‘No. You’re right. She’s hardly his type anyway, is she? I mean, she’s nice. Kind of cute. But she’s way too dreamy for him. Charlie’s sharp, smart, high-flying. He needs someone on that same level. Someone he can have an intellectual conversation with.’
My fingers closed around the catch as I felt colour rush to my face.
‘She kind of looked a bit blank in there. She’s pretty decoration but Charlie needs someone who totally understands what he does for a living and appreciates it.’
‘And I suppose you would know just how to show that appreciation?’
‘You know it. And, my God, did you see his hands? They’re huge!’
This seemed a source of great amusement.
‘Candy, you are the worst! Charlie Richmond is a fine, upstanding Brit. He is not going to be into spanking!’
My mother had been 100 per cent right. I was hearing plenty I didn’t want to!
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘You asked him?’ I imagined the other woman’s jaw had dropped, just as mine had. I didn’t entirely know if I wanted to hear the answer.
‘Of course not. I’m just saying, you’d be surprised. They always say it’s the quiet ones.’
‘Come on, let’s get to lunch. And try not to drool into your salad too much.’
I waited until the door closed and I was sure that they had gone before I came out of the stall. I quickly washed my hands, brushed my hair and slapped a top-up of lippy on. Straightening up, I tried to force the overheard words out of my head. Walking purposefully to the main door, I took a deep breath and headed out.
Charlie was waiting at the lifts, along with the two women and another man from the London office who’d been in the meeting. He’d been third in line to be introduced. I was fairly sure that his name was Stuart, but I wasn’t putting money on it. Charlie smiled when I came into view and I did a little hurry-up walk as it was clear they’d been waiting for me. We rode down in the lift and walked across the minimalistic foyer, the women’s shoes clacking loudly on the limestone tiled floor. My own platform sandals had a rubberised sole, and I squeaked along behind them. Charlie stood back and let me into the revolving door first. I pushed it round, popping out into the scorching summer air. I caught my breath as the heat hit me. Warmth radiated up from the paving stones and I could almost feel my skin turning pink as I waited. The other women exited and turned their faces to the sun, catching the rays and adding to their already perfect tans.
Stuart led the way as we turned and headed towards the river.
Charlie caught my arm as I moved closer to the buildings in order to grab some shade.
‘You all right?’
I squinted up at him. ‘Yes. Fine. Why?’
He looked at me a moment. ‘You were kind of a long time. I was worried that you might be… unwell.’ His voice was low, almost a whisper.
I stopped. ‘No!’
Oh, great. Ms Brunette was definitely right. Charlie most certainly didn’t think of me in a desirable way. At all. Apparently he thought of me with an upset stomach.
‘The door in the stall got jammed. I was… stuck.’
Well, the last part was sort of true.
‘Why didn’t you call out?’
‘Does it matter? I got out. I’m here now.’
‘No. I’m just… what’s up? You don’t seem quite yourself.’
My normal, dreamy self.The woman’s words made me feel as if I were back at school with the cool girls taking the piss out of me for my pale skin and red hair.
‘I’m all right, Charlie. Really. Just a bit hot. It’s a little above my melting temperature out here.’
He nodded, not looking entirely convinced. ‘We’re nearly there.’
A few minutes later and we were all sitting around a circular table in the window of an upscale restaurant. The Golden Table. Of course. The seating plan hardly surprised me as Charlie was undeniably gorgeous, and looked even more edible in his handmade suit than the food on the menu. The two women were incredibly well groomed, good-looking, with Miss Brunette well into the realm of beautiful. Stuart and I did OK, but I knew it was these three that had inspired the maître d’ to have us directed to the most prominently viewed table from outside, the message being that, ‘Beautiful people dine here. Come in and join the beautiful people.’ It was an odd concept, I always thought, as I tended to look at the menu, not the other diners, when I chose a restaurant but it was widely practised, so I guessed the industry felt that there was some benefit.
