Page 33 of Anything but Easy
I’m not sure what just happened but . . .
That. Was. Hot.
Mr Uptight Politician issmokin’ when it comes to sexy times. How does he keep all that passion and fire under wraps the whole while? Maybe it’s because he’s so repressed that he goes off like a firework when he has the chance. I’d seen him suck back a couple of champagnes and a few glasses of scotch at the party, so maybe he was sloshed? He didn’tseemdrunk, but maybe this was what happened when Barclay got shitfaced – a bit of quiet smouldering until you tickle him and then . . . Bam! Instant smokin’ hot sex maniac.
He wasn’t looking like a sex maniac now though. He looked shocked. When he finally managed to drag his eyes away from his phone to meet mine, his face was pale. I bit my lip. I feltgreat. That was awesome. Since all this bullshit at work with Smarmy Simon, my sex drive had taken a real nosedive. It’s like he’d tainted all men for me with his slimy grossness. But just now, with Barclay . . . I was back on the sex train, baby! How many girls could say they’d snogged their celebrity crush? I grinned at him but he just frowned in response. With a sudden sinking feeling I realised that, now that reality had set in, sex-maniac-Barclay-who-laughs-until-he-cries-when-tickled had left the building, leaving tedious-overthinking-uptight-Barclay in his place.
He cleared his throat and it reminded me of the sexy noises he’d made earlier. My knees started to feel a little weak.
“I’m so sorry,” he told me, his cut glass accent seeming to put more distance between us. My smile fell away. “That was a mistake. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
I glanced at the counter that he’d had me pinned against a minute ago and back at him. Maybe, he shouldn’t have snogged the life out of me if he didn’t want me to getthe wrong idea. A little arrow of hurt shot through me, which was ridiculous. I should be celebrating! Of course Barclay Lucas didn’t want me to get the wrong idea. That didn’t change the fact that we locked lips and hetouched my knickers. I squared my shoulders and forced my grin back in place, willing my voice not to shake as I felt my stupid eyes sting.
“Of course I wouldn’t get the wrong idea!” I told him. Turning away to fiddle with the kettle so he wouldn’t see me blinking away tears. “We’ve both had some jars tonight. Everyone gets a bit handsy when they’re squiffy.”
Having fought the tears back and managing a much more convincing smile, I turned back to him.
“Don’t give it a second thought, Hot Stuff. I’m just glad to have done the tongue tango with the Great Barclay Lucas. Something to document for posterity:Dear Diary, Today I snogged the future saviour of mankind. PS he had a nice arse.”
“I really do think you should get that lock looked at. I–”
“Woah!” I cried, making a big show of looking at my watch. “Is that the time? You know, Barcos, I would make you a cuppa, but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow. So, I’m going to have to ask you to mosey on back to your paparazzi-surrounded mansion.”
“Right, yes,” he said, a look of relief coming over his features, which, goddamn it, made my chest feel tight and my eyes start stinging again. He backed away towards the front door, but then hesitated when his hand was on the knob. “Are you sure you’re not . . . I mean are you . . .?”
I forced a laugh even though it hurt my throat to do it. “I’m fine. I’ve got loads to do tomorrow so I’ll be off to Bedfordshire. I’m sure you’ve got a fair bit of environmental and industrial policy making left to do today, so . . .” I gestured towards the door and he pulled it open.
“Thanks for tonight,” he said before he left, still looking unsure. “I don’t think we’ll have to do it again. They seem pretty well off the Henry scent now.”
“Yes, well, we’ve given them plenty of other juicy stuff to talk about. No worries. It was fun.”
“Right, yes . . . you know it actually was.” He looked a little surprised by that then frowned. “I didn’t know you needed to do extra shifts. If you need money, I’m still happy to pay you . . . for seeing Henry. And for your time tonight.”
I turned back to the kettle again, unable to keep the fake smile up any longer.
“Don’t be a cockwomble,” I said, forcing my voice to come out light as I felt a tear leak down my cheek. “It’s not an extra shift. It’s life as a registrar – like I said, I have to do general medical on-calls and we work odd hours. I don’t want your money. Henry’s my friend.” I swiped the tear away and straightened my shoulders. “Right, well,” I risked a glance over my shoulder at him, and gave him what I hoped passed for a cheery wave. “I’ve got to get some shut-eye so . . .” I trailed off and made for my bedroom door.
“Kira I–”
There was a thread of concern through his voice that I found I couldn’t stand.
“Bye then!” The forced cheer in my voice was starting to make me sound mentally ill, but it was either that or my shaky-on-the-verge-of-sobbing voice, andthatwas not an option.
“I hope you don’t–”
“Argh!” I cried, wrenching my elbow from his grip and flinging my hands up in the air. “It was a cheeky snog, okay! No big deal. So, I’ve played tonsil hockey with my celebrity crush? Good for me! Now, could you just leave? I’mtired.”
My tirade had started out with clipped tones but degenerated to a shaky whisper by the end. Christ, I’d become so wrapped up in the whole ‘romance novel’ fantasy that now I was behaving like one of those wilty, sniffling, doormat heroines. How boring. And if there’s one thing Kira Murphy is not, it’s boring (yes, sometimes Kira Murphy talks about herself in the third person – because she’s awesome and not at all . . .boring). Barclay cleared his throat and I could hear him shuffling his feet.
“Okay,” he said, his soft tone the kind you might use when approaching a feral animal. “I can see you’re tired. I’ll just go. We can talk about this another time.”
“’K! See ya,” I called over my shoulder as I grabbed the bedroom door then shot through it, slamming it in his face like the mentally unstable weirdo I had become.
I heard his sigh through the door. After a few seconds, I heard his footsteps retreating and I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. When I finally heard my front door shut after him, I allowed myself to flop down face first onto my bed and burst into tears.
*****
“Ki Ki,” Millie’s soft voice and her hand on mine pulled me out of my morose contemplation of the vegan lunch in front of me. “What’s wrong, honey?”
