Page 107 of The Polly Principle (The Laws of Love 2)

But it was only ten minutes before he joined her. Someone had turned the music up.

“Will you dance with me?” His head bumped close to hers.

“Okay.”

It was a boppy number and they skirted around each other. Polly was good at dancing, clubs had been her happy hunting ground for years. Solo, she noticed, had the same fluid athletic moves when he danced as he did when he walked or rode his bike, or made love…

Polly shimmied harder to push away that four-letter word.

At least there wasn’t any Chris Isaac playing. It was all nineties bop, but then Angus and Julia Stone’s “Big Jet Plane” came on and Solo moved in and put his arms around her. His forehead touched hers. The silver of his eyes, those dark lashes, seemed to cast a spell on her. Losing all capacity for self-control, her hands slid around his waist. She almost swooned with the deliciousness of their bodies swaying together. Like this was where she belonged.

In her periphery she caught sight of Judith and Carts linked together.

“Don’t stare, but I think those two are getting it on,” she whispered.

Solo laughed low in her ear. “Didn’t see that one coming.” His voice was laden with sarcasm.

“I guess the energy’s been pretty intense.”

“A bit like you and me.”

Polly stiffened. “No, we’re different.”

“In what way?”

“We’re—” She hesitated, what were they? They weren’t exactly a fling, there was too much emotion for that… friends? Fuck buddies? It felt like someone had glued the words to the back of her tongue.

“We’re—”

For some stupid reason she lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him. One eyebrow shot up, in synch with the deep groove in his cheek. They stayed like that, Polly mesmerised, lost in the softness of that silver gaze. He was going to kiss her and she wanted him to; so, so much. The words she’d been trying to say disintegrated. Her eyes watered as other words she couldn’t possibly say kept flashing in front of her eyes like Broadway lights.

Just then something caught Solo’s attention, his eyes shifting past her. She felt his whole body stiffen. Polly’s head swivelled to follow his gaze.

The most beautiful woman she had ever seen was hovering in the doorway, her eyes scanning the room.

Her dark hair hung straight and heavy to her waist; she was tall, but perfectly proportioned, almost waif-like; two huge blue eyes peered out of the perfect structure of her face. A silky chiffon dress hung beautifully on her bone-china frame. Everything about her was exquisite.

What wasn’t exquisite was the way Solo was frozen like an ice statue, eyes wide and unblinking.

By now Carts had dashed over to the woman and was pointing towards them. Polly stumbled back as the girl’s eyes skimmed past her and landed on Solo, sudden relief spreading across her face.

Polly stared at Solo. He’d gone ashen.

It felt like a car smash was happening behind her ribs.

“You know her?” The words punctured out of her mouth.

He gave her a fleeting look, cloudy, indecipherable, but somewhere in there she was sure she saw regret. And shame.

And now she knew what the car smash was all about. He’d taken her for a ride. Just like fucking Danny O’Dougherty.

Solo nodded. “Yes,” he said, and she saw how he swallowed as if his mouth was dry; cheeks that a moment ago were white flushed a deep, dull red. “It’s Emma.”

And then he strode across the room towards the vision of loveliness.

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