Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [26]
it.'
Miranda shivered. She liked it too. Things were beginning to hot up here.
`How about you, what do you do?' It wasn't exactly sparkling repartee, but time was short and she wanted to know.
`Something extremely boring. Insurance. You have my permission to yawn.'
`Are you single?'
`Oh yes.' Greg smiled. `Are you?'
That smile. Those teeth. Plus, a thrillingly fit-looking body. Barely able to stop her knees knocking with excitement, Miranda nodded.
`In that case,' he took a pen out of his inside pocket, swiftly uncapping it, `why don't you give me your phone number?'
God, I love a fast worker, thought Miranda.
She took the pen and waited.
`Paper?'
Greg shook his head.
`Haven't got any on me. Here, write on my hand. No, better make that my arm.' He began to fumble with a cuff link. `We don't want to upset Adrian.'
Miranda, experiencing a brief pang of guilt, said, `Or Bev.'
The next moment they both jumped at the sound of an aggrieved voice on the other side of the curtain.
`They can't have gone, they must be around here somewhere.'
Miranda froze. She heard Bev say, plaintively, `But I've already looked in the bathroom.'
`Okay, ask that chap if he's seen your friend. Tell him you're looking for the girl with the blue hair.'
In the darkness, Greg was still struggling to unfasten his cuff link.
Too slow, too slow, Miranda thought frantically. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she wrenched it open and began scrawling her phone number across his chest.
Chapter 11
Thank goodness it wasn't a hairy chest.
`Ouch,' whispered Greg, wincing as the sharp nib of the fountain pen dug into his skin.
`Sorry.' There, done. Hurriedly refastening the buttons, Miranda murmured, `Next time, carry a magic marker.'
`I can take the pain.' He grinned at her. `You're worth
it.'
The curtain was abruptly whisked aside. Miranda sagged against the balcony railings.
`Oh, for heaven's sake, there you are.'
Bev sounded like a teacher berating a lost child on a school trip.
Adrian, peering suspiciously over her shoulder, said, `What are you two doing out here?'
`Felt faint.' Sagging a little further, Miranda waved an apologetic arm in the direction of the party. `Sorry, it was too hot in that room. I had to get some air. Oooh,' she clutched her stomach, `I still feel a bit sick.'
`She needs to get home,' Greg told them. `She's really not well.'
`If you throw up, you'll feel better in no time,' Adrian urged.
Miranda rolled her eyes.
`I don't think I will.'
`At least give it a try.' He looked dismayed. `Oh, come on, you can't go home now, it's only ten o'clock! I was going to take you to Stringfellows.'
`Good grief,' said Bev, astonished. `Stringfellows! Why?' `She's famous, isn't she?' Adrian gave Bev a `God-
you're-stupid' look. `And she knows Peter Stringfellow.' `Not in the biblical sense,' Miranda put in hurriedly. `Okay, but we won't have to pay to get in, will we?' `No,' Bev muttered, `you just have to pay to get out.' Adrian thought it was a brilliant idea.
He'd never been to Stringfellows. Furthermore, it was his lifetime ambition
to be snapped by the paparazzi.
Generously he told Bev, `You and Greg can come along too. I'm sure Peter won't mind.'
Oh dear, time to leave.
`I really do feel ill,' gasped Miranda.
`You pulled then,' said Bev in the cab on the way home. `Mm. First prize in the Pillock of the Year contest.' Having smeared baby lotion all over her face, Miranda was now wiping it off with a tissue. It was the only way; she never felt like removing her make-up once she got home. `Adrian really fancied you.'
`Fancied the fact that I was an actress, you mean.' `He'll definitely phone you.'
`No he won't,' said Miranda. `I made that number up.' Bev sighed.
`At least he asked for it.'
Oh help, more guilt.
And I shouldn't even feel guilty, Miranda thought frustratedly. All Greg had done was talk to Bev for half an hour. It wasn't as if he was her boyfriend, for heaven's sake.
`Greg didn't ask for yours?' To cover