Page 63 of The Polly Principle (The Laws of Love 2)

Sex was just that. Sex.

Except it didn’t feel likejustsex with Solo, did it?

She wriggled her butt into the seat. It had been so damned good. But there was also this really pesky emotional thing happening, wasn’t there? She actually felt drawn to him as a person. And that was simply not on.

Which made everything awkward. They were in this kind of weird limbo-land of brief steamy looks and stilted conversation. And then there’d been that call in the hospital corridor yesterday that had drawn Solo to an abrupt standstill, the sudden smile as he said the word “Em”. And you could bet it wasn’t frigging Emanuel or Emmerson or whatever male names began with Em.

It was a woman.

So what? She wasn’t interested in anything long-term, so if there was some girl lurking back in Sydney, all fine and good.

Polly flicked a defiant curl out of her eyes and typed.

Hi Mim,

I’m going to flex my creative muscles and make a big 70 glittery sign. Also, I’ll bring some cheeses, dips and crackers.

Let me know how many coming.I have a disco ball somewhere. Do you want it?

Anything else you need, drop me a line.

Expect I’ll get there midday on Saturday.

Polly xx

A tightness constricted her throat at the idea of going up to Wadgigaree. The sparse flat country, the parched eucalypts. The dry riverbed. In winter it was green and pretty enough, but it was the end of summer now and even the pink galahs would be straggly and irritable like a gang of delinquent teenagers, the cattle lacklustre, the colours of the bush burned out by the unrelenting sun.

And dust everywhere. So freakin’ dusty.

No wonder Dad found it hard not to drink. The only fun spot was the old Wadgigaree pub with its wide verandas and the jacaranda trees providing a patch of welcome shade.

She kicked back in her chair and took a sip of her lemon water. Sunday she’d made chocolate brownies from a packet mix. Ate half the tin, hated herself. Was determined to throw the rest in the bin on Monday, but when she got home after the Solo and Em conversation, she’d shoved another two pieces in her mouth before ditching the rest.

Then she’d gone for a run, which had made her want to throw up the brownie and, by the feel of her lower legs, given her shin splints into the bargain.

So now she was hobbling, had stuffed her face with nearly a pan of brownies over two days, and her punishment was lemons forever.

Polly tapped send on her computer, and was trying to work out what she was going to cook with two lemons, half an onion and three potatoes when her phone rang. “Dr J” came up on the screen. She’d jokingly put in that title one day at work.

“Wondering if you’d like to go for a quick bite?” His voice was deeper and more gravelly than she’d noticed when his face was attached to it. “We haven’t discussed how we go about the PTSD group tomorrow. I don’t want to get it wrong again.”

Okay, she’d concede. This was merely a professional after-work meeting so that was fine, wasn’t it? And besides, what could you make with a couple of lemons, half an onion and a sprouting potato? Nada.

“Okay.” She schooled her voice to neutral and ignored her pounding heart. “There’s a decent Vietnamese between my place and yours.”

“Great. Send me the address and I’ll Google how to get there.”

After Solo hung up, she’d texted the address with oddly shaky fingers. Unable to breathe at all steadily, she dashed into her room, ripped off her tracky pants and T-shirt and hopped in the shower. Because, for goodness sake, you had to be clean and perfumed and dressed in the cutest little red-and-white flowered frock for a meeting with a colleague, didn’t you?

Forty-five minutes later, she walked through the door of Saigon Corner and scanned the crowd. Her stomach bottomed out when she realised there was no short, spiky hair in sight. She was a few minutes early, though. She sat herself down and gladly took the menu from the waitress.

Her mouth was watering over Cau Lau and beef pho when she sensed a presence and looked up to see Solo in a crisp white shirt and blue jeans. His hair looked newly washed, and now that his stubble was shorter she could see he had a marked dimple in his chin. It was altogether too delicious a sight as it met the strong tanned column of his neck.

Polly swallowed the saliva gathering in her mouth.

All these new little things she was noticing about him were such a turn-on. The subtle nuances that made her greedy for more. More exploration, more little treasures she’d only just begun to discover.

Enough!

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