Free Strings Attached by Mandy Baggot

month.
    ‘Not on the roof, obviously. I have a hotel room,’ Quinn spoke hurriedly.
    ‘And you’re watched all the time,’ George reminded him.
    ‘Yeah, I know, I am. But we could work something out.’
    ‘I’m not that sort of girl, sorry. I’d better go,’ George said.
    ‘I think your brother’s really cool by the way. He knows a lot about music,’ Quinn said quickly, as George began to balance over the roof edge.
    She stopped and looked back at him. He was still shirtless and the sight of his perfection did nothing to strengthen her resolve in turning him down. It wasn’t too late. She could change her mind. Her foot was only dangling toward the fire escape, no contact had been made.
    ‘He’s very talented, I mean really talented. He was grade eight piano at age eleven,’ George informed him, a swell of pride coating her voice.
    ‘That’s seriously good. I didn’t do grades, at least I don’t think - well anyway - he could definitely teach me a thing or two,’ Quinn answered.
    ‘He thinks you’re a great artist. He admires you and your music very much,’ George told him.
    ‘Well maybe we could spend an