seduction, she realised. His jaw was working and his breath was ragged, as though he was working up the confidence to speak. When it came, his voice sounded forced and unnatural.
‘He’s no good for you, Kara. You can’t trust a man like that.’
She pulled back and opened her mouth to answer, but Tam raised his voice and kept going: ‘I know you like to think you know how to play him, but he’ll chew you up and spit you out. It’s not worth it, honey.’
‘Honey? Since when was I your bloody
honey
?’ Kara couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.
‘Don’t get like that. I just want to …’
‘Tam.’ Kara folded her arms and nodded at him. ‘I’ll see who I like, when I like, as often as I like. The last thing I need is advice from a wannabe muso whose career high is getting an email from Keith Richards.’ Kara turned and made for the door, not waiting to see how Tam would react.
She gave it a good slam behind her and ran down the steps into the still winter night. There was frost in the air and it stung her lips as she breathed in but she was glad for the sudden shock, the physical sensation that seemed to help clear her thoughts. She walked fast through the dark streets, her footsteps echoing in the early-morning silence. Twice that day she’d run away from a nasty situation. Now she was going home to an empty flat – by the end of the late-night session she and Ruby still hadn’t been on friendly terms. She was alone, pissed off and confused.
In fact, the only glimmer of pleasure she could think of as she tramped up the hill to her flat was that ludicrous, extravagant bunch of flowers and Mike’s handwritten message – short, but full of promise.
Just how would he ‘make it up’ to her? she wondered. She pictured Mike’s wry smile and the way his eyes flickered over her. Something about him conjured up images of grand and glittering horizons – sleek cars and endless glamorous parties. Kara let herself imagine a succession of five-star hotel rooms. Silk sheets, camera flashes, champagne and oysters and Mike’s cool hands sliding over her thighs.
By the time she’d reached home, the lit up dreams in Kara’s head were more vivid than the dark rooms of her flat. She dropped her coat on the sofa and saw the pollen on her sleeve again. For the first time in hours, she allowed herself a smile.
6
‘SO, WE HAVE a deal?’ Mike held the bottle tilted over her glass.
Kara smiled. ‘Sure. Just as long as it’s clear.’
‘Crystal clear.’ Mike poured until the champagne frothed over the rim and spilled down the stem.
‘The contract has nothing to do with you and me. Whatever else we choose to do –’ Mike drew his finger through the condensation on the side of the glass ‘– is a private arrangement. And I can be as discreet as you need me to be.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Kara said. She had painted her eyes smoky and now she gave Mike the full-beam effect from under sooty lashes. In the dim candlelight of the club, everything glowed with understated elegance. Kara felt as though the glamour had rubbed off on her somehow. From the moment he’d picked her up outside her flat, Mike had been treating her differently – no edge of mocking amusement in his eyes, no condescending tone in his voice. He was as sincere and humble as a Benedictine monk. Only Kara was pretty sure monks didn’t take every opportunity to stroke a girl’s hand or glance at her cleavage.
He’d brought her to his private club – marble floors, silent staff, mysterious doorways – and in the ‘quiet lounge’, presented her with a contract. Kara had barely skimmed it, but she caught sight of enough phrases like ‘video production’, ‘marketing’ and ‘airplay’ to make her mouth water. She tucked the envelope carefully into her leather satchel and smiled.
‘And now we’ve dealt with business,’ Mike said, giving the cuffs of his shirt a little tug, ‘we’re free to amuse
‘He’s no good for you, Kara. You can’t trust a man like that.’
She pulled back and opened her mouth to answer, but Tam raised his voice and kept going: ‘I know you like to think you know how to play him, but he’ll chew you up and spit you out. It’s not worth it, honey.’
‘Honey? Since when was I your bloody
honey
?’ Kara couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.
‘Don’t get like that. I just want to …’
‘Tam.’ Kara folded her arms and nodded at him. ‘I’ll see who I like, when I like, as often as I like. The last thing I need is advice from a wannabe muso whose career high is getting an email from Keith Richards.’ Kara turned and made for the door, not waiting to see how Tam would react.
She gave it a good slam behind her and ran down the steps into the still winter night. There was frost in the air and it stung her lips as she breathed in but she was glad for the sudden shock, the physical sensation that seemed to help clear her thoughts. She walked fast through the dark streets, her footsteps echoing in the early-morning silence. Twice that day she’d run away from a nasty situation. Now she was going home to an empty flat – by the end of the late-night session she and Ruby still hadn’t been on friendly terms. She was alone, pissed off and confused.
In fact, the only glimmer of pleasure she could think of as she tramped up the hill to her flat was that ludicrous, extravagant bunch of flowers and Mike’s handwritten message – short, but full of promise.
Just how would he ‘make it up’ to her? she wondered. She pictured Mike’s wry smile and the way his eyes flickered over her. Something about him conjured up images of grand and glittering horizons – sleek cars and endless glamorous parties. Kara let herself imagine a succession of five-star hotel rooms. Silk sheets, camera flashes, champagne and oysters and Mike’s cool hands sliding over her thighs.
By the time she’d reached home, the lit up dreams in Kara’s head were more vivid than the dark rooms of her flat. She dropped her coat on the sofa and saw the pollen on her sleeve again. For the first time in hours, she allowed herself a smile.
6
‘SO, WE HAVE a deal?’ Mike held the bottle tilted over her glass.
Kara smiled. ‘Sure. Just as long as it’s clear.’
‘Crystal clear.’ Mike poured until the champagne frothed over the rim and spilled down the stem.
‘The contract has nothing to do with you and me. Whatever else we choose to do –’ Mike drew his finger through the condensation on the side of the glass ‘– is a private arrangement. And I can be as discreet as you need me to be.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Kara said. She had painted her eyes smoky and now she gave Mike the full-beam effect from under sooty lashes. In the dim candlelight of the club, everything glowed with understated elegance. Kara felt as though the glamour had rubbed off on her somehow. From the moment he’d picked her up outside her flat, Mike had been treating her differently – no edge of mocking amusement in his eyes, no condescending tone in his voice. He was as sincere and humble as a Benedictine monk. Only Kara was pretty sure monks didn’t take every opportunity to stroke a girl’s hand or glance at her cleavage.
He’d brought her to his private club – marble floors, silent staff, mysterious doorways – and in the ‘quiet lounge’, presented her with a contract. Kara had barely skimmed it, but she caught sight of enough phrases like ‘video production’, ‘marketing’ and ‘airplay’ to make her mouth water. She tucked the envelope carefully into her leather satchel and smiled.
‘And now we’ve dealt with business,’ Mike said, giving the cuffs of his shirt a little tug, ‘we’re free to amuse
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