Strings Attached (4 page)

‘I’m Quinn,’ he introduced, holding his hand out to her.

Like she didn’t know! He was the one person everyone in the room wanted to be near. She could almost feel the various sets of female eyes on her, burning a hole in the back of her neck.

‘George,’ she replied, balancing the tray on her forearm and taking his hand.

This just wasn’t normal. Usually the guests at parties looked straight through her or completely ignored her presence until she waved the platter under their nose. Introductions and hand shaking were an oddity and this was twice in one night. This was no ordinary party.

‘Ah, so you’re George Fraser. My PA, Michael, just told me and everyone else in the group all about the merits of Finger Food,’ Quinn said still smiling.

‘Oh, well, that’s very nice. I’m amazed he’s been able to spread the word so quickly, especially with the hiccups,’ George spoke.

‘If there’s one thing Michael knows how to do well, it
’
s work a room,’ Quinn answered.

George didn’t know what to say next and she just couldn’t stop looking at him. She felt like she was fifteen again. No, she felt like Marisa and she was starting to get concerned that at any minute she was going to say something completely inappropriate like ‘D’you know I think you’re like completely hot and cool all at the same time’. Probably in a Welsh accent for authenticity.

‘Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me, I need to speak to someone before they sneak out and I can see them heading for the door. Good to meet you,’ Quinn said, moving past George and giving her the benefit of another sexy smile.

‘Nice to meet you too,’ George answered, watching him go.

She carried on staring after him as he approached a couple by the door and began shaking hands with them.

‘George! Mother is like doing her nut. She says the hot platters need to come out now or they’re going to be overdone! What are you looking at?’ Marisa asked, bursting out of the swinging doors and bounding up to George.

‘Nothing, I was just coming back in for the next batch,’ George spoke hurriedly averting her eyes from Quinn.

‘Oh God he’s over there now. He is like so gorgeous, like even more gorgeous than David Beckham. Nicer arse and less tattoos,’ Marisa said as she drooled.

‘In the kitchen with you. Professionalism,’ George ordered.

She glanced back before she opened the door, taking one last look at Quinn.

Three

He’d seen her the second he’d entered the room. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was but his attention had been drawn away from the high fashion, intense make-up, of the usual set of women at his after-show parties and been drawn to her. This blonde
-
haired woman wearing a plain black skirt she looked uncomfortable in.

And now he had spoken to her his guts were churning. He was exhausted and hungry. He could happily eat a whole tray full of canapés himself and now he had to make small talk. He didn’t want to make small talk and work the room; he wanted to speak to her. George Fraser from Finger Food.

This was insane. Tonight he was supposed to be enjoying the company of pole dancer Amber Range, but right now he couldn’t face it. No, the only woman he wanted to spend more time with was serving his guests.

‘Canapé Sir?’ Adam offered.

‘Thanks,’ Quinn accepted.

Eating was good. Eating would keep his hands occupied if nothing else. 

‘...
and so I said to her, I said
“
Darling, everyone knows they’re fake boobies, you all have the same surgeon
”!
’ Michael spoke loudly to a group he was entertaining.

He burst into high
-
pitched laughter and reached behind him to take a mini prawn wrap from the platter George was holding.

She held the tray closer to him and looked across the room at Adam.

He looked even more
grown-up
tonight than usual. Now he was so much more manly than gangly and not at all the little boy she remembered running around the house dressed as Batman. She swallowed a lump in her throat as he caught her eye and smiled, holding aloft an almost empty tray so proudly.

‘Have you tried one of these prawn things? Have you? What are they called George? This is George everybody, she is the MD of Finger Food and she will be catering every party I organise from now on, if I have my way,’ Michael spoke, turning to her and demanding her attention just by the volume of his voice.

‘They’re prawn and Tabasco,’ George informed with a smile.

‘Who would have thought it? I mean prawn and Tabasco; I would never have thought it, would you?’ Michael said, shaking his head in admiration.

George watched as Adam handed out canapés to the guests and then she saw him offer one forward to Quinn Blake himself. The musician took another chilli pork parcel and Adam said something to him that made him laugh and smile. Quinn offered Adam his hand and the two men became engaged in conversation, both surrounded by the group of beautiful women that seemed to swarm around Quinn like wasps around an open can of Coke.

‘So are you going to cater for me? I absolutely need you to cater for me,’ Michael carried on, bringing George back to his conversation.

‘I’d be delighted to, but
I am pretty booked up, I mean...
’ George started.

‘Cancel them! Cancel them all! We will pay you twice what they are paying you. No! Make that three times, in fact, name your price! We have another four nights of concerts here, could you cater the after-shows? Vary the menu? Whip up some new creations every night? Could you George? It would make me so happy. Look at all these happy
,
smiley people and your very empty silver dishes. They all have expressions of deep delight because of your marvellous culinary expertise,’ Michael rambled on.

‘Well, I guess
...
’ George began.

‘Marvellous! That’s settled! Now, tomorrow night, I would quite like to see what you can do with lamb. I like a bit of lamb, but not with anything minty, too tart. Surprise me,’ Michael ordered and he let out a hearty laugh that was heard at the other side of the room.

‘No problem,’ George answered tentatively, wracking her brain for a long forgotten about recipe.

‘Oh goody!’ Michael said, clapping his hands together in delight.

George looked over at Adam again. He and Quinn were engaged in what seemed like a deep conversation, completely oblivious to the presence of the beautiful women encircling them. Adam was leading the talk. George watched as he passed his platter to one of the women in the group and then suddenly he and Quinn were studying each other’s hands.

