Chapter 1: A modern damsel in distress...

...And the hero who rescues her.

What follows is a work of fiction. But, like some of the best stories, it begins with a nugget of truth…

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When you’ve grown up on a diet of Disney fairytales, happily-ever-after rom-coms, and more steamy novels read under the covers at night than you’d ever admit in company; and then spent most of your adulthood as relentlessly single as I have, it’s hardly surprising that there’s a part of my brain nearly constantly fantasising about meeting my Mr Right.

In all sorts of improbable situations, random everyday moments, and movie worthy meet-cutes.

But I don’t think I’ve ever really, fully believed that it could happen to me in real life.

Until it did.

It was the most ordinary day imaginable. I was at work, at the department store where I’d been employed for the past few years. The shopfloor was humming with the usual chatter of customers, and there was music playing over the speakers. Though I couldn’t tell you what song it was; I’d long ago learned to tune that down into the background of my awareness.

Not long into the new year, it was time for an update to some of the displays, now that the glitter of the festive season – and the mess of the post-Christmas sale – was over.

I’m based in the haberdashery department, and honestly, it’s as close to heaven on earth as you can get for me. To be surrounded by shelves and shelves of bolts of fabric, ribbons, buttons, threads, and all kinds of other crafty treasures. Colour, pattern, texture… Some people find it all a bit of a sensory explosion, but I love it.

And when I’m happily immersed in the task of creating a beautiful new display I can easily tune out the rest of the world.

Don’t tell my manager that though. Customer service is supposed to be our top priority at all times.

So anyway, there I was, making my final tweaks to how some embroidery samples were hanging on the wall. They looked wonderful, if I do say so myself.

Basking in satisfaction, I wasn’t completely paying attention to where I was putting my feet as I stepped backwards and down off my stepladder.

My toe must have caught on one of the rungs, upsetting my balance and sending me toppling backwards, my fingers slipping and not quite able to grasp the ladder in time to stop myself falling.

Except that rather than landing on the floor in an undignified heap, I was caught mid-tumble, thumping against the very solid torso of another human being, with two strong hands gripping my upper arms.

I squeaked in shock and tried to turn around to see who I’d almost knocked over with me.

Only my feet nearly got tangled again and that pair of hands reached out a second time, taking me gently by the elbows and keeping me upright.

I don’t even have that big feet, but I do have a tendency to trip over myself on a worryingly frequent basis.

My own hands, in the meantime, had reached out to steady myself, handing squarely in the centre of someone’s chest.

A man’s chest.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed apologetically and a little breathlessly, looking up quickly.

Which was a mistake.

Whether it was the combination of shock and nearly giving myself whiplash tipping my head back to meet the eyes of the man who had rescued me, or simply being stunned by the sight before me, it made any remaining air rapidly vacate my lungs and I froze, wide-eyed.

Talk about the very definition of tall, dark and handsome!

Raven-black hair, peppered at the temples with hints of silver and left slightly long waved over his forehead and I had the sudden, desperate urge to run my fingers through it to find out how soft it was.

Dark, straight brows and envy-inducing lashes framed a pair of eyes the colour of that unctuous hot chocolate I’d once drunk in Venice, but with added flashes of copper and gold glinting under the shop lights.

Which was quite unfair, because shop lighting famously makes everyone look awful. But not him.

The faintest furrow creased his forehead and I snapped out of my trance enough to hear him ask with concern “Don’t apologise, are you OK?”

His voice.

Oh heavens.

Rich and deep and just the right hint of gravel and smoke to resonate through the centre of my chest.

It was a good job he was still holding me up otherwise I might have melted into a puddle right there.

Remembering that I needed to inhale, and blinking to try and shake off more of my surprise, I nodded gently. “Um…yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you like that.”

I tried to remember how to smile instead of staring blankly.

Then he smiled, and I was done for.

It was one of those smiles that quirks up more on one side, hinting at a dimple in one cheek, and then spreads to the eyes making them glint with humour and crinkle just a little around the edges.

“No harm done,” he replied, “I’m just glad I could save you from falling.”

