Free Love Nest by Julia Llewellyn Page B

introduced Nick to quite a few bands who’d become his greatest influences. But he banished such thoughts.
    ‘You should come and see us some time. Might convert you.’
    ‘I’d like that.’
    ‘We’re playing a Valentine’s Day gig next week. Shepherd’s Bush Empire.’
    ‘Where’s that?’
    Er, hello! If Kylie had asked something like that, Nick’s reply would have been so scalding you could have boiled an egg in it. But because he had decided to target Lucinda, he politely answered, ‘Shepherd’s Bush.’
    Lucinda flushed. ‘Oh! You must think I’m an idiot.’
    He smiled non-committally. ‘I’ll put your name on the door.’ He paused a second and added, ‘And a plus one.’
    ‘Great. I’ll bring my brother.’
    So no boyfriend. No ring on her finger. ‘You can come backstage afterwards if you like.’
    ‘That could be fun.’ They were in the corridor by now, waiting for the lift. As the door opened, their elbows brushed against each other. In the enclosed space he could feel her body heat.
    Outside, he said, ‘I’ll see you around, then.’
    ‘Looking forward to hearing from you,’ she replied briskly, and tapped off.
    Was she interested? Nick wasn’t sure. Which only spurred him on. Lucinda represented a challenge. Already he was planning how to handle their next meeting.

6
    Lucinda strolled confidently back to the office, enjoying the unusually balmy February air on her face. The sale was in the bag. She could tell by Nick Crex’s body language. And having done her research and knowing he was the songwriter for the Vertical Blinds, she was confident he wasn’t a time-waster, that there was money in the bank he was eager to spend.
    He was quite attractive, she realized, with his snakelike hips and blond hair. Lucinda was so focused on work that usually her clients barely registered. But Nick Crex was a bit more glamorous than her usual City-boy clients. After all, even she had heard of the Vertical Blinds, and her idea of good music was more in the Michael Bublé range. But it was hard to miss this lot. They were always falling out of nightclubs, high on drugs, and having affairs with models and winning awards. Quite exciting to be connected to them, however vicariously, though she wouldn’t mention them to Daddy. He’d be horrified.
    She pushed open Dunraven Mackie’s plate-glass door. Niall, the residential manager, was on the phone explaining to an American buyer about the differences between leasehold and freehold. As usual he looked ashen. Niall had one-year-old twins who never slept and a very cross wife who rang at least three times a day to tell him how lucky he was to be at work.
    Gareth, the lettings manager, was talking too, explaining that it really was very bad form to remove all the lightbulbs at the end of a tenancy (though plenty of people did. As well as door handles. Never loo brushes, though – no one had ever stooped so low as to take the loo brush).
    ‘All right, Marsha,’ Lucinda smiled at the secretary. ‘Got you a frappuccino.’
    Marsha’s skinny face lit up as Lucinda plonked the paper cup in front of her.
    ‘You’re a darling.’
    It had taken Lucinda fifteen seconds to realize that if she didn’t butter up Marsha her future at Dunraven Mackie would last about as long as an ice cream on a sun lounger. Nobody except Niall knew who Lucinda really was, but she was acutely conscious it was going to come out sooner or later. And when it did she had to have everyone in the office on side. They were already a bit suspicious of her accent, which – she recognized – was like a 1950s duchess, but she’d been brought up in this weird multilingual environment where everyone spoke like that, and she couldn’t start dropping aitches just to try to fit in with the gang.
    And then there was the question of where she lived. She’d had to give Marsha an address. Joanne – who lived in South Norwood – had overheard.
    ‘South Kensington. Very naice.’
    ‘My