Page 40 of Play On

Soon we place our orders and find a little table for two next to the window. The sun streams in, which makes it feel warm, and I find myself loving the cosy vibe of the bakery this morning.

Noah leans back in his chair, pushing his long legs out to stretch them. Then his eyes land on the bottle of fabric softener that I’ve set down on the table, and a mystified look passes over his face. “Um, are you going to a laundrette after this?”

I grin mischievously at him. “Yes. I need to see if you know how to do laundry correctly. It’s right up there behind pick and mix selection.”

An adorable crease appears on the bridge of Noah’s nose.

“I’m joking,” I say, grinning. “No, a man gave it to me on the tube. As a gift.”

The crease deepens. “And you took it?”

“Of course I did, it would be rude not to. The guy was sorting and sniffing his clothing on the floor of the tube and told me I should enjoy apple-blossom-scented clothing. He wasn’t hurting anyone, and it made him happy for me to accept it, so why not?”

He studies me carefully. “This is what makes you special.”

“What?” I ask, feeling my cheeks burn a bit pink. “No, it doesn’t.”

“No, it does. I have a feeling you have a very big heart.”

I feel my breath catch in my throat. Once again, Noah is seeing something deeper within me, something more than the flittering butterfly who is too terrified to land.

“Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot to me.” I’m not used to compliments like this, so I clear my throat. “But back to Surrey. I’m glad you did stay in a hotel last night. That would have been a lot of travelling if you went home last night, only to turn around to come back for a cup of coffee the next day.”

“I would have done it for you.”

Ooh!

I stare at him. From the way he’s looking at me, I know it’s the truth.

“How long are you staying in London?” Noah asks, changing the topic.

“I originally planned to go back on Sunday.”

His eyes grow bright with interest. “Originally?”

I know every guide to dating would tell me not to do this, but I don’t care. I hate games, like pretending to not be as interested as I am or waiting for Noah to make every move.

“I think I might stay a bit longer if you are going to be around,” I say boldly.

There. I did it.

Noah runs his fingers over the corners of his mouth, then down to his lip, absently tugging on it. Heat flicks through me as I remember kissing those sensual lips last night.

“That’s interesting,” he says slowly, “because I was thinking I might have to take a trip to Dorset before I report back for training. If you were going to be around Dorset, that is.”

Ooh!

“Were you really?” I ask excitedly.

He smiles shyly at me. “Yeah.”

“Of course, this is all dependent on our date on Friday,” I say cheerfully. “If you fail the pick and mix test, there’s no point in you coming down to Dorset. My interest in you will have evaporated.”

He begins to laugh, a lovely, deep rumble from his chest that makes my stomach flip upside down in happiness.

“I don’t plan to fail the pick and mix test,” he says confidently.

A waitress appears at our table, setting down our coffees in front of us and a scone in front of Noah. “Your french toast is coming right up,” she tells me.

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