“Let’s go,” said
Michelle breathlessly.
“Have you taken your
eyes off the man for even a second to check out that crowd? This is worse than
when I spent half a day in line to get Kenny Roger's autograph for my gran.”
“You were twelve.”
“And I'll feel
twelve losing my dignity with that lot. Anyway, you never know. Kate might
bring him by the shop some time and then we can see him up close.”
Michelle stabbed the air with her finger. “Have you been inhaling
your body spray? What on earth makes you think for a second, that a guy like
that would want to fight it out between the Zimmer frames and walking sticks at
your shop? Get real, Daisy. We’re losing us a little dignity and,” she added in
a don’t-mess-with-me voice, “we’re damn well going in. Follow me, stay close,
and under no circumstances are you to diverge from the plan.”
“There's a plan?”
“Just follow me.”
Against her better judgement Daisy followed and smartly realized that
‘going in’ had been no exaggeration. They were soon engulfed in a thick and
sultry cesspit of seething female sexuality. A hint of Chanel here, a dash of
Dior there. The only scent she’d applied was her imitation musk underarm. The
women brushing past her reeked of six-figure incomes, post-graduate degrees,
and a complete lack of self-esteem issues. They were women who didn’t hold back
in going after what they wanted and, from the calculated way they were milling
around Dr Benjamin, they wanted him.
Having never had the problem of too much self-esteem, a university
education, and a healthy bank account, Daisy grabbed Michelle’s arm. “This is
ridiculous. There’s no point hanging around here. Let’s—”
“Thank you for
coming,” she heard him say to a woman in front of her. The woman, well into
middle-age, gazed star-struck as he shook her hand and signed a book.
“Thank you,” he said
to a woman’s gushing admission she’d loved his lecture.
“Thank you for
coming,” he said above Daisy’s head, and Daisy looked behind to see who he was
thanking.
“It’s you,” Michelle nudged.
Daisy turned to find his hand outstretched.
She stared at his long fingers and his tanned hands. They didn’t look
like academic hands. She’d met a professor in a cafe once, and his hands had
been white and freckly. Joel’s were strong and masculine.
She grunted as Michelle jabbed her in the back.
She took his hand.
He said, “Hello.” Blue-grey eyes looked down at her. Her gaze slipped
to his mouth. A full bottom lip. A beautifully curved top lip. The lips moved.
“You enjoyed the lecture?”
“Hi. Yes, I–”
“Dr Benjamin?” A
30-something, suit-attired professional suffering a heady perfume overdose, lay
her manicured hand on the black leather sleeve of his jacket. “Could you
clarify some of the issues you raised over the Greek influence on art in early
Rome?”
His jaw tensed a fraction. “My advice is to read the book I mentioned
in the hand-out. The university bookshop has copies in stock.”
“Dr Benjamin? Could
I take you for a drink afterwards so we could talk more?” another asked.
“I'm sorry,” he
apologized smoothly. “I'm meeting an old friend.”
More women approached and one of them tried to edge Daisy out of the
way with an exceptionally bony hip. As she did, panic unexpectedly slammed in
Daisy's chest. The nerve of that woman barging in when Joel Benjamin been
talking to her. Not to them, but to her.
She needed him back, she needed an ‘in’, she needed an edge, she needed to take
a risk in her tame and ordinary life, she needed—
“I know your
sister,” she yelled before she could stop herself.
His gaze zeroed in on her, settled there. It was intimidating. She
wished she’d just kept quiet, and wished she could ignore the trickle of awareness
itching up her spine.
But it was too late now.
He said, “What did you say?”
“That I know your sister. Kate.” She felt stupid.
Funny how that made
her think of her ex-husband.
Joel watched intently. “Do I know you?”
She shook her head. “No. But Kate's one of the customers at my shop.”
A dubious smile graced his face. “Ah. You’ll be the one Kate told me
she was giving the leaflet to. The one who needs to get out.”
Mortification blushed Daisy's face scarlet. “She actually told you that?”
“Holy crap,”
Michelle muttered.
“She says that about
me so I wouldn’t get—” He visually raked her face up and down, his gaze
settling on her burning cheeks. “Embarrassed by it. You’re the book shop girl,
right?” He amended, “Woman.”
“Girl is fine,”
Michelle interjected. “We’re not that evolved we object to you calling us
‘girls’.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Michelle Bird. Daisy’s assistant and her
very, very, very best friend.”
Joel took Michelle's hand briefly, smiled, then looked back at Daisy.
“Kate’s mentioned your shop a few times.” He was thoughtful a second. “In fact,
I was thinking that considering she's taking leave from work soon to
concentrate on this whole baby thing, I might get her some books.”
“She has quite
specific reading tastes,” Daisy told him.
“I wasn't thinking
of fiction. More like—” He shrugged. “Things to do with — babies. Like cooking
and sewing and -— home type stuff. You’ve got a shop called Pansy’s, right?”
“Poppy’s,” Daisy
corrected, as Michelle cut in, “When? What time?”
“Shop hours,” Daisy
said above the sudden, erratic pounding in her chest, “are Monday to Friday,
nine to six. And I’m open Saturdays from ten to four.”
“I'll remember
that,” he said, and a moment later a woman thrust her arm around his and
breathed her pleasure at his lecture.
Within seconds he was swamped, and Daisy and Michelle found
themselves on the edge of the crowd.
“Wow,” Daisy said.
Wow at Joel, and wow at the affect he was having on these women.
Michelle shook her head wearily. “Do you see those women, Daisy?”
“It’s hard to miss
them.” It would take a year before the scent of perfume was free of her nasal
passages.
“They're ticking
clockers,” Michelle announced. “Women who have given up love to focus on their
high-powered careers, and now their biological clocks are approaching midnight,
they’re afraid their ovaries are history, and they zero in on men like Joel
Benjamin because he’s a genetically fine catch and they’re desperate to have a
baby. And you know what else?” Her eyes were wide with admiration. “They were
jealous, Daisy. They were jealous of you.”
“Puh-lease.” Daisy
glanced sideways at Michelle. “I can’t see why, when I haven't got a show of
competing with them, even if I wanted to. They spend as much on their mascara
as I spend a year on clothes, and did you hear what he said, that I need to get
out?” Embarrassment shivered its way down her spine. “I am going to kill Kate
Benjamin when I see her next.”
“You can’t compete?”
Michelle jabbed her finger in the direction of the women. “Daisy, you just
friggin' did compete. They were jealous when he was talking to you because you
had an ‘in’ and you used it.”
“Saying ‘Hello, I
know your sister,’ should not be considered an ‘in’. It’s an embarrassment.”
Heat rushed her face again. She needed to get out?
“You are so wrong.” Michelle patted her tote. “ ‘The A to Z of Guys and Girls’ says it’s exactly those ‘ins’ that give you the edge, and you would be wise to never, ever underestimate them.” Her shoulders slumped. “Now I‘m beat. Watching the ticking clockers has eroded me of the pitiful amount of enthusiasm I came in here with and I could kill for a cigarette. But since I’m trying to cut down, I'll settle for a moccachino at Starbucks.” (End of excerpt)
Go here to the Dating Daisy series page on my website. All the books are available on Kobo, Nook, Apple and of course Amazon.
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