Tina recognised Leon as soon as he swung his long legs out of the silver BMW in the far corner of the restaurant’s car park.
Breathing a sigh of relief as she noted he had used a current photograph for his profile, rather than one ten or more years out of date, she brushed a stray hair from her black velvet jacket.
Stepping further into the shadows where she’d been waiting, Tina watched Leon walk confidently through the main doors. His head was held high. He looked neither left nor right. Tina wondered if his lack of curiosity about his surroundings meant he knew the restaurant well.
How many other women has he wined and dined here over the years?
Leon certainly had the whole ‘George Clooney’ thing going on that she’d hoped for. His charcoal suit was designer, and smart but not too smart. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut into the back of his neck and his shoes positively shone. If he was fifty-two years old as his profile claimed, he wore it well.
Tina had taken only one step forwards when she stopped and sank back into the shadow of the trees that lined the car park. When she’d checked her reflection before leaving her flat she’d felt good. Silver heels, a tight-fitting white V-neck top teamed with her favourite floral velvet jacket, and a smart pair of black satin trousers. Her glossy yellow hair hung around her shoulders, and her makeup had been carefully applied. Suddenly she felt unusually insecure in her appearance. Leon looked like the stuff of fantasies. Would he take one glance at her and walk out?
Her eyes strayed across the sea of Mercedes, Jags and BMWs to her fifteen-year-old Fiesta. It was lurking, as if ashamed of itself, in a dark corner of the car park. What would Leon make of that if he saw it? Everyone on Superior Singles was supposed to be successful. For the first time since she’d joined the site, hoping to find the financially secure man of her dreams, Tina realised that perhaps her version of having made a success of her life wasn’t the same as the owners of vehicles such as these.
Her two previous Internet dates had been with established businessmen. Both were prosperous, but increasingly tired of having nothing in their lives but work. Leon, on the other hand, had the air of a man who’d reached the level of job security which meant he may not have driven himself here. Trying to remember which side of the car she’d seen him get out of, Tina was considering creeping around to see if a chauffeur was in the driver’s seat waiting for their meal to end, when an image of Sam arrived in her head.
Shaking the tatty gardener from her mind and telling herself that Leon was the sort of man she’d been craving for years, Tina strode from the shadows. She only had two minutes until fashionably late morphed into properly late. Telling herself off for making assumptions about Leon before they’d even said hello, she pushed her shoulders back and moved forward.
Acknowledging the doorman with a bat of her elongated eyelashes, the restaurant’s glass doors were dutifully swung open on her behalf. Seconds later a crisply attired receptionist greeted her with a white-toothed smirk and a swish of an expensively manicured hand before leading her to Leon.
Classic steel-grey eyes, strong cheekbones, clean-shaven and a nice discreet smile. Leon was the stuff of her late-night fantasies. Why the hell is this man single? What’s wrong with him?
Rising to his feet, Leon gave an approving nod that made Tina’s pulse leap from a trot to a canter.
‘Leon?’ Tina felt a grin break out across her face, but despite her physical attraction to the man, it didn’t feel real. It felt like a work smile. The sort of upturn of the lips indicating good customer service rather than genuine pleasure. Tina was puzzled as to why her brain wasn’t gushing in delightful tandem with her body. It’s because you don’t know him yet and you’re nervous.
Keen to break the silence so it didn’t have the slightest chance of becoming uncomfortable, Tina was about to comment on his choice of dining location, when a waiter swooped between them. Flapping around with pure white linen napkins, the wine menu and offerings of nibbles, which he called ‘hors d'oeuvres’, he left Tina in no doubt that he was an authentic Frenchman rather than an English guy paid to act out the whole cliché.
As the nerves she’d been so determined to keep hidden began to stir, Tina distracted herself from this unnecessary show by surveying her surroundings. She admired the simplicity of the place. It was a million miles from the clutter of Mill Grange and its hotchpotch of ornaments and paintings which came from a jumble of periods in time and accompanying acetic acid ambience.
Here there wasn’t a single item out of place. Even the cutlery appeared to have been lined up with the assistance of a tape measure and theodolite. The art was sparse, incomprehensible, and clearly had come with unjustifiably big price tags. The walls were a crisp duck-egg blue and the chairs were considerably more comfortable to sit in than their skeleton-like twisted metal frames suggested. As she looked closer, Tina found herself slipping from admiration to cynicism, thinking how much effort had gone into making this place appear exclusive.
Leon still hadn’t spoken, but all the time the waiter was fussing about, he’d kept his eyes levelled on Tina. She wished she knew what he was thinking. His deadpan expression gave away nothing as he ordered wine for both of them, before she could tell him she was driving.
You’re an adult. There is nothing to say you have to drink the wine he has ordered without consulting you.
