It Started with No Strings.... Kate Hardy

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ was a while in the bathroom. When she joined him in the kitchen, she said, ‘Can I be immensely rude and cheeky and ask for a glass of orange juice and a sandwich as well as the coffee, please?’

      Oh, help. He’d come across this before. Someone who was suddenly hungry and thirsty after going clubbing and then going to the bathroom. If he looked closer, he’d just bet her pupils would be pinpoints.

      His thoughts must have shown in his face because she said, ‘Actually, yes, a needle was involved.’

      Uh-oh.

      ‘But not drugs,’ she said crisply.

      ‘Not drugs.’ He really wasn’t following.

      She took something out of her bag to show him. ‘I’m a diabetic and this is a blood glucose monitor. I prick my finger and test the blood on a strip to check my blood sugar levels. Right now, my blood sugar’s a bit out of whack—probably because I had a couple of glasses of champagne tonight and I don’t usually drink very much, plus I’ve spent all night dancing. So right now I could do with some carbs to get my blood sugar stable. I’m not going to pass out on you or anything like that,’ she reassured him swiftly. ‘This just happens sometimes, and a sandwich and some orange juice will sort me out pretty quickly.’

      He relaxed, then. Diabetes explained a lot. Joni might still be trouble with a capital T, but at least it wasn’t going to get complicated and he wouldn’t feel responsible for someone else making a bad lifestyle choice. And clearly Joni was very used to looking after herself properly because she’d explained exactly why her blood sugar was a problem right now and how it could be fixed.

      He almost told her he was a doctor, but he didn’t want to make her feel awkward. Instead, he poured a glass of juice and handed it to her.

      ‘Thank you.’

      He rummaged in the fridge. It had been years since he’d done a stint on the endocrine ward, but he remembered that a protein and carbohydrate snack was good for someone whose blood sugar was a bit low but not in the unmanageable range. ‘Would a bacon sandwich be OK?’ he asked. And please don’t let him have offended her because she was a vegetarian. He’d already made enough of an idiot of himself.

      ‘A bacon sandwich would be absolutely fantastic. Thank you so much.’ She gave him another of those sweet, sweet smiles. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

      ‘No, it’s fine. You can sit and chat to me, if you like.’

      He put bacon under the grill and grabbed the bread, then turned to face her. ‘What kind of coffee would you like? Cappuccino, latte, flat white?’

      She looked surprised. ‘You can really do all those sorts of coffees?’

      He gestured to his coffee machine. ‘Yup. My one bit of self-indulgence.’

      ‘Impressive.’ She smiled. ‘A cappuccino would be lovely—but no chocolate on the top for me, please.’

      ‘You don’t like chocolate? Or is that a diabetic thing?’

      ‘A bit of both,’ she said. ‘I’m probably the only woman in the world who doesn’t really like chocolate. My best friend says I’m weird.’

      He laughed, and made her a cappuccino.

      She took a sip and her eyes widened. ‘This is fabulous. What coffee do you use?’

      ‘It’s a blend from a deli in Manchester,’ he explained. ‘I’m hoping I’ll find somewhere like it in London.’

      ‘So you’ve just moved here?’

      He nodded. ‘I’m starting a new job.’ Moving on. Moving upwards. Making a difference. The one thing he hadn’t been able to do when it really counted, and he’d vowed to spend the rest of his life making up for it. Not that he wanted to talk about why he’d always been so driven in his career. Especially to someone he’d only just met. So he concentrated on making them both a bacon sandwich, then handed a plate to her.

      She took a bite. ‘You are perfect.’ Then she blushed. ‘Sorry.’

      Aaron couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘Were you talking to me or the sandwich?’

      ‘The sandwich,’ she confessed. ‘Though I guess that, as you made it, you’re perfect by association.’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry, my social skills are usually a bit better than this. Blame it on the champagne.’

      ‘No problem.’ He smiled at her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone so cute; her warmth and sweetness made him like her instinctively.

      And that made Joni exactly the wrong kind of woman for him. The more he talked to her, the more he could tell that she wasn’t the sort who kept relationships short and sweet and didn’t let them get in the way of her life, the way he did. He didn’t want something permanent—and it wouldn’t be fair to lead her on and let her think that he could offer her something he knew he just wasn’t capable of giving.

      He managed to make small talk until she’d finished her coffee. ‘I’ll drive you home.’

      She looked nervous. ‘That’s very nice of you to offer, but you were drinking at the club.’

      ‘I had half a pint of beer, plus one glass of champagne with you, and we’ve just eaten. I’m safely under the alcohol limit for driving, but I can call you a taxi if you’d rather.’

      ‘Thank you, but I think I’ve impinged enough on you. I’ll call one myself.’

      He knew he should just let her go—it would be the sensible option. But something made him want to keep her close, just for a last few moments.

      ‘Dance with me again first?’ he asked.

      She looked at him. For a moment he thought she was going to say no; then she nodded. ‘OK.’

      He put on an album by a jazz singer with a soft, smoky voice and held out his arms. She walked into them and rested her head against his shoulder. He rested his cheek against her hair; it was as soft and silky against his skin as he’d expected it to be.

      This was a bad, bad idea.

      But he couldn’t help himself. There was just something about her. Something different. Something that drew him. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

      As they swayed together, he gave in and closed his eyes, letting himself focus on holding her and dancing with her.

      He wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but then he was kissing her—really kissing her—and she was kissing him all the way back.

      He dragged his mouth from hers. ‘Joni,’ he whispered.

      She stroked his face, and he ended up pressing a kiss into her palm. ‘I honestly didn’t ask you back here for anything more than coffee.’

      ‘I know,’ she said softly.

      He was finding it hard to breathe. ‘But now … Will you stay?’ he asked, his voice hoarse.

СКАЧАТЬ