Cloudy with a Chance of Love (19 page)

‘You can hold my hand,' Dex continued, with a wolfish grin. ‘We can stir things up together.'

‘Okay,' I said, with a huge grin. I looked at his hands – they were on the large side, with long fingers and buffed, clean looking nails. I watched as he picked up a glass of red wine and took a deep drink from it. I sipped from my champagne.

‘What's your name?' he asked.

‘Daryl.'

‘Delightfully pleased to meet you, Daryl.' He raised one eyebrow at me and gave a little smile. His top lip curled up deliciously.

‘And what do you do, Daryl?'

‘I'm a weather presenter. Radio. You?'

‘Acquisitions,' he said, with a seductive smile.

Ooh, acquisitions; I found that sexy. One of my favourite films was
Working Girl
, 1988. Starring Melanie Griffith, and Harrison Ford as hot business man, Jack Trainer. He was in acquisitions too. Ever since,
acquisitions
equalled incredibly sexy.

‘Fabulous,' I said, with what I hoped was an equally seductive look. I was resting my chin on my hand, movie-star style. What was happening to me? I had become kittenish putty in this man's hands. We'd only known each other two minutes! I didn't know what was happening but I really liked it.
Hello
Dex!
This
is what I'd meant when I'd said I wanted to have fun and go dating – men like Dex! I hoped I was in for a good evening.

I picked up the recipe card and cast my eyes over it quickly, then did a perfunctory scan of the ingredients. I wasn't really interested. There was only one thing at this table that was whetting my appetite. Dex was prodding at the raw scallops with his index finger and frowning at the instructions. I smiled.

There was a clinking of metal on china from across the table, as though someone was about to make a speech, and I looked up to see Sam trying to attract my attention; I'd forgotten to even look over at her since I'd sat down. She looked pretty happy and gave me a thumbs up. The man with the floppy blond hair was sitting very close to her; he had glasses and an open, friendly face, and was staring at her in an enchanted fashion.

I realised, to my mild horror, I'd also completely forgotten to talk to the guy on my left, since I'd sat down. How rude of me. I interrupted him from copying the recipe into his phone and quickly introduced myself. He told me, in an extremely quiet voice, his name was Edward. He had blobby features, as though his face had been daubed on with a stiff, squat brush, and seemed nice enough, but he was no Dex. Sorry, Edward, I thought.

Johnny, the Chef of Love, was announcing what to do. We each had a small hob in front of us, set into the island and as instructed, I threw the scallops in a small pan with the pre-chopped onion and
garlic, and watched them sizzle. Dex topped up my champagne; I had drunk half already, and I looked around the kitchen again. It really was lovely, with a great, welcoming atmosphere. I bet all sorts went on here – corporate away days, team-building, bake-off style classes – and I bet
all sorts
went on here. This cottage had probably seen a lot of people getting it on, I thought. I wondered what it was like upstairs, then blushed; I was getting carried away.

Dex threw his scallops into his pan with quite a flourish and then leant across me and turned my hob down.

‘Your heat's too high,' he said. ‘They'll burn.'

‘Thank you,' I said and he placed his hand on my arm. It could have been as hot as a burning pan. I was scalded; I nearly jumped three foot in the air at his touch. Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle: things were sizzling in my Spanx. I really liked him. I knew, after the not-quite-disastrous date with Ben last night and that lacklustre, non-thrilling kiss, I was thrilled to be with a man I instantly felt a spark with. I was determined to enjoy myself, and who knows? I may get a date out of it, and more. Dex did seem very promising.

Scowl-y Audrey Hepburn woman was turning out to be not too scowl-y after all. She was sitting to the right of Dex and had a very loud, very annoying laugh that she employed approximately every ten seconds, mostly for his benefit. He humoured her with a quick poke at her shallots and a re-tie of her apron strings. Dex was friendly and responsive, but clearly not interested. This made me feel absolutely wonderful. Out of politeness, I checked on Edward. His scallops looked flaccid and undercooked. Oh dear. Edward was not the catch of the day.

