Page 96 of What Happens in Dubai

When none came, I said, ‘Thank you. But honestly, I think in this day and age, it’s almost impossible to meet someone. No one is trustworthy. Even the nice guys end up being dickheads!’ I added, still trying to giggle and lift the gravity of the conversation.

There was a moment of silence, and then Tom said, ‘I’m sorry if I’m the one who has ruined your ability to trust, Zara.’

My head glanced down at the table, not wanting to remind myself of how much he had hurt me.

‘It wasn’t just you. But I appreciate that,’ I replied, completely taken aback by his honesty.

‘But there are trustworthy people out there, I promise,’ he said.

I laughed at the thought. ‘But decent-looking ones, I mean. Not complete munters who are just reeeeeally nice.’

Tom chuckled. ‘You couldn’t cope with areeeeeallynice guy. Perhaps you’re looking in the wrong places, Zara. They would bore you. You need someone cheeky, a little rough around the edges. You,’ he pointed in my face as the lightbulb clicked in his head, ‘you need a geezer!’

‘A geezer?’

‘No, no, you need agoodgeezer.’

‘A good geezer?’ I laughed out loud.

‘That’s precisely what you need.’

‘Right, Cilla, I’ll tell you what, as soon as you see a good geezer in this city, you let me know.’

Tom raised his glass in the air. ‘OK, that’s a promise. When I find one, I’ll send him on to you.’

I hit my glass off his in a toast.

‘But in the meantime …’ He raised his brows, then sniggered before taking a swig of his drink.

My heart raced. He was speaking so openly about love, even acknowledging how he’d treated me in the past.So why was he still so closed off to relationships?

I drank my champagne as Tom leaned across the table towards me.

‘Eyelash,’ he whispered. I closed my eyes and felt his fingers softly whisk down my face.

When I opened my eyes again, he was still gazing, and I laughed, feeling nervous at his touch.

‘You’re mapping my face, aren’t you? You’re working out what I need done!’

‘Shit! You know my work face!’ he teased, breaking the tension.

‘Do it – analyse me, Mr Adams. What do I need done?’ I asked.

Tom looked at me warily. ‘Ohh, I don’t think so!’

‘Come on. It’s an order. I’m your boss until midnight, Thomas. I’ll do yours, and you can do mine: a full consultation.’

Tom hesitated and then grinned. ‘Pass me a piece of paper then, boss!’

I delved into my bag and handed him a small notepad and pen. He began writing immediately while staring at my face. I giggled nervously, doing the same with him. We fell silent for a couple of minutes until we both put down our pens.

‘Ladies first,’ he said.

I cleared my throat and put on my posh clinic voice. ‘OK, Thomas, firstly, what do you like and dislike about your features?’

Tom rolled his eyes at our scripted routine. ‘Absolutely nothing. It’s bloody perfect. I’m more intrigued about what you think needs fixing, Miss Smith!’

‘Well, firstly, you have the most inviting eyes and masculine jawline. You’ve been blessed with strong facial structure.’

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