The Secret to Falling in Love Page 11

  ‘That puts my mind to rest, at least.’ He smiled a wide smile, showcasing two rows of perfect white teeth. ‘In my role, I get a lot of crank calls – begging calls, nonsense calls, that kind of thing – hence the lack of a phone number. Of course my business has a number, but that card was more my personal one.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I just wanted to explain my rudeness.’ I batted my hand in the air to waft away any notion I’d be bothered.

  ‘No, it was inappropriate of me to give an email address. I was just in a hurry and wanted to make sure you could contact me. Can I give you my personal landline number? Or take yours if you have one?’

  ‘I don’t have one. I’ve actually been communicating by good old-fashioned handwritten notes.’ I immediately regretted how pathetic I sounded.

  ‘I can write notes!’ He raised an eyebrow expectantly. I took my notebook and pen from my bag and scribbled my address down before tearing out the page and sliding it across the table towards him.

  ‘Thank you.’ He leaned forwards. ‘How about I take you out tonight? That is, if you’ve recovered from your terrible non-date from last week?’

  I flushed. Tonight? It seemed so sudden. ‘Yes, I’m over it.’ My voice came out higher than I’d expected, so I took a breath before carrying on in a more controlled manner. ‘And I’d love to come out tonight – as long as you have me back at a respectable hour. I’m working tomorrow.’

  ‘Great, then I’ll pick you up at half past six. I have to dash off again as I’ve a few things to sort out for work, but I’ll see you later.’

  My chest fluttered in nervous excitement. ‘I’ll be ready. See you later.’ I smiled.

  He smiled back and left me sitting there in a daze. I was impressed with myself, managing to keep my cool like that, despite being a crumbling mess on the inside. I found it hard to believe a man like him would even be interested in me and not some supermodel lookalike. I couldn’t believe he’d be taking me out that evening. Even after a week without my phone, I still had the urge to text Gemma and Amanda to tell them my exciting news.

  ***

  The buzzer cut through the silence, making me jump. I wasn’t sure why; it was dead on six-thirty, so I was expecting it, and he hadn’t struck me as the tardy type. ‘Hello?’ I answered as calmly as I could manage.

  ‘I have Joseph Hartley here to collect you, madam.’ Goodness me, who’s that? A chauffeur? His mate perhaps? He sounded so formal.

  ‘Thank you, I’ll be down in just a minute.’ I ran into my room and stood in front of the full-length mirror, glad I’d decided to dress up properly. I checked my dress first – it was a simple black, knee-length, figure-hugging number that showcased my best bits: my toned legs and arms. I’d dressed it up with a chunky silver statement necklace. I ensured there weren’t any labels hanging out and my VPL was at bay. To avoid the back-bulge that even the skinniest of girls get in a tight dress, I’d opted to go braless, figuring it was an option that may not be open to me for many more years. My tall, glossy stilettos with gold platform trim set the dress off nicely.

  I checked my make-up – I’d largely gone for a barely there look with nude lipstick and a slick of blusher. Most of my time and effort had gone into my eye make-up: eyeliner, graduated metallic colours in mushroom, silver and charcoal, and lots of mascara. I thought I might even have mastered sexy in a classy-not-slutty way. I hoped we weren’t just going to a bar in the Northern Quarter and grabbing a kebab afterwards. He didn’t strike me as the type, but still, you never did know. I grabbed my gold clutch bag, pulled on my coat and headed for the door before I could chicken out.

  When I stepped outside I was gobsmacked. His job title, smart attire or even his manicured nails hadn’t prepared me to expect a slick black limousine outside the entrance to my apartment block. Standing next to it was a gentleman in a black suit and chauffeur’s cap. ‘Melissa?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’ I approached the car slowly, feeling slightly apprehensive. I was sure plenty of ladies would be excited to be in my position right then, but I felt intimidated. As I neared the car, the chauffeur opened the rear door for me. I struggled to raise a smile as I passed him; the muscles in my face had tightened. I climbed in, watching my step as I did, not wanting to flash my underwear as so many celebrities seemed to in this situation.

