Temporary Intrigue (4 page)

“Delicious from any angle.” Beside him, Malcolm was ogling Dimity’s rear view. “And she’s had a quick change from the look of her.”

He smirked at Josh knowingly. Josh scowled before turning back to join the lunch party.

****

The watcher’s mouth tightened as Dimity, skidding in the stilettos, crossed the walkway to the shops.

It wouldn’t take much. A quick shove as a bus went past could do it.

But there was no point taking unnecessary risks.

The figure in pink suddenly stumbled and dropped the bag she was carrying. Objects scattered over the footpath.

The watcher smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

Something more serious than that accident the other night was needed. Spur of the moment stuff wouldn’t work. Planning ahead was the key.

There would be a better place and a better time.

And that time would be soon.

“I have never been so
mortified
in my life! And you can stop laughing,” added Dimity, hurling the sheet into the washing machine in the back room of Sandra’s salon.

Sandra mopped her eyes.

“I warned you not to make any sudden movements. What a hoot! I’ll dine out on this for months.”

“So will everyone who saw me today.” Dimity started the machine then peered at a mirror on the wall. “Black eyes, red mouth – I look like a clown. How could we forget to wash the green out of my hair?”

Still chuckling, Sandra spooned instant coffee into mugs. “I’m so used to coloured hair I didn’t think of it. And the lipstick was supposed to take attention from your eyes – not that there’s much lipstick left, after you finished nuzzling him.”

“I told you, I bumped into him.” Dimity accepted a mug and sat down at a small table.

“And you’ve already arranged to meet again.” Sandra joined her with a jar of cream biscuits. “Excellent progress.”

Dimity rolled her eyes.

“Don’t even
think
about going there! You know I’m not ready for a man in my life. And what’s to say he’s available? Just because he wasn’t wearing a ring–”

“Aha. So you noticed his hands.”

How could she not notice his hands? Warm, strong, but so gentle as they lowered the glasses over her eyes . . .

“Just a quick glance,” she said carelessly.

Sandra guffawed.

“Sorry about your skirt, by the way.” Dimity took a gloomy sip of coffee.

“It was two years old. Have a biscuit.”

“How can you pack it away like that and not put on an ounce?” queried Dimity.

“You’re not fat, Dim, just curvy in the right places. I wish I knew the secret to
that
. Flat as a tack and thin as a stick, that’s me. Not a sexy look.”

“Not a skirt-splitting look, either,” said Dimity morosely. “I waved my self-esteem goodbye in that corridor today. Celery and carrots for me from now on.”

“You could have avoided all this if you’d taken ten minutes to buy something to wear.”

“I’ve done too much digging into my savings since Shane came home.”

“Do they ever give you any money for their keep?”

“They can’t afford it.” Dimity eyed the biscuits longingly. “Shane gets the occasional shift but Leigh can’t find a job.”

“Who’d employ her? But they should contribute something. You’re too soft when it comes to money.”

“I did let you go and buy me the thong today,” Dimity reminded her.

“Only because you could see your black knickers weren’t a good look under the pink skirt.”

“If that recruitment agency ever again sends me to a job interview with no notice, I’ll go as I am.” Dimity looked down at the blue jeans, paint-dotted white shirt and comfortable sneakers she was now wearing. “It was probably all wasted effort anyway.”

“I was getting around to that.” Sandra waved the remnants of her biscuit. “That’s why you couldn’t reach me. I was talking to someone on my phone, then yours rang. You got the job.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Neither do I. Maybe your inner self shone through.”

“Yeah, right.”

“They want you to confirm you’ll start on Monday. Why are they so desperate? They must have made the decision almost the minute the interview finished.”

“They’re short of staff. One of the marketing department PA’s walked out without giving notice. They’re getting someone permanent but I’ll be there for four weeks. Assuming all goes well.”

“Assuming,” translated Sandra, “you don’t forget to pass on vital phone messages, don’t spill coffee over your computer keyboard–”

“If you jinx me, I’ll put the evil eye on you!” Dimity shook her fist in a mock threatening gesture. “So I’ve made a few human errors in twenty six years. Nobody’s perfect.”

“Well, at least your black eyes mustn’t have been a turn-off.”

“For once I was lucky.” Dimity gave in and took a biscuit. “The marketing manager was at a function so the deputy manager, Melissa, interviewed me. She said the same thing happened to her in a car accident a couple of years ago.”

“Must be your day for bonding with people. Tell me about the Man in the Corridor. Tall or short?”

“Tall. Even wearing those stilts of yours I had to look up to him.”

“Age?”

“Early thirties.”

“Perfect. Eyes?”

