Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? (15 page)

“Paul, please don’t make me come for lunch, I hate him,” she
hissed, glancing through the glass doors at her tormentor.

Paul tutted loudly, “Don’t be so ridiculous Charlotte; hate
is a very strong word.  You hardly know the man.”

“I know enough about him to know he’s a plonker.” 
Charlotte frowned, and jutted her bottom lip out.  Paul had just opened
his mouth to speak, when Charlotte’s mobile rang out the theme to “Scooby Doo”.
She glanced at the screen; it was Bets.  “I’ll be quick,” she hissed, as
Paul shook his head in despair and walked out to Niall.   “Hi
Bets.  Be quick, I’m on my way out to lunch with Paul and the Irish
tosser.”

“Oh, okay, perhaps I’d best call you tonight.  Laura
said you’d gone to lunch, so to call your mobile, but she didn’t say with
whom.  How cosy is that then?”  Bets laughed on the other end.

“No it isn’t cosy. It's a nightmare.  What is that
noise?” Charlotte asked, gasping at the ear-splitting sound in the background.

“Oh, Jane is giving a 20 stone drag artist a
Brazilian.  Anyway, it’s only a nightmare because you fancy him.”

“I do not,” Charlotte cried. “How dare you, and why is a man
having a Brazilian, surely that’s illegal?”

“No it isn’t and don’t change the subject.  Look go and
have your lunch, and I’ll call you later, oh and Charlotte.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t forget to swap your ring over.”  With that she
was gone.

Charlotte threw her mobile into her bag and quickly swapped
her ring over, whilst checking that neither Paul nor Niall was watching.

“Sorry about that,” simpered Charlotte, joining them in the
car park.  “It was an important business call.”

“Hmm, very conscientious,” muttered Niall and walked ahead
with Paul.

Charlotte almost ran after them, catching them up at Paul’s
battered old MG sport’s car.  “Well, who is going in the back then?”
Charlotte asked, looking expectantly at Niall.

“Well Niall can’t can he? You are much smaller and will fit
on the shelf quite nicely.” Paul said, already pushing the front seat
forward.  “It would make more sense.”

Charlotte gazed at the tight space that she would have to
fit into, grateful for the fact that she had not inherited her Granny Joan’s
thighs and bottom.  She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, hoping
that Niall would not be watching her manoeuvre.

But he was. He stood behind Charlotte, like a statue with
his arms folded. “Go on then,” he urged.

“But I’m not sure I’ll fit,” she cried, suddenly hating Paul
for having such a stupid car.

“Sure yer will,” announced Niall, as he sized up her
backside.

“What do you think you are doing?” Charlotte asked, catching
him with his head on one side, gazing at her rear.

“Checking whether you will fit; you may just manage
it.  What size are yer, sixteen?”

“No, a ten bottom if you must know.”

“I wouldn’t say you had a behind the size of ten bottoms.
You do yerself a disfavour.”

Paul, who had been listening and watching, did now begin to
wonder whether he should have let Charlotte stay behind.  “Don’t you think
that we should get going?” he asked politely.  “We don’t want to miss our
table.”

“Sure yer right Paul, come on then let’s have yer.” Niall
pushed Charlotte towards the car.

Charlotte, in ridiculously high heels, skidded as Niall
pushed her into a patch of oil from Paul’s stupid car.  Her left foot went
from underneath her, and Charlotte began her descent to the ground.  As
soon as she lost her footing Charlotte reached a hand out to grab anything she
could, but the only thing around was Niall, and he was not an option.  In fairness
to him, Niall tried to catch Charlotte, but gravity beat him, and she landed
with a thud on the cold concrete before he had chance.  For what seemed
like an age, Charlotte lay on the floor, her hands over her eyes, wishing that
this was all a dream, and that she would wake up in her nice warm bed. 
She knew though, that without doubt, it wasn’t.  Charlotte wiggled her
toes inside her silly shoes, checking that she wasn’t paralysed, then, when she
thought it was safe she opened her eyes; quickly closing them again.  As
she had glanced down Charlotte had noticed that she was showing off her lovely
pair of spare, black, lacy knickers and hold up stockings; could this day get
any worse?  Then Charlotte knew it could as she felt the hot breath on her
hands, as someone knelt beside her prostrate body.

“Please be Paul,” she whispered almost silently, splaying
her fingers and peeking through them.