Put out, but telling herself she could drink the water in the carafe on the table, Tina decided she’d have to make allowances for Leon. He was used to being in control. Might it not, just for an hour or two, be nice to have someone make all the decisions for her?
By the time she had opened the menu the waiter had pressed into her hands, Tina managed to direct a fresh smile towards her companion.
‘I like your shoes.’
As opening lines went, it was not the one Tina had expected. Does that mean he doesn’t like the rest of me? Oh God, does he have a ‘thing’ for feet?
‘Thank you.’ Tina glanced down at the glittery heels that displayed the gentle curve of her feet while affording a glimpse of her turquoise painted toenails. ‘They’re my favourite pair.’
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Leon gestured to the menu. ‘Do you understand what is written here, or would you like me to translate for you?’
Biting the insides of her cheeks together so she didn’t respond to his patronising tone, Tina studied her wood-bound menu. Everything was in French.
‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Disregarding her intention to ignore the alcohol, Tina took a hefty swig from her wine glass. ‘I’ll have the cigares de légumes croquants et algues nori en tempura to start with please, followed by le pressé de bœuf laqué. Thank you.’
Enjoying the tiny rise to Leon’s eyebrows as he realised she could speak and read French, Tina watched while he clicked his fingers towards the waiter. She would have winced in embarrassment if they’d been anywhere else, but all the other customers were acting in a similarly high-handed manner.
As Leon ordered the same meal as her, Tina picked up a tiny piece of bread and crumbled it in her fingers. It was so crispy it could have masqueraded as a crouton; perhaps that was what it was supposed to be. No one had spoken since the shoe comment beyond the requirement of ordering food, so Tina fell back on the classic blind date opening line.
‘Have you been on many dates via the website?’
Leon was appalled. ‘Shhh.’ His eyes skimmed the room, as if he was afraid someone had heard Tina. ‘That we have to stoop to such methods to secure companionship is hardly a matter for discussion in a public place!’
Tina, her own voice low, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘You’re ashamed of being here with me?’
‘Come on, you are clearly an intelligent woman. You must see how using such sites or apps signals an element of failure in our otherwise successful lives.’ Sitting back up, the stiffness of his movement acting as a very definite signal that that part of the conversation was over, Leon added, ‘Remind me, what it is you do?’
Struggling not to gawp like a bewildered goldfish, Tina found herself replying on autopilot. ‘I’m the business liaison manager for the Exmoor Heritage Trust.’
‘A responsible job for someone so young.’
‘Yes.’ Tina suddenly had the urge to giggle. She could just imagine how Thea would react when she told her about this in the morning. ‘I’m currently helping renovate a Victorian manor, near Upwich.’
Leon’s eyebrows rose, ‘I saw an appeal about that on the news. That wasn’t you though?’
‘That was Thea. She’s in charge of the renovation as a whole, whereas I work on a broader range of properties and sites.’
‘An interesting way to spend your life, I’m sure.’ Leon did not sound sure at all.
‘How about you? Your profile…’ Tina changed her words as she saw Leon’s brow darken. ‘You said that you were involved in property.’
‘That is a rather loose way of putting it.’
‘Then tighten it up.’
Leon was spared expressing his surprise at her curt response by the arrival of the waiter with their starters.
Not caring what his views on her etiquette, or lack thereof might be, Tina punched her fork into the nearest piece of tempura. ‘Property in the UK or abroad?’
‘In the States and Scotland.’
‘To cater for the oil industry?’
‘Yes.’ Again Leon didn’t hold back from a show of surprise. ‘How did you work that out?’
Tina felt her hackles rising. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met someone who made her angry and defensive like this. ‘Well, I have a brain, and I have friends who live in Aberdeen. They are always complaining how property magnates have scooped up all the affordable housing and turned it into unaffordable housing.’
Leon levelled his stern gaze on Tina, but said nothing. Suddenly he looked less like George Clooney and more like a villain from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. What the hell am I doing here? Why did I think this was the sort of man I wanted?
With one more mouthful of her delicious starter, Tina picked her napkin off her lap and got to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’
As she walked across the restaurant’s heel-echoing floor, Tina’s heart beat so fast she thought it might break free of her ribs. She wasn’t sure where she was going. To the toilets or out of the restaurant, never to return.
It wasn’t until she was sitting in her car, glad she’d only had a couple of mouthfuls of wine so could drive, that she registered she’d walked out on Leon. She was prepared to bet that was a first for him.
‘It will bloody well do him good!’ With her pulse still galloping around her veins, and not looking back in case Leon had sent a waiter to search for her (no way would he go after her himself),Tina drove into the night to find the comfort of a Chinese takeaway and a night with a boxset of Poirot.