‘Um… the bar?’ she said in a small voice.
He nodded, and led her across the lobby to the comfortable lounge. She tried to gauge his expression, but she couldn’t tell if he was disappointed. They sat side by side on a sofa in front of a real turf fire and a waitress appeared to take their order. Claire had felt mellow andrelaxed as they left the restaurant, but now she was tense and on edge. Mark didn’t seem put out, but there was still that heat in his eyes when he looked at her.
She didn’t want any awkwardness between them, so she had to say something to clear the air. She waited until their drinks were served.
‘Well, cheers – again!’ Mark said, clinking glasses with her.
She clutched her glass of Bailey’s in both hands, trying to come up with something to say. She couldn’t just blurt out that she wasn’t going to sleep with him, could she? What if that wasn’t even what he’d meant? Then she’d look really stupid – and presumptuous.
‘Mark,’ she began tentatively, ‘I know my blog is kind of… out there, and I come across as this really forthright person – promiscuous, even.’ She felt her face flame. ‘But the truth is… well, I don’t usually move that fast. I mean, despite the impression you might have of me, I don’t sleep with someone on the first date. In fact, I have a five-date rule… not that this is a date, but?—’
‘No,’ Mark interrupted, leaning forward urgently.‘I’msorry. Believe it or not, I don’t usually come on that strong so quickly either.’
Come on strong. Huh! So hehadbeen asking her up to his room for sex. At least she had learnt something tonight. She made a mental note: ‘Come back to my hotel for a drink’, translation: ‘Come back to my hotel and have sex with me.’
‘I guess I just feel like we’ve known each other longer than we really have,’ he said.
‘I know what you mean.’ She felt the same. She’d had a crush on him even before they’d met.
‘Forgive me?’ he asked, seeming genuinely remorseful. ‘Please don’t blame a guy for trying.’
‘I don’t,’ she said, and meant it. If she was really the girl she was pretending to be, she would probably have taken him up on the invitation to go to his room. The combination of the food, the wine and her beautiful dress had left her feeling languid and sensual. She felt desirable and desired, a heady sensation.
‘You don’t forgive me?’ he asked, alarmed.
‘No.’ She smiled. ‘I mean I don’t blame you for trying. I just didn’t want you to think?—’
‘I don’t think anything, honestly. And I don’t presume you’re promiscuous. I’m really sorry if I offended you.’
‘No, it’s fine. Really.’ She relaxed back on the sofa, able to enjoy her drink now.
‘Could you just forget I said that and meet me tomorrow? Maybe show me around a bit?’ He looked at her pleadingly.
‘Would that be like a date?’
He smiled. ‘Only if you want it to be. It could just be two people hanging out. My flight isn’t until the evening. Maybe you could join me for brunch here. Unless you’re busy with your mum, of course.’
‘No, she’s convalescing in a nursing home at the moment, so I’m all yours.’
‘Good. I like the sound of that.’
Shortly after that, Claire got a taxi home. Mark walked her out to see her off, and gave her a kiss on the cheek as they said goodbye. He smelt so good, and his skin was so warm and firm as his cheek brushed hers, that Claire was tempted to throw herself into his arms and say she’d changed her mind and would go up to his room, after all. But she knew that, once she got there, she’d have no clue how to handle herself. So instead she skipped down the steps into the waiting cab and floated all the way home. She felt dizzy with excitement. Mark, her book deal… Suddenly it seemed that the life she’d always wanted could really be hers. She was dying to tell someone about it, only sorry that there was no one to tell. Instead she hugged it to herself like a lovely secret.
She felt keyed up the following day as she made her way to Mark’s hotel. She got off the tram at St Stephen’s Green and walked to Merrion Street. It was a beautiful day, cold, but bright and sunny. She had dressed casually in black skinny jeans with calf-length suede boots and a green V-neck sweater. After all, she figured her alter ego would have dress-down days – even NiceGirl couldn’t go around looking like a siren twenty-four/seven. The sweater was one she hadn’t worn in years, but she had chosen it with Yvonne’s tips for sexy dressing in mind, because it was figure-hugging, and the deep V of the neckline would draw the eye to her cleavage. She had also followed Yvonne’s advice and worn a pendant, which she was supposed to play with to draw attention to her breasts. There was nothing sexy about her red duffel coat, or her woolly scarf and gloves, but she reasoned that surely even sexy girls would feel the cold.
Mark was waiting for her in the lobby. He leapt up to greet her when she arrived and they kissed each other on the cheek. Then they went down to the cellar restaurant, where they ordered smoked salmon and creamy scrambled egg. Claire felt there was something deliciously intimate about eating together the morning after they had been out, as if they’d spent the night together.
‘So, what should we do for the rest of my time here? I’ve got about…’ Mark glanced at his watch ‘…three hours before I need to go to the airport.’
‘Well, there’s all the usual tourist stuff – TrinityCollege, Book of Kells, Guinness, Christchurch Cathedral, galleries…’ Claire reeled off the standard itinerary. ‘We could go on the hop-on, hop-off bus,’ she suggested. ‘Or there’s the Viking Splash. That’s basically a bus tour, too, but you wear horned helmets and do lots of roaring, and then you go into the Grand Canal Basin at the end.’
‘I don’t really fancy anything touristy.’ Mark wrinkled his nose. ‘Something more laid back, maybe.’
‘We could go for a walk? It’s a lovely day.’
‘A walk would be good.’
‘Great. I know just the place,’ Claire told him.
