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

‘Aren’t you going to finish your swordfish?’

He picked up his cutlery and shoved something from his plate into his mouth. He didn’t taste what it was. He just had to remind himself to keep cutting and chewing until his plate was empty.

Serena eyed the dessert menu when her plate had been taken away. ‘Aren’t you having any?’

‘Not for me. I don’t really eat dessert. I think I’ll just have a coffee.’

‘Mmm. Perhaps I should too, but that chocolate concoction looks—’

Her mobile phone trilled.

‘Excuse me. I forgot to turn it off. I won’t be a second.’

‘No problem.’

He leaned back in his seat and took the opportunity to study her while her attention was elsewhere.

‘Hello? Oh, it’s you. I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of … No, don’t do that! Just stay put, will you? Yes, but … Look! Just give the phone to Benny … Let me talk to Benny. I’m not getting any sense out of you …’

She mouthed ‘sorry’ at him and her cheeks flushed an appealing shade of pink. He shrugged. It was nice to see he wasn’t the only one who could lose his cool.

‘Just keep him there, will you, Benny? I’ll be there as soon as I can … Yes … don’t worry … Just don’t let him punch anybody else …’

Jake’s ears pricked up.

She snapped her phone closed and exhaled long and hard.

‘I’m sorry, I need to go. It’s an emergency.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘No, I’ll be fine. I just need to get to Peckham as soon as possible.’

Peckham? Why on earth was a rich girl like her going there?

‘What for?’

‘I’ve got to find a pub called The Swan.

She stood up, skirted the table, and gave him an absent-minded kiss on the cheek. ‘Thanks for lunch. I really enjoyed it.’

And before Jake could argue she’d rushed out through the door and onto the pavement.

He dug in his pockets for his credit card and paid as quickly as he could. By the smile on the waiter’s face, he guessed he’d left a ridiculously large tip. But he couldn’t be bothered to do the maths, so he’d just rounded it up to the nearest hundred.

He shoved the door open and almost bumped into Serena, who was standing on the kerb, waving her hands around.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m trying to find a taxi! One minute the whole street is teeming with them; the next minute there’s not one to be had for love nor money.’

He pulled her arm down and turned her to face him. Only then did he see the tremble in her lip, her pale face.

‘Hey.’ He slid his hand down her arm until he found her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘It’ll be okay.’

She sniffed. ‘I need to get to that pub as soon as I can, or there’s going to be a huge amount of trouble!’ She pulled away from him and ran to the kerb again as a black cab hurtled past. She looked as if she were about to sprint up the road after it when Jake reached for her again.

‘I’ll take you. My car’s round the corner. I know a way round the back-doubles that’ll cut out a lot of the traffic.’

Her eyes gleamed and threatened to overflow. ‘Would you really? You don’t know how grateful I am. But you’ve got to promise me something.’

‘What’s that?’

She grabbed both his shoulders in what, at that time, seemed like an overly dramatic gesture. ‘You can’t tell a soul about what happens when we get there. It’s vitally important.’

Her words haunted him as he turned his car towards the river and headed over Vauxhall Bridge. He left the main roads after passing The Oval, and wove through the back streets. The climbing numbers on the milometer matched his growing unease. He hadn’t been back this way for years, had promised himself he never would. He’d done everything humanly possible to claw his way off the high-rise council estate he’d grown up on.

What had she got herself mixed up in? Trouble in this neck of the woods normally meant something criminal. Although she looked unconventional, he hadn’t taken her for the kind of woman who courted real trouble. She lacked a certain brand of hardness he was all too familiar with.

But appearances could be deceptive. He’d learned that from his father—living proof that even the tastiest-looking apple could be maggoty at the core.

His eyes flicked over to Serena in the passenger seat. He’d only just met this woman. She could be anyone, involved in anything. For Pete’s sake, he didn’t even know her last name.

However, his gut said he could trust her, and when he thought of her face when the black cab had sailed past, he knew it was right. Whatever she was involved in, it wasn’t drugs or dirty money. She really cared about the man—he presumed it was a man—they were racing to rescue.

A few minutes later he pulled up outside The Swan, or as close as he could get to it. A clampers’ lorry was just about to winch a car off the double yellow lines outside.

A metallic blue Porsche.

Blast! He’d forgotten all about the guy with the Porsche. What a prize doughnut he was! He’d raced halfway across London to bail her boyfriend out of trouble. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he imagined some T-shirted lout, who obviously didn’t look after Serena the way she deserved to be looked after.

Serena jumped out of the car and raced into the pub before he could undo his seat belt. Was she always this impetuous? Or was it just that the Porsche guy was so great she couldn’t wait another second to be with him?

His frown deepened and he pulled himself out of his car, straightened his tie, and followed her inside. The smell of stale smoke and beer hit his nostrils as he pushed the door open. This place was even more of a dive than it had been last time he’d been here—and that had to be a good ten years ago. The same torn, faded upholstery covered the stools and benches, only it was even more torn and faded than he remembered.

A couple of blokes with tattoos on their knuckles propped up the bar. He knew their sort. He couldn’t judge them, though. If he’d had a little less luck, made a few different choices, it could have been him standing there, whiling away his dole money on watered-down beer.

He turned his attention to the overturned table and broken glass in the far corner. Serena was leaning over a man sprawled on one of the upholstered benches. She paused every few seconds to discuss the situation with a burly man in a leather jacket. Only when Jake was a few feet away could he hear any of her hushed, staccato phrases.

‘What happened, Benny? How did you end up in this place?’

Benny, for all his height and width, hung his head like a naughty schoolboy enduring a scolding. ‘Mike said he wanted to visit some of the places he used to play when the band was just starting out. It seemed like a good idea at the time.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It always does, Benny.’

‘Sorry, babe.’

She rolled her neck, as if she was trying to erase the kinks.