Strings Attached (11 page)

He put a hand to his cheek and felt the heat. She’d done a good job of slapping him, his face was stinging, but bizarrely it was really turning him on.

‘Ah there you are! I was almost thinking of sending out a search party for you. Timothy Moulineux from
Ultimate Guitarist
magazine, could you give him a few moments?’ Michael asked, taking hold of Quinn’s arm.

‘Sure, lead on,’ Quinn said, taking a breath.

For once the party was wrapped up before 3.00am. George sent Helen, Marisa, Alison and Curly Shirley off in a taxi and that left her, Adam and Tom to finish loading the van. With three of them it didn’t take too long and then it was time for Adam and Tom to make the long drive back to university.

‘Now, are you sure you’re not too tired to drive?’ George asked as Adam put his beanie hat on and prepared to get in the driving seat of his Fiat Panda.

‘I’m sure, plus it will be better driving through the night, less traffic,’ Adam assured her.

‘OK, well, just take care won’t you and Tom, can you sing to him or something? Keep him awake,’ George ordered, looking in on the other youth.

‘He won’t need to sing. I’ve got the CD me and Quinn made this afternoon. I haven’t been able to stop listening to it, it’s only one track but he says he’s going to credit me on the CD, as a writer,’ Adam informed her proudly.

‘Well that’s great but, you know, don’t be upset if that doesn’t happen, you know how these things are,’ George spoke.

She couldn’t believe a word he said no matter how he made her feel in the knicker department.

‘You worry too much George. By the way Quinn’s dead impressed with Finger Food. He talked quite a lot about you,’ Adam remarked.

‘Well let’s hope he tells all his celebrity friends. I could do with the business,’ George answered quickly.

‘I’d better go, promised I’d ring Mum when we got back and you know she won’t sleep until I do,’ Adam said, getting into the car.

‘Yeah well don’t drive too fast and text me when you get there too,’ George told him.

‘OK, see you,’ Adam said.

‘Bye,’ George replied, closing the door for him.

She watched him start up the car, reverse out of the parking space and drive off up the road, waving to her. She swallowed as the car went out of sight. She had enjoyed spending time with him, even if they had been working for most of it. It had been nice to just have him around, although it always reminded her just how much she missed him.

‘George Fraser,’ a deep male voice spoke.

George spu
n around quickly and was confronted by a rotund black man wearing dark trousers and a black puffa jacket. Ordinarily, he would have looked quite like a mugger not to be messed with, given his size and slightly scary voice, but he knew her name and he was holding out an envelope to her.

She took the envelope and looked back to the man for some sort of explanation. However he had already turned away from her and was making his way back to wherever he came from.

George ripped open the envelope and took out what was inside. There was a plastic credit card shaped item and a sticky yellow note attached to it which read:-

Highgate Hotel Suite One – Q x

It was a hotel key card.

George looked at the card and the note and a shiver of excitement ran through her, like it did whenever she thought about Quinn or whenever he was anywhere near her. He was dangerous, he was spontaneous, he had complete disregard for anyone but himself. He may be engaged but he was everything she looked for in a man and hadn’t been able to find since Paul. He was unreliable, he couldn’t be trusted but he made her feel unbelievably alive.

She dropped the keys to the van in her haste to get inside it and it was enough to make her stop and think. She disliked him didn’t she? The way he was so cocksure of himself, so confident of his ability to woo her, or was disliking him part of the thrill? She may not agree with how he behaved, but she couldn’t deny she still wanted him. She got into the van, closed the door and started the engine. She knew where the hotel was.

Ten

She stood in the lift, looking at her reflection in the mirror and listening to the burr of the wheels as it transported her between floors. It had stopped at the right level four times, but she couldn’t bring herself to get out. She kept asking the doors to close, hoping that the next time they opened she would have made up her mind whether to step out or whether to descend to reception again.

Giving her a key to his room was presumptuous. She’d told him no and he didn’t believe her. Was he right? Even if she didn’t go to his room tonight was she just fighting a losing battle with her own desires as well as his? Perhaps it was just something they both needed to get out of their system. Yes, if she had one night with him it would all be over. She would stop wondering what it would be like to sleep with him and he could stop pursuing her. After all, the buzz came from the chase didn’t it? Once their sexual needs had been fulfilled he would move on to someone else and she - well she could always make do with Simon.

She wouldn’t come tonight, he knew that. She wanted to, but she wouldn’t. She wasn’t ready yet. She wanted to be ready but it was too soon for her, for whatever reason. Maybe she had someone. Shit, he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think of her ever having had someone else. That was unrealistic, but he wasn’t big on the whole talking about previous partners thing. That was something Taylor did. He was convinced she had a chart with penis comparisons on somewhere at the bottom of one of her giant handbags. That was the sort of stupid, dumbass shit Taylor did.

George was different. George wasn’t twenty-five going on twelve; George was a grown
-
up, a real woman, someone who made him hard just by looking his way. Shit, he was hard now just thinking about her.

He turned the shower down a couple of notches and put his face right into the water flow.

The lift doors opened again and George took a deep breath. Besides, even if she got out now and went to his room she could always just give him a piece of her mind when she got there. If she really didn’t want to spend the night with him.

She stepped out of the lift and walked down the corridor, following the signs for the suite. And then she saw it, at the very end of the corridor, a huge oak panelled door with a gold sign stating that it was the entrance to Suite One.

