the demanding quad killer. She had wanted the distraction of a muscle-searing, energy-depleting workout. She had wanted to lose herself in the exertion and excitement of pushing herself too hard and too far. She hadn’t wanted to listen to Charlotte passing judgement on what was wrong with every relationship that had begun last night.
‘Pete was in Stanzas.’
Trudy’s shoulders slumped. Great. Now it was time to have the conversation about her ex. She gritted her teeth and forced her tone to sound indifferent. ‘How was Peter?’
‘Dating a first year. What’s wrong with these men? Are they all perverts? Screwing young women.’
Trudy stopped running and rounded on Charlotte. Finally, she understood.
‘How did you know?’
Charlotte came to a halt and laughed. The mirth was made thin by exertion but it remained fairly obvious. Merriment shone in her eyes. She put her hands on her thighs and leant forward and chuckled softly before speaking.
‘I can always tell when you get laid. I’m a light sleeper. I could hear that you were in the shower at two in the morning when you got back. The fact that you’re doing the quad killer tells me you’re feeling conflicted about getting lucky. You did the quad killer after you broke up with Peter. You did the quad killer after that embarrassing night’s fumble with Terry.’ She paused to lean against a tree and stretch out her legs. ‘I think you see this run as the spiritual atonement for your imagined sins.’
Trudy glared at her. ‘That psychology module you took is still proving useful.’
Charlotte’s grin inched wider. ‘You really screwed William Hart? He’s pretty hot. What was it like?’
Trudy looked away. ‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘You didn’t screw him?’
‘Well …’
Trudy tried to think of how she could phrase her response. She wanted to be artful and say that they had made love. But she knew that wouldn’t be entirely true. She and William Hart had given themselves over to base, animal instincts. There had been an instant attraction and neither of them had let themselves be restrained by the formalities of propriety or common sense. She wasn’t sure that such an act could really be called making love. But she felt sure it had been more than simply screwing. On some level she felt sure it had been a lot more. But there was no way to shape that thought into a convenient phrase that would stop her friend from asking questions.
‘I don’t want to talk about this. I just want to finish my run.’
Charlotte pulled her into a hug. Her arms were cold from the morning mist but it was impossible not to feel the waves of friendship that were apparent in her embrace. She rubbed her hands briskly and reassuringly against Trudy’s back.
‘I was just teasing before,’ she whispered. ‘If you need to talk about anything. If you need an ear or a shoulder or just a friend, you know that I’m here for you, don’t you?’
Trudy thought about the words and realised Charlotte was telling the truth. Regardless of what else happened she believed the brunette would always be a friend she could rely on. Trudy returned the hug, ready to swoon with relief.
‘Did you find out the identity of that mystery ingredient?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you make them for Sweet Temptation?’
Trudy started to respond and then stopped. There would be ethical implications involved in stealing William Hart’s recipe for the benefit of Sweet Temptation. She hadn’t yet had breakfast and already she was trying to deal with quandaries like the semantics of sex and sexual politics and now the ethics of appropriating recipes in the catering business.
‘Let’s finish the quad killer,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t have the exact recipe to those muffins but I have my own interpretation of them.’
Charlotte shrugged and then nodded. ‘Even better. Stealing recipes from the shoulders of giants.’ Before starting to run again she jogged on the spot from one foot to the other. ‘You know we’re in the Admiralty Room this afternoon, don’t you?’
Trudy nodded. Charlotte had scheduled a meeting with her parents at a local hotel. She had made a point of booking the prestigious Admiralty Room at the Hadfield Hotel. Donny kept telling them he was anxious to get the business up and running as soon as possible and he wanted to demonstrate that Sweet Temptation was a perfect investment opportunity. Whilst it was known that Charlotte’s parents would have ploughed money into their daughter’s schemes without any supporting information, Trudy knew that Charlotte did not want to build her dream on handouts and charity.
‘It’ll be great if you can bring your interpretation of those muffins to the presentation,’ Charlotte said. ‘That way everyone will know what you’re capable of producing.’
Trudy considered this and nodded. Once she’d finished the run she would get ingredients from the market, prepare the muffins that were needed and then attend and support Donny’s presentation. Their joint commitment to making Sweet Temptation a success was important and that needed the focus of her attention this morning.
After the presentation Trudy vowed that she would allow herself some time to think about what she had done with William Hart and try to establish whether or not it had been a mistake.
It hadn’t felt like a mistake.
It had felt so good that she desperately wanted to repeat the experience. But the prospect of repeating the experience was something she wouldn’t let herself think about until after she had helped her friends.
An hour later Trudy was showered and refreshed. The quad killer was once again vanquished, her muscles ached from the exertion, and she no longer worried that Charlotte might think less of her for what she’d done with William Hart. Charlotte was, as always, the understanding and sympathetic big sister that Trudy had never had.
On their return to Eldorado, Charlotte said she wanted to spend the morning working on the web designs for Sweet Temptation. The corporate logos were nailed and she was comfortable with the behaviour of most of the software she had written as it worked with the major browser. However, Charlotte wanted to see if she could iron out a couple of wrinkles that occurred between the Sweet Temptation interface and some of the disparities she was facing with mobile technology.
‘Do you need my help?’ Trudy asked doubtfully.
Not unkindly, Charlotte laughed at the suggestion. ‘I’ll concentrate on the web design,’ she said firmly. ‘You focus on the company’s product. I thought you were going to unravel the mystery of those muffins you were obsessing about last night?’
Grateful, Trudy nodded. She knew so little about computers she was relieved that Charlotte had politely declined her offer. She changed into comfy jeans, a shapeless jumper and a pair of modest heels. The market never demanded high fashion and this morning all she wanted was the chance to find some Sri Lankan cinnamon, get a couple of pieces of fresh fruit, and then have an opportunity to get back to
