Dirty Bad Wrong(40)
“Sorry, Trevor, we’d love to, we’re back-to-back with office catch-up calls until nine. Some other time, though.”
He couldn’t argue, feigning politeness and waving us away for a ‘pleasant evening’. It would be. Now.
“I really thought he was coming with us,” Lydia said, eyes sparkling in amusement. “He looked so put out when you said we were busy.”
I handed her a glass. “Did you want him to?”
“Did I want Trevor White to join us this evening?” she smiled. “No. Why would I?”
“He’s the senior partner of one of the largest law firms in the country. He’s got a gold Jag, part share in a racehorse and a villa on the Spanish coast. Plus he’s still got his own hair, and most of his own teeth. He could be your next Mr Comfortable.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Another Mr Comfortable is the last thing I want.”
“Really? Why so?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m the new-model Lydia Marsh. This Lydia Marsh is wild and free and single. She doesn’t want TV nights or lights-off sex on a Tuesday evening.”
“I guess she doesn’t want Trevor White, then.”
“No, she doesn’t,” she grinned. “She doesn’t want a relationship at all.”
“Welcome to the club,” I held up my wine and she clinked my glass. “Single and sane, private and proud.”
“You remembered,” she said. “Is it up in your living room yet?”
“Sure is. I had it printed in Stencil font, 180 point size. Takes up my entire mantelpiece.”
“Liar,” she laughed. “I might get Rebecca to make it up as an art print for you, when’s your birthday?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “Sorry?”
“Your birthday, when is it?” Her smile was sweet and unsuspecting. Interested. Only Rebecca knew my birthday, if she even remembered. Maybe my sisters, if they could ever be arsed to send a birthday card.
“June Nineteenth.”
“Gemini,” she said. “The twins. Multifaceted and complex.”
The beast burnt beneath my shirt. She had no fucking idea. “Yes, I’m a Gemini. If you want to believe in all that mumbo-jumbo.”
“I’m a Scorpio. Born on Halloween.”
“I really did pick the right housemate for the lovely Rebecca, then, didn’t I? It doesn’t get much more goth than a Halloween birthday.”
“Quite true.”
“Aren’t Scorpios supposed to be the weirdo star sign? You don’t seem all that weird to me, Lydia Marsh, I think it’s all baloney.”
A sly smile lit up her face, hitting me straight in the dick. “Looks can be deceiving, James Clarke.”
I raised my glass. “Quite true, Cat, quite true.”
Once again she had no fucking idea.
I drank quickly and Lydia matched my pace. We’d retired to a table at the far end of the restaurant, nestled amongst some oversized ornamental plants, and the dim lighting dilated her pupils perfectly. She looked divine, naturally sexy, dazzling with life, a different girl entirely to the one I’d found in the kitchen all those weeks ago. The conversation flowed much more easily than I was accustomed to, glossing over anything too personal and landing on a healthy dollop of work talk mixed with personal history, ambitions, funny stories. She was funny, and sharp, and interesting, battering me with questions without being invasive. I found myself sucked into her, compelled by her strange green eyes.
We ate heartily, and happily, complementing the chef on his fine culinary talents, but after dessert Lydia’s demeanour shifted a gear. She became nervous somehow, edgy. Her dainty little fingers played with her wine glass, twirling it round and round in front of her. She was a puzzle I’d love to solve, an enigma that vexed me, snaking up my backbone like a creeping vine.
“Is something troubling you?”
Her eyes widened as they met mine, and she swallowed nervously. She smiled to hide it, but I caught it anyway. “I’m fine.”
I let it drop, pouring out the final dregs of wine between our glasses. “I’ve enjoyed this evening,” I said, in an attempt to smoothen her disposition.
“Me, too, very much. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You deserve it.”
She seemed to be about to say something, edging a little closer and pursing her lips in that way she does when she concentrates. I knew her mannerisms far too well, too many hours spent studying her in the guise of professionalism. I waited for it, but her mobile cut us off, chirping away with some generically irritating ring-tone.
Her face paled, and for a horrible moment I figured it was Stuart or someone equally unwelcome.