  As soon as I lifted my head, my eyes met Joseph’s and my apprehension melted away. He was sitting facing me, in a tuxedo suit complete with black tie, his hair combed smartly over to the side. I’d never seen anyone look so handsome who wasn’t on the red carpet heading into the Oscars. He had a single red rose in one hand, and a glass of champagne in the other. ‘You look beautiful, Melissa.’ He held out the hand with the rose in to help me to the seat next to him.

  ‘Thank you. You don’t scrub up too badly yourself,’ was my terrible, nervous response.

  His face fell into a relaxed half-smile as he handed me the rose. ‘A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl,’ he said smoothly. ‘And this is so you can relax and enjoy the ride.’ He handed me the glass of champagne and took another for himself from a holder in the side of the car. ‘Cheers,’ he said, clunking his glass against mine.

  ‘Cheers, and thank you for the rose.’ I took a sip, hoping it would calm my nerves. ‘So, where are we going?’

  ‘I’ve arranged dinner at my apartment, but first, I thought we would enjoy a city tour. Manchester by night can be quite pleasant to observe.’ The engine purred to a start and the car pulled away from the pavement. We headed to Piccadilly Gardens, which was bustling with Sunday-night drinkers. The bright lights of the bars twinkled vibrantly against the February evening sky. A busker played guitar at the side of the gardens, and a few people had gathered to watch the impromptu entertainment.

  On Whitworth Street couples strolled hand in hand. Street lights started to switch on in the dusky evening sky above them. We turned right onto Oxford Street, where people had gathered around the Palace Theatre waiting for the doors to open. The Stage Door bar was full with people grabbing a preshow aperitif.

  We were soon among the beautiful buildings of St Peter’s Square. The stunning Edwardian Baroque-style Midland Hotel appeared on our left, and the rotund domed structure of the Central Library on the right. ‘Would you like a drop more champagne, Melissa?’ Joseph’s voice cut through the silence.

  ‘Yes, please,’ I replied. ‘I’ve lived in Manchester city centre for six years and never fully appreciated how beautiful some of the buildings are.’

  ‘Most people don’t. I suppose I’m a bit nerdy in the sense that I do look at things such as historical buildings. I’m glad you appreciate them.’ We continued towards Salford Quays. ‘The quays by night are spectacular. I love how the lights from the buildings reflect on the water.’ He really looked quite taken as he observed the sights and sipped his champagne. I had to agree though – it was breathtaking.

  We headed back into the city centre, down Deansgate and then turned onto Blackfriars Street, before turning onto St Mary’s Parsonage. The limo pulled up outside a stylish-looking apartment block. ‘Home sweet home,’ Joseph said. Before I had chance to reply, my door opened and the chauffeur’s hand startled me as it reached in to assist me. I took it, climbing out as elegantly as I could. By the time I stepped out and composed myself, Joseph was already standing on the pavement. ‘Shall we?’ He held out a gentlemanly elbow for me to take.

  We took the lift up to the top floor, and the door to his apartment opened as we stepped out. A lady, who appeared to be in her early fifties, dressed smartly in black and white stood ready to greet us. ‘Good evening, Martha. This is my good friend Melissa. Melissa, this is my wonderful housekeeper, Martha.’ I smiled and greeted Martha politely, though it was all a little much to take in. A chauffeur, a housekeeper – what next?

  ‘May I take your coat, Melissa?’ she asked kindly. I shrugged off my coat and handed it to her, thanking her as I did
, trying my best to appear more comfortable than I felt.

  ‘What an amazing apartment you have, Joseph.’ I stared around in awe. The lounge, kitchen and dining area were all open-plan and spacious. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered amazing views across the city. The whole apartment was super-modern and minimalistic, clutter-free and with clean lines. It suited him perfectly.

  ‘Thank you. The building itself isn’t much to look at, but it was one of the highest apartments I could find with views like this.’ He stretched his arm out as if to present the Manchester skyline to me. ‘Let me show you something.’ I walked over to him, and he took my hand, leading me onto the balcony. The city lights twinkled for as far as the eye could see, set off beautifully by the sky, which had deepened to an inky blue. I could see across the whole city, even distinguish landmarks such as the Beetham Tower and the CIS building. It was a beautiful view.

