Two For Joy (19 page)

Thinking of Samantha was a great help and she knew exactly how to play it. ‘Well, aren't you the romantic one?' she drawled, arching an eyebrow at him. ‘A regular Sir Galahad!'

Bryan drew back and laughed. ‘Let's go and eat. I was out in the boat today and I don't know about you, but I'm starving!' He eyeballed her when he said ‘starving' and she knew exactly what he meant. ‘Nice place, by the way,' he said as they descended into the lobby. ‘I hope I'll get to see a bit more of it later on.'

‘We'll see.' Lorna slanted a smile at him.

He was extremely well groomed, she noted approvingly as he drove out of the marina, the cuticles of his neatly manicured nails white against his tanned fingers. The Beautiful South played on the stereo, and she started to relax as they drove out through the
porte-cochère
and headed for the city.

By the time they'd parked and begun to walk towards Dawson Street she was feeling a little apprehensive again. Keeping up an ultra-cool façade wasn't as difficult as she thought. Sometimes it even seemed that she was standing outside herself, looking at herself zipping out smart one-liners as though she were a character in a film. But now she was going to have to sit opposite Bryan for at least two hours and keep it going while eating, with that sure knowledge that he wanted to have sex with her tonight. It was unmistakable, the way he looked at her, the way he touched her lightly on the knee in the car when he leaned over her to get another CD. Being desired boosted her confidence and she banished her momentary flash of apprehension.

She could almost taste the vibrant buzz of chat and laughter as they descended the steps under Samsara Café Bar to Tiger Becs. It was a long, narrow design, with an exotic African ambience. Tables edged a central platform which led to a small bar set against an unusual stained-glass panel. Lorna was mega impressed. It really was hip 'n' happening! Lots of gorgeous-looking girls and cool guys. A greeter, model thin, looking extremely chic, led them to their table. The oriental wooden carvings on the wall and myriad of mirrors lent sophistication to the restaurant. If she'd been here with Heather she would have thoroughly enjoyed the experience, gawking around at all the glitz and glamour and taking it all in. As it was she had to pretend to be totally blasé.

‘What will you have to drink?' Bryan asked as they were seated at a small table for two with tasteful linen, cutlery and glassware.

‘I'll have a white wine spritzer, please,' Lorna replied, although she was longing for a couple of VRBs. Tonight wasn't the night to go heavy on the booze. She needed to keep her wits about her.

‘And a Tiger Beer for me,' Bryan ordered as he unfolded his artistically arranged napkin. They chatted about this and that as they waited for their drinks to arrive. He told her a little about his job, which all went over her head and sounded terribly technical and boring, and she told him about being a hotel receptionist and threw in a few amusing anecdotes about some of the guests she'd had to deal with. They perused the menu and decided to have the combination starter, which Lorna privately felt wasn't too scary as she'd often had the Thai combination in Chinese takeaways. Chicken and pork satays, spring rolls, fishcakes and prawn toasts were not ‘danger zone' food. For her main course she played it relatively safe and ordered the stir-fried king prawns. Bryan went for the steamed seabass with lemongrass and chilli dressing. Animatedly he informed her that there was nothing like the thrill of catching a bass, reeling it in and cooking it fresh that night. The reeling in bit sounded a bit gruesome to her, but she pretended interest.

He was something of a contradiction, she decided, the poseur side of him slipping every so often when he got talking about his love of sailing and fishing.

She nibbled at the starter platter when it came, anxious not to appear too ravenous, even though she was peckish by now. She'd been hardly able to eat all day, she'd been so nervous. Her nervousness annoyed her. This was what she wanted in life, to be wined and dined by handsome men. She remembered so well telling Heather that in no uncertain terms the night they'd had the row before Oliver Flynn's wedding. What she wanted had come true. Unfortunately she felt unable to completely relax and enjoy it. Bryan wolfed down the starter and made short shrift of his not very large portion of seabass. ‘It's nice, but this sort of stuff,' he forked some pretty cut floral carrots and a piece of salad, ‘doesn't fill a man whose been on the briny all day.' He tucked into a helping of Phed Makeur Wao, while she nibbled at some Phad Thai vegetarian rice noodles. Her eight king prawns had been nice enough, the dressing sauce tasty and not too hot, but she'd kept well away from the dipping sauce garnished with a slice of green chilli, guessing that it was breathtakingly hot. Bryan was impressively dextrous with his chopsticks, she noted enviously, resolving to buy a pair and practise using them at home, but for now she kept strictly to the knife and fork.

