she was having. The girl had no fucking idea how sweet her perky little ass was, or how one watery flash of her eyes could drive a man to insanity. Her humble oblivion made her even more fuckable. I had to get out of this. Calm down, James, keep it together.
I took a sip of water and continued my presentation, making every effort to ignore Trevor and his grubby little advances. Lydia was better than him, out of his league, even if he did own a shiny gold Jaguar and a part share in a racehorse. Wanker.
I was about to break for lunch when a mobile started bleeping in someone’s handbag. I gritted my teeth in annoyance, and gritted them harder still as I realised it was Lydia’s phone that was going off. She blushed, and shot me a look of apology, scrabbling to put the thing on silent. Trevor leant in close to catch a glimpse of her message, and I found myself thumping the projector screen behind me with a falsely-elaborate point. It got his attention and for a moment I stared him out with eyes of death. He raised his eyebrows in surprise before I yanked myself down enough to shoot him a smile. He lapped it up, moment forgotten.
Finally we broke for lunch and I virtually marched Lydia down the corridor for a ‘five-minute-co-worker-catch-up’. Trevor hovered, keeping a shifty eye on us from the meeting room doorway.
“I’m really sorry about my phone,” she gushed. “I was sure I’d turned it off.”
“Clearly not,” I snapped. “Is he bothering you?” I tilted my head in Trevor’s direction.
Her eyes widened, naive and oblivious. “Who, Trevor? No, why?”
“He’s practically slavering over you. It’s an embarrassment.”
She burnt up, the perfect amount of rouge flooding her cheeks. “He just seems friendly.”
“He’s more than friendly. He’s like a dog sniffing a bitch on heat. He’ll start humping your leg if you’re not careful.”
“It’s ok, honestly. I’m fine. I can handle it.”
I sighed, forcing a lighter tone. “I think it’s going well in there.”
“You’re doing great,” she smiled. “Really great. You’ve covered everything from our end perfectly.”
“The phase two section was all from your project plan, Lydia. It’s your success too.”
“Wow, thanks.” Her eyes glowed with life. “I’m really glad you liked it.”
“Shall we grab a sandwich? Get out of here?”
She grimaced, knotting her hands together. “I already agreed we’d eat with them, I’m sorry. I didn’t know not to. Trevor told me they were putting on a buffet the minute we stepped through the door.”
It didn’t surprise me. I forced a smile. “No problem, Lydia. They are the client after all.”
I led the way back up the corridor, dying inside as Trevor took my Cat’s-eyes by the arm and schmoozed her on into the dining hall. I should have been grateful to him, relieved at the possibility of her disappearance from the open market, but all I felt was hate.
***
Finally, we were out of there. I sank a double-scotch at the bar and ordered in a bottle of red. The afternoon had dragged like a bitch, every second leading up to the inevitable moment that Trevor White would make his move to hijack our evening. I’d stepped in before Lydia could even blink.
“Sorry, Trevor, we’d love to, we’re back-to-back with office catch-up calls until nine. Some other time, though.”
He couldn’t argue, feigning politeness and waving us away for a ‘pleasant evening’. It would be. Now.
“I really thought he was coming with us,” Lydia said, eyes sparkling in amusement. “He looked so put out when you said we were busy.”
I handed her a glass. “Did you want him to?”
“Did I want Trevor White to join us this evening?” she smiled. “No. Why would I?”
“He’s the senior partner of one of the largest law firms in the country. He’s got a gold Jag, part share in a racehorse and a villa on the Spanish coast. Plus he’s still got his own hair, and most of his own teeth. He could be your next Mr Comfortable.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Another Mr Comfortable is the last thing I want.”
“Really? Why so?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m the new-model Lydia Marsh. This Lydia Marsh is wild and free and single. She doesn’t want TV nights or lights-off sex on a Tuesday evening.”
“I guess she doesn’t want Trevor White, then.”
“No, she doesn’t,” she grinned. “She doesn’t want a relationship at all.”
“Welcome to the club,” I held up my wine and she clinked my glass. “Single and sane, private