So what am I going to do? I’ve got too many decisions to make now. I think I’ll email Trevor and agree to his interview, but I’ll decline the dinner invitation. If I suggest that we meet for coffee in the afternoon, maybe around 3, then I’ll have plenty of time to spread myself thinly and be there for Tam in the evening too. It does seem strange though, that he wants to interview me outside of office hours and include a lush restaurant meal, but then again, the guy obviously has ulterior motives – what with the endless supply of flowers! I’ve donated 4 bouquets this week to the London Hospital – they think I’m weird; giving away these gorgeous bouquets, but I don’t know the guys sending them, so they don’t mean anything to me! Ha – listen to me! Talk about blasé! Not bad for a girl who’s trying to stay single, eh?
The troublesome choice for me is what to do with Adrian. Don’t be fooled, I know exactly what I’d really love to do with Adrian, but we’re only on friendly terms, but just the thoughts of him get me all hot and bothered and tingly down below. I’d love to go to the gig with him too. It’s a long time since I’ve been to a London gig and I can just imagine the low ceilings and sweaty bodies and the condensation dripping down on me! These hearts-and-flowers and romantic meals are great, but it all feels fake! If I’m honest I’m finding it difficult to determine what is fake and what isn’t. Paul Ashkuri left me a voice mail apologising for his behaviour last week and asked if I’d see him again. As gorgeous as he is, I won’t risk another night like that. My nerves were shattered with every camera that flashed in my face and I couldn’t relax after that. Thankfully the newspapers have been divided on their story angle – some of them sided with Ashkuri, commenting that a magazine features writer who wanted to remain single wasn’t quite up to his L.A. standards anyway, but others had published the images where he was pushing me away. In fact, a couple of the red-tops have been really complimentary to me, running headlines like Arsehole Ashkuri and With Men Like These, Why Don’t We All Stay Single? – (which I actually thought was excellent!) Needless to say though, I won’t be seeing him again. I hear he’s flying back to L.A next month, so it won’t be like I’ll be bumping into him. Adrian was really nice about it all – I saw him the lift this morning and he gave me the sexiest wink and said that he thought I was too good for Ashkuri anyway.
I nearly melted….
And now I have to tell him that I can’t go to the gig. I’ll tell him in the morning.
Typical of my luck!
Rob made an effort to get into work extra early on Saturday morning as he hoped to make a quick getaway this evening, to call in and pick up some comedy DVD’s and some food, ready to take around to Tamsin’s later on, for this evening. He’d stopped at the bakery and had bought himself 2 huge bacon and egg baguettes, and was still tucking into the first one as he unlocked the garage. As usual he flicked the ‘on’ button to boil up some water for a hot and strong mug of tea as he checked his appointment book –
- Finish Don Fletchers exhaust
- Mrs Wheelers brakes + service
- Trevor Malone – 2.30 – MOT
With any luck he was sure he’d be away by 4 ‘o’clock.
I’m tired. It’s another scorching morning, but the difference today is that I don’t need to rush up and out for work. I can hear that the street is already busy, the rumble of wheelie bins being moved and the shuffle of flip flops on the move. It was extra hot night last night and I had trouble sleeping. The weather has been adorable but the nights are equally as hot – there’s no reprieve. Despite opening my bedroom window, the air was still and thick, which meant I lay naked, with my duvet kicked to my ankles, as I starfished on my bed. And still I was clammy and hot. And it got me thinking. About who I really would love to have there beside me. In the heat my skin was tingling, my breasts were puckered with goose pimples and my nipples were rock hard – despite the intense blanket of heat. I felt myself gasp for breath as I thought about Adrian and how I’m becoming rather obsessed with him. I’ve managed to keep a lid on it, satisfying myself with a quick ‘hello’ in the lift or ‘thanks’ when he hands me a brown Starbucks bag. But his sexy blue eyes and boyish good looks are printed on the inside of my eyelids and I can’t help but think of the way his shirt always seems slightly strained at the chest. It amuses me that he works for a publication as straight as Accountancy Age, or whatever one it is that he writes for, because he looks so damn hot and trendy. But in another way, I think I like that about him – it suggests a degree of balance and reliability – something that has been intensely lacking in every guy that I’ve been romantically linked with. I know that I’m doing The Most Dangerous Thing – which I always do – which is to build an imaginary personality and character to Adrian based on a few stray scraps of information. And this really is The Most Dangerous Thing – because no man has ever lived up to my expectations. I could feel my pulse beating in my neck and banging in my chest, the moody sounds of a growl as a car drove past in the thick night air, somehow making me more aware of my senses. At one point I was finding it difficult to breathe as I slid my hand across my chest, brushing my hard nipples, and then slowly pushing downward to that tingling spot between my legs.
I so would have loved to have Adrian there with me at that moment.
Boy, I could do that guy some serious damage…..
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty One