Blind-Date Baby by Fiona Harper

were at least ten storeys up, and big red buses, taxis and cyclists all jostled far away on the street below. People in dark suits carrying briefcases hurried in straight lines. It was a beautiful morning, with the sky so blue it was almost too perfect. The trees lining the street below shimmered in the breeze and the sun was warm on her face and bare feet.
    She sat in one of the wrought iron chairs circling the table, her bottom welcomed by a cushion at least five inches thick.
    ‘This looks fabulous! Thank you so much, Noah—for all of this, last night…I feel like I’m on holiday!’
    Noah joined her at the table and poured them both cups of coffee from the silver pot.
    ‘No. Thank you . Your presence was very effective in keeping the undesirables at bay. I didn’t get asked to autograph a cleavage once last night, so I count it a success.’
    Grace grinned at him and reached for a croissant and loaded her plate with strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. ‘You’re welcome.’ She broke off a piece of croissant and popped it in her mouth.
    Oh, my. She’d died and gone to heaven. It was light, flaky and buttery all at the same time. As she rested in her chair, she idly thought about infiltrating the kitchens to see how the chef did it.
    Breakfast was long and leisurely, with gentle banter andplentiful cups of coffee. When Grace was confident she wouldn’t need to eat another thing until at least next Thursday, she propped her feet up on one of the spare chairs, closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun.
    ‘I could get used to this.’
    Off in the distance, the traffic roared and the wind lifted the fine hair at the edge of her temples. She sighed.
    ‘Could you? Why don’t you, then?’
    Grace turned her head and lifted one eyelid. Noah was leaning forward, his chin on one of his fists, giving her a very serious look. A sudden shiver ran up her spine and she tugged her robe tighter around her. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I mean…’
    Grace dropped her feet to the floor and sat up straight. Noah gulped in a breath, not looking at all like a sexy spy for once.
    ‘I mean, you could live like this all the time…if you married me.’
    A sudden wave of vertigo hit her. A delayed reaction from hanging over the balcony, probably.
    ‘What did you just say?’
    Noah stood up, circled the table and sat down in the chair she had just had her feet on. He took one of her hands in his and looked into her eyes.
    ‘Marry me, Grace?’
    The first time in her life, Grace didn’t have a witty comeback, a smart reply. ‘But…but…we’re just friends…you don’t love me.’
    ‘I think you’re wonderful, Grace. I have a great deal of respect for you. And I have fun when I’m with you. Fun I’d forgotten how to have.’
    ‘But…’
    ‘And there’s plenty of chemistry between us.’
    She looked down at their intertwined fingers, then back upat Noah. ‘Yes, there is…’ A little too much chemistry on occasion. ‘But…’
    ‘You said yourself that you weren’t looking for Romeo and Juliet. I’m proposing a partnership based on the mutual respect, compatibility—’ a small smile kicked the corners of his mouth up ‘—chemistry…’
    Suddenly, he leaned in. She could feel his breath on her lips and, without warning, her heart rate doubled and her eyes slid closed. The kiss that followed was as soft and slow and balmy as the spring sunshine.
    Noah pulled back and held her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers, asking questions, finding answers.
    She’d missed this.
    Not just the kissing—although it was pretty spectacular—but connecting with someone. She knew Noah was telling the truth. They were compatible. And he’d meant what he’d said, how he felt about her. No one had said those kinds of things about her for a very long time. Tears clogged the back of her throat.
    But it wasn’t love.
    Could she agree to a marriage on the foundations that Noah had outlined? A couple of months ago