Free Strictly Love by Julia Williams Page A

common ground really quickly. The time he had spent with her had been all too brief. He hoped that she'd be going along next week.
    He had a quick look at his day list, where he could see three root treatments, endless amounts of drilling and filling, a bridge to repair and Granny O'Leary to boot. It would have normally sent him into the doldrums. But not today. He was in too much of a good mood. And thankfully, there was no sign of Jasmine.
    ‘Have we heard any more about Jasmine's complaint?’ Mark asked Diana at lunchtime.
    ‘Not a dicky bird,’ said Diana.
    ‘Perhaps I should ring her?’ Mark asked, not really relishing the task.
    ‘Oh, you know what Jasmine's like,’ said Diana, 'she'll be on to the next thing soon and it will all be forgotten. Particularly when she's in pain again.’
    ‘Good,’ said Mark. Diana was right. It would doubtless blow over.
    As usual, he barely had time to pause for breath, and by the end of the day three cups of cold coffee were lined up on the side. It was only as he got into his car to go home that he allowed himself to think about Emily again. She was the most attractive woman he'd met since he'd been single and he didn't even know her surname. Or where she lived. Or her phone number.
    There was no help for it: he was going to have to go dancing again.
    Emily was coming to the end of a long day and feeling absolutely exhausted. She had enjoyed the previous evening much more than she would have thought possible. And it hadn't actually mattered that much that she was crap at dancing. Mark had been equally crap. And she had enjoyed dancing crappily with him. It had been fun. Plus he had been, well, so gentlemanly and attentive. She wasn't used to that after Callum.
    She paused from filing away some case notes. Callum versus Mark. Callum was gorgeous, of course. And made her feel gorgeous. He was sexy. He made her feel sexy. He was dangerous, which gave him that edge.
    Mark, on the other hand, didn't seem the dangerous type. He seemed sweet and kind and thoughtful. Could she do sweet and kind and thoughtful, after mad, bad and dangerous to know?
    Emily laughed out loud. Listen to her. She'd spent, ooh, halfan hour in the presence of a very attractive man, and already she was lining him up against Callum. She was being ridiculous. As if he was even interested.
    The phone on her desk rang.
    ‘Someone to see you down here,’ drawled the bored-sounding receptionist.
    Emily frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone.
    Oh God, no. As she approached the front desk she vaguely remembered Callum had had a big pitch on today. Please don't let him be here and be drunk.
    ‘Hey babe,’ he said. ‘Am I the dog's bollocks or what?’
    ‘What, I think,’ said Emily, squirming under the gaze of the supercilious receptionist.
    ‘I just won the shittest, hottest pitch in town. You are looking at the new account handler of
Smile, Please!
I am
the
man. ‘Callum raised his hands above his head and practically beat his chest.
    ‘Callum,’ hissed Emily. ‘I'm at work.’
    ‘I just wanted to see you, babe,’ he said, lighting up a cigarette.
    ‘This is a non-smoking office,’ said John Turnbull, one of Emily's more likeable colleagues, who'd just walked in.
    ‘Sweets for my sweet,’ said Callum, ignoring him and proffering a rather squashed box of chocolates.
    ‘Thanks very much,’ said Emily. ‘But can you just leave now. I've got stuff to do.’
    ‘Oh, babe, don't be like that,’ Callum pleaded with her. For once it had no effect. She was furious. How dare he show her up here? How dare he?
    ‘Callum, I'll be any way I like,’ she said, her manner cold and stiff. ‘Now just go, please.’
    ‘Do you want any help escorting this waste of space off the premises?’ said John.
    ‘No, it's all right,’ said Emily. ‘Callum's just leaving, aren't you?’
    Something of the coldness of her tone seemed to have piercedthrough Callum's skull because he shambled off with his cans of Stella.