Watching his mouth while he spoke was like watching poetry in motion.

Perfect masculine lips, just the right mix of strength and softness, and revealing very nearly but not quite perfectly straight white teeth. And somehow, that slight imperfection made the whole effect even more perfect.

Oh, and not to mention the carefully trimmed dark stubble over the strong angles of his jaw.

I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. The rough with the smooth. Then stopped myself before the daydream had a chance to take hold.

“Yes, thank you for that, I guess my foot caught on the ladder. At least you rescued me from a hard landing and some painful bruises!” I smiled, laughed, and then realising what I’d said, instantly blushed.

Did I really want this achingly good-looking man to be thinking about my bruised backside when we’d only just met?

His smile deepened as he let out a chuckle. And yes, there it was.

The full dimple.

Swoon.

“Well we certainly wouldn’t want that,” he said, his eyes warming to something approaching a smoulder and telling me that he absolutely was thinking about my behind.

Now blushing furiously, I swallowed past the lump of embarrassment that had formed in my throat and dropped my gaze, breaking from the intensity of his. Though I couldn’t help a secret thrill that such a man, who likely had women chasing after him all the time, might find little old me even vaguely attractive. I just hoped I wasn’t mis-reading the warmth in his eyes as interest when really it was pity.

Not looking directly at his mesmerising face gave a few more of my brain cells the chance to start functioning again, and I realised that his hands were still lightly cupping my arms, and mine were still plastered in the centre of his chest.

A reassuringly firm and muscular chest. At least as far as I could tell from feel alone and through the layers of clothing between my palms and his skin.

A fine knit (and definitely cashmere by my expertise) V-neck jumper in a deep, mossy green was layered over a white cotton shirt, the collar open at the neck revealing the strong column of his throat, the skin smooth and gently tanned. Over these a smart, grey wool coat draped over broad shoulders, the collar popped up against what I assumed was dreary winter weather outside. At least, it had been when I came in first thing that morning.

It took all my willpower not to fist that deliciously cosy cashmere between my fingers, and instead I managed to persuade them to let go, drawing my hands away, already missing the warmth that I was sure was emanating from him.

As I moved back, his hands slid from my forearms, letting me go to stand on my own two feet again.

As his arms dropped I was sure I saw him stretch out one hand and then ball it into a fist by his side.

We both stood there, staring at each other again, for a few more seconds, until a blaring staff announcement came over the speakers and shattered the moment.

“Well…uh…” he stuttered out, adorably looking almost as befuddled as I felt, “you’re sure you’re OK?”

I nodded again and smiled. “Yes, fine, honestly. Thank you again.”

I paused, waiting, though for what, I wasn’t quite sure.

“I…I’d better get back to work…” I tailed off, glancing over my shoulder to the stepladder waiting patiently. I glared at it accusingly, but it just stood there, smugly, as if it had engineered the whole situation.

“Yes, of course,” he replied, smiling that sexy half smile again. “It was great…meeting you.”

“Um…yes…you too…”

If my education in fairytale romances was sound, I knew it was too soon for the big declaration of love at first sight, but surely this had been one of those defining moments when something happened.

Was he going to say anything? Did I just walk away?

A flash of indecision in his eyes gave me a hint of hope, but then he started to turn.

“Well, I, uh…I’d better…” Apparently he wasn’t doing any better with full sentences than I was. He pointed vaguely in the direction of one of the other sections of the shopfloor.

“Oh, right…of course…I’ll just…” it was my turn to gesture at my equipment and the next items of stock waiting to be displayed.

I’m glad that he managed to tear himself away and start walking across the store, because if he hadn’t, I don’t think I would have been able to, and would have just stood there staring at him until it got really awkward. But I couldn’t help a wistful disappointment that this was going to be the end of our interaction.

Letting out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding, I mentally shook myself off and spun determinedly on my heel, trying to remember what was next on my plan.

I chanced one final glance over my shoulder, only to spot him doing the same, hesitating just before he turned the corner into the next department.

I couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes from that distance, but I thought it held a hint of…maybe curiosity?

Then, with one last flash of a smile, he was gone.

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