Call Me Cupid: The Guy to Be Seen With / The First Crush Is the Deepest / Too Close for Comfort

Alan rested an elbow on the bar and casually looked her up and down. ‘You really don’t look like one,’ he said, a slightly wolfish glimmer creeping into his eyes.

Chloe kept her smile fixed. ‘Haven’t you heard?’ She nodded in Daniel’s direction. ‘Thanks to your pal there, plant nerd is the new sexy.’

‘Oh, it really is,’ Emma said in a breathy rush, looking at Daniel.

Chloe pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing. Daniel’s expression had darkened further, but there was a hint of panic at the backs of his eyes, one she recognised from the day she’d met him hiding from his silver-haired fan club.

But then Daniel looked back at her, and that glint of something changed and warmed. Suddenly, she was the one panicking inside.

She didn’t want him to look at her like that, as if he’d like to...

She wasn’t going to finish that thought. It was far too X-rated. And far too dangerous.

‘What can we get you two ladies to drink?’ Alan asked.

Chloe tried to speak, tried to tell him that it was okay, that she and Emma were just going to find a quiet table in the corner and chat about bamboo, but nothing came out. Not quickly enough, anyway.

‘Gin and tonic, please,’ Emma said loudly.

Chloe didn’t have much of a choice now. It would look really rude if she refused. Still, Emma had to be away in half an hour. How bad could it be? She was going to have to work alongside Daniel occasionally. Maybe this would be good practice.

But she made the mistake of catching his eye as she cleared her throat and said, ‘White wine would be lovely.’ The tingling was back behind her knees, threatening to send rogue messages to her muscles stop keeping her upright and just...melt.

Thankfully, a group of people sitting at a table near them got up to leave. Alan stopped leaning on the bar and motioned in its direction. ‘Shall we?’ He walked over to the table, pulling out a chair for Emma first. Chloe decided she liked him a lot better for that.

She decided it was safer to sit on the same side of the rectangular table as Emma. Alan quickly bagged the seat opposite, which left Daniel no choice but to subject himself to Emma’s adoring gaze.

Chloe chuckled to herself while simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief. Emma was doing a very nice job of deflecting the attention from her. She could definitely handle a quick drink with these two men if her colleague kept this up.

In fact, Emma kept Daniel so completely monopolised with her barrage of questions about a new subspecies of bamboo he’d encountered in his previous job that Chloe was free to sit back, sip her wine and listen to a long story Alan was telling about his trip to Corfu.

Every so often she’d glance across at Daniel. He seemed quite happy to answer Emma’s queries, but when the other woman smiled and fiddled with her hair his expression remained neutral. When Emma leaned forward across the table, he leaned back. Chloe’s amusement at Daniel’s expense waned.

She knew what that was like. Knew just what it was like.

To want him so badly that you threw everything you had into getting him, letting your mouth run away with you, letting your body language go into overdrive. Emma seemed oblivious, though. She just kept ploughing on.

There was no doubt that she was attractive for her age, but as she talked Chloe just itched to suggest a girls’ night in so she could apply serum and a pair of straighteners to that hair. She took a sip of her wine. There were products on the market these days to combat that amount of frizz. If anyone should know, it was Chloe...

Her insides chilled.

There but for the grace of God...

She had not so much a flashback as a flash forward—to who she might have been, had she not subjected herself to that post-graduation makeover.

Stop, she wanted to tell Emma. Don’t do it. He’ll push you away, make you feel small and insignificant, not good enough for him.

She and Emma had chatted enough for her to know that the older woman was unhappily single. Chloe didn’t want her to go home that evening after her failed play for Daniel, look in the mirror and decide that if life handed out report cards, the overwhelming verdict would be could do better.

Should do better. Must do better.

Chloe knew how much that smarted.

She placed a hand on Emma’s arm, grasping at something she’d told her earlier. ‘Didn’t you say you needed to be out of here at seven-thirty?’ she said. ‘It’s almost that now.’

Well, seventeen minutes past, but who was counting?

Emma paused her interrogation and looked at her watch. ‘Oh, cripes! Yes, I almost completely forgot! And I booked this adult education course months ago—the waiting list was huge.’ She dragged her eyes from Daniel and sighed. ‘I’ll have to hear all about Mount Kinabalu another time,’ she said, a hint of trailing hopefulness in her voice.

Chloe stood up. ‘Come on,’ she told Emma, glancing through the vast window that looked over the empty platform. ‘The next train is due in a couple of minutes. I’ll wait with you.’

‘You can’t go yet,’ Alan said, leaning past her to place a couple of full glasses on the table. ‘I got you another wine.’ Chloe hadn’t even realised he’d left to go to the bar.

Emma glanced between Chloe and Alan and a little smile curved her lips. Chloe started to shake her head. No, she wasn’t interested in Alan, and she didn’t want Emma’s attempt at ‘subtle’ matchmaking to make him think otherwise. Unfortunately, despite her love of bamboo, it turned out that Emma wasn’t very good with sticks—because she’d obviously got the wrong end of this one.

‘No, you stay,’ her colleague said, grinning at Alan. ‘There’s no need for you to miss out because of me.’

‘Uh—’ Chloe didn’t get any further with that sentence, because Emma had scooped up her bag and her coat and was heading for the exit.

Alan pressed a full glass of wine into Chloe’s hand before calling after the disappearing Emma. ‘Another evening class?’ he shouted. ‘What is it this time?’ then he took another sip of his drink.

Emma stopped and turned in the middle of the room. Chloe could only half see her it was so crowded. ‘Pole dancing,’ she called back cheerily, and suddenly the whole pub was very quiet. Apart from the sound of Alan softly choking on his beer, of course.

THREE (#ulink_4c6659ab-fda3-5264-a42f-54103baeb0f0)

Chloe looked at an equally flabbergasted Daniel and they both burst out laughing. Whether it was at Emma’s parting shot or Alan’s beer-fuelled snorting from the other side of the table, neither of them really knew. But the urge to giggle subsided quickly when she found herself staring across the table at Daniel Bradford. He wasn’t finding the whole thing funny any more, either.

She tugged at the collar of her leather jacket with a finger. Hot. That was what she was finding the whole thing now. Her feet were tingling and her cheeks felt flushed and a delicious warmth was spreading deep inside. And it had nothing to do with the therapeutic effects of having a good laugh.

She swallowed.

Unfortunately, it had everything to do with the not-so-therapeutic effects of staring deep into Daniel Bradford’s eyes and wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

She closed her eyes as she took her next sip of wine, breaking the connection.

Nope. Been there, done that, survived the train wreck. Just.

Alan, who had obviously now recovered from his coughing fit, came and sat in the seat beside her and draped a well-toned arm across the back of her chair. ‘You’re not joining her?’

Chloe had to admire the ego that allowed him to bounce back from having lager spurt out of his nose then continue to flirt as if nothing had happened. She shook her head and nudged her chair further away while pretending she was reaching for her handbag.

‘Don’t tell me...’ Alan said, leaning forward slightly

‘...you’re already proficient?’

This time it was Daniel’s turn to choke on his beer.

Too smooth for his own good, Chloe thought as she blinked and looked back at Alan. Still, it didn’t worry her. She could handle him. One of the key pieces of reasoning behind the ‘new and improved’ Chloe was that she’d decided she’d much rather be the kind of woman men ran after than the kind they ran away from. In the intervening decade she’d learned a thing or two about over-enthusiastic suitors—and the disposal thereof.