I twitch and can’t help but glance down, then he jumps as though he hadn’t realised he was touching me, and unhands me. Before very gently peeling my own hand off his chest.

Awkward. Had forgotten about that.

‘Well you did throw yourself at me, so I caught you!’ He shrugs and grins. ‘You can say thank you later!’

‘I did not throw myself at you,’ I can feel myself turning the colour of a beetroot, ‘and I am not going to say thank you!’

‘Now there you are wrong. I was standing here, minding my own business, trying to get a drink and you leapt on me!’

‘I did not! What is it with some people, always trying to pass the blame? You crept up on me while I was concentrating on my phone, whispered in my ear and made me jump. I do not leap on people!’ The cheek of the man. If I did leap on people, I wouldn’t have this bloody dating problem in the first place.

He chuckles. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck spring into high alert. This man spells trouble. Flirt – tick. Twinkly eyes – tick. Womaniser – tick. Smooth operator – tick. Sexy clothes – tick. Hot body – tick (I know I shouldn’t have noticed, but it is hard not to). Invading my personal space – tick, tick, tick!

Carefully selected Gabe wouldn’t have behaved like this. See, this is the trouble with relying on meeting guys randomly – you end up with womanisers who think they are God’s gift.

Not my type at all, no, no.

He’s watching me. His steady gaze challenging.

I stare back unwilling to back down and break the contact first (what can I say, I’m a bad loser), and slowly it dawns on me. I could actually use this to my advantage. Just this once, talking to a man like this could be useful. Purely for research reasons, of course. To find out why I’m having the problems I am. He’s landed, quite literally, in my lap – so why not take advantage of the situation?

Normally I’d have been off the moment he laid his unwanted hands on me, but 1. I’m slightly tipsy, and 2. I’m feeling a bit desperate. Pissed and pissed off is not a good combination.

‘You don’t?’ He raises an eyebrow, then winks. ‘Shame.’

Oh God, he’s worse than I thought. ‘You should apologise!’

‘What for? I’m not sorry. Are you?’

This floors me. Am I sorry? Should I be sorry? What have I got to be sorry about?

‘I’m intrigued.’ He seems to have taken my confusion for a ‘no’ and carries on talking. ‘Why does dating suck?’ He twinkles at me. Positively twinkles. And squeezes my hand! I stare at our joined hands. I’d forgotten we were still clutching my glass. I try and wriggle free again and for a moment there’s a bit of a tussle, then he casually lets go, one finger trailing down the back of my hand as it goes and winks. ‘Nothing better on a Friday night, or Saturday, or Monday, Tuesday …’