  ‘Excuse me, can I offer you a Bellini?’ Martha appeared holding a tray with two tall champagne flutes on.

  ‘Yes, please.’ I took one and Joseph followed. He hadn’t spoken much, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of his awe of the city or if he was just the quiet type.

  ‘You haven’t told me much about yourself. What do you do for a job? I’m sure duplexes and limousines don’t buy themselves.’ I’d set off again with my awful nervous rambling.

  He did that adorable half-smile again, and I melted inside. ‘I specialise in acquisitions and re-sales of businesses. It’s really not that interesting, but like you say, it does pay for nice things.’ He fell silent again.

  ‘How about hobbies? What do you do for fun?’ I continued.

  ‘Not much really. Work tends to keep me fairly busy, then I like to come here and relax, or head out to my house in Cheshire. I don’t get much time to socialise.’

  ‘You have a house in Cheshire too?’ I blurted.

  ‘I do, it’s in Alderley Edge. I stay here at the apartment when I need to be in the city, for work or entertaining business acquaintances. I go back to Cheshire to relax. That’s my home.’

  ‘It sounds like it can get quite lonely.’

  ‘I admit, it can at times. Not tonight though, Melissa. I have your wonderful company to enjoy.’

  ‘Sir, dinner is served.’ Martha once again appeared from nowhere. I found it a little odd that she called him ‘sir’. It seemed so dated and out of place. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was just trying a little bit too hard to impress me.

  Joseph took my hand and led me inside. The dining table was set elegantly for two. We sat, and Martha served us crab cakes decorated with rocket and fancy dashes of balsamic vinegar. She poured us each a glass of crisp white wine before shuffling off towards the kitchen.

  ‘This looks delicious. You really didn’t need to go to this amount of trouble.’

  ‘I did, Melissa. I wanted to make up for your awful dates of late, and prove that there were some decent men left in the world.’ His eyes twinkled as he smiled. ‘I read your article,’ he announced from nowhere.

  ‘Did you?’ I replied, not even attempting to conceal the surprise in my voice.

  ‘I did. I’m actually a subscriber to the magazine. I’d read the article before I’d ever met you. I’d enjoyed the article – it had got me thinking how consumed I’d become with technology. I only have an email address on my business card, for goodness’ sake. How impersonal is that? I’d actually been trying to talk to people properly, and it was a bizarre coincidence that the first person I spoke to was you, and then totally ironic that I gave you my email address to contact me.’ His eyes glistened.

  ‘I can’t believe it! That’s not why you asked me out tonight, is it?’ I felt my cheeks start to blush.

  ‘Yes and no. I wanted to ask you out because you’re pretty and sweet, but it’s not something I would generally do on a first encounter with someone. But because I was making an effort to interact I thought I would. Then you told me about your bad night out and I thought I definitely would, when you explained all in the coffee shop. So yes, I was keen to want to go out sooner, but I had already asked you out, so no, that wasn’t the reason.’ He was very cute when bumbling and flustered.

  A small sigh of relief escaped me, and I relaxed a bit. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed the article. My follow-up piece is due in the next issue – who knows, it may even have you in it!’ I winked playfully. ‘These crab cakes are delicious.’ I quickly changed the subject, realising I may have sounded a little overfamiliar.

  ‘Martha is the best chef in all of Manchester.’ He raised his voice just loud enough for her to hear. She had her back to us, but her ears lifted slightly and I knew she was smiling.

  ‘You seem to have a good relationship with her,’ I said, desperate to ask if she always called him ‘sir’.

  ‘I do. She keeps me in clean clothes, good food and groceries. She’s like a mother without the Spanish inquisition every time I get home late,’ he quipped.

  Martha cleared the plates and followed the crab cakes with a delicious fillet steak, with a red wine jus and sugar snap peas. In the centre of the table she placed a steaming hot pot of dauphinoise potatoes. Without asking, Joseph placed a portion on my plate. ‘You have to try these. Martha makes the best dauphinoise potatoes.’