For dessert she threw coolness to the wind and indulged in a mouth-wateringly scrumptious Thai banana roll. The crunchy honey-glazed sesame seed coating was just what she needed after the spiciness of her prawn dressing. After coffee, while Bryan was taking care of the bill, she tried to hide her self-consciousness as she walked the long walk between the tables to the loos at the end of the restaurant.

There was a queue, and she could feel perspiration between her breasts as she tried to stare nonchalantly around her. Eventually and with relief she got into the very small cubicle, and when she was finished she flushed the loo, pulled down the seat, sat down and did some swift running repairs to her make-up. There wasn't room to swing a cat outside – she was as well off where she was. She applied some deodorant and perfume, and touched up her face make-up with bronzing powder. A quick flick with her lipstick and she was ready. Taking a deep breath, Lorna opened the door and made her way back out to the restaurant, where she swanned down to her seat, head held high, aware that everyone at the tables on either side could see her and that Bryan was waiting with an appreciative glint in his eye.

‘Would you like to go clubbing?' he asked. ‘We could go to Renard's, it's not too far.'

‘Fine,' she agreed. ‘Why not? It's early yet.' It was only eleven thirty.

‘If you don't mind we won't stay too late. I've a race tomorrow and I had a hard day today.' He barely managed to hide a yawn.

‘Oh, don't go on my account,' Lorna interjected, a tad miffed. Feck his race. He should be making sure that
she
was having a good night. She didn't want to seem too eager though, and although she would have loved to see Renard's she knew she couldn't afford to drink too much, as she could end up disgracing herself by puking on the way home. The rich sauce that had dressed her prawns was already giving her a touch of indigestion.

‘Are you sure, Lorna?' He sounded relieved. ‘Maybe next weekend, I don't have to race next Sunday.' Bryan couldn't hide his relief as he yawned again.

So there's going to be next weekend,
she thought happily.
Great!

‘You look as if you could do with some beauty sleep,' she said airily, glad that they didn't have to walk too far to the car. Her ankle was beginning to ache.

‘Is that an invitation?' Bryan said wickedly and she laughed.

‘Subtle you're not, Bryan,' Lorna remarked and was rather stunned when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

‘You're gorgeous,' he murmured huskily against her ear.

‘I try to please, but not here,' she murmured pushing him away.

Further down the street a youth was puking, his friends laughing at him. It was gross. Anyway she just didn't like the unromantic way Bryan had launched himself upon her. Sixteen-year-olds did that. They didn't talk much on the way home and as they got nearer to Malahide she couldn't decide whether to put him off or ask him in and get it over with. She liked him well enough. He had been a courteous and generous escort and he was good-looking and attractive, all she wanted in a man. He'd surely be an experienced lover. Tonight could be the night.

His kiss had been hungry. He wanted her. That gave her power already, she thought, as Bryan parked outside her apartment and got out of the car and opened the door for her.

‘Well, lovely Lorna?' he asked meaningfully.

‘I had a very nice time, Bryan.' She eased herself gracefully out of the car. ‘Would you like to come up for coffee?'

‘I wasn't sure if you were going to ask.' He grinned at her and she laughed. He was honest about it anyway and she decided there and then to go for it. He followed her into the lounge, his arm around her waist, and she liked the feeling it gave her.

‘So. Coffee?' she arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Aren't you afraid it will keep you awake? And you with a race to run tomorrow.'

‘Is coffee all I'm going to be offered?' he asked huskily.

‘It's only our first date,' Lorna reminded, slipping into his arms.

‘I know, will you respect me in the morning?' His green eyes twinkled.

Lorna laughed. Bryan was nice, she thought happily, as she raised her lips to him and he kissed her soundly. He slipped his fingers up under her top and she was thrilled to feel her nipples harden and quivers begin to tingle deep in her pelvis. He was very experienced, she realized that immediately the way he caressed her and she gave herself up to the pleasure of his touch, relieved beyond measure that her body was responding.

