Angel (18 page)

'And what's your favourite sexual position, then,
Angel?'

Angel sighed as she looked at Colin, the twenty-something lads-mag
journalist who needed to lose weight, get a haircut and learn that it was
rude to stare as he openly ogled her cleavage. The interview was supposed
to be accompanying her shoot with
Tackle
, but she really wasn't in
the mood for a saucy exchange with a hack. In any case, Angel was struggling
to remember when she'd last had good sex with Mickey. Lately he had been too
out of it for anything apart from the odd quickie in a club bathroom, just
before he took one line too many. But Angel knew that was not what the readers
of
Tackle
would want to hear.

'There are so many, Colin, so many different
things that I like. Sometimes I like to go on top,
sometimes I like the plain old missionary, sometimes
I like it on the edge of the bed, sometimes I
like it from behind, sometimes I like riding
bareback flicking the peanut – if you know what I
mean.' Colin nodded and scribbled away in his
notebook, and Angel smiled to herself, wondering
if he did. 'Or I like being a slut with a nut,' she
continued. 'It all depends on my mood. And sometimes
I like to be the dominant one and sometimes
I like to be dominated.'

'Oh, so are you a bit of a dominatrix?' Colin
agreed a bit too eagerly, his eyes taking on a
weaselly gleam.

'I don't mean bondage or anything, darling.
Dressing up in a rubber suit and mask really
doesn't do it for me. What I mean by dominant is
that sometimes I like to devise the scenario in bed
or somewhere else and sometimes I like the man to
tell me exactly what he wants.'

'Would you ever have a threesome?' Colin asked
hopefully.

Angel was reminded of Mickey's repeated
requests that she try it for him and her heart sank.
'That would depend,' was all she decided to say.

'On what?' Colin persisted.

'On my mood and on the people involved.' She
leant forward to pick up her phone from the coffee
table, giving Colin a further eyeful of her
magnificent breasts. 'Let's just say that I'm not
ruling it out.

'And now I really have to go, Colin – you've got
enough haven't you?'
Christ, I wish he'd bugger off!
She got up from the sofa, making a big show of
checking her watch.

'Yeah, you've given me some great stuff. Just one
last question: if you could sleep with anyone, who
would it be?'

Angel smiled coyly. 'But I'm already with
Mickey, the man who fulfils all my fantasies.'

'Okay, but if you weren't, who would it be?'

Cal was the only man Angel ever fantasised
about, but she could hardly reveal that to the world.
'I don't know . . . Freddie Ljungberg. He's well
fucking fit.'

She practically had to frogmarch Colin to the
front door to get rid of him. When he'd gone, she
decided to head off to the gym. She hadn't done
any exercise for ages, not that she ever liked to do
that much, but her agent kept nagging her, saying
that she wouldn't get picked up by the Americans
unless she did. Angel had been blessed with good
genes: she was naturally slim, plus all the sport
she'd done when she was growing up – swimming,
riding and football – had given her a toned body,
and to the envy of nearly every woman she knew
she'd never really had to work at keeping in shape.
But she'd been burning the candle at both ends
lately, drinking more than was good for her, and
she knew she could do with a bit of work.

God, this is so boring
, she groaned to herself as she
got on the cross trainer and started the machine up.
Come on, you bleeding endorphins, kick in and give me
some kind of rush
. She managed twenty minutes and
was just drinking some water when she looked
across the gym and saw Cal, just ten feet away from
her. He was running on the treadmill, a look of
steely determination on his handsome features.
Hello
, thought Angel.
This gym session has just got a
whole lot better
. She hadn't seen him since the
engagement dinner and though she still felt sad
about Prince, she felt more together, more up for
an encounter with Cal Bailey. She smiled to herself,
walked over and got on the machine next to him.

'Hi,' she said, starting up the machine into a
brisk walk. He nodded hello.

'Can't you go any faster?' she teased.

Cal gave her a sideways look. 'Two more miles
and I can talk to you.'

Angel smiled and sped up herself. She'd always
been a good runner and with Cal next to her she
felt a surge of energy. They ran side by side with
Angel matching his speed, but when she sneaked a
look at his treadmill's display she realised that it was
no achievement at all as he'd already run five miles.
Ten minutes later, Cal started slowing down.
Secretly relieved, Angel started her cool-down
programme as well.

