under his spare tires.
And she really needed to pay attention to what the girl next to her was blabbering on about, not to what Mr Perfect was doing.
‘So that’s how I got into advertising. What about you?’ the girl asked.
Er, what did she just say? Right. Why we’re here. ‘I love temping, it’s a great way to try new things but I don’t really want to get into advertising …’ That would just be too hard a conversation to carry, even with a girl who looked no older than an intern.
‘But aren’t you worried? I mean, people usually pick what they want to do in their twenties, they don’t wait until they’re old.’
She was in her bloody twenties! There were still two whole years before she hit the big three-oh. ‘I still am.’
The intern got all apologetic then, but Natalie didn’t want to hear it. She left the table to go mingle with someone else, snatching a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and downing half the glass in one motion.
She was stopped in her tracks by the short, sweaty man she’d been worried about earlier.
‘Let’s dance, sweet thing,’ he said, snatching away her much needed alcohol and taking one of her hands in his sweaty, chubby palm.
‘No thank you,’ she said.
‘You are a feisty one, aren’t you,’ he said, ignoring Natalie and hauling her along to where the band was playing a mix of Christmas and chart songs.
She tried to tug free again. ‘I said I don’t want to dance.’
He just pulled her so close, she could smell a mix of meat and beer on his breath, and feel the perspiration on his shirt soak into her lacy, white dress. That was the last straw. This dress was couture and had cost her more than she paid in rent. Her temper simmered. ‘What’s wrong with you? I said I didn’t want to dance.’
His hands slipped down and cupped her bum, then squeezed hard. ‘Dean’s right, you’ve got a tight little arse. If you don’t want to dance, follow me to the men’s room and I’ll take care of you, sweet thing.’
Natalie fisted her hand and was ready to lamp this guy a good one, ulcer or not, but then what he said sank in. ‘What exactly did Dean say?’
The man’s face turned puce. ‘Er, well, not much, just that you were good with your tongue and wanted … well … sex so bad you’d do anyone.’
She clenched her teeth together and wrestled out of his hold.
‘Sweet thing, I can show you a good time. We could even get a room,’ he called, but she’d already spun around and headed for the bar.
Dean – if that was even his name – wasn’t even being discreet about his amusement. She heard his bellow over the music, and her temper reached critical level. She didn’t look at him, didn’t have to. She knew exactly where he was in the room.
‘Hi, I’m Rick.’
An older man with skin like leather pushed into the bar next to her. She glared at him, having a horrible feeling what was going to come out of his mouth next. ‘I don’t have time to chat, Rick.’ Turning to the bartender, she said, ‘A bottle of merlot, please. And a glass.’ Making an exception, she put a bottle of red wine on her credit card – champagne just wasn’t going to cut it this time.
While she got served, Rick got handsy, sliding his arm around her hips. ‘Come on, love. We can get a room. There’s a Travel Lodge not too far from here.’
She snatched his hand before it reached her bum, then spied the gold band on his wedding finger, so held it up to his face. ‘I am not interested, you scuzzy bastard.’
At least he looked abashed before sliding off the ring and pocketing it. ‘How about now? I’ll just be a dirty bastard.’
The waiter brought her the much-needed Merlot. Natalie filled a glass, quickly drained it, then poured another. ‘Let me guess, Dean told you I’m the office slut.’
‘Not in so many words,’ Rick said. ‘Don’t be offended, I can—’
‘If you say anything that insinuates you can give me great sex I will smash this bottle over your head then stab you in the balls with the shards. Now get lost.’
He took her less than subtle hint, grumbling ‘bitch’ as he went. Natalie grabbed her wine and the glass, then made as if to go find an empty table. That’s when she spotted Dean, grinning a victorious grin that was going to be short-lived.
He made his second mistake of that evening and approached her, still laughing.
‘Don’t declare a war if you can’t handle one little battle,’ he said.
Oh, she could handle the battles, and she was going to win the war too. When he was close enough, she pretended to stumble, guessing his reflex reaction would be to catch her.
She was right.
He was conned.
Her glass ‘accidentally’ slipped, pouring the contents down his silk, burgundy shirt. There was no way that’s coming out ever.
He let her go, then frowned down at the damage. Sweat on her favourite dress deserved some payback in her book. Not to mention telling all the old, sleazy bastards that she was easy.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she lied. ‘I hope that comes out. You should probably rinse your shirt before it stains.’
His eyes narrowed at her. ‘You’ve just changed the game.’
Natalie glared back. ‘I told you, I don’t play games. I just get even, and now we are.’
He smirked. ‘We’re not even close, Nicole.’
‘Then bring it on, Dean.’
With that she left the party with the bottle of wine and her hearty plunder. There was no point hanging round getting hit on by a bunch of horned up ancients who probably had pockets filled with little blue pills.
And even though her night had been cut short, the anticipation of how he’d retaliate together with her second victory of the week left her on a bit of a high.
***
Nobody was up when she got in, so she took off her shoes, pulled out her phone, and started googling all the variations of Dean’s name she’d read. After all, it was true what they said. You had to know your enemy if you had a hope of beating them.
But nothing came up that she recognised, not as her Dean anyway.
Rose’s bedroom door opened and to her surprise, Tom came out and headed straight towards her. He usually grunted a hello and went to the bathroom or something, but he clearly had other plans tonight.
‘Good, I’ve been waiting for you to get home,’ he said, sounding relieved.
Natalie couldn’t keep the surprise out of her tone. ‘You were? Why?’
He sat on the chair across from her before answering. ‘I’m worried about Rose. I know you love her as much as I do, and I just wanted to know if she’s said anything about having cold feet to you, or has she changed her mind about me? I know we haven’t always gotten on, but something’s tearing her apart and if I’m the reason, I promise I’ll back off. I’d do anything to keep from hurting her.’
Natalie didn’t think she’d heard Tom say more than two sentences before, and she’d certainly never seen him looking so vulnerable. She remembered what Rose said, about Tom having been hurt and that it wasn’t him driving the distance in their friendship, but that it was Rose’s choice so she wouldn’t worry him.
Then later, Rose’s revelation about having done something awful and worrying she’d hurt Tom too.
‘She hasn’t said anything like that