  ‘This food is delicious. Seriously, it’s to die for.’ I wasn’t just being polite; the food was amazing, on a par with that served in a top-class restaurant. I couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable though. All this great food, champagne, the limo ride and tuxedo seemed like a lot of effort for a first date with an average thirty-five-year-old like me. I considered just finishing the meal and making my excuses to leave, but curiosity got the better of me and I had to ask: ‘Do you always go to this much effort on a first date?’

  Joseph’s cheeks flushed and his face dropped a little; I sensed he was a bit taken aback by the question. He paused before speaking. ‘Goodness.’ He wiped his mouth with his napkin. I wondered if he was delaying or planning to avoid the question entirely. ‘No, I mean, I rarely get the opportunity to entertain like this. My work keeps me quite busy, and dating has been on the back burner for quite a while now. Have I done something wrong?’ His face suggested the question was genuine, and I felt a little guilty for bringing it up and hurting his feelings.

  ‘No, not at all. Quite the opposite in fact. I’ve just never been on a date with anyone who has planned the details so intricately, so romantically . . .’ I paused, realising what I’d just said. I didn’t want to be presumptuous. Maybe he just liked candles. Feeling embarrassed, I glanced down at my hand playing with the base of my wine glass and stared at it as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

  ‘I’m glad I’ve exceeded your expectations. I just wanted it to be a little special to make up for the experience you mentioned last week.’ I forced myself to look at him. ‘I wanted to carry the torch for decent men everywhere, so to speak.’ A small grin emerged as he allowed a little humour to surface.

  After a brief pause, his face grew serious once more, and his eyes fixed on mine. ‘I just thought, and still do think, that you deserve better than what you’ve experienced so far. You deserve to be looked after, respected, by someone who wants to show you how special you are. I’m glad to be the one lucky enough to make that happen.’ He reached a hand across the table and placed it gently on top of mine.

  My heart fluttered inside my chest. I’d never met a man like him before. My suspicions were quick to dissipate, but I was far from able to relax seeing as he seemed to have placed me on some sort of pedestal. Taking compliments of any kind had never been on my list of strengths. ‘Joseph, what can I say? I’m flattered, and extremely grateful for the trouble.’

  Martha appeared once again, and for the second time that evening I was glad she’d broken the tension. She began to clear the plates. Joseph placed a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Martha, we’ll have desert on the terrace?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replie
d politely.

  Joseph stood. His tall, strong frame filled his tuxedo perfectly. His shoulders were broad, his waist nipped in slightly, and his arms were big and solid, filling the jacket sleeves without pulling them tight. He, like his suit, was tailored to perfection. If God is a woman then this is her masterpiece. He walked around to me and took my hand. ‘Let’s go onto the terrace,’ he said quietly before leading me upstairs.

  We had to walk through the bedroom to get to the terrace. I wasn’t surprised by how tidy and well organised the room was, nor was I surprised by the stylish décor. The super-king-sized bed was the main focal point, perfectly made up with crisp white linen and a duck-egg blue satin throw and matching scatter cushions. I didn’t think I’d ever met a man with scatter cushions before. At the foot of the bed was a deep shag-pile rug in the same colour.

  A thin white voile curtain shielded the windows and patio doors. The room maintained the light, airy feel of the rest of the duplex, but the furnishings worked to soften the room and make it seem tranquil. Joseph opened a single door and gestured for me to go first. ‘After you.’

  I stepped outside onto a large patio area, instantly greeted by the same wonderful view as I had seen on the balcony below. This time, however, I was surrounded by a plethora of potted plants and trees, each one draped in small white fairy lights. A patio heater cast its warm orange glow over a round wicker sofa with a deep white cushion. I sat down nervously next to him, and we shuffled back so we could stretch our legs out in front of us.

  ‘It’s beautiful out here,’ I said once we were settled and able to refocus on the lights of the city before us.

  ‘It’s the reason I bought the place,’ he said, smiling. ‘Plus it came decorated and furnished – it was the show apartment.’ That explained the cushions. ‘Mel, I really did mean it earlier when I said I thought you were special. From what little I know of you, I know this: you’re beautiful, clever, witty and incredibly modest.’

  I shivered a little, not knowing how to respond. Nobody had ever spoken to me like that before, especially not on a first date.