her into a blonde whose reflection made her start every time she looked in a mirror. Egged on by Lucy, she had bought a daring new dress and a fabulous pair of shoes. She looked as good as she was ever going to, Freya decided.
She had thrown her efforts into organising the party, which was well into its swing, judging by the hubbub and the number of empty bottles congregating in the kitchen, and she hadn’t given enough thought to what she was actually going to do once Dan actually appeared.
Freya’s planning had always got a bit vague at that point. Somehow the two of them would gravitate together, and when the other guests started drifting politely away at eight, as Pel had said they would, Dan would insist on taking her out to dinner at some intimate little restaurant where they could be alone, and after that…well, that would be up to him. That was as much as Freya had decided. She couldn’t be expected to organise everything herself.
Not that there was much sign of Dan gravitating towards her so far. She hadn’t counted on the way he had been instantly annexed by a bevy of the prettiest girls from office, who had him corralled against the back of a sofa and were busy running fingers through their hair and laughing like hyenas whenever Dan opened his mouth.
She should have been able to count on losing her nerve, though, thought Freya, resigned.
She took another slug of her martini and glanced at Lucy, who was standing beside her. ‘What do you think?’
Lucy didn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. ‘He’s perfect,’ she said.
Together, they gazed across the room at Dan. Unlike the rest of the men, he had ignored the black tie specified on Freya’s careful invitations, and had come in his trademark battered leather jacket, but instead of looking underdressed he was easily the coolest guy at the party, surrounded by his coterie of blondes. The famous smile gleamed, showing perfect white teeth. He exuded a kind of dissolute charm that raised him above mere good looks. He was dark and debonair and deliciously handsome, but there was something faintly, irresistibly, dangerous about him, too.
‘He’s exactly what you need,’ Lucy told her. ‘Your very own sex god.’
‘He is quite attractive, isn’t he?’
‘And the award for understatement of the year goes to…Freya King! God, Freya, where’s your sense of proportion? That man is “quite attractive” in the way the Pope is quite Catholic! If you’d said he was drop-dead gorgeous I would have thought you were being restrained.’
Lucy fished the olive out of her martini and waved it at her friend. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you,’ she said. ‘You may be incredibly picky, but you’ve got taste!’
‘I’m glad you approve,’ said Freya humbly.
‘I certainly do. Dan is to die for! If I wasn’t married to Steve, I’d be elbowing you out of the way—which, by the way, is what you should be doing to those girls,’ she added pointedly. ‘What are you doing standing here with us? You go get him, girl!’
‘Do you really think I can?’ Freya looked doubtfully back at Dan. He really was extraordinarily good-looking. Why should a man like him notice her? He probably spent his whole life batting away gorgeous women who threw themselves at his feet. She would only get squashed in the pile.
‘Of course you can!’ Lucy was taking no nonsense. ‘Look at you! You look fantastic! That dress is fabulous, and if those high heels don’t turn him on, he’s not the red-blooded male I take him for. By the time you’ve dazzled him with your sparkling wit and personality, I guarantee you’ll have him on his knees!’
She gave Freya a little push. ‘Off you go!’
Freya dug in her heels like a child. ‘I’ll…er…I’ll just fix my lipstick first,’ she muttered, reluctant to admit to Lucy how nervous she felt after all her boasts about how determined she was to change her life.
‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you. Dan will only want to kiss it all off,’ said Lucy, but Freya was already escaping to the bathroom.
It was all right for Lucy and Pel. They had a confidence that Freya had never acquired. They knew how to flirt, how to read the signals they claimed were so glaringly obvious, but which Freya herself always seemed to miss entirely. And as Pel unfailingly pointed out, they had both had a great time before settling into happy relationships, while any prospective lovers that swam into Freya’s orbit invariably ended up going out with one of her friends.
‘You just don’t try,’ they would sigh.
Well, now she was going to try, Freya reminded herself in the bathroom mirror. Lucy was right. She was missing out on life, but now all that was going to change. She was tired of being just good friends, the one you could always rely on to be in on a Friday night if you had nothing else to do. Wouldn’t she rather be having a wild, passionate affair with an incredibly sexy man than slobbing out on the sofa in front of E.R.?
Of course she would, Freya told her reflection sternly, appalled at that telltale moment of hesitation.
Right, then. There was an incredibly sexy man leaning against her sofa—well, Max’s sofa—in the next room, and according to Lucy and Pel all she had to do was walk over and get him. Freya didn’t believe that seducing a man like Dan Freer could be quite that easy, but the fact remained that he was the first man in a long time to get the old hormones stirring, so she might as well have a go.
Tugging her dress into place, she regarded her reflection dubiously. The bright red made her feel a bit like a post box, and it was much shorter than she usually wore, but there was no doubt that the heels drew attention to her legs, which were her best feature, and away from the tightness around her hips, which definitely weren’t.
‘You look pretty damn hot.’ She tried to psyche herself up. ‘Now, go get him!’
The noise hit her as she went back into the big living room that stretched the entire width of the apartment. An extraordinary number of people had turned up. Freya had worried about how they were all going to get on, but the most bizarre combination of people seemed to be getting on like a house on fire.
She didn’t know what Pel and Marco were putting in the cocktails, but it was lethal, whatever it was. She had lost count of how many she had had herself to bolster her confidence and it was getting quite tricky to balance on her heels.
Freya’s vision of an elegant gathering that would disperse come eight o’clock as she had said on the invitations had never been realised. It was almost eleven already, and there was clearly no chance of impressing Dan with her sophistication now. She had put on a Glenn Miller CD to set the mood when everyone arrived, but long before Dan turned up someone had replaced it with something a bit more upbeat, and several people who obviously didn’t know that cocktail parties were about standing around and making polite chit-chat were actually dancing at the other end of the room.
Wondering how much longer the drink would hold out, Freya looked around for Pel, only to start guiltily as she encountered Lucy’s disapproving gaze. Scowling awfully, her friend jerked her head in Dan’s direction and mouthed, ‘Get over there!’
There seemed nothing for it but to do as she was told. Helping herself to another martini, Freya tossed it back in one, straightened her spine and set off, woman on a mission.
God, he was gorgeous, she thought involuntarily, as she headed towards the group by the sofa. Those brown bedroom eyes, the warm curving
