‘Don’t pay any attention,’ Leah said soothingly, puttinga hand on Philip’s knee. ‘Aisling’s just doing it to make you jealous. Don’t let her get to you.’
‘Round one to Aisling, I think,’ Fionn said, watching as the hair-flicker gave up and stalked off. Seconds later the girl on Luca’s lap peeled herself off and headed for the bar.
‘Now’s our chance,’ Yvonne said, grabbing Claire’s hand and pulling her up. ‘Come on and I’ll introduce you.’
Claire had no desire to be introduced to Luca, but she jumped at the chance to escape from Philip and the rest of them. Another minute with that lot and her head would explode.
‘Sorry about Philip,’ Yvonne said. ‘He’s not usually that bad. He’s just pissed off because Aisling’s sort of his girlfriend – she’s the one who was sitting on Luca’s lap.’
‘Yeah, I gathered.’
‘Luca!’ Yvonne beamed, stopping in front of the sofa. ‘Hi. This is my friend, Claire. She works at the bookshop with me.’
‘Hi, Claire.’
Claire had never felt so thoroughly checked out as Luca’s eyes raked over her. They were nice eyes, dark brown and wide apart, and there was something pleasingly feline about the shape of his face, framed by a mop of dark brown curls. He was very handsome in a rugged sort of way, but he lacked the polished, robust look of most of Yvonne’s friends. His eyes were weary, and there was an unhealthy sheen to his skin. Still, he seemed interesting and real, like someone with stories to tell, and he made the other guys here look bland and insipid. He was wearing a threadbare black jumper, faded black jeans and a pair of battered black boots.
‘Claire, this is Luca,’ Yvonne said, flopping onto the sofa beside him and waving Claire to the seat at his otherside. Claire perched on the edge not wanting to look like one of his groupies.
‘What are you doing with Aisling Wilson?’ Yvonne asked him. ‘She’s such a tart.’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’ Luca smiled wickedly.
‘Honestly, I don’t know what you see in her.’
‘Well, she can do the splits. So there’s that.’
‘Oh, you’re disgusting.’ Yvonne punched him playfully in the arm.
He grinned. ‘I like girls with low standards. So sue me.’
‘Ooh, food!’ Yvonne squealed, as a waiter appeared with a large tray of canapés. ‘Great! I’m starving.’
‘Me too,’ Claire said, loading a napkin with a prawn on a cocktail stick and a little filo tart before the waiter whisked the tray away. She ate them each in one bite and was still starving.
‘These prawns are great,’ Yvonne enthused.
‘They’re very small,’ Luca said, popping one into his mouth.
‘Oh, Ivan wants me!’ Yvonne exclaimed. He was beckoning to her from across the bar. ‘Mind if I leave you two on your own for a bit?’ she asked, jumping up.
‘No,’ Claire said, though she really didn’t want to be alone with Luca. She found his raw sexuality intimidating.
‘Knock him dead,’ Luca said, lying against the arm of the sofa, pulling one leg up on the cushions and stretching the other out in front of him so that he was sprawled across Yvonne’s space. Claire clutched her drink with both hands, leaning forward on her knees, horribly aware of Luca’s scrutiny.
He had man-whore written all over him, she thought crossly. He was obviously the type of guy who couldn’t meet a female without contemplating sex. Even though thebar was full of glamorous, sexy girls, he still couldn’t resist giving her the once-over. Self-conscious, she racked her brain for something to say to distract him.
‘Yvonne tells me you’re an artist.’
‘Yeah.’
‘What kind of art do you do?’
‘Painting,’ he said, in a bored voice.
‘Oh. What kind of paintings?’ God, listen to yourself, Claire thought. You sound like the Queen trying to chat to one of her subjects. Next you’ll be asking him if he had far to come.
‘Big ones,’ he said.