She led him into the bedroom and they undressed each other, slowly, sensuously.

‘Sorry the bed's so small,' she murmured. ‘I was last into the apartment.'

‘All the better, lots of body contact.' Bryan gazed at her naked body in admiration. ‘You're a sexy woman, Lorna, I wanted you the minute I set eyes on you,' he whispered against her hair as he eased her down on the bed and entered her. He was considerate, she couldn't fault him, whispering her name, asking if he was giving her pleasure, but her quivers and tingles had faded away and all she could think of was how heavy he was and that his breath was flavoured with beer and chilli, which was almost as bad as garlic. She pretended to come, breathing his name and groaning and moaning into his shoulder as his arms tightened around her and he gave a long, satisfied sigh before rolling off her.

‘That was great,' he said drowsily, his rumpled hair making him look younger. ‘Pity you don't have a double bed, I could stay the night. Next time we'll go to my place. And I promise I'll make you the best Buck's Fizz you ever had.'

‘Mmm, sounds good,' she murmured. She couldn't wait for him to go, so that she could sob her disappointment into her pillow and curse her mother for that aching, horrible memory that wouldn't go away.

15

Heather yawned. She was knackered. Sleeping on a fold-away bed in Ruth's room was not conducive to getting a good night's sleep. She'd been at Ruth's for the past ten days and she knew that she'd want to get her ass in gear and get a place of her own sooner rather than later. It wasn't fair to be cluttering up her sister's room. Heather was finding it extremely unsettling. She was sleeping badly and dragging herself into work every day and she was finding it hard to concentrate.

She had a viewing arranged for tonight, from six to six thirty, so it wouldn't be too late when she got home, she comforted herself. Right now she felt like putting her head down on her arms and sleeping her brains out, but somehow she didn't think it would go down too well with her boss who was sitting scowling into space. The atmosphere in the office had not improved since the ‘non-reference' debacle. Two days later an apartment owner had walked in on one of her colleagues, Tommy Walsh, shagging his girlfriend enthusiastically in the apartment he was meant to be showing with a view to letting. The owner had been mightily unimpressed and had taken her business to another letting agency. Both Tommy and Edith had been on the carpet, Edith for not having more control over her staff, Tommy for his complete lack of professionalism. He hadn't been sacked because they were short of staff, but he told Heather he was going to leave anyway, and they could stick their crappy job.

Heather cursed as she typed in the wrong figure, and wearily pressed the delete key. She was sending out an invoice to a landlord. It had to be correct. It had been a relief to let that particular apartment. It had been on the market for over a month and the slowdown in property and rentals was becoming more noticeable. She hoped the one she was showing tonight would move quickly; she didn't want Edith breathing down her neck.

The day dragged, and by the time she'd made her way to the apartment in Smithfield she was completely browned off, the only saving grace the fact that she wasn't too far from home. Ruth wanted her to go to a booze-up in the Turk's Head in Temple Bar and she knew they'd end up in the nightclub downstairs. All she could think of was bed. Even if it
was
lumpy and springy.
How pathetic she was!
You'd think she was ninety the way she was going on.

She should go out with Ruth. She was turning into a right couch potato and that should be nipped in the bud immediately. Sometimes she felt totally inadequate when she saw the girls at work heading out enthusiastically night after night. She just wasn't particularly interested in sitting in pubs or nightclubs. Lorna had always made her feel a social failure in that respect. But maybe that was because she wanted Heather to go out with her. She'd just been using her.

It was different going out with Ruth. At least she knew she'd have a bit of a laugh with her sister. She
would
go out tonight, she decided. A couple of drinks would ensure that she'd sleep no matter what. And she might even meet a nice guy. She'd met Ruth's new boyfriend, Peter, and had to admit that her sister had landed on her feet. He was funny, kind, handsome, and it was clear that he and Ruth had really clicked. Heather got on like a house on fire with him and he'd been great about inviting her out with them. She was conscious of being the proverbial gooseberry and had only gone out on the razz with them twice but it was high time she got a life of her own, and even a man of her own, she thought wryly as she pressed the print key and watched her document slide smoothly out of the printer.