I sipped some more champers. Sam was again trying to catch my eye across the table – winking at me and glancing at Dex with a ‘get in there' look. She shrugged about the man to her left – who looked a bit like Ray Winstone and was chatting away to the Sphinx – and gave a grin and a raise of her spectacular eyebrows regarding floppy-haired blond guy. He turned to her, and gave her a rapt smile as she helped him stir his scallops. I noticed she didn't even have her phone on the table. Perhaps she didn't need it. Perhaps she was throwing calories to the wind.

We cooked. Dex's were perfect; mine black on one side, all right on the other. I thought he said he was a terrible cook! He was telling porkies, wasn't he?

‘I'm impressed,' I said. ‘But you've been telling fibs. I thought you said you couldn't cook to save your life?'

‘Thanks,' he said, prodding one of his scallops with a fork and holding it up to the light, as though for inspection. ‘And perhaps I have my moments…' He grinned at me, before giving a big (and I have to say it – cute) shrug. ‘All right, I admit it – I'm a fantastic cook. Though I'm not really sure I can say the same for you.'

I giggled. ‘I'm someone who tries hard,' I said.

‘Really?'

Oh god, ‘tries hard' had sounded naughty, hadn't it? Perhaps I should have rephrased that.

‘I mean, I'm not a brilliant cook, but I give it a good go.' Marginally better, but still sounded a bit suggestive…

Dex laughed. ‘So, I'm guessing you're here tonight for tips from Johnny, Chef of Luuurve, then?'

‘No, not really,' I said.

‘Oh! So, what
are
you here for?' He leaned in close to me. He was virtually whispering in my ear again.

‘Convivial chat and an evening out.'

He leaned back and laughed. It came from his throat. His eyes almost closed with pleasure. I felt like all my Christmases had come at once.

It
did
have a rather Christmassy feel tonight. It wasn't long, after all. And so lovely and
warm
in here, too. Dex suddenly reached up and took his jumper off, the way men do, and as he did so I felt the heat from his armpits and got a waft of a lemony cinnamon smell that was really quite heady. He threw the jumper on the back of his chair and rolled up his sleeves, exposing taut forearms. Gosh, I really did fancy him. The thing that had been missing with boyish Ben was not missing here. Not at all. There were no missing links.

He sat back down and smiled at me.

‘So you're here with your friend?'

‘Sam, yes.'

‘Me too.'

‘You are? Which one?' Was it Sam's man?

‘Anthony, over there. Burnt scallops at three o'clock.' He pointed to Ray Winstone, who waved across the table then carried on talking to The Sphinx.

Oh, right. The fact Dex was with Anthony made Dex seem even nicer, in my eyes. He wasn't a sleaze who came on his own, to pick up the ladies; they were mates who'd come together. To have a laugh. To meet people. In a non-sleazy way. I liked Dex more and more. I
really
hoped he liked me. Audrey was tugging on his right sleeve trying to get his attention, and laughing that ridiculous laugh. But he was looking at me, and smiling. He liked
me
.

It was cannelloni time. We each had a pasta-making gadget and had to make our own. Oh dear, I didn't have a clue. I used to make lasagne with bought pasta sheets and two jars of sauce – the tomato-y one and the cheesy one. It was actually one of the few of my dishes that was a huge success – probably because I couldn't take much of the credit for it. Gabby had been quite partial to my lasagne too, I recalled. She used to beg me to make extra, so she could take some home in a tub. She once got me to make some for a date she was having with some guy – I had to drop it round to her house so she could pass it off as her own and she told me she got quite a result from it… A successful night, but not quite successful enough, obviously. She still had an appetite for my husband.

I tried to feed the pasta dough through the machine but I was struggling; it was just coming out of the machine in dripping lumps.

‘Are you all right there?' asked Dex. He was quite the expert at this, I noticed. He was swiftly feeding in his dough and out were coming smooth, perfect cannelloni sheets.

‘No!' I laughed.

‘Want some help?'

‘Yes, please!'

He commandeered my machine and did it for me, and as I stood behind him, I had the urge to put my arms round him, like husbands and wives sometimes do when one of them is waiting for the kettle to boil or they're chopping carrots, or something. Jeff never did it, and if I ever came up behind him and hugged him, he didn't like it; he said he didn't care for being taken unawares, which was ridiculous – he wasn't in the SAS, for goodness sake!