“Brown.”

A beautiful match for his light olive skin.

“Hair?”

“Dark.”

Sandra was smirking. Dimity scowled.

“I only noticed because the glasses fell off when we collided. I’d probably have fallen over if he hadn’t caught me.”

“So we give him a smiley for reflexes. How’s the bod?”

“I was too busy hiding my own bod to notice.”

“Did you get his name?”

“He told me but I wasn’t thinking straight. He gave me a card.” She delved into the bag on the floor beside her.

“Damn!” she said finally.

“Now what?”

“I can’t find it.” She dug deeper.

“How could you lose it between the hotel and here?”

“How could anything that’s happened to me today have happened? I dropped my bag on the way and everything fell out. You try picking things up from the pavement and holding a sheet around you at the same time. I must have missed the card.” Dimity looked at her friend despairingly. “What am I going to do? Reception probably has his mobile number but that’s no use if I don’t know his name.”

“Go in and find him. He shouldn’t be hard to spot. Tall, dark, resourceful, simpatico – dare I say gorgeous?”

“Of course he’s gorgeous!” snapped Dimity. “What other type of man would I meet when I’m bumbling around a five-star hotel with my bottom bursting out of my skirt? But forget it, Sandy. Romance is at least third on my priority list. I’ve made a good job of keeping it there and I’m not going to weaken now.”

Sandra gave her a pitying look.

“Angel cake, it’s no credit to you. Romance simply hasn’t come your way yet. Or should I make that ‘hadn’t’ after today’s encounter?”

“Wishful thinking.” Dimity gave the humming washing machine an irritated look. “Once I’ve returned the sheet I’m going to remove this day from the calendar and pretend it never happened. And after Shane settles down I’m finally going to get my gallery under way. I don’t need distractions. Been there. Doing that.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I waste my time trying to find a quality guy for you.” Sandra’s voice was snappish as she gathered up the coffee mugs. “I’ve a good mind to give up.”

“Please do.” Dimity resumed the frantic search.

“Speaking of which,” added Sandra, rinsing the mugs at the sink, “remember when I was using your computer the other night? I forgot to tell you I printed out pictures and bios of some guys for you from one of the dating sites. They’re in a folder on the desk. Did you find them?”

“I’ve hardly been near the computer except to grab Shane’s CV this morning. He asked me to leave it at the hotel for him because he knew I’d be in the area, doing the face painting. I didn’t realise I’d actually be getting a job there myself.”

“Check them out tonight,” coaxed Sandra. “They’re pretty hunky.”

“No thanks. Just because you met someone on the internet doesn’t mean I have to.”

Sandra tried to look offended.

“Still thinking about Tall, Dark and Gorgeous?” she asked.

Dimity sighed.

“Mainly about the fact that if he remembers me at all it will be as an irresponsible flibbertigibbet with black eyes who hangs around sleazy nightclubs and has a total lack of fashion finesse.”

“He’s right on the last point,” commented Sandra. “Come on, I’ll de-green your hair before my next appointment, then we can throw the sheet in the dryer. ”

By the time the sheet was finished, Dimity’s hair was back to normal. She had also made sure her phone was safely back in her handbag, scrubbed off the lipstick and visited a nearby pharmacy to invest in a pair of sunglasses whose lenses concealed her eyes but were light enough to be worn indoors without looking outrageous.

“Nice,” remarked Sandra, taking time out between clients to pack the sheet into a lime green and yellow shopping bag.

Dimity checked the glasses in the mirror. “Not as all-concealing as your Jackie O’s, but more me.”

She pulled on the blue sweater she had left at the salon earlier, zipped her handbag shut and slung it over a shoulder.

“Want a lift home around six?” offered Sandra.

“Thanks. I’ll go back to the face painting until then, unless it rains.” She picked up the shopping bag. “Although I’d rather crawl home and lick my wounds.”

“Maybe Mr Resourceful could do that for you,” chortled Sandra.

“Down, girl!” But Dimity felt a strange, tingly sensation pulsating through her body at the thought.

Clouds had gathered and a heavy shower fell as she crossed the road, sending her scuttling under the Global Home’s ornate canopy to catch her breath.

And, if she were entirely honest, to put off the moment of truth.

She delayed a few minutes more by ringing Melissa to confirm her work arrangements. Finally, another flurry of rain sent her into the hotel’s foyer.

The security guard at a desk near the entrance glanced at her then brightened, as if sensing prey.

Was he still looking for a vision in pink? If so, she wouldn’t match the description. Tilting her chin and adjusting her new sunglasses, Dimity strolled casually across his line of vision, her eyes darting around in search of a sign to the restaurant.