Page 71 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘Sorry, have we met?’

‘Sort of, not really,’ he shrugged, still smiling.

Well, that cleared things up.

‘The pizzeria in Rome . . .’

Of course. Suddenly it clicked. This was the man reading the book. The stranger she turned around and stared at. Who caught her eye when she left the restaurant and looked back. So he was looking at her. He did notice her. All these thoughts whooshed through her mind, but all she said was, ‘Basilico’s, Piazza Navona,’ and smiled, like it was no big deal.

Because it wasn’t, right?

‘Yes, that was it.’ He nodded. ‘You have a good memory.’

‘Not always,’ she smiled ruefully, ‘but I do when it comes to food.’

‘How was the pizza?’

‘Wonderful. Yours?’

‘I went for the pasta carbonara.’

‘No!’

He laughed at her outrage. ‘Is that terrible?’

Embarrassed by her reaction, she laughed. ‘I’m sure it was delicious, but they’re famous for their pizzas. They do the best crusts. You missed out.’

‘Next time.’

His eyes met hers. Darkness was falling, but even in the half-light she noticed how strikingly blue they were.

‘I’m Sander.’ Taking a few steps towards her, he held out his hand in introduction.

‘Maggie.’ Smiling, she shook it. It felt curiously formal. Sweet, though. And his handshake was warm and friendly. ‘You have a cool name,’ she added.

‘Not really. I’m Dutch. It’s quite common in the Netherlands.’

So that explained the blue eyes and blond hair. Memories of visiting Amsterdam when she was much younger and being amazed by how tall and blond and good-looking everyone was flicked through her mind. As someone who’d been a gangly teenager, shooting up to five foot eleven by the time she was fourteen, it had been wonderful not to be the tallest for once. To actually stand in a crowd and not be head and shoulders above everyone else. To feel like she fitted in. Well, apart from the blond, good-looking bit.

‘So, you’re on holiday?’ she asked, snapping back.

‘Sort of. My son is taking a gap year to travel before he starts his university degree, so I thought why should all the teenagers have the fun? Why not do that myself?’

‘You’re on the gap year together?’

‘We’re close but not that close.’ He laughed. ‘He’s in Thailand and Indonesia, going to festivals and full moon parties. But I’ve been there and done that. I read The Beach.’

Maggie smiled at the reference. They must be the same age.

‘Every backpacker read that novel.’

‘It was our bible,’ he nodded. ‘Now I sit in restaurants and read books about history and order the wrong thing.’

He smiled then, a mischievous, teasing smile that would normally put someone at ease and make them laugh, but instead made Maggie immediately put up her defences and feel guarded. She’d had this kind of connection with someone before. Thought someone was nice and friendly and cute and funny. Laughed at their jokes and felt flattered by their interest.

And they blew up her life.

‘And you?’