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Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [5]

By Root 404 0
classier hotels. Champagne and Cock Night, Smitty called it, without even a flush of her expensively creamed cheeks. Anyway, babysitting was a chance for me to make sure Smitty’s kids learned some decent life skills. Some kid had been picking on Joe so I’d taught him how to defend himself. Xavier, his twin, wanted in on the action after that, and so did Claire, their gorgeous nine-year-old sister. Claire suffers from Crohn’s disease and her thin frame and constant fatigue meant she wasn’t up to punching, kicking and blocking. Instead I’d shown her the eye gouge (to be used only in case of assault, of course) and coached her in how to verbally tear shreds off bigots and bitches.

‘Would you really come along, T?’ Smitty said, her voice lightening. ‘I’ll love you forever.’

‘You already do love me forever.’ Four minutes. ‘Text me the time and place and I’ll be there. Now, I need some fashion advice. I have four minutes to make myself look good before Nick Tozzi picks me up to take me for a coffee.’

‘Tozzi!’ she squealed. ‘Why didn’t you say something? Okay. Listen. Sleeved white tee, blue jeans and your flat, strappy blue sandals. Don’t be a try-hard. What handbag do you have?’

I swallowed. ‘My beach bag.’

‘The one JoBob gave you for your twentieth?’

‘Uh-huh,’ I said.

‘With the sequinned palm tree on it?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Okay. No bag. Phone and cash in jeans pocket. Lipstick and blush on at the last minute. Go!’

I was already doing the jeans dance as I hung up, squirming and hopping about the place. With no minutes to go, I got up close to the mirror to daub on lippy and scrape some mascara across my lashes.

As I tugged the brush through my hair there was a knock at my door. I didn’t have time for a JoBob lecture and an excuse was already tumbling off my lips as I swung back the curtain.

Nick Tozzi grinned at me from the other side of the fingerprint-smeared glass.

‘You were supposed to ring!’ I said. ‘And I’m supposed to meet you outside on the pavement.’

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

‘Why?’ I asked, conscious of the pile of dirty clothes spread across the couch.

‘Because that would be polite,’ he said.

I couldn’t tell whether he was teasing me or chiding me, but polite was the farthest thing from my mind when I had knickers hooked over my bedhead and a bra dangling on the curtain rail above the sink. (Drying!)

‘Wait there!’ I said, before turning and grabbing my tragic bag – totally forgetting Smitty’s advice. I stuffed my phone and purse into it, then slid open the door and stepped out, forcing Tozzi to retreat. I locked the door before he could utter a word.

‘Right,’ I said brightly, ‘where are we going?’

He was too polite to push it, but showed his annoyance at being outplayed by turning on his heel and striding off down the driveway. Fortunately, I could stride with the best of them and was in step with him by the time we got to the kerb.

The Reventon – the latest Lamborghini – was parked there in all its silver, bat-winged glory. My dream car, owned by my dream man. (Did I say that?) Damn it, Tara, I scolded myself, get that man out of your head! But the thing was Ed and I were only casual still, and that kept allowing room for Tozzi thoughts to creep in.

Tozzi knew I’d give my teeth and ovaries for a drive in one of these. He clearly wanted to sell something to me bad.

‘Dirty pool,’ I said crossly.

‘What do you mean?’ he said, innocently.

‘Bringing the car.’

‘It’s my car. Why wouldn’t I bring it?’

‘Because you know what effect it’ll have on my brain stem.’

He grinned at that and pressed the key. The doors quooshed open and I peered into the boudoir of his sex-on-four-wheels. Trying to control my excitement, I lowered myself into the passenger seat. The leather glove-snugged around me.

I sat in orgasmic ecstasy as Tozzi accelerated out onto the highway.

‘Aaaah,’ I said involuntarily.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ he asked as he slowed down for the traffic lights.

I blushed and looked out the window. The driver in the next car was trying to peer in through the Lambo’s tinted windows.

I sighed.

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