“Can I help you Miss Price?  Surely, I’ve seen enough
of your underwear for one day?” the familiar Irish accent responded.  Niall
was now in hysterical laughter, as he held his hand out to pull her up.

A concerned Paul rushed around to help too, but he was
laughing so much he was standing with his legs crossed, for fear of wetting
himself.  “Are you okay Charlotte?” he spluttered between laughter.

Charlotte scrambled to her feet, pulling her skirt down with
one hand and quickly snatching the other from Niall’s grip.  “Yes thank
you.  Are my clothes dirty again?” she asked, almost dreading the
answer.  To Charlotte’s relief, the two laughing heads shook.  “Right
we’d better go then, and I think that you’ll both find that it is very rude to
laugh at a lady in a predicament.”

“Yes, yer right, I’m sorry, please accept my apology.” 
Niall bit his bottom lip, trying to stifle more guffaws.

Ignoring his apology, Charlotte moved towards the car. Paul
gently pushed down her head with one hand and rested the other in the small of
her back, shoving Charlotte into the back of the car.  As she went in
headfirst, Charlotte banged her ear on the seat belt, sending a hot, sharp pain
around her head.  She tried to put a cool, soothing hand to it, but as she
did, she banged her elbow on the doorframe.

“Oww, that hurt!” she cried, landing unceremoniously into
the back.

“Are you okay there?” Niall asked, settling into his comfy
leather seat.

“Never better,” moaned Charlotte, almost in tears at how
awful her day had become.

“Right,” said Paul, also settling back in comfort. 
“Let’s go shall we?  Isn’t this lovely, all going to lunch together?” he
asked, turning to a tearful Charlotte.  “Are you okay, we didn’t mean to
upset you?”

“Like you care,” came the ungracious reply from the back.

It took Charlotte nearly ten minutes to get herself into a
comfortable position in the back of the car, although it meant that she was
almost lying down.  All the time she wriggled about she was conscious of
Niall snatching a glance over his shoulder.  As his shoulders moved up and
down Charlotte realised that he was laughing at her, either that, or he had a bad
twitch.  Her twisted blouse, and hitched up skirt probably meant that he
was indeed laughing.

As they reached their destination, Charlotte felt like
throwing up, it was Toad Hall, an exclusive restaurant on the outskirts of
Chester.  It was extremely lavish, but it was also where Tom was buttering
up a sales rep’ over lunch.  She guiltily looked down at the square
diamond on her finger; Tom could blow her cover.  She should have told him
what she’d done, but she hadn’t thought that this situation would ever
arise.  Hopefully, he would have already left, but the sick feeling in the
pit of her stomach told her that she was probably being too optimistic. 
As Paul drove onto the car park, Charlotte thrust herself forward, staring
manically through the windscreen, desperately trying to see into the restaurant
through the large plate-glass window.  She clutched a hand to her mouth;
there for all to see, at a table by the window, was Tom, wining and dining a
thin ginger-haired man.

“Are you okay?” Niall asked, slightly perturbed by
Charlotte’s head appearing at his shoulder.

“What...oh yes, just admiring the building.”

“Ooh Charlotte, isn’t that…” Paul didn’t have time to finish
that he had spotted Tom.

“Yes it is, best we don’t bother him while he’s on
business.”  She glared at Paul, daring him to disobey.

“Ah, the young man who nearly had a heart attack last night,
if I’m not mistaken,” laughed Niall merrily.

Charlotte shot another stare at Paul, who seemed shocked
that Tom had had a heart attack, and that Niall had found it funny.  “Hmm,
yes it is, fancy you recognising him.  It was football Paul, you know how
excited he gets,” she added in explanation.

“Oh I see,” said Paul, the expression on his face actually
saying that he didn’t see all.

“Surely he wouldn’t mind if you just said hello?” Niall
said. “I could remind him that I predicted the score line.”

“Yes he would mind,” snapped Charlotte. “Are we going in or
not?”

Both men, recognising a command when they heard one, got
out. Niall held the seat back, to allow Charlotte to escape from the back of
the car.  If Charlotte had thought that getting in had been a problem,
getting out was worse.  This time she caught her foot under Niall’s
trailing seatbelt, she staggered forward, large pink and green pebbles looming
before her eyes.

“Gotcher this time,” said Niall, catching her under both
arms.