'So,' said Cal, turning to face her at last, 'I didn't
know you were a member here.' He stopped, wiped
his face and took a drink of water.

'Yeah, well, I've been letting things slide a bit.'
She saw Cal take in her slim, tanned limbs in her
skin-hugging Lycra shorts and cropped top.

'Yep, looks that way. So what's next?' he asked
her as they both headed to the water fountain.

'Well, I was going to have a swim,' she said,
thinking that she was actually bloody knackered
and needed a lie down.

'You lightweight! Tell you what, I'll give you a
workout if you want.'

It seemed too good an offer to refuse, but Angel
regretted her decision almost immediately as he
had her performing a punishing series of sit-ups on
the exercise ball, then got her to use some of the
weight machines she loathed. She particularly
objected to the one that worked the inner thigh.

'Please stand to the side while I'm doing this!' she
begged him, forced to hold the position with her
legs spread wide open.

'It's okay,' he replied, 'I've seen it all before.
Twenty more.'

'God, you're a sadist.'

After thirty minutes using various machines,
Angel finally persuaded him to go for that swim.
She quickly showered, plaited her hair and then
considered her swimwear. She could wear her
black sports costume, which killed her curves and
flattened her breasts, or she could wear her white
bikini, which had completely the opposite effect.
There was really no contest – it had to be the white
bikini. She slipped it on and made her way to the
poolside. Cal was already ploughing up and down
the fast lane doing a flashy front crawl. Angel
pulled down her goggles, opted for the medium
lane and dived in, determined to beat him, which
she did quite easily. When she and Cal both ended
up at the same end, he gestured for her to stop,
smiling through the water running down his face.

'I didn't realise you were such a good swimmer!'

'There are lots of things you don't know about
me, Cal,' she replied, pleasantly aware that Cal's
attention was focused on her white bikini.

'I'm beginning to realise that. Three more, then
a steam?'

He took off in the water, closely pursued by
Angel. For a while she hung back, letting him think
that he was in the lead, then she effortlessly overtook
him. Three lengths done, she pulled herself
up onto the side, took off her goggles and made a
show of considering her nails as Cal pulled up.

'Okay, you win,' he said grudgingly.

Angel laughed. 'You are such a bad loser!'

The steam room was deserted. They flopped
down on opposite benches, stretching their legs
out. Angel couldn't help taking surreptitious
glances at Cal through the steam. God, he had such
a fantastic body – sexy biceps that she longed to kiss,
long muscular legs, just the right amount of hair on
his chest, with a washboard stomach. And she
didn't even want to think about the dark line of
hairs running from his navel into his shorts. She
closed her eyes and imagined walking over to him,
kissing him, caressing him, gently peeling off his
trunks and revealing his—

'Fuck me, I'm roasted,' Cal exclaimed. 'I've got
to get out of here.'

She opened her eyes as Cal headed out of the
steam room.
Too bad
. . .

'See you upstairs?' he asked in the doorway,
framed by the steam swirling around him.

'Sure.'

'Jesus – what is it you women do all that time?'

Angel sat down opposite Cal, who had two empty
coffee cups in front of him.

'Just stuff, you know – hair, make-up,
moisturiser, blah blah . . .'

Cal grimaced at her. 'Well, at least you weren't as
long as Simone usually is.'

'And how is the lovely Simone?' Angel asked,
trying to keep her voice even but secretly wanting
Cal to start bitching about her.

'She's great, really great.'

Bugger that
, thought Angel, reaching for the
menu.

'I'm starving. I'm going to have a tomato and
mozzarella bagel, and do you think they do chips
here?'

Cal laughed. 'Of course they don't, it's a gym!'

It was such a treat to be spending time with Cal.
She had always thought he had this way of making
the person he was with feel so special. He asked her
all about her work and seemed genuinely
interested in her ambitions. Angel couldn't help
comparing him with Mickey, whose main topic of
conversation tended to be himself. She and Cal
seemed to be getting on better than they had in
ages. Then Simone appeared at their table.

