Three Amazing Things About You(6)

‘Wouldn’t it be easier to cancel the card and order a new one?’

‘It would, but I need it. I’m driving straight from here to Luton airport.’

Superman raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re flying on Christmas Eve? Off on holiday?’

‘I’m spending the week with my mum in Saint-Tropez. And I managed to break the only other card I have. It all happens when you don’t want it to.’

‘Definitely going to need a credit card in Saint-Tropez.’ He nodded at her, because she’d suddenly gone still. ‘Don’t stop. Keep looking.’

But Tasha was concentrating on what her fingers had just brushed past. She moved them back and touched the crinkling plastic of a bag with something straight-edged inside . . . Oh please please let it be her card . . .

Hardly daring to breathe, she explored the edges, closed her hand around the small rectangle and hauled it up through the detritus inside the bin.

‘Yes!’ With a whoop of triumph, she dragged the bag out through the opening, pulled out her credit card and . . . well, no, she couldn’t quite bring herself to kiss it, but almost.

‘Brilliant.’ Superman grinned as she exhaled with relief and clutched the card to her chest like an Olympic medal. He closed the bag he’d been holding open for her, flattened it out as much as possible and crammed it with some difficulty back into the litter bin.

‘Thank God.’ Fishing a tissue out of her pocket, Tasha did her best to wipe the worst of the gunk from her right hand.

‘That’s great.’ He hesitated. ‘Now, can I ask you a question?’

Ooh, was he about to ask for her phone number?

Like someone who definitely wasn’t wondering this, she looked mystified and said, ‘Of course you can! What is it?’

He pointed behind her. ‘The people in the café, who’ve been watching all this going on? Could you give them a quick wave?’

‘Oh!’ Twisting round, Tasha saw that she did indeed have an audience. To cover up for the disappointment of not having been asked for her phone number, she beamed and waved the credit card in the air to show them it had been found. Rather sweetly, the customers applauded and waved back.

‘Do you know those people?’ She marvelled at their enthusiasm.

‘No, never been in there before. I think they’re just feeling the festive spirit.’ He shrugged. ‘Either that, or they’re a bit drunk.’

Tasha slotted her card into her purse, securely fastened her shoulder bag, rolled down her sleeve and put on her coat.

‘If you want to go and wash your hands, I can look after your bags for you.’

She checked her watch, conscious now of the time. Also, he didn’t look the type who’d run off with someone else’s last-minute Christmas shopping, but could you ever really know for sure? Untrustworthy men had a habit of appearing trustworthy.

‘It’s OK, I’ve got a pack of wipes in my case. And I really need to get going.’

He nodded. ‘Don’t want to miss your flight. If you like, I could help you carry your stuff back to your car.’

Tasha brightened. ‘Oh, well that—’ His phone rang before she could say more, and he answered it.

‘Hi. Yes, no problem, I’ll pick you up. Twenty minutes OK?’

It wasn’t eavesdropping; she couldn’t help hearing the female voice raised in protest at the other end of the line.

‘Right, five minutes. Just wait outside the shop and I’ll be there.’

So much for getting her hopes up.

‘I’m fine. You’d better go.’ Tasha started to gather together her motley collection of bags as he ended the call. ‘Thanks for coming to my rescue, anyway. You’ve done your good deed for the day, Superman.’

Then their eyes locked, and for a split second the look on his face made her think something magical might be about to happen after all. There was electricity sparking in the air between them. She held her breath. The next moment a snowflake landed on her nose, startling her and completely breaking the spell.

‘It’s starting to snow.’ Glancing up, Tasha saw the flakes tumbling out of a pale-grey sky. ‘Anyway, thanks again. I really do have to go now.’ Nodding at the phone in his hand, she said, ‘And so do you.’

‘I suppose I do. Have a great time in Saint-Tropez.’

‘Thanks, I will.’ She picked up the last of her packages, still flustered by what had almost just happened. ‘Well, bye. Merry Christmas, Superman!’

He hesitated, fat feathery flakes of snow landing in his dark hair, the expression in his green eyes unreadable. Then, as his phone began to ring impatiently again, he raised his hand in a gesture of farewell. ‘Yes. Bye. You too.’