“Thanks,” Charlotte muttered, barely looking at him. 
“Shall we go in?”

As they walked through the vast hallway to the restaurant, Charlotte
tried to grab hold of Paul’s arm; finally, at the third attempt, she caught
him.  The floor was highly polished, and she was holding on so tight, that
he dragged her a couple of feet before the weight on his arm made him turn
around.

“Charlotte, what are you doing?” he hissed as Charlotte
skidded into him.

“I was trying to get your attention,” she hissed back,
through gritted teeth.  “I can’t talk to Tom; Devine thinks he’s my
fiancé.”  She waved the third finger of her left hand at Paul.

“Oh for God’s sake, don’t be so silly and tell him the
truth.”

“NO!” she shouted loudly, stopping Niall talking to the
headwaiter.  Charlotte smiled manically, and Niall returned to his
conversation.  “Please Paul,” she now whined, in a more hushed tone. 
“I can’t lose face on this one. He already thinks I’m a prat, don’t give him
any more ammunition, please.”  She lowered her lashes and gave her best
puppy-dog look.

Paul shrugged his arm away from Charlotte’s grasp and sighed
heavily.  “Oh I suppose so, but don’t blame me if it all goes horribly
wrong.”

“I won’t.  I promise.”

“Right the table is ready, shall we go?” Niall advanced
towards them.

Charlotte nodded sullenly, and Paul enthusiastically, as
Niall turned and led the way.

Luckily, for Charlotte, they were shown to a table at the
other end of the restaurant from Tom, and behind a stone column, so she felt
fairly happy that lunch could go ahead without incident.   As soon as
they had ordered, and the wine had arrived, Charlotte began to relax.  She
joined in with the easy conversation and quite forgot that she was dining with
the man whom irritated her most in the world.  As Niall laughed and joked
with Paul, about the latter’s love of rugby, rather than football, Charlotte
took time to study the big Irish man more closely.  When he laughed,
Charlotte found him even more attractive than she first thought.  His wide
smile stretched up to a small dimple in each cheek, and his bright blue eyes
twinkled like fairy lights on water.  She looked at his profile, careful
not to let him catch her, and traced the outline of his not too long nose and
his strong square jaw with her eyes.  She looked up to his close-cropped
hair, so dark that it was almost blue, and down to his wide shoulders, and
then...well then a small shudder of excitement trembled through her body. 
Charlotte felt excited yet angry, all at the same time.

“Are you okay Charlotte?” Paul asked, sat to her left.

“Hmm, yes, someone just walked over my grave. That's all.”

“Heaven forbid anyone would do that, I’d imagine that you
would haunt them for ever more.”  Niall smiled over the top of his glass
as he lifted it to his lips.

“Maybe that should be a warning to you then Mr
Devine.”  Charlotte bristled, as she sulkily looked away towards Paul. “I
hate him,” she mouthed, scowling from behind her glass.

“Ah, here’s lunch,” gasped Paul, thankful for the
approaching waiter.

As they ate the three of them once more engaged in
conversation, discussing business and world issues, but nothing on a personal
level, which left Charlotte immensely relieved; it meant that she couldn’t land
herself in it.  She actually found that Niall was a very interesting,
intelligent man, with lots of points of view and ideas, but also willing to
listen to what both, she and Paul had to say.

“Well I think that sport has got a big part to play in
bringing some peace to the world.  Look at football, it’s an international
language,” Niall enthused, pushing his half eaten sweet to one side.

“Yes, but what about the hooliganism that it promotes?” Paul
was still ardently in the rugby corner.

Charlotte interjected at this point.  “Yes, maybe on a
larger scale, but whenever you see television pictures of aid workers in places
like Africa, they often play football with the kids.”  She glanced at Niall,
who she could sense was looking at her.  Turning slightly pink under his
intense gaze, Charlotte coughed nervously and swung back to Paul.  “Err,
it’s not just football, look at athletics. Some of the best long-distance
runners are from the third world.  It makes them heroes the whole world
over.”  She leaned back, quickly glancing to her right, but he was now
looking at Paul.

“She’s right Paul, maybe a game of football, or rugby if you
prefer, should be used to settle differences instead of war, what do you
reckon?”  Niall’s laugh tinkled in Charlotte’s ear, but she kept her eyes
firmly on Paul.