Free The Piano Man Project by Kat French

to his body, the rich, easy depth of his voice and the warmth of his fingers when they brushed over hers. He was borderline rude ninety per cent of the time, but the other ten per cent was worth waiting for.
    The carpet in The Cock Inn felt decidedly sticky underfoot as Honey stood at the bar twenty minutes later. She was a little early, and so far anyone resembling a synthesiser player called Deano had yet to materialise. Alone and trying to look nonchalant in the way only someone desperately hoping their date turns up can, Honey ordered a large glass of wine and perched herself on a stool, barfly-style. She was halfway down the slightly-too-warm chardonnay when the door opened and a guy came in on his own, his eyes slowly scanning the place and coming to rest on Honey. If she were to be picky then his shirt was slightly too Hawaiian and his hair far too blond for Honey’s usual taste, but hey ho … she smiled and raised her glass gamely in his direction as he sauntered over.
    ‘You must be Deano,’ she said, realising that he was incredibly tall as she slid off her high stool and eyeballed his palm tree-covered chest. Tipping her neck back, she looked up as he looked down and found herself suddenly nose to nose with him.
    ‘And you must be Honeysuckle, my favourite flower.’
    ‘Is it really?’
    He looked disconcerted. ‘I’ve been practising that line for the last ten minutes.’
    ‘Sorry,’ she said, and she meant it. She’d become accustomed to verbal rallying with Hal, and it wasn’t fair to Deano to expect him to fall into the same mould. ‘Shall we grab a table?’ The pub was filling up with Friday night drinkers and pre-clubbers as she headed over to a small table in the corner. Deano joined her a couple of minutes later with drinks in his hand.
    ‘I guessed at white wine?’ he said, placing a glass down next to her almost-empty one.
    ‘Good guess,’ she smiled. He was actually quite attractive in a Germanic way, all strong boned and blond. She needed to relax and try to enjoy his company.
    ‘So, Honeysuckle. What brings a nice girl like you to a place like this?’
    ‘A blind date with an organist called Deano?’ she supplied with a smile, hoping he’d relax and drop the one-liners soon.
    ‘Synthesiser, actually,’ he said, looking affronted.
    ‘What sort of songs do you synthesise?’ she said, knowing even as she said it that it was a ridiculous question.
    He frowned. ‘Are you taking the piss?’
    Shit. This wasn’t going well so far. ‘Look, I’m really sorry. That was a stupid question. Truth is, this is my first blind date, and I’m kind of nervous. Can we start again?’
    His Hawaiian-shirted shoulders slumped. ‘I’m nervous too. You’re my first date since Selina.’
    ‘Selina?’ she said, already guessing that she must be the ex Tash had referred to.
    ‘My fiancée. Or ex-fiancée if you want to be picky, which if you were her you no doubt would, seeing as she broke it off.’
    Honey cleared her throat as he picked up his beer and necked half of it. She watched him and couldn’t help but notice that he had quite stubby fingers for such a tall synthesiser player. She also couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his grey eyes, and she knew without a doubt that Deano was too hung up on Selina to be the man who would make her body and soul sing louder than Aretha Franklin in the bathtub.
    ‘I think it’s probably best if we agree not to talk about our exes on a first date,’ she smiled, swallowing a mouthful of wine.
    Deano nodded. ‘Too true. Women. Who needs ’em?’
    Honey opened her eyes wide. As things not to say on a first date, that was pretty much up there at the top.
    ‘Present company excepted, and all that,’ he laughed, recovering himself not quite in time.
    ‘So what do you do, Deano, besides synthesise?’ Honey asked, helping him out of the hole he’d dug for himself.
    ‘I work in accounts,’ he said, with a casual shrug. ‘Bit dull, but a good