiss his damaged cheek, then she startled at a burst of cheering and clapping from the people watching because she’d forgotten they were there.
He looked at her for a long moment then released her, smiled and gave a little bow. Following his lead, she turned to face their audience, bobbing a little curtsey. And then a lady with grey hair put Cleuso back into her arms and the crowd melted away.
What to say next? She gave Cleuso a little hug then turned around. Theo’s arms were a mass of raised pink wheals, his shoulder too. It had to be stinging. She wondered if his tetanus shots were up to date.
‘Thank you again...so much.’ She glanced at Cleuso, rubbing his head softly. ‘This cat’s a total liability but I love him. I’d have gone mad with worry if he hadn’t come home.’
‘I know cats hate water, but I thought they could swim.’ He picked up her hat, brushed it off and placed it gently on her head.
She lifted her chin so he could seat it properly. ‘Probably most cats can...but Cleuso isn’t “most cats”.’ He was taking his time with the hat, but it gave her the chance to study his face. The scratches had narrowly missed his left eye. She wasn’t up to speed with the accepted wisdom around the hygiene of cats’ claws, but canal water was dirty, and Theo’s skin was broken all over. Antiseptic would probably be a good idea. ‘We should get something on those scratches.’
He stepped back, examining his arms. ‘I’ll live.’
He bent to pick up his ruined tee shirt, biceps, abs and hamstrings shifting like gears in a well-oiled machine. She moistened her lips. ‘But you might get septicaemia... When did you last have a tetanus?’
‘I have no idea.’ He wrung out his tee shirt and made to put it on.
‘You can’t wear it! It’ll be full of germs.’
He hesitated, amusement in his eyes. ‘It’s all I’ve got. Walking topless through the streets isn’t an option.’
She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Lots of people wouldn’t mind...’
He laughed roundly. ‘Are you objectifying me?’
She shook her head, widening her eyes. ‘Of course not.’ She glanced at the railing where she’d hurriedly propped her bicycle. ‘But you saved my cat, you’ve ruined your tee shirt and you’re risking septicaemia if you put that on. It’s no distance to the barge. Come back with me. We’ll deal with those scratches; I’ll dig out something of Ash’s for you to put on, and I’ll make you the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had. What do you say?’
He grinned. ‘Coffee sounds good.’
* * *
‘I wish I’d seen you planking over the water... You need to close your eye.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t want to get this stuff in it.’
He grinned, doing as he was told. ‘That’s not what I meant—and you know it.’
She carefully dabbed antiseptic along the scratches on his face, ignoring his sharp intake of breath. It was all she could do to control her own breathing, to stop her eyes from sliding over his naked torso. ‘I just wish I’d seen you in action, that’s all. I only saw the crowd, then Cleuso streaking towards me looking like a soggy dish mop.’
She moved on to his shoulder, trying to keep her fingers tight around the wad of cotton wool. If they so much as brushed his skin, it would be impossible not to run them over the smooth swell of muscle... ‘But planking like that...for so long...you must have abs of steel. No wonder you drew a crowd.’ She re-wetted the cotton wool ball with fresh disinfectant, stroking it slowly down the length of a deep scratch. Looking at his steely abs was not an option. He’d notice and, even though they were flirting a bit, she had to keep her head.
He winced again. ‘They were watching the rescue.’
A girl in the crowd had filled her in while she’d been gathering up Cleuso. ‘Some hot guy just saved this cat...planked over the edge so he could reach. He was awesome.’
She giggled. ‘You can keep telling yourself that if you like.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Are you objectifying me again?’
‘Not me.’ She held in a smile. ‘But I can’t speak for that crowd!’ The way the woman had taken Cleuso from her...pushed her towards Theo...that heavenly hug... ‘Those people were enjoying the spectacle, is all I’m saying.’ She grinned, handing him the bottle and a fresh piece of cotton wool. ‘You can do your arms now but don’t miss anywhere. I don’t want you getting sick.’
He sniffed the bottle. ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that. This stuff is caustic.’
‘It’s effective.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going to get you something to wear and then I’ll make that coffee.’
She felt his eyes on her back as she walked through the galley and into the guest cabin. There might have been a flicker of disappointment in his eyes when she’d put the antiseptic bottle into his hands but what else could she have done? Much as she’d enjoyed trailing the cotton-wool ball over his skin, tending the scratches that he could easily do himself would have changed the landscape, charged the atmosphere even more—it was already crackling.
She pulled out the drawer under the bunk, rummaging for something decent that Ash had left behind. The grey marl tee shirt he wore to the gym would do. She found it and held it out. Ash wasn’t as broad as Theo, but he was about the same height. She nudged the drawer shut with her foot and sat down on the bed. She needed to take a moment.
Somehow, she and Theo had progressed to casual flirting...and she liked it! She liked seeing the playful light in his eyes, the smile hovering on his lips every time he looked at her. That hug by the canal had changed things. They’d folded into each other so naturally, so easily. Signals transmitted and received without thinking. But her head had to catch up. She couldn’t let Theo’s heroics blind her. She still knew so little about him. She looked down at the tee shirt in her hands. The sooner he was wearing it, the easier it would be to keep her head.
