Her long dark hair cascaded down her back, curling slightly at the ends, and her eyes danced with amusement at something the leggy blonde said to her—that was until her mahogany eyes met mine.

In an instant, her eyes glazed with tears as she turned and coughed into her elbow, her entire body racked with convulsions.

By the time I managed to cross the sea of bodies, she had recovered herself, though her friend still eyed her with a look of concern. I was standing in front of them then, but still utterly unsure of what to say.

"Hi," I breathed somewhat unsteadily. "We didn't exactly get to exchange names... I'm Tom."

"Emma," she rasped before shifting her attention to her friend. "This is Trisha. Trisha this is Tom."

"So I heard," she said through a toothy grin.

She held out her hand for me to take. I did and shook it briefly before returning my attention to Emma. "I didn't get a chance to thank you properly for helping me find that book."

She nodded slowly before turning to her friend to explain. "We met in Flannigan's—"

Trisha's smile dropped as she turned to gape at her friend. "Wait, your imaginary boyfriend is real?"

I attempted to hide my grin as Emma's face flushed crimson.

"Oh look," her friend squeaked. "There's someone I know, way over there—bye!"

And with that she fled, teetering on her heels as fast as she could manage.

My smirk won out. "You're imaginary—"

"Her name for you," she cut in as she glared after her friend. "Not mine."

"I went back to the shop to try and find you, but you must not have been working that day."

That brought her attention back to me. She blinked several times as if trying to grasp what I'd said. "I work full-time?"

"Perhaps you were on break then—"

Her eyes widened, suddenly, in understanding. "Oh! Oh god—I don't work at the shop."

"O-oh, sorry I just assumed—"

She shook her head. "I used to, but now I'm just one of those loitering customers."

"Right," I nodded into my drink, embarrassed by my mistake.

"You went looking for me?"

She was smiling up at me, her dark eyes shining lightly with amusement.

I nodded slowly. "I—I wanted to tell you that I'd given Gran the book and a few days later she'd called me to say that she loved it."

"That's great!" She beamed.

"Yeah... she's not an easy one to please."

She shrugged. "Great women have great expectations."

I laughed but nodded. "She'd love that, and I have a feeling she'd agree with you completely."

Emma laughed too but dropped her gaze to the space between us.

After a moment, I dipped my chin to try and catch her eye. "It's nice to see you again, Emma."

She glanced up at me and smiled with that same glint in her eyes. She shook her head slightly, sending her loose curls tumbling over her shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm supporting childhood literacy, you?"

"Trisha made me come," she laughed, though this time not breaking eye contact.

"Ah," I grinned. "She needs your support in enlightening the youth?"

"Just in getting laid."

I snorted, which by her growing smile only seemed to encourage her.

"I'm supposed to be her wingman—wingwoman, I guess."

"A very honorable role," I nodded.

She shrugged. "I'm supposed to talk up the friend while she flirts with whomever she's set her eye on."

I racked my brain to try and think of a smooth reply, but failing miserably to come up with anything, I asked instead: "Well perhaps I could buy you a drink... and relieve you of that duty?"

She glanced down at her still full glass and I groaned internally, cursing my lack of game.

"I already have a drink," she said slowly as she looked up at me again, considering. "You might have to wait a while to buy a second round."

My chest relaxed and I drew a deep breath. "I don't mind."

Her smile caused my stomach to do summersaults, and I was suddenly grateful to have forgotten to eat lunch that afternoon.

We stayed there talking about nothing and anything until I noticed her shifting in her heels—not outrageously tall, but narrow stiletto-looking things that I doubted were very comfortable. I spotted a glass door across the room leading out to what looked like a small patio with a few tables and chairs.

"Care for some air?"

She followed my gaze and nodded eagerly.

I began to lead her through the crowded bar and felt a surge run through my body as her hand gently held onto my upper arm. When we crossed the room, I held the door open and followed her to a table near the railing.

There were a few other people seated nearby, but it was by far less populated than inside.

Emma dropped into her chair and sighed deeply as she leaned against the backrest, her arms dangling from the armrests. I laughed and dropped down next to her.

I watched her for a moment. She had her eyes closed and her face tilted up toward the sky, her hair catching the warm glow of the fading sun. I saw then that her hair, accented with natural highlights of amber, was actually lighter than it had appeared before.

"You said you used to work at Flannigan's?"

She nodded and then pushed herself up in her seat. "During uni," she explained, "and a little while after till I got regular employment. I still hang around there—obviously," she blushed but continued. "Trisha gives me a hard time for it, but it's always felt like a home away from home."

"It's a lovely shop."

She nodded. "It's a family business. I was the first non-blood relative they ever hired."

"I can see why they did. You were brilliant in helping me pick out a book. You know exactly what I needed, like a total professional."

She blushed again, but smiled. "I am sort of... I'm a book reviewer."

I raised my eyebrows, but she didn't say any more.

"What about you?" She asked as she reached down and rubbed her ankle.

I tried not to stare at her dipping neckline.

I cleared my throat. "Pardon?"

She smiled and sat up again, seemingly unaware of the arrhythmia she was causing in my chest. "What do you do?"

"I..." I swallowed and tried again. "I work for a non-profit."

She muttered something I didn't quite catch. "Sorry?"

"Nothing!" she chirped, a blush creeping back along her features.

"We're actually partners with the one hosting the event tonight," I continued. "We do a lot of work with children's charities—"

She groaned and flopped back in her chair.

"What?" I laughed, somewhat uneasily.

"Non-profit work? Children's charities? I'm just starting to wonder if Trisha's right—maybe you are imaginary." She was still blushing, but her small smile let me know she meant the compliment.

I laughed. "Says the mysterious woman who saves my arse picking a present for my grandmother one week and the next glides through a cocktail party in—I'm sorry but what do you even call those?" I asked gesturing toward her feet.

Her eyes widened as they followed mine below the table. "Heels?" She asked somewhat meekly.

"Well, they look like torture devices. You know you can take them off any time you like, I won't judge you at all for it."

For a second I worried my words were too brash for such a new acquaintance, that perhaps she might interpret them hurtfully, but the small smile spreading across her features eased my worries.

Holding my gaze, she slowly shifted in her seat as she slipped one foot and then the other free. She closed her eyes and sighed as she again leaned back into her seat.

I watched her, unabashedly for a minute and then pulled my gaze away from her and looked out at the nearby buildings, square lights slowly flickering on as the evening's light gave way. I glanced down at the table between us and finally noticed the empty glasses on the table. I wasn't sure when we had finished them, I figured I must have been so absorbed in our conversations that I hadn't realized.

I leaned across the table and gently took her glass. "Could I still buy you that drink?" I asked her in a near whisper.

She opened her eyes and smiled into mine. "Yes, please."