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He noticed her body language. The way she sat defiantly in her chair, her back straight, her chin, and her breasts, jutting out proudly. That woman is angry, he thought, his body showing signs of arousal. She was obviously unaware of her beauty—just the kind of woman he liked. He wanted her, but slowly sipped his beer, knowing that timing was everything.
She was upset, and that fact upset her even more. The prick had dumped her days before they were meant to go on this trip. She didn’t know why she’d decided to come on her own. Rebellion? Defiance? She hadn’t a clue. Already she contemplated returning home on the next train.
The smiling seaside town of Scarborough seemed to be filled with reminders that she was alone, when she should have had a partner with her. The romantic double bed in the highest room of the guesthouse, the look on the receptionist’s face when she’d explained that she was on her own. The restaurant table set for two. The seemingly hundreds of couples strolling hand in hand along the bright, sunny seafront. She hated it all, so she’d retired to her room until the sun was setting and the singles came out in force. It was Saturday night and the bars were packed. She stepped into the first one not hosting karaoke and ordered a Bacardi and Coke. She was determined to get drunk and start enjoying this holiday if it killed her.
Moments later, she held back tears, realising how pathetic she must look. Thirty years old, single and surrounded by happy youngsters flirting, gossiping and pairing up. She prepared to rise, determined to go back to the hotel and pack with the intention of boarding the first train home in the morning, when a man appeared at her table.
“Hi, I’m terribly sorry for just approaching you like this, but I’d noticed you’d finished your drink and wondered if I could get you another whilst I’m on my way back to the bar?”
He was smiling, the slight flush to his cheeks giving him a boyish charm quite impossible to resist.
“Okay, I’ll have another Bacardi and Coke, thanks.” She smiled at him, her tummy flipping.
He looked a little older than her, dressed casually in dark-coloured slacks and a pinstripe shirt. He was well groomed, smelt citrus fresh with a tempting spicy edge and was obviously interested in her. She wasn’t looking to hook up with another drain on her finances, but spending a moment in his company couldn’t do any harm, could it?