In the salon, she found him sitting with Cleuso curled on his lap.
He looked up, eyes shining with a child-like delight. ‘I think he likes me.’
She smiled. ‘I should hope so. He owes you his life.’ She handed him the tee shirt and went to fill the kettle. Cleuso didn’t usually take to men but there he was, sleeping on Theo, completely chilled out. Was it a sign?
She scooped coffee into a jug, calling over her shoulder, ‘It was lucky you were passing.’
‘I guess.’
She made the coffee and took it through. The tee shirt was a neat fit but at least it seemed long enough. She handed him a cup. ‘So, is Sunday your running day?’
He shook his head. ‘I run every day...but I usually go early in the morning.’
She settled herself at the other end of the sofa.
‘It’s the best time, isn’t it? Quiet...peaceful. It’s when I do most of my writing.’
He nodded, stroked Cleuso’s head.
His fingers were long, his nails clean and neatly trimmed. There were fine, golden hairs on the backs of his hands.
‘I wasn’t just passing, Mia.’
Her heart fluttered. ‘I’m sorry...?’
‘I was in Vondelpark and I decided to drop in on you. That’s why I was at the bridge; I was on my way here.’
His steady gaze sent a flush of warmth into her cheeks. So he’d been thinking about her too... It hadn’t been just her, thinking about him.
‘I wanted to see you because when I left the other evening I forgot to ask you if I could take you for lunch some time.’
Lunch was safe. He was playing it safe. Maybe he was as scared as she was. For some reason the thought warmed her. She smiled. ‘I’d like that.’
He drained his cup and gently lifted Cleuso off his lap. ‘I have to go, but if I can have your number I’ll call you soon, okay?’
‘I’ll give you my card.’ She got up and retrieved a business card from her bag. When she turned around, he was on his feet. She stepped towards him. ‘Thanks again—you’re a hero.’
His eyes clouded. ‘No. No, I’m not.’ He took the card, tucking it into the pocket of his shorts. When he looked at her again, his eyes were warm and bright. ‘You’re the hero...heroine, rather. You’ve saved me from an almost certain death by septicaemia.’
She pressed her fingers to her eyes, laughing. ‘Goodbye, Theo.’
‘Goodbye, Mia.’ He looked into her face for a long second, then leapt up the steps and disappeared through the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
LOTTE’S EYEBROWS ARCHED. ‘You mean the handsome guy...the one who didn’t want to be photographed?’
Mia nodded slowly. ‘Yeah.’
‘Wow! Even I’d make an exception for him.’ She ripped open a sugar sachet and emptied the contents into her coffee. ‘And you’re having second thoughts because...?’
Mia ran a finger around the rim of her cup. So many reasons... Because she didn’t know how Ash would react. Because she already liked Theo too much, risked liking him even more if she went to lunch with him, and that scared her because a casual lunch was exactly how things had started with Hal.
She met Lotte’s clear, blue gaze. ‘I don’t know... Maybe it’s just the thought of starting all over again. Once bitten and all that.’
‘Stop projecting!’
Lotte was stirring her coffee and biting into her hagelslag sandwich, talking with her mouth full because she was pressed for time. She had a shoot across town, some sort of fashion thing.
‘He hasn’t asked you to marry him. It’s only lunch.’
Only lunch!
That was the problem: there was no ‘only’ where Theo Molenaar was concerned, but Lotte didn’t know that, because Mia hadn’t kept her in the loop. She hadn’t told Lotte about cycling home from the fundraiser or about Cleuso in the canal. It wasn’t that she was being secretive on purpose. It was just that Theo was so private, and Lotte was, well, Lotte was Lotte.
She lifted her cup to her lips. ‘So you think I should go?’
Lotte shot her an incredulous look. ‘Hell yeah! You’ve lived here for eighteen months and you haven’t been out with a single person in all that time. Of course you should go!’ She dabbed a finger around her plate, picking up the stray chocolate sprinkles. ‘Anyway, I thought you were a fatalist—what’s meant for you won’t pass you by, remember?’ She daintily licked the sprinkles off her finger. ‘If you look at it that way, there’s nothing to decide. You can just let everything unfold because the future’s set!’
Mia sighed. She’d hoped for something else from Lotte—some unbridled cynicism, some consensus about what a bad idea it would be to have lunch with Theo.
Lotte was frowning at her watch. ‘I’m sorry but I’ve got to go.’ She shimmied out of her seat, hoisting her camera bag onto her shoulder. When she looked down again her gaze was soft, full of warmth. ‘Lighten up, Mia. Just have fun. Theo seemed really nice to me.’ She bent down, kissed Mia’s cheek quickly and then she was weaving her way through the tables, disappearing through the door.