The slot to put the key card in was flashing ominously. Was that because she ought to go in, or because she shouldn’t? She wished it would speak. What was the matter with her? She was a grown woman; she could make decisions herself without looking for hidden meanings in inanimate objects and willing them to share their thoughts with her. This was ridiculous.

She smoothed down her white shirt and pulled at her skirt. She had a sauce stain on the left hand side of it and she knew she was hot and sweaty from spending all evening in a kitchen. Not exactly the best outfit for seducing someone. And then it dawned on her that Quinn had never seen her in any other clothes. Perhaps he had a thing for waitresses. The thought made her shudder.

She put the card into the slot and pulled it out. It flashed green and she cautiously leant down on the handle and opened the door.

She stepped onto soft, thick, cream coloured carpet and walked into the most luxurious room she had ever seen. There was a huge bed to her right, covered in cushions and fur throws. There was a full sized dining table to the left and two large chocolate coloured leather sofas, again adorned with sumptuous cushions. There were full length patio doors at the far end of the room, which seemed to open out onto a balcony. The whole room was decorated to perfection, there wasn’t a thing out of place. In fact if it hadn’t been for two guitars leant against the wall she wouldn’t have thought anyone was staying in the room at all.

She could hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and suspected Quinn was in the shower. What to do? Should she announce her arrival? Should she whip off her sweaty clothes and join him? Or should she just sit, read the Gideon’s bible and wait for him to come out? The other alternative, of course, was to leave while she still could. He didn’t know she was there, she could disappear and he would be none the wiser.

She was just contemplating doing exactly that, when the water was turned off and Quinn strolled out of the bathroom completely naked.

‘George,’ he stated seeming surprised she was there.

‘Hello,’ she replied, tearing her eyes away as he hurriedly wrapped a towel around himself.

‘I didn’t think you’d come,’ he told her, running his hand over his cropped hair.

For once he didn’t look quite so self-assured. Perhaps it was just being caught without his clothes on, but she suspected it wasn’t the first time that had happened.

‘You sent some huge, scary guy to give me the key card,’ George reminded him.

‘Yeah, I know. I just didn’t think you’d come. Not yet,’ Quinn replied.

‘Do you want me to go?’ George said suddenly feeling a little bit awkward.

‘No! No, of course not. Of course not. Have a seat, would you like a drink?’ Quinn offered, securing the towel around his waist.

‘A beer would be good,’ George answered.

Perhaps she had given in a bit easily if he really hadn’t been expecting her. She felt disappoint
ed
and internally kicked herself for it.

‘Sure,’ Qu
inn said and he opened the mini-
bar, which didn’t appear to be so mini and stocked every drink known to man and some that probably weren’t known to many men.

He took out two bottles of beer, opened them and handed one to her. She accepted it and quickly sat down on one of the leather sofas.

‘So, here we are then,’ she remarked not knowing what else to say to someone she had only thought about sleeping with and not considered talking to all that much.

‘Yeah, here we are,’ Quinn replied with a nod.

‘Right, well, to be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I should know better, I do know better. In fact I think I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t drive over here like some sort of aged groupie and just leave,’ George said, standing up and starting to move past him.

‘No, don’t do that,’ Quinn said, grabbing her arm to stop her.

‘Why not?’ George asked, staring him in the face.

‘Because I want you to stay,’ Quinn told her sincerely.

Her heart was hammering again, threatening to explode as she looked at him, looking at her.

‘Why?’ George enquired.

‘I don’t know, but ever since I met you I haven’t been able to get you out of my head,’ Quinn admitted.

‘I offered you a canapé from an empty tray.’

‘It wasn’t anything you said or did, I don’t know what it was. I can’t explain it. I just can’t stop thinking about you George, I mean that. You’re just everywhere, all the time,’ Quinn told her.

He traced his finger down the line of her jaw and she felt herself quake beneath his touch.

‘I want you to know I don’t make a habit of kissing men I know nothing about.’

‘I know that. Your brother tells me he can’t remember the last time you had a boyfriend.’

‘Did he also tell you he’s away at university and I don’t tell him everything that goes on in my life?’

‘So will you tell him about this?’ Quinn asked his fingers travelling quickly to her shirt buttons.

‘About what?’

‘About this,’ Quinn said and in one swift move he picked George up and carried her over to the bed.

He threw her down, straddled her body and looked down at her. She couldn’t control her breathing, she thought her body was going to combust unless he stripped her right now and made love to her. All thoughts of his fiancée were pushed out of her mind. It was his problem, not hers. It wasn’t as if he was going to leave her. It was just an animal attraction, it was just sex. In a few nights he would be gone, doing gigs in Manchester and probably sleeping with someone else. That alone should bother her, but right now it didn’t.

‘What do you want to do now?’ Quinn asked her as he unbuttoned her shirt and slipped his hands inside.

‘Everything,’ George replied and she pulled at the towel around his waist and discarded it on the floor.

His fingers were plucking the strings on his guitar, but his eyes were fixed on her. There she was, George Fraser, Miss Finger Food, in his bed. Miss
i
on accomplished. Or was it? Just watching her now he wanted to go back over to the bed, pull the covers off her and touch her like he’d touched her last night. He’d touched her everywhere and the way she had touched him – well it was a class apart from what he’d experienced in the past and he’d experienced enough to know. But it wasn’t just the sex. Afterwards he’d found himself wanting to talk to her. F**k! Wanting to talk! He’d managed to stop himself but the feeling was there all the same. What was it about her that got to him?