Free Blind-Date Baby by Fiona Harper Page B

Thriller. Too much of a PR opportunity for his publishers not to nag him senseless about it.
    He’d been trawling Blinddatebrides.com for a suitable ‘date-buddy’, but he’d been so busy that he hadn’t actually got past the looking-at-profiles stage. Which meant another ceremony which he would have to treat like a military operation if he was going to keep one step ahead of the glamour vixens. It was all so very tiring.
    Could he schedule a date this week before the ceremony? And wasn’t it a bit fast to ask someone he’d only just met to come with him? When he was his alter ego, Noah Smith, women were pleasant and interested, but they were hardly stalker material. What if, when he revealed his secret in a big ta-dah moment, his date turned all bunny-boiler on him? A week just wasn’t long enough to test the waters.
    His inner Rottweiler whined and barked.
    Yes, yes, there was Grace. But she didn’t want a relationship. She just wanted…
    He didn’t need a wife for next Thursday. He just needed a date. Someone to stand by his side, charm the socks off everyone and deflect the Mrs Frost wannabes.
    Grace would be perfect. But would she do it? If he asked her nicely?
     
    During her break, Grace took a journey next door to the book shop. She waved at the man behind the counter, who wore a home-knitted waistcoat every day of the year, even on a glorious April day like today.
    ‘Morning, Martin. How are things going?’
    Martin shook his head. ‘What with all the posh shops opening up round here, the landlord wants to raise the rent. It’s not right—all these newcomers pricing the locals out of business. I was only just surviving competing with all those online booksellers as it was.’
    ‘Will you fight it?’
    The old man sighed. ‘No point. The lease is up for renewal next month and I don’t have the cash for all the solicitor’s fees. If my son had wanted to take it on, I’d think about it, but it’s only me now and my wife’ll kill me if I don’t retire in two years’ time.’
    A defiant look crossed Grace’s face. ‘Well, I’m spending all my book money here until you go, and I’m going to tell everyone who comes into the coffee shop to do the same. We’ll give you a good send-off and a wodge of money for your retirement.’
    Martin went a little red and pretended to attend to a stray thread in his waistcoat. ‘Thanks, love. Now, what were you looking for?’
    ‘Military history,’ said Grace, feeling a little flutter in her tummy as the words left her mouth.
     
    Now, where would Grace be on a fine morning like this, if she wasn’t in The Coffee Bean? Noah peered through the window. Caz waved madly at him and motioned for him to come in.
    She was a character in her own right, that one. Today, she was dressed head to foot in white and rhinestones, from her bejewelled flip-flops to her floaty skirt and the scarf in her hair. If she stepped outside into the sunshine, she was likely to blind someone.
    He opened the door and wandered up to the counter, eyeing up the display case. There was a new pink thing in there, with raspberries and white chocolate, and he was itching to taste it. Who cared that he’d had to double the length of his morning runs to make sure his trousers didn’t get too tight?
    ‘She’s just popped next door,’ Caz said, not even pretending to beat around the bush.
    Caz knew. Noah knew she knew. They both smiled at each other.
    ‘Fine. Could I have a coffee and some of that raspberry thing while I’m waiting?’
    Caz just winked at him.
     
    Martin’s military section was completely out of proportion to the size of his shop, Grace thought as she ran her index finger along the spines on yet another shelf. Mind you, he looked the sort to enjoy making up intricate model aircraft kits, so perhaps it was a passion.
    She couldn’t find a Noah Smith anywhere. But this was a little book shop on a small suburban high street. Perhaps she’d have to go further afield.