Page 37 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
“No,” said Drew. “That would be when Take That broke up!”
Kate laughed. “Please tell me how a sex bomb like you can have trouble finding guys.”
“It’s not the finding them I struggle with,” said Drew. “It’s the keeping hold of them.”
“You and me both,” said Kate. “Maybe you’ve been dating the wrong kind of men?”
“Are you suggesting I’m shallow?”
“No!” she said. “But maybe you should broaden your horizons, try a different type, someone you wouldn’t normally go for.”
“I signed up for this, didn’t I?” he said. “And look who I ended up with!” He gestured toward Kate.
“Well,” said Kate, laughing. “You have to admit, I’m not your usual type.”
•••••
After a cold drink and some respite, they went back to dancing: hot, sticky sensual dancing punctuated by cozy chats and cooling lemonade, minus unreasonable expectations, nerves, and pressure to conform to a hopeful stranger’s ideals.
Salsa night turned out to be the best date yet, despite there not being the ghost of a chance of a relationship. It was the most fun she’d had in a long time. Kate and Drew had a lot in common. They’d swappednumbers and Kate hoped they would keep in touch; it shouldn’t be too hard for them to schedule in a lunch or a drink after work when she was in London.
Drew was catching the train back to the city; the station was only a five-minute walk from the club. Even with her coat on, the cold smacked her hard when they finally left the thrumming music behind and Drew walked Kate to her car. After being so hot for so long the chill seemed to bite through to her bones. There was a thin crunchy layer of snow on the ground and the flakes were gathering momentum.
“Will you be all right driving home?” Drew asked. His brow was furrowed as he looked up at the sky and pulled his gloves on. “I think this is just getting started.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Kate. “We have a tendency to get snowed in where I live, so I’m used to driving in far worse than this.”
“If you’re sure,” said Drew. “I don’t mind shouting you a taxi. I’m sure I could talk the club management into letting you leave your car here.”
“Honestly, I’ll be fine,” Kate assured him. “I’ll take it slowly. The main roads will be clear and the gritters will be out.”
Drew kissed Kate on both cheeks. He smelled delicious: sweat and expensive aftershave.
Kate watched him turn out of the car park. He turned back and shouted a final good-bye.
“Sorry I wasn’t your dream man!” he called.
“Sorry I don’t have a penis!” Kate called back.
She heard Drew laugh loudly as he crossed the road.
Kate gave one last wave and climbed into her car. Her teeth were chattering. Where she had been damp with sweat not twenty minutes before, she now felt icy, borderline numb. She blew on her hands and turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed lazily and choked.
“Oh no no no,” she said. “Don’t you dare. It’s not that cold; everybody else’s car managed to start.”
She turned the key again. It bayed mournfully like an old bloodhound and died.
“Shit,” said Kate.
There were only two cars left in the car park now and the surge of people leaving the club had dwindled to a drizzle. Her whole body was shaking. Sleeping in the car was not an option.
She got out and headed back into the club. The snow was coming down fast now and her original footprints had already been wiped out. There was no one in the foyer, so she pushed through the doors into the club.
As with most nighttime establishments, the magic and mystique was lost when the lights went up. The salsa club was no exception. What had seemed sensual and luxuriant in the dark was stark and a bit tacky under the white glare of the spotlights.
Two people were clearing up behind the bar and another three collected glasses from around the club. There were no punters, save one drunk man with a quiff and a cheap suit shouting into a mobile phone and demanding to know where his “bloody taxi” was.
Kate approached the bar.
