Take a Chance on Me: Blind-Date Marriage / Saying Yes to the Millionaire

However, his best, knock-her-socks-off smile never made it past the planning stage—mainly because the waiter had stopped at the table and pulled out the chair opposite her.

He just stood and stared.

The waiter fidgeted and she waved him away. Then she smiled at Jake. He wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Jacobs. I’m pleased you could make it—this time.’

‘But you’re … You can’t be …’

‘I’m Serena. Pleased to meet you, Charles—or is it Jake?’

He swallowed.

She couldn’t be Serena—her teeth were far too lovely.

She cocked her head on one side, waiting. Reading his mind, as it turned out.

‘I wore my hair this way just for you,’ she said, and turned her head so the ponytail swished towards him. Then she leant forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Just so you could tell which end of the horse was which.’

Something inside him snapped to attention. She knew! She’d been ready and waiting for him, and he’d walked straight in to her little trap.

‘Touché,’ he said, his voice unusually croaky.

She was really enjoying this. Her eyes were bright and smiling, but without a hint of malice. She wasn’t angry, just teasing him, asking him to share the joke.

He held his hands up in surrender. ‘Okay, you got me. When did you know?’

She took a sip of her drink.

‘Oh, not until after you stood me up. I found your business card in my pocket. An amazing coincidence, don’t you think? I suppose I could have phoned you this morning and warned you, but the opportunity to have a little fun was too good to pass up.’ She stopped and gave him a very genuine smile. ‘I can’t really be cross, can I? It was my fault entirely. You only cancelled because I drowned you. I suggest we start again. Deal?’

‘Deal.’ He dropped into the high-backed leather chair and offered her his hand. ‘Charles Jacobs. But nobody calls me that any more—except my sister when she’s angry with me. My friends call me Jake.’

She clasped his hand and shook it. Hers was small and delicate and unbelievably soft. The smile he’d abandoned earlier returned without his bidding.

‘I don’t think I need to tell you my name again, do I? I think, after today, you’re never going to forget it.’

‘You don’t look like a Serena.’

‘You don’t look like a Charles, either. Why Jake?’

‘Boys called Charles got punched where I grew up. Some of my friends shortened my last name and it stuck. It was easier, anyway. I’m named after my father, and it was a relief to have a way to tell us apart.’

‘You didn’t fancy Junior, then?’

Her smile was warm and easy. He didn’t mind her teasing him one bit. Somehow it made him feel welcomed—part of an elite club where they were the only two members—rather than putting him on the defensive. People didn’t normally get away with ribbing him like this.

‘Don’t say you think it suits me!’

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Her chocolate-brown eyes held him hypnotised. It took the waiter appearing for their drinks order to break the spell.

They both ordered something non-alcoholic. Thank goodness he’d remembered he was driving before he’d downed that Scotch in one! The waiter moved away unnoticed.

‘Your turn to spill the beans,’ he said.

‘Which beans would those be?’

‘You could tell me your name.’

She frowned. ‘It’s Serena. Don’t you believe me? Do you think I’m really called Mildred or Ethel?’

‘Of course I believe you. I just want to know the rest of your name. You can’t be just Serena.’

‘Why not? Madonna only uses her first name.’

‘But she has a last name too—she just doesn’t need to use it. The same thing wouldn’t work for you. If I tried to look up Serena in the phone book, I’d never find you. You’ve got to give me a bit more. For all I know you could disappear again, like you did last night, and I’d be none the wiser.’

She looked thoughtfully at the tablecloth. ‘Oh. I see.’

‘So? Serena … what?’

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. ‘Sorry, Charlie, that’s on a need-to-know basis only.’

He leant forward and stared straight into her eyes. ‘What if I really need to know?’

‘I’d have to be really convinced.’ She laughed and waved her hand in the air. ‘Telling you my last name is too much of a commitment; I don’t like to be tied down. But don’t worry. If I think you can handle it, I’ll tell you.’

Jake smiled. A girl on his wavelength. No ties. No strings. Just seeing what the future brought, minute by minute. She was right: he would find out her name. He liked her style—she was keeping him on his toes. It was very refreshing.

Talking to her was easy. He hardly noticed the first course slip by. She was funny and articulate, and he found himself talking back in a way that would have surprised his business associates. Sure, he could turn on the charm when it suited him. It was hard-wired into his genetic make-up. He used it as a mirror, reflecting anything that tried to pierce his armour, so no one got below the surface. Yet as he talked to Serena he found himself giving away little snippets of information he didn’t normally make public. Nothing big, just stuff he didn’t normally share: what book he’d read most recently, what kind of music he liked. Silly things.

Halfway through their main course he stopped eating and watched her butcher her steak. When her mouth closed round the fork, her eyelids fluttered shut and she let out a little sigh of satisfaction. There was an air of primal sensuality about her. And for some reason he wasn’t feeling totally civilised himself at the moment, either. It was as if all the layers of varnish he’d carefully applied over the years were peeling away, leaving him feeling like the gawky teenager he’d once been. He should be scared of that feeling.

She looked up at him as she finished chewing her mouthful, her eyes questioning.

‘I didn’t realise six ounces of sirloin could be so riveting.’

Caught red-handed—or red-faced, to be exact.

He said the first thing that popped into his head. ‘I’m just surprised to see you demolishing it with such gusto. You look more of a beansprouts-and-tofu kind of girl to me.’ He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the long hair, the intricate earrings that dangled from her ears, or the skirt that swooshed when she crossed her legs.

She dropped her knife and fork and scowled at him.

‘I’ve had enough beansprouts to last me a lifetime, believe me! My parents were dedicated vegans until—’ Her breath caught for a second. ‘Never mind. Let’s just say my love of animal flesh is probably teenage rebellion that’s way past its sell-by date.’ She grinned. ‘Since I was fourteen I’ve been a true carnivore. In fact, I’d go as far as to say I’ve never met a bit of cow I didn’t like.’

She speared the next piece of steak and blood oozed out of it.

Jake shuddered, unable to tear his gaze away.