The Little Café in Copenhagen. Julie Caplin
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small crowd around the bar, a man who knew what he wanted and where he was going. I think that purposeful movement won me over as well as perhaps the reassurance of a tall, slim build, a full head of hair and an extremely well cut suit.
I turned back to the view of the room and waited for his return, smiling to myself, trying to imagine what he looked like.
‘Still here then?’
I nodded, a sudden leap in my chest, as I realised I was going to have to turn to face him.
I felt the cold touch of the tip of the glass at my back. The unexpected intimacy thrilling and challenging. Did I turn around and face him? Or did I keep making him work for it?
The cool glass traced its way down my spine. Suggestive and subtle at once, it set every nerve ending alight.
Neither of us said a word.
The glass continued its way down my spine, and was then replaced by the teasing touch of a finger, delicately tracing the same path. I arched into the touch, heat flushing along my cheekbones. The glass came to rest just above the folds of the dress. Tiny flares of electricity raced across my skin.
He took the glass away, a cold imprint tingling on my back, cold and then almost hot.
I took in a breath, holding it for a good few seconds before slowly, slowly turning to take the champagne glass from his outstretched hand.
Our fingers brushed and he held the glass until I lifted my head to smile shyly at him, feeling feminine and womanly for once.
A smile curved his lips, a faint, barely-there dimple appearing in his stubbled left cheek which glinted in the light with a touch of dark golden and amber bristle that matched the dark auburn of his hair. This was the point where reality was supposed to kick in. He wasn’t supposed to be drop dead gorgeous, with amazing planed cheeks or those full lips, that I should stop looking at right now! I waited for the fuzzy champagne buzz to vanish and for him to wink at me and say goodbye. He certainly wasn’t supposed to have the sort of shoulders that had been honed either on a rugby field or in a swimming pool or be so tall that he topped me by a good few inches in my heels. Despite the good looks, it was the quiet calm self-confidence that he exuded that sent my stomach into a tail spin, along with the sharp intelligence shining in the grey blue eyes.
‘Hi.’ His low tone imbued with much more than a simple hi, sent a dart of awareness straight between my legs.
‘Hi,’ I said a tad breathlessly. This was so not me, all girly and awash with sexual attraction to a complete stranger. I didn’t do things like this but I couldn’t seem to help myself. It was so hard meeting people in London, let alone gorgeous, drop-dead handsome men who seemed as interested as you were.
‘I’m Ben.’
‘Kat … tie,’ I said not wanting to have the brusque business-like syllables of my name at work. Katie was my name at home. When mum was alive. I wanted to be that Katie, the one who was in touch with her feminine side. The one who didn’t have to battle all the time to be someone.
‘Cheers,’ he lifted his glass and tapped mine. ‘To chance meetings.’
‘Cheers.’
We smiled at each other again and sipped at our drinks. He moved next to me to lean over the rail clutching the glass in one hand.
‘I wonder how many people know it used to be an ice rink,’ I said peering down. ‘It must have been huge.’ It was hard to imagine the swish of skates on ice or the cold air hanging in the art deco room.
‘There’s a picture somewhere in the hotel.’
‘We’ll have to look for it sometime.’ The words slipped out far too easily but something about him and the out of time situation made me fearless.
‘Are you asking me on a date?’ His words held a teasing lilt.
I raised a haughty eyebrow. ‘No.’
‘Shame, I might have said yes.’
‘How do you know I haven’t got a boyfriend tucked away?’
His eyes narrowed with possessive perusal. ‘Because no man in his right mind would let you out in that dress on your own.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ I asked, suddenly worried he thought it was slutty and too inviting.
The quick smile held reassurance along with amusement and a hint of something else that had my heart picking up an extra beat. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it. I’d say it’s perfect. It hints at far more than it reveals. Tasteful, stylish and sophisticated.’ His mouth dipped on one side, in cynical self-deprecation. ‘All of which is in short supply this evening … and that’s just the men.’
‘I can concur with that,’ I said thinking of Andrew’s sweaty paws.
‘Want me to protect your honour and call the cad out?’
‘No, I can wield a fork with the best of them.’
‘You didn’t stab someone?’ His eyes widened with mock horror and a touch of admiration.
I shrugged, let a smile play around my lips. ‘I didn’t draw blood, or at least not the first time.’
‘Ouch. Remind me not to mess with you.’
‘I thought we’d agreed that we weren’t going to go out on a date, so that would seem unlikely.’
‘In the spirit of not going on a date, I am wondering what sort of date we wouldn’t go on.’
I leaned on the balustrade. ‘We wouldn’t go wandering through the hotel, looking for historic pictures. Or leave this glittering occasion in full swing and go wandering down to the Serpentine.’
He considered for a moment and turned to reveal a bottle sticking out of his pocket. ‘And we wouldn’t take a bottle of champagne with us.’
The unspoken invitation sizzled between us. I smiled and stood up from the balustrade.
‘Why don’t you show me this picture?’
Just as he took my hand, lacing his fingers between mine, the familiar sound of a mobile phone jangled, bringing us both to an abrupt halt. Like cowboys reaching for their guns, we both went for our phones, him shoving a hand in his inside pocket and me taking my clutch bag from under my arm.
He frowned as he looked at his screen and then back at me with apology as he answered the call.
Saved by the bell. The familiar sound and both of us going for it, reminded me of real life. What on earth was I doing? Lulled by the moment and being a big girl in a posh frock. I wasn’t the sort that picked up complete strangers, particularly not handsome Prince Charming types who were way out of my league. Moreover, there was no time in my life for a relationship; I had goals, things to do. Gut instinct told me that this mysterious stranger posed far too big a risk. I’d been hurt by Josh and I hadn’t felt one tenth of the spark elicited by this man. He was a man you could really lose your heart to.
I mouthed that I was off to the ladies and slipped away, doubling back down the stairs to my table, confident that among 2,000 people I’d lose myself easily.
‘Hello, Kate Sinclair.’ I absently picked up the phone as I stared at my computer screen, trying to be sensible and write a press release instead of replaying my Cinderella scene over and over in my head. Unfortunately I’d dashed off without leaving a glass slipper or a mobile phone number, so it would never come to anything and I couldn’t decide if that were a good or a bad thing.
‘Pleased with yourself, are you?’ snarled a voice down the phone.
Sitting up smartly I turned my chair away from the screen.
‘Sorry?’