looked like a suitably dark and shady place to hide.’
‘So you don’t live in London?’ That was good. It meant they were unlikely to ever bump into each other again.
Unless they wanted to?
That’s not on the agenda tonight, Lula, get a grip.
Tristan shook his head and frowned. ‘I’m based in Edinburgh.’
‘I’ve never been there. I hear it’s a really cool place.’
‘It is.’
‘So what brings you this far south?’ she asked.
‘Business. I had a meeting in Canary Wharf today and I have something to do for my father tomorrow.’ His voice had become rougher, as if he was uncomfortable—or maybe bored—talking about it.
Lula nodded and smiled, attempting to hide her anxiety. Her radio training told her she needed to latch onto a more interesting topic of conversation or she was going to lose him.
‘So is it true that men who wear glasses make better lovers?’ She cringed inside, amazed at the guff that came out of her mouth in times of stress.
He let out a startled guffaw. ‘That’s not one I’ve heard before, but since I fit firmly into that category I’m going to say yes.’
She smiled, happy not to have been slapped down and amazed to feel the atmosphere begin to zing between them again.
May as well go with it.
‘I think it has something to do with losing one of your senses when you take your glasses off—your eyesight, obviously, in this instance—which makes you work harder with your sense of touch.’
He dipped his head in mirth. ‘That sounds like a load of gobbledegook to me, but I’m willing to go with it if it makes you believe I’ll be better in bed than my non-bespectacled rivals.’
‘Oh, I have no doubt you are,’ Lu said, the heat in her cheeks intensifying as she struggled to maintain flirty eye contact.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Emily making her way over to where they stood at the bar and primed herself for whatever might happen next.
Everything about her friend shouted Look at me!, from her abundance of blonde-tipped, chocolate-coloured curls and large golden eyes to her curvy statuesque figure.
She struck people.
And she made things happen—it was what made her such a successful TV presenter. Normally Lula loved that about her, but right now she needed to be allowed to handle this situation with Tristan without Em’s dominating personality muscling in.
‘So, Lu, I guess you’re not coming to the next pub with us then?’ Emily said as she approached, widening her eyes and unsubtly twitching her head towards Tristan.
‘Er, no. I don’t think so,’ Lula said, hoping her face didn’t look as flushed as it felt.
Emily nodded, narrowing her eyes at Tristan. ‘Hold this for me, will you?’ she said, thrusting her drink at him.
He took it from her and watched in apparent amusement as she rummaged in her bag for something.
‘Do me a favour, take a sip of that and tell me if you think it’s gin or vodka they’ve put in there. I think it’s gin, but the barman swears it’s vodka,’ Emily said, her head still in her bag.
Tristan took a small sip. ‘Definitely not gin,’ he said.
Em pulled her phone out of her bag and took a quick snap of Tristan with the camera on it. Before he had chance to ask her what she was doing, she wrapped a tissue around her hand and took her glass from him.
‘Thanks. Right, well, you look after my friend here, because if you attempt anything she doesn’t like I have your picture, fingerprints and DNA and I will not hesitate to hand them over to the police. Consider yourself warned.’
‘Jeez, Emily, leave the poor guy alone,’ Lula said, rolling her eyes at her friend, hoping to God Tristan would see the funny side. When she turned to give him an apologetic smile she was relieved to find he was smiling, albeit in a rather bemused way.
‘Okay, I’m backing away now,’ Emily sang out. ‘I’ll leave you in Lu’s capable hands,’ she said, giving Tristan a salacious wink.
Lula’s insides shrivelled in mortification.
Leaning in, Emily gave her a tight hug, whispering, ‘You go, girl. Show this guy who’s boss,’ into Lu’s ear before flashing them both a wicked grin and hurrying off.
He stayed talking with her for another hour after her crazy friend had left, enjoying her company more and more as she seemed to relax with him.
They chatted about everything and nothing; he teased her about her love of nineties music, which she countered by turning her nose up at his obsession with trad jazz. They discussed their favourite books from childhood, his passion for following Formula One racing and her seemingly encyclopaedic knowledge of art-house films.
Despite her reluctance to leave with her friends, Tristan had a strong suspicion that picking up random guys in a pub wasn’t Lu’s usual modus operandi. There was something too reserved about her to make him believe she did this kind of thing on a regular basis. He loved the fact she was clearly making a special effort for him—he hadn’t felt that wanted in a while—but unfortunately it pointed towards the possibility that she’d expect more from this encounter than he was able to give.
She was a sexy and engaging woman and he could imagine she’d be incredible in bed but he probably shouldn’t push for anything to happen between them.
He didn’t do one-night stands. And he didn’t need any complications while he was here. As soon as this radio station mess was resolved he’d be on the first plane back to Edinburgh—back to running the family business that his father had now totally lost interest in.
He drained the last of his third bottle of beer. ‘I should probably go,’ he said gently.
The look of bewildered disappointment, which she quickly forced into an unconcerned smile, made his heart do a slow dive. She clearly didn’t want this encounter to end and, if he was totally honest, neither did he.
‘No problem,’ she said, knocking back the last of her wine and placing the glass onto the bar.
He noticed, with a jolt of surprise, that her hand seemed to be trembling.
‘I really should get going too. Things to do tomorrow.’ She gave him a false bright smile.
‘Are you going to catch up with your friends?’
‘Nah. I don’t think I should drink any more.’
He nodded. ‘Very sensible.’
Huffing out