I didn't do it, but it didn't matter. The anticipation of it – the charge of that
gap
between Dex and me – felt amazing. I felt like, if I could just reach out and touch him, he would be mine.

‘Brilliant!' I said, when he'd finished expertly making my pasta sheets, had rolled all my cannellonis for me and put them on my baking tray. ‘Another moment?'

‘What can I say?' he shrugged. ‘I may have hosted a few very successful dinner parties…'

I smiled as I took a glug of champagne. I could see him now, in his bachelor pad, whipping up gourmet food for all his friends, uncorking champagne and telling fabulous anecdotes that had everybody laughing. He'd have dark oak flooring, stark white walls and loads of chrome and modern art everywhere. He'd have fresh flowers and a state-of-the-art sound system. It was a very aesthetically pleasing picture. Then I popped myself in it – by his side, in a little cocktail number, while he breezed from kitchen to dining room (or was it open plan? Yes, open plan, definitely) in a sexy pair of jeans and a white shirt. I'd help him out with his food prep and the arranging of his blooms; I'd join him in the all-white kitchen for a bit of stirring… I imagined joint hands on a wooden spoon whisking the gravy, leading to a quick dash upstairs for a bit of afternoon delight…

‘Right, my lovely daters,' called out Johnny, shattering my lovely, and rather sexy, reverie. ‘Time to get your beautiful cannellonis in the oven. Let's make a little love!' He stepped towards the huge stainless steel range at one end of the room and projected his arm towards it with a flourish, like a musical conductor.

We all dutifully marched over, holding our baking trays. Sam was flushed and seemed more than a little sloshed. Her tray was at a dangerous angle and looked like its contents might slide to the floor any second. I righted the tray for her, after removing a portion of her hair, which had flopped into it, and helped her put it in the oven.

‘I need the loo,' she said. ‘Come with me?'

We headed back down the uneven hall – we were ready for it this time – and into the ladies.

‘So?' she said, as fiddled with the lid of her lip gloss. ‘How's it going? Who's your guy?'

‘Dex.'

‘Ooh, swanky. He's very handsome. I've got a Simon. He's
lovely
!'

‘Good, I'm glad. He does look nice. Are you hammered already?'

On cue, she staggered against the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I caught her and set her back upright.

‘Thank you. Yes, I am a bit. I think I'd still really like him, though, even if I wasn't. He really is really, really nice.
Really
nice. And look at his hair! He has perfect hair. You know what, this could be it! The prediction could be coming true for me, Daryl.' She leant against the mirror and turned to face me. ‘It's really, really
hot
in here, isn't it? You know, the heat! The prediction. I knew it.'

‘It
is
really hot in here. I hope this is it for you, Sam. I really do.' I was so happy and excited myself, and a bit tiddly, too. The champagne was delicious. The stupid prediction was coming true for us, wasn't it? It would be amazing. We'd both fall in love on the same night (me in a totally fun and won't-ever-get hurt, sexy way, of course. Not
real
love); we could go out on foursomes; we could join up for romantic city breaks…

‘And what about you?' slurred Sam. ‘You really like him, don't you? It's written all over your face.'

‘I have to admit, he is rather gorgeous.'

‘And is he nice?'

‘
Really
nice. And a great cook, surprisingly.'

‘Ooh, a great cook! We could
all
do with one of those! Oh-em-gee, Daryl, he could be it!'

‘He could be,' I grinned. ‘I would love to date him, definitely. See how things go.'

‘Grab him while you can!' said Sam.

‘Let's see what happens,' I laughed, but I was already anticipating Dex asking for my number and tonight being the start of a beautiful, highly sexy friendship…

‘I'm so excited!' said Sam, and she tried to grab me in a kind of a squeeze, but missed and went crashing against the sinks. She got water splattered all down her dress and I had to dab her off with some loo roll.

When we finally emerged, the cannelloni had ten more minutes. We walked back to the island. Simon looked ecstatic to see Sam and she almost ran over, as much as her heels would allow.

Audrey glared at me as I took my seat next to Dex, especially as he'd pulled out the stool for me and had watched me all the way from the archway. His eyes upon me had felt marvellous. I was naked with the spatula again, and I was beginning to get really comfortable with it.