Mia sipped her coffee, let out another little sigh. She’d learned to her cost that ‘seeming’ wasn’t the same thing as ‘being’. If only you could see a person’s true colours without having to weather a rainstorm. The rain had washed Hal’s colours away, had left her with nothing but grey. A shiver hovered at the base of her spine. Could she bear to go through all that again?
Stop projecting!
Her eyes drifted to a young couple two tables away. She could see the invisible bubble around them. They were in the thick of love, oblivious to the clatter of cups, deaf to the screech and burble of the coffee machine, to the funky jazz playing over the sound system.
Theo at the canal, scratched and smiling... She’d risen up onto her toes to kiss his cheek, had been startled by the sound of clapping from the crowd, because for that moment she’d been in a bubble of her own.
Dangerous!
She turned to look through the window. People were going by with chins down, braced against the breeze. The trees were swaying, wind tugging at branches and leaves, tussling with the flowers in the café’s hanging baskets. He’d saved her cat... No! He’d saved a cat. On their way back to the barge, he’d said that he hadn’t known it was Cleuso until she’d emerged through the crowd with him in her arms. So he was a man who saved random cats. A man who couldn’t bear to see suffering. Surely that was a real thing; a vibrant, shining thing about him? A true colour!
She put her cup down and twisted it back and forth on the saucer. Everything about Theo drew her in. She was right on the edge of that bubble, could feel it closing around her every time she looked in his eyes.
‘I thought you were a fatalist.’
It wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear from Lotte, because if fate was playing a hand in all this then there was no arguing with the facts. She’d literally bumped into Theo at that fundraiser then, of all the cats in Amsterdam, it had been her cat he’d rescued, just as she’d been cycling by. Serendipity might well be making a fool of her, but there was only one way to find out. She’d have to keep that lunch date.
* * *
Theo hiked up his coat collar, scanning the street for Mia’s bright-orange bicycle, but there were no bikes to be seen, just people scurrying along with umbrellas. He’d offered to pick her up in his car but for some reason she’d been adamant about meeting him at the restaurant. Maintaining independence was understandable, he supposed, but cycling in this squall had to be a nightmare, and it wasn’t as if this was a blind date that she might want to escape from. They’d spent time together. Enough to have weighed each other up a little bit.
He touched the scratch at the side of his eye, felt a smile coming. There’d been more than a little weighing up going on when she’d been bathing his battle scars. Every look she’d given him had made his heart pump faster. The way she’d trailed the cotton pad over his skin; the bite of the antiseptic; the tingle lingering on...pain and desire burning through him with every long, slow, stinging caress. He hadn’t been touched in a long time, hadn’t wanted her to stop, but he could understand why she had. When she’d handed him the bottle, the air had been thick with something more than the smell of antiseptic.
It was why he’d suggested lunch, not dinner. Lunch was safe. Lunch would level things up, give them a chance to talk casually. Being in a confined space with Mia—in the car to Greenwich; in the small sitting room on the barge—played havoc with his senses, set his imagination going, leaping ahead, weaving scenarios. Maybe she felt it too. Maybe that was why she’d refused a lift. Hadn’t he told her that his car was compact?
He turned his back to the breeze, watching the rain sheetin
g across the canal. At least there was a canopy over the restaurant entrance. He hadn’t wanted to wait inside, leave her to walk in on her own—that wasn’t his style. He glanced at his watch, felt a twist in his gut. For a splintered second his head filled with a vision of wet cobbles...a tangled bicycle... But his father had been drunk, had blundered straight into the path of the tram. The weather had been incidental. He drew a long breath and pushed away his dread thoughts. Mia was far too sensible to end up under the wheels of a tram. She was late, that was all. Or...maybe she’d changed her mind.
He swallowed hard, turning to look at the street once more. Still no bicycles, but there was a figure walking quickly along the pavement, drawing near. She was in a trench coat and dainty black boots and she was holding a red umbrella that had a price tag dangling from its innards. He couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t have to. The way she carried herself and the way she moved already seemed to be imprinted on some part of his brain. And then she was right there in front of him, tilting the umbrella back, looking into his face and smiling. It was like being struck by a meteor shower.
‘You’re here!’
She shook her umbrella, folded it and stepped under the canopy. ‘Of course I’m here.’ Wet drops glistened on her cheeks, clinging to the strands of hair that fell about her face. ‘Did you think I wasn’t coming?’
‘It crossed my mind.’ He smiled. ‘But I was hoping you would...’
Her tongue touched her bottom lip. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. I had a puncture, so I had to abandon the bike, and then it started pelting down, so I had to buy an umbrella.’
Her lips were red, dewy from whatever she’d put on them. ‘If you’d let me pick you up...’
‘I know. I’ve been reflecting on that all the way here.’
‘You should have called... I’d have come.’
Clear brown eyes held his. ‘I know you would, but...’ She glanced at the door. ‘Shall we go in?’
‘Of course.’ He opened the door, stepping aside for her. ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. You must be cold.’
