Why did he have that effect on me? I mean, it wasn’t as if I’d never seen a good-looking man before. Ben, my beautiful, perfectly formed cheating-bastard marine, had been the type of guy who made every female in the room stop and stare. Stu was handsome in an almost Californian/OC kind of way. Although, naturally he’d never live there because the sun could cause skin cancer and he’d once read that the whole cast of Baywatch came down with a horrible bug after swimming in the sea off the coast of Malibu.
Anyway, Conn…nope, no idea why he made my heart beat faster and my sweat pores open.
‘Erm, no, it was…’ I started to reply, but I was too late–he’d already disappeared out of sight. Memo to self: try to take less than a week to answer Conn’s questions.
I pondered for a moment. It was Wednesday. Last Wednesday I specifically remembered him requesting pitta bread, chicken legs and hummus. I laid out my prediction with a smug grin and was just congratulating myself on my astute observation when the phone rang.
‘Yes Conn? Sure. Okay, one lasagne, one baked potato. No problem.’ Millie replaced the phone with a giggle. ‘Millie–one, Harry’s girlfriend–zero.’
Aaaaargh! How did she do that?
I swatted her across the head with the morning mail and headed off up to the office, took the customary deep breath before opening the door, and…I swear you couldn’t make it up. The music hit me first: a wild, chaotic cacophony of drums. In the middle of the floor was Zara, topless except for a huge, chunky wood necklace, wearing a flowing terracotta-coloured skirt adorned with what looked like African symbols. Next to her was a huge, beautiful black man, dressed similarly to Zara, every muscle perfectly defined and his skin glistening with moisture. Providing the musical contribution were two blokes in the corner, battering away on huge steel drums. My eyes darted back to the stage show–Zara and the bloke were gyrating in some kind of hypnotic tribal dance, both of them in perfect sync, making it obvious that this was a well-practised routine. Some warning would have been nice. Most PAs run a danger of catching their boss sneaking an illicit bacon butty in the morning. Or perhaps calling their secret date from the night before. As far as I could remember I had never heard anyone comment that they’d walked into the office in the morning and come face to face with their boss swinging her hooters to the accompaniment of two steel drums.
Her gaze suddenly swung to me, her expression irritated. Fuck! She definitely could read my mind. Think nice things. Think nice things. Exit. Exit. Exit.
I motioned that I’d be next door in one of the consulting rooms and made a quick departure. Once there, I picked up my phone to dial into the voicemail, only to hear Conn’s voice.
‘No, that’s not a problem–she’ll deliver the full manuscript early June and a quick turnaround suits us perfectly. No, no, I understand–we don’t want to miss the Christmas market either so we’re happy to commit whatever time is needed.’
Zara’s book. I got a little rush of excitement. Despite the sheer craziness of it all, I had to admit there was something quite thrilling about being involved in this world of celebrity and media. For years I’d promised myself that one day I’d take the day off work and persuade Trish to let me visit the Great Morning TV! studios, but now it was part of the job to go there every Friday with Zara. On the first occasion, Trish had had to steer me to a dark corner so that I wouldn’t risk the embarrassment of being struck dumb when the bloke who used to be in Where the Heart Is spoke to me. On the second visit, I was so busy gaping at Tom Hanks plugging his new movie that I thudded into the catering table, causing a whole avalanche of food to go sliding to the floor in front of a room full of people. Bad point: there were many people to see my mortification. Good point: if Trish had followed through on her promise to kill me there’d be plenty of witnesses for the prosecution.
I listened to Conn for a few seconds before gently replacing the receiver, trying to ignore the fact that the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end and there were the definite beginnings of a very strange sensation in the pit of my stomach. I barely had time to gasp when…suddenly he was there, sitting on the edge of the desk in front of me and, oops, he’d forgotten to put his clothes on again. ‘Leni…’ he whispered, before leaning over, slipping his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me towards him. He kissed me, his tongue slowly, sensually finding mine, his teeth nibbling gently on my bottom lip, his body ready and waiting to…
Stop! In the name of office pervs, what was going on with me? It wasn’t even 10 a.m. and already I’d had two daydreams involving a very naked man. I definitely had to have sex soon, as neglected libido is now causing disturbing hallucinations of a genital nature.
Distraction. Needed a distraction. I pressed a button on the phone to get a different line, entered a code to switch my calls to this extension, then dialled into my mailbox.
‘You have seven new messages.’ Seven? I never got more than two and one was usually my mother phoning for a chat.
I pressed ‘#’.
‘Leni, can you call me back–I’m a bit worried because I haven’t heard from you since last night.’
Aaaw, it was so sweet that Stu was worried. I’d meant to call him but when I got home the night before my mobile was out of charge and I’d fallen asleep before I’d given it enough juice to make a call. I’d thought about getting a landline installed but there was a £145 connection fee and it always seemed unnecessary when I could talk all evening for free on my mobile. Talking of which…I felt around in my bag for my phone. Damn. Must have left it on the charger at home.
I pressed delete, then # again.
‘Leni, me again–call me back.’
He sounded a little more urgent this time.
Delete. #.
‘Leni, okay, I’m getting seriously freaked out. Call me.’
Delete. #.
‘Leni, if I don’t hear from you in the next fifteen minutes, I’m calling the police.’
Delete. #.
‘No, I’m not, I’m going round to your flat. If you’re lying behind the door it should be someone who loves you that discovers you.’
I rolled my eyes. And the Oscar for ‘Most Dramatic Friend in a Crisis’ goes to…
Delete. #.
‘Okay, I’m going to leave in ten minutes. Just as soon as I get these roots done.’
Delete. #.
‘Leni, I…’
I didn’t get to hear the rest of my message because the phone burst into life with the ring of an incoming call. I pressed ‘receive’.
‘Hello, Leni speaki—’
‘OH, THANK GOD! THANK GOD!!!!’
The words came tumbling out, the voice raspy, the breathing out of control.
‘Stu, calm down, I’m fine. I just got into work and was about to call you back.’
‘CALL ME BACK?!!!’
It wasn’t an exclamation or a question–more an outraged outburst.
‘I’VE BEEN CALLING YOU SINCE EIGHT O’CLOCK THIS MORNING!!!’
I checked my watch–10.30 a.m.
‘Stu, I just got in. They let me start a bit later this morning because of the date last night. Anyway, thanks for being concerned, but there’s no need, honestly, I’m absolutely fine. Didn’t you get my email?’
‘EMAIL!!!!