David, his eyes were on Sarah. ‘I’m counting this evening a great success, so make sure you say nice things to the CEO, David.’
‘He’s very pleased; he told me earlier,’ David said, and drew Sarah closer. ‘Craig, this is Sarah Quinn, a friend of mine.’
‘Quinn,’ Craig repeated slowly. ‘Oh! Was it your brother I met tonight? With Lane? He said his sister was here.’
‘Yes, that was Adam,’ Sarah said, and if her face had gone a little uh-oh, because this wasn’t exactly a sign that keeping things on the down low was going to work, David suspected Craig wasn’t intuitive enough to notice it.
‘You look completely different,’ Craig said, looking her over.
‘That’s because she’s a girl,’ David said ironically, and thought, Idiot. Up close, he could see that not only was Craig’s hair definitely too long, it also needed a split end treatment.
‘Yes, I can see that,’ Craig said, taking the chance for another up and down examination of Sarah’s tiny frame.
Yep, hair too long and shaggy. Attitude a little sleazy. And it wouldn’t have killed the guy to wear a tie, would it? ‘Craig, mate, you’re giving Superman a run for his money with the X-ray vision.’
Sarah gave one of those little chokes of suppressed laughter, and followed it up with a pinch to David’s thigh—hard enough to make him wince.
‘Actually, I take after my mother,’ she said smoothly. ‘Adam overdosed on Quinn genes.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Do you … um … have a lot to do with Lane at work, Craig?’
‘Not really,’ Craig said, and David could almost feel the relief ooze out of Sarah. ‘I’m in the public relations department, managing sponsorships and events like tonight’s. I wouldn’t know one of Lane’s economic indicators if it hogtied me and threw me in a truck.’
‘I work in PR too!’ Sarah said eagerly. Too eagerly. David was going to have to tell her to play it cooler. ‘I’m with Frisk & Frolic. We’re doing the PR for the Western Sydney Arts Festival, which is why Lane thought I should come along tonight—in case there were opportunities for cross promotion with this exhibition. It’s travelling around the city, right?’
‘The city and then all over the country,’ Craig said, and the conversation was off and running.
So they had something in common, David thought. Good. Great.
Although working in the same field could end up being a bit yawn-worthy. Maybe Craig wasn’t the best choice after all. David started looking around the room for alternatives, but was brought up short by the sound of Sarah laughing.
He tuned into the conversation, discovered Sarah was taking humorous issue with Craig’s bozo-ish interpretation of one of the paintings on display, and found himself gritting his teeth. Craig was an ignoramus; she shouldn’t be indulging him.
Oh God, he really was acting like Sarah’s father. He needed to start behaving like a normal, mature-but-not-ancient wingman. Who would not be thinking about knocking a guy’s arm accidentally-on-purpose to get it away from a girl’s bare elbow. Who’d be thinking about getting himself laid, now his mission had been accomplished.
Anthea. He would find smart, sexy Anthea, who was as determinedly no-strings as David was, and had given him all the signals earlier in the night. Anthea, who had a calculator rather than a thesaurus for a brain, and whose vocabulary he knew from past experience he could scramble, until the only word she could find was his name, screamed out at the point of climax.
Climax, orgasm, ejaculation. Arrrrrghhh.
‘I knew you two would have a lot in common,’ David said, and only when Sarah darted a surprised look at him did he realize he’d bowled that out right in the middle of one of Craig’s sentences. ‘I’ll leave you to your PR discussion.’
He saw Anthea across the room and headed for her, and the promise of sex. Even though the sure knowledge of exactly how it would go with Anthea filled him with … with ennui!
Enn-bloody-ui.
***
Sarah was very conscious of David across the room, flirting with the buxom bottle-blonde she’d met earlier. Anthea, her name was, and she was waving her sizeable boobs in David’s face so enthusiastically, Sarah suspected he wasn’t going to get his eyes off them long enough to monitor Sarah’s progress with Craig.
A shame, because she’d landed a date with Craig to hear him sing on Saturday night and she wouldn’t have minded letting David know how quickly she’d managed it. After behaving like a lovelorn desperado in the storeroom, her pride could have used the boost. Which, of course, was counterintuitive! If she wasn’t a lovelorn desperado, she wouldn’t have had to ask David to help her in the first place, would she? And really, it wasn’t as though getting dates had ever been a problem. It was what came afterwards she had trouble with. So—reality check—she didn’t have anything to brag to David about yet.
She thought ahead to how the date with Craig might unfold. Cool city venue. Starting with champagne, served in those old-fashioned coupe glasses—the ones Naughty Noel had told her were based on the shape of Marie Antoinette’s breasts. (And hooray that someone’s small boobs had been celebrated once upon a time!) Craig making his way to the stage. A quick wave to her from there, making it clear to everyone she was ‘with the band’. Craig moving to the microphone. Then that first sound of his voice—deep … sexy … jazzy. Enthralling everyone.
Maybe they’d go for a walk in the moonlight after the gig. Stop for supper. He’d want to drive her home, but she’d demur. She lived over the Sydney Harbour Bridge in Mosman, it was too far, a cab would be fine, but maybe next time …?
Or maybe he’d invite her to his place for coffee or a nightcap. Maybe a kiss goodnight would turn into something more. Maybe they’d end up in bed! Just because she’d never gone that far on a first date before didn’t mean she couldn’t. It wasn’t as though holding out until date four or five had ever got her anywhere other than Dumpsville.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the smarter it seemed to find out sooner rather than later if there was sufficient sexual compatibility to sustain a relationship—or, conversely, if a guy was the type to lose interest in you the minute he got you between the sheets. In both scenarios, you could cut your losses and move on all the faster, instead of wasting six days the way she had with Liam.
Maybe she’d get David’s perspective on that next week. Which of course wouldn’t help her on Saturday night with Craig. Unless she could somehow check with David tonight …? She turned in David’s direction, only to see him heading towards the exit.
How could he be leaving?
‘Sarah?’
Sarah jumped, hastily refocusing her attention where it was supposed to be. ‘Sorry, Craig, I was hoping to have a quick word with David.’ She gestured to the exit. ‘But I see he’s heading out.’
Craig glanced over to where David had been stopped on the threshold by Anthea and chuckled. ‘Yeah, looks like he has another engagement.’
Sarah forced out an answering chuckle, but as David finally left the