‘So you’re a student,’ Quinn spoke to Adam.

‘Yeah, I’m at uni, in Wales, got another year to go, but I gig with my band. I mean, w
e’re nothing like you guys but...
’ Adam started, blushing.

‘Hey, we all started gigging in bars,’ Quinn answered, taking another canapé.

Is that where he had started? Had he gigged in bars? He had no idea, but it seemed the right thing to say. George was smiling and laug
hing with Michael. She was drop-
dead gorgeous when she smiled, her hair dropped slightly over her face and her eyes lit up.

‘So, how come you’re here?’ Quinn asked Adam.

‘Here’s home. My sister runs the catering company, Finger Food. Over there,’ Adam indicated, pointing her out.

This was great, he had engaged in conversation to take his mind off the caterer and now he was being made to look at her again.

She glanced over and Quinn felt something inside him lurch. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was unexpected. God, he definitely didn’t want the pole dancer tonight. No, it had to be her, Miss Finger Food. But he needed to play it right.

It was 3.00am before all the guests had left.
The Hexagon
staff had finished tidying the bar area and George, Helen and Curly Shirley were almost at the end of clearing up the kitchen.

‘Van’s loaded up, ready to go; waitresses have gone off in taxis and Tom’s gone on to another party. Some ex-girlfriend of his wants to rekindle things I think. Marisa’s waiting in the van,’ Adam informed as he re-entered the kitchen.

‘OK, well Helen and Cur - I mean Shirley - why don’t you go with Adam and Marisa in the van. I can finish tidying up here,’ George suggested.

‘Oh George are you sure? I mean I can stay and finish that washing up if you like,’ Helen began, preparing to grab the dishcloth.

‘Boss says go Helen, you don’t quibble about it,’ Shirley remarked, putting a vice like grip on her friend’s arm.

‘Helen you look done in. It’s been a really busy day and you’re heading up the sixty fifth birthday party tomorrow afternoon. Go home, get some sleep and I don’t want to see you until at least
ten tomorrow
. And Shirley, thanks for all your help, you’ve been brilliant,’ George said.

‘Did you hear that Helen? I’ve been brilliant. How brilliant exactly? Triple time brilliant?’ Shirley asked, cracking a crooked smile.

‘Don’t push it.’

‘I could just finish these before we go,’ Helen started
,
her hand dangerously close to making contact with a soiled platter.

‘Put the cloth down darlin’,’ Shirley said forcefully.

‘Adam, take the women home will you?’

‘I’ll drop them off and come back for you,’ Adam told her.

‘No, you go home and get some sleep too; you’ve had a busy enough day as it is. Don’t worry about the van, I’ll come round for it later,’ George told him.

‘OK, we’re out of here. See you later,’ Adam said, linking arms with Helen and Curly Shirley.

‘See you and thanks again. It was a really successful night,’ George said.

‘Come on girls, which nightclub we going to hit? Have you tried Strikers Shirley? They play some great retro Eighties stuff,’ Adam joked
,
making the women laugh and weakly protest.

George waited for them to leave and then she hurried over to the fridge and swung open the door. She grabbed at an ice cold bottle of lager she had been coveting all night. She took the lid off it with a bottle opener, put it to her lips and took a long swig. She closed her eyes and let the cool, refreshing taste fill her throat. She so deserved this, she was totally wiped out, exhausted beyond belief.

Quinn looked through the door at her. She was necking a bottle of beer like if she didn’t drink it there would be an apocalypse. Christ, he was nervous. His palms were sweating and he didn’t dare take a breath. He didn’t want her to hear him; he needed to be in control of this. But he wasn’t. The tightening of every muscle in his chest told him that. What was going on here? He could get sex anywhere he wanted, with anyone he wanted, why did he want her? He swallowed and then taking a deep breath he quietly opened the door.

When she opened her eyes she almost leapt out of her skin as someone was standing in the kitchen right opposite her. It was all she could do to hold onto the bottle. It was Quinn Blake. How hadn’t she noticed someone enter?

‘Oh shit. I mean, sorry, excuse me. I didn’t think anyone was left up here. I was just finishing the clearing up,’ George spoke hurriedly, putting the bottle down on the side and picking up a dishcloth.

‘Do you mind?’ Quinn asked, reaching for the lager.

George shook her head and waited to see what he was going to do.

He circled the bottle in his hands and then put it to his mouth, taking a mouthful of liquid and swallowing it down. George watched him. The most simplistic movement, just drinking, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She felt a flush run up her whole body as he took a second swig.

‘I thought everyone had gone,’ George repeated as Quinn put the bottle down and looked over to her.

He was so hot, so perfect looking, so ruggedly beautiful, just the way a man should be. The kitchen was silent apart from the drip of the tap into the washing up bowl.

‘Everyone
has
gone,’ he replied, moving closer to her.

‘Then, what are you still doing here?’ George enquired her breathing quickening as he took up a position just inches away from her.

She could smell him. His light fruit and musk aftershave, the heat off him, the scent of Fast Fret wax and guitar strings. It reminded her of her youth.

‘I’m looking for you,’ Quinn answered his eyes not leaving hers.

Before George could react to what he’d said, he stepped forward and took her face in his strong hands. She could feel the intensity, his lips were on hers and she was backed up against the worktop, the pressure of his firm body on hers.