"Jean Luc? What are you doing here?"

The Frenchman's eyes travelled from her head to her toe before his brows lifted into a perfect arch. "I think the question is what are you wearing?"

His lips twisted with obvious contempt for her skin-tight black jeans and Kayleigh's heart fell into her guts. She was already anxious about her ensemble and her jeans were the one thing she was confident of.

"They're Kiltons. You designed them!" she mumbled defensively.

"Oui! Five years ago. They're a classic go-to for binge drinking with your girlfriends. A big no-no to go on a rendezvous with the hottest bachelor in the city."

Kayleigh groaned and let him in. She was regretting this rendezvous the closer it got. "Well, it's either this or the dress I wore to WYLD."

"Non! Too flashy!"

"Hence, the jeans."

Jean Luc gave her an empathic smile and waved a dress bag in her face. "Don't you worry, Kay Cakes. I have you covered."

His sharp eye fell on the empty wine glass on the counter and Kayleigh shuffled her weight from one heeled foot to the other. "I needed something to take the edge off," she explained.

"Oh, ma Cherie! Come on!"

Jean Luc strode down the short corridor to her bedroom as though he'd been to her place a hundred times before, leaving Kayleigh no choice but to follow him.

"How do you know where I live?" she called out behind him. 

"I handle the department's paperwork, including the personnel details form," he drawled as he opened the dress bag to reveal a dark green, silk mini-dress.

He dug into the large Kilton bag he brought with him, took out a pair of dainty gold sandals and set them underneath the dress. Then he started to spread an impressive selection of makeup products on her dresser and plugged in a curling iron. Kayleigh sucked in a deep breath as she saw her room being transformed into the backstage of a runway show.

"Okay, that is borderline stalking, not to mention a breach of God knows how many privacy regulations. And Jack is picking me up in twenty minutes. There's no time to play make-over. Besides, my hair doesn't do curls. It'll fall flat by the time I'm out the front door."

"I am not going to curl your hair. I am going to twist it into a low bun," he explained calmly. "It will give you that je ne sais quoi you Brits know nothing of."

Kayleigh had never felt so in over her head as she felt at that moment. Not even when she told her parents she wanted to be a fashion designer, knowing perfectly well she was too awkward for the industry. At least then she had the certainty of the warmth and excitement she felt when she saw a designer piece that she loved. She was soothed by the bold colours and the haute couture. She relaxed drawing up elaborate pieces and dreamed of models wearing them one day. 

"Will you at least wear the dress?" he begged, finally giving in and plopping down on her bed.

Kayleigh turned to the dress hanging from her wardrobe. It was beautiful. Sleek and simple, made from gorgeous silk fabric and a single knit-line at the back. She knew it would fit her figure perfectly. Jean Luc had a good eye. "Did you do this?"

"Yes. I was going to present it to Kilton for last year's fashion week. Then I got moved up to the bridal department and didn't want anyone else to get the credit. I'm petty that way."

Kayleigh smiled at his unrivalled genius and was suddenly glad he showed up at her door. "I'm sorry, for taking Abi's wedding from you. I didn't mean to. It was..."

"An accident," he finished for her.

Kayleigh nodded.

"It's okay, Kay Cakes." He stood up and put an arm around her shoulders. "I wouldn't be helping you if I thought you were a scheming BI-ATCH. Now go put that dress on."

Kayleigh looked wistfully at the dress again and grinned. She kissed him on the cheek and went to her bathroom to change.

#

It only took one quick glance at the man in the pale, grey shirt and black dress pants for Kayleigh to understand why Jack Monroe's name was on everyone's lips. He was absolutely breathtaking. His light-brown eyes shined in his angular face as she made her way toward him.

"You look stunning," he murmured, placing a chaste kiss on her hand and opening the door of his fancy black car.

Kayleigh made a mental note to thank Jean Luc for being so persistent. This man did not deserve a girl with jeans, no matter what brand they were.

Jack put on some easy jazz music and started up the car, but Kayleigh was almost afraid to breathe in his presence. A hundred questions popped into her head as he eased out of Gloucester Place. What would they talk about? Where were they going? What if she made a fool of herself?

"Sorry, about the roses," he said unexpectedly.

Kayleigh looked at him curiously. His eyes were fixed on the road but something around his lips conveyed a subtle hint of discomfort which surprised her immensely. "What do you mean?"

Three jazz-filled beats later he said, "I realised afterwards that it may have been embarrassing for you to get flowers at the office." He bit his lower lip before explaining further. "I only meant to give you a window by making the first move."

A million thoughts had tired Kayleigh's mind in the time between getting the flowers and finding the courage to call him. That was not one of them. "You'd already made the first move by giving me your number. I didn't really need a window."

