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“He’s not even your type!” I hissed at myself, trying to pat my hair into place. “Not that your type has ever worked out for you in the past.”
I gave up on my hair. I still had dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep over the unlockable door. As of today, it now had a bolt on either side, thanks to Stuart, but I still needed to catch up on lost sleep.
“Boring, old Amanda,” I whispered to the mirror. “Or, stay for the promise of pleasure?”
I walked out of the bathroom.
“Pleasure,” I whispered, threading through the crowd. “Or, the promise of a promotion?”
Stuart and Liz were talking now. God, I was an idiot: I’d drawn some circles on his hand and hoped Stuart would make the same offer he had at the cigar lounge – a promise of pleasure. Despite a few indiscretions, we needed to keep our working relationship professional. That’s all it could be. That’s what we had agreed upon, too.
I could not entertain thoughts of it being anything else.
My promotion was so close now. Michelle had made that clear when I agreed to go to Oban on a moment’s notice. How could I even be contemplating giving in to my hormones when everything I’d worked for in the last five years came down to this job?
As I stared at Stuart and Liz, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. Maybe I did feel jealous that they could start something tonight and I couldn’t.
I wanted to meet someone special. Promotions didn’t kiss you so passionately you couldn’t stand up without support. What I felt for Stuart was just a crush. Hormones and lack of sex had me feeling excessively horny that I just couldn’t satisfy lately by my own attention alone…
I coughed and smoothed my skirt.
Between a promotion and meeting someone special, my promotion was actually attainable, and I knew I could do a great job for Gallanach.
Someone jostled me from the side, bringing me out of my head and back to the bar.
“Sorry, love. Floor’s a bit slippery there.”
A handsome man stood before me, lager in hand, smiling in a way that made you think he was thinking something naughty.
“Oh, it’s alright. No harm done.” I tucked a strand of wayward hair behind my ear.
“You’re not from around here,” he grinned. His Scottish accent was very similar to Stuart’s and his family.
“I’m from Australia.”
He nodded. “Ye here with anyone?”
I quickly glanced at Stuart. He was talking closely with Liz. I turned back to the man.
No more boring Amanda!
“I am now.”
“Lucky me,” he said, winking. “And you don’t have a drink. Can I rectify this situation?”
I was about to insist on paying for my own drink, but he moved swiftly, placing his free hand on the small of my back, steering me to the bar. He called the bartender over and asked for a white wine, hand still hovering just on the rise of my butt. I took a half-step away, not an easy task at the crowded bar, and his hand moved away. But he was just getting his wallet.
I took the wine and held it between us but he pressed closer again, holding his lager up to my drink. “A toast to a good night, hey?”
I gave him a small smile and clinked my glass against his beer. “Thank you for the wine.”
“So, what are ye doing in Oban?”
“I’m here for work,” I hedged.
“Oh yeah? Where are ye at, then?”
The back of my neck turned icy, my skin prickling. I glanced around. Stuart was standing and alone, watching me intensely.