She was immaculately dressed in a black
designer tracksuit and trainers, her long brown
silky hair pulled back in a ponytail, her lips lightly
glossed. Completing the ensemble was a very sulky
look on her face. She ignored Angel, immediately
bending down and draping her arms round Cal.

'I didn't know you were coming to the gym,
darling. Why didn't you call me?'

'I'm sorry, babe, it was a spur of the moment
decision.'

'Well, will you come and work out with me now?'

Angel snorted. 'What, with all the exercise he's
just had?'

Simone clenched her jaw and looked furious,
finally acknowledging Angel with a brief nod. Cal
smiled, obviously realising he needed to defuse the
situation.

'I bumped into Angel on the treadmill.'

'Oh?' said Simone coldly. 'I would have thought
you rarely exercised standing up, Angel.'

Angel smiled right back at her. 'You're so right,
sex is good exercise, but every now and then even I
like to go for a run or a swim. And, as Cal will tell
you, I'm very good at swimming.'

'You went swimming?' Simone spat out the
words.

'Yeah,' Angel replied, gathering her things
together. 'It was really lucky that I remembered my
bikini. And then we hit the steam room. God, it's
hot in there.'

Simone's expression was not so much chewing a
wasp as swallowing a swarm. Angel decided to make
a swift exit.

'Cheers for the workout, Cal, and I'll see you
both at Gemma and Tony's party tomorrow night.'
She was already out the door, throwing both a
casual wave.

'See you, Angel,' Cal called after her.

Simone was still too angry to speak.

Angel was not looking forward to the engagement
party. Tony hadn't spoken to her since the dinner,
and, despite Gemma's denials, Angel knew he
hadn't forgiven her for showing up late and then
making a scene. And he clearly didn't approve of
Mickey. So as she was getting ready, she felt tense
and apprehensive.

'Chill, babe,' Mickey told her, rubbing her
shoulders. 'It's just a party. And it's at Sugar's, your
favourite club.'

Angel sipped her mineral water while she considered
what to wear. She had just bought an
amazing silver dress with a low-cut back. It was
gorgeous! And although it revealed quite a bit of
flesh it didn't flaunt too much cleavage, so it
shouldn't annoy her brother. She'd just started on
her make-up when Mickey wandered in and
handed her a glass of champagne.

'Thought this would help you to relax.'

'Cheers, but I really want to watch how much I
drink tonight.'

'It's just one glass, babe,' Mickey said.

He's right
, Angel told herself,
I really do need to
chill
. She drank the champagne. It tasted a little
strange, but she had just cleaned her teeth. Twenty
minutes later they were in a taxi on their way to the
club. The press was out in force tonight and Angel
and Mickey got out of the taxi among an explosion
of flash bulbs.

'Over here, Angel,' the photographers called,
asking for her and Mickey to pose together. Mickey
immediately put his arm round Angel and gave the
photographers what they wanted, and Angel
flashed her trademark pout.

Inside the club, Angel led Mickey over to where
Gemma and Tony were standing. Gemma was
delighted to see Angel and hugged her and Mickey.
Tony just about managed a smile and hello. A
waiter went past with a tray of champagne and
Mickey took a glass for him and Angel.

Angel put hers back. 'Actually, I think I'm going
to get a glass of water.' As she walked over to the
bar and leant against it, trying to attract the
bartender's attention, she felt a wave of dizziness.
She swayed a bit, feeling giddy and light-headed.
God, I can't be drunk
, she thought, confused,
I've
only had a glass.
She was just sipping her water
when Mickey came and found her.

'Babe, I've just had a text from my manager,
we've got an urgent meeting, I'm really sorry but
I've got to go.'

'Do you have to? We've only just got here.'

'Yeah, it's a bummer, but I do. It's about our new
recording contract so I've got to be there, babe.'

Angel reached out to hold onto Mickey's arm.
'It's just that I feel a bit weird, kind of dizzy. I only
had one glass of champagne, didn't I?' She held on
to him as the room lurched beneath her feet.
'Seriously, Mickey, can you find me somewhere to
sit down? I feel so strange.'