She realised how arrogant her words were as soon as they were out. She bit her tongue and looked at Jack out of the corner of her eye. He didn't look offended, but he briefly turned to her and caught her glance. 

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "That sounded bad. What I meant was, I still would have called without the roses. But they were very nice, and you don't have to apologize for them." Her fingers toyed nervously with the hem of Jean Luc's dress. "They caused quite the stir in the office."

His features perked slightly. "Oh, really?" he mused as he pulled into a parking area under a tall building and scanned a card. The barrier lifted obediently.

Kayleigh shot him a curious look.

"I know a guy," he shrugged.

"A guy?"

"The owner," Jack admitted sheepishly. "I know the owner."

"Of the building?" Kay asked and Jack grinned broadly at her innocent astonishment.

He drove up a couple of floors and parked in an empty spot overlooking the Thames. The city lights twinkled like stars beneath them and Kayleigh thought London seemed far less menacing from above.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked as he killed the engine.

Kayleigh snapped out of her trance and found Jack's intense gaze on her.

"Yes," she replied. "This place is beautiful. The view, not the parking lot," she added quickly. Jack chuckled and Kayleigh realised she liked the sound very much.

"I'd say it's not as beautiful as you, but something tells me you don't respond to cheese very well."

She gave him a shy smile. There was no way to answer that without risking sounding rude again.

"Let's go," he said, letting her off the hook. "Believe it or not, I didn't plan for the parking spot to be the highlight of the night."

Kayleigh gave in to a light laugh, which earned her another heart-stopping grin, and secretly patted herself on the back for making it this far without ruining everything.

#

They took the lift to the thirty-second floor and entered a beautiful, contemporary restaurant with glass walls and shiny, dark floors. A very tall, very straight man in a suit met them at the entrance and guided them to a table that offered what was probably the best view of west London.

Kayleigh sat down gingerly as he pulled the chair out for her and placed a cloth napkin on her lap. Jack sat opposite her and asked for a bottle of still water and two glasses of prosecco.

"Wow! This place is something else," she whispered nervously as their waiter walked away with his nose in the air. She set her hands on her lap under the table, not knowing what else to do with them, conscious of the many eyes darting her way, eying her like she were a green disease.

"So are you," he replied smoothly without missing a beat.

If his remark was meant to calm her down, it had the opposite effect. Her fingers worked the napkin with an unwarranted vengeance.

Jack Monroe leaned across the table. "What's wrong, Kayleigh?" he asked. His clear eyes begged for an answer Kayleigh didn't have. 

She tried to organise the jumble of thoughts whizzing about in her head and started to speak slowly. "You don't know me. You keep saying things and doing things that I have done nothing to earn, and I don't understand why I'm here. Meanwhile, everyone knows you. Every girl here wants to be in my seat. It's kind of scary."

Her eyes fell to her lap as she mumbled the last sentence. Another waiter, younger, less intimidating and wearing a vest, not a jacket, came over to their table and welcomed them anew. He filled their glasses with water and set down two flutes of prosecco.

"You're right," Jack said softly when they were alone again. "I'm kind of big on gestures. In fact, I would argue that you haven't had as many big gestures as you deserve. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. And I know I don't know you. That's kind of the whole point of this date, which I seem to have gotten all wrong."

"No, you haven't," Kayleigh replied quickly, seeing the disappointment on his face. Why couldn't she keep her big mouth shut? "I'm having a great time. I guess I'm just worried that I'll make a fool of myself in front of you."

"You really needn't worry," Jack consoled. "It all looks sophisticated but it's really very simple. To work the table, start from the outside and work your way in. I learned that one from The Titanic. The rest is normal protocol. Don't let the glorified servers get to you. They're just doing their job. Just think, in a few weeks, when everyone will know you are the country's hottest fashion designer, they will be falling over each other to wait on you," he finished with his igniting smile.

Kayleigh let out a disbelieving laugh, but she had to admit his little speech worked. The knots in her stomach loosened just a little.

"There we go," Jack murmured happily. "Now, be honest. What do you hate most about London so far?"

Kayleigh narrowed her eyes at the man. "What makes you think I hate any of it?"

"Ah," he crooned cocking his head adorably to one side. "I could see it in your eyes at Endo when you were talking about your home."

Kayleigh lowered her eyes for a moment. She never considered herself to be transparent and was surprised that Jack wasn't far off the mark. "I don't hate it," she answered honestly. "It's different. It's really big, and everyone knows exactly what they're doing. I feel like Gulliver in Brobdingnag."

Kayleigh expected Jack Monroe to laugh at her, but he merely shook his head with a sceptical expression on his beautiful face. He took a sip of prosecco before fixing her with a mesmerising look. "There is nothing small about you, Kayleigh Moore. And I won't rest before you realise that London is the perfect size for you."

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I don't know about you guys, but I don't think that was a bad first date at all ;)

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