The Blind Date Surprise

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Actually, no—it’s a guy.’

He managed to look charmingly disappointed before moving away to take orders from a nearby table.

Annie took a sip of water and wished she could press the cool glass against her hot cheeks. She told herself that it didn’t matter that Damien was late. He was probably battling his way though a traffic jam, cursing fate. Any minute now he’d come bursting out of the lift, full of apologies.

She counted to a hundred and then took another sip. After reaching three hundred and taking more sips, she watched a couple on the other side of the room reach across their table to hold hands then gaze romantically into each other’s eyes.

Somewhere in the background a guitar was playing Beautiful Dreamer.

Sigh. How many hours had she spent dreaming about this date in the city? About what Damien would think of her, what she’d think of him.

She’d worried about saying the wrong things, or discovering that he had some terrible off-putting habit. She’d considered endless ways to suss out whether he was married. That was her biggest fear. But she’d never once imagined that she would be sitting here alone. Without him.

The worst thing was that on her own in the city, surrounded by people, she felt even lonelier than she did in the outback, when she was surrounded by nothing but gumtrees and wild mountains.

She turned to look out of the window at the lights in the tall buildings around her, at the flickering neon signs in the distance, at the street lights way below and the headlights and tail-lights of the traffic—red and white rivers flowing in opposite directions…

Where was Damien?

Perhaps she should have given him her mobile phone number, but she’d been playing it cautious until she met him. Now she was tempted to ring Mel and Victoria just for a little friendly reassurance, but she resisted the urge.

She didn’t want to look at her watch. Oh, well, perhaps a quick glimpse. Oh, God. Damien was twenty-five minutes late.

Maybe this was a guy thing. Damien was establishing the upper hand, making her wait. And wait…

Around her, people’s meals were arriving. The food was served on enormous white plates. Someone was having linguini drizzled with a pale green sauce and it looked divine.

Roberto came back and asked her if there was anything else he could bring her. Some bruschetta, perhaps? She shook her head, but she realised that other diners were casting curious glances her way. Again.

Oh, Damien. I know you probably can’t help it, but this is so disappointing.

How much longer would she have to wait?

When the waiter left, Annie fingered her cute new clutch handbag and reconsidered using her phone to have a quick chat with the girls. But as she flicked the clasp she saw the man who guarded the front of the restaurant walking towards her. What now? Was he going to ask her to order some food or leave?

‘Miss McKinnon?’ he said as he approached.

‘Yes?’ Her stomach lurched. How did he know her name?

‘We’ve received a phone call—a message from Mr Grainger.’

‘Yes?’ she said again and her heart jolted painfully.

‘He’s had to cancel this evening’s engagement.’

Cancel?

Whoosh! Slam! Annie felt as if she’d been tipped through the window and was falling to the pavement twenty-seven floors below.

Damien couldn’t cancel. Not like this. ‘No,’ she squeaked. ‘That’s not possible. There must be a mistake.’

The man in black’s jaw clenched.

Wrong thing to say.

She tried again. ‘Did—did Mr Grainger say why he has cancelled?’

She must have looked totally stricken because his face softened a fraction. ‘I’m afraid the person who rang didn’t offer an explanation. He asked me to apologise, Miss McKinnon. Apparently he’s been trying to ring for some time, but our line has been busy. He hopes you will understand.’

Understand? Of course she didn’t understand. She couldn’t possibly understand. Annie felt so suddenly awful she wondered if she was going to be sick right there in front of everyone. ‘Didn’t he tell you anything? Are you sure he didn’t—explain—?’

The man sighed and shook his head as if he found this situation tiresome.

‘What should I do?’ she asked. ‘Do—do I owe you any money?’

‘No. And you are still very welcome to dine here. The caller is happy to pay for your meal.’

The caller? Nothing made sense. ‘Damien Grainger called, didn’t he?’

‘No, it was Mr Grainger’s uncle.’

His uncle? This was really crazy. Where was Damien? Why hadn’t he rung? Was he sick? Oh, goodness, yes. That had to be the problem. Damien was suddenly, horribly, unavoidably, violently ill. From his sickbed he’d begged this uncle to phone her.

‘Shall I send for a menu?’ the man asked her.

Annie shook her head. Her throat was so choked she couldn’t speak and there was no way she could possibly think about eating. Not in the midst of tragedy. This was the single worst moment in her life.

Grabbing her bag, she managed to stand and then she took a deep breath and began to walk…past the other tables…conscious of the unbearable curiosity of the diners. Holding her head high and her shoulders back, she stared straight ahead, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye.

It wasn’t until she was safely out of the restaurant and behind the closed doors of the lift that she collapsed against the wall and covered her mouth with her hand and tried to hold back the horrible sobs that swelled in her throat and burned her. Was it possible to bear this disappointment, this horrible humiliation?

As the lift cruised downwards, she fumbled in her purse for her phone.

‘Mel,’ she sobbed as soon as there was an answer.

‘Annie, where are you?’

‘I’m in the lift at the Pinnacle.’

‘Why? Are you running away?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, my God, what happened?’

‘Nothing! Where are you?’