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*
The party was in full swing when we arrived. The converted Victorian bathhouse had been decorated to within an inch of its life with fairy lights and poinsettia garlands. It all looked incredibly festive.
‘Great venue,’ said Finn, taking my hand in his as we descended the short flight of stairs and entered the reception room.
‘Last year it was at the zoo,’ I said, leaning in and speaking close to his ear so he could hear me above the steady throb of music coming from the far end of the room, where a DJ would later lure partygoers on to the dance floor.
A few heads turned our way when we arrived, and a couple of my work colleagues lifted an arm in greeting, but our entrance had largely gone under the radar, or so I thought. Gradually, though, I became aware of a curious buzz humming through the room, generated not by me but by the man standing at my side. I’d thought some people there tonight might remember Finn from his journalist days, but I hadn’t factored in that even more would recognise him as the author whose latest novel was currently on every bookshop and supermarket shelf.
I saw several people peeling away from the groups they were with and heading towards us and realised too late that my hopes for a romantic evening together were disappearing even faster than the free cocktails.
An old drinking buddy of Finn’s was the first to reach us, clapping a hand so heartily on his back, I felt the slap ricochet down the entire length of my arm. In a cloud of alcoholic fumes – the kind that needed to stay far away from a naked flame – Tim, Terry, or whatever his name was, attempted to drag Finn off to join the group he’d just left.
‘Maybe later,’ Finn said, his fingers squeezing mine in silent reassurance.
‘You should go and say hi,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind.’ Because I’d never been that girl, the one who needs to hang on to a man’s arm all night, and I was far too old to be starting now.
‘See, you’ve got permission,’ said the guy. I had no idea why Finn had ever befriended him.
‘We’ve only just got here, so like I said, maybe later.’ Finn’s less than enthusiastic response somehow filtered through the tequila haze and his old friend disappeared into the crowd, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘ball and chain’.
It was a brief victory because as we wove our way through the crowd towards a group of my friends, a perfectly manicured hand with an exceedingly large diamond ring upon it descended on to Finn’s shoulder. I knew who it belonged to without having to look up.
‘Finn Douglas. What a wonderful surprise to see you here.’
I didn’t know if Finn had ever met our slightly terrifying MD in the past, but he was way too professional not to have done his research.
‘Jacqueline Carstairs. It’s a real pleasure to meet you,’ he said, releasing my hand and extending his to my boss for a formal greeting. But she was already halfway in for an industry double kiss.
‘I had no idea you knew our Gemma,’ Jacqueline said, trying – and I believe failing – to hide her astonishment that he was here as my guest.
‘We’re very old friends,’ Finn said, turning to give me a warm smile.
My lips felt sticky from the oversweet cocktail I’d snagged from a passing waiter as I forced them to smile back.Old friends.It felt like the words had been written in neon and blasted out through the DJ’s enormous speakers. He could have said, or at least hinted, that we were something more than that. So much for his desire to go public.
‘You don’t mind if I steal him away for a while, do you, Gemma?’ And before I could commit career hara-kiri by saying that actually I did, she added, ‘I’m sure our CEO would love to meet you, and there’s something I’d really like to discuss with you.’
Finn’s eyes met mine, full of apology, which I answered with a quick shake of my head. Business was business, and there was a very good reason why people always told you not to mix it with pleasure.
‘Go,’ I urged him. ‘You can find me later. I’ll be the one slaying them with my tango moves on the dance floor.’
At least I sent him away with a laugh, I told myself proudly.
*
I had a good time. It just wasn’t the good time I’d planned on having. It seemed that no sooner had Finn managed to break away from one conversation than he was immediately sucked into another. As I laughed, joked, and drank a few too many free cocktails with my friends, I could feel Finn’s eyes searching for me across the room. When I met them, all my senses sprang to attention. My fingers itched to touch him; I wanted to hear his voice whisper in my ear, smell the aftershave I’d forever associate with him or savour the taste of him as his mouth claimed mine. Finn had a unique and disconcerting ability to affect every single fibre of my body.
I lost sight of him for a while, which didn’t concern me until I eventually spotted him in a dark corner of the room with Felicity,Glow’s book editor. The sane part of my brain said she was probably discussing a feature for the magazine, but every time I glanced their way, Felicity seemed to have closed the distance between them. I’d always quite liked her and had paid little attention to her reputation for seeing every man as a potential conquest, but I was rapidly revising my opinion as I saw her repeatedly laying her hand on Finn’s forearm whenever he spoke and laughing uproariously. I mean, Finn was amusing but notthatfunny. I wasn’t used to feeling jealous, and I didn’t like the way I was suddenly comparing Felicity’s laugh to a hyena’s cackle or noticing that her blood-red acrylic nails looked an awful lot like talons.
Enough, I told myself firmly. ‘Anyone fancy a dance?’ I asked, knocking back the last of my cocktail. It was a little worrying to realise I could no longer remember exactly how many I’d had.
‘Sure,’ replied my friends.
I deliberately didn’t look across to Finn and Felicity’s corner of the room as I headed to the dance floor.
The area was crowded, and sufficient alcohol had flowed for inhibitions to have loosened and for people to be performing moves they’d be hoping wouldn’t get uploaded on to social media in the morning.
We found a spot on the far side of the wooden dance floor, not too far from the DJ desk for making requests but out of the way of the more exuberantly flailing limbs. The music was a mixture of nineties pop and disco, a soundtrack guaranteed to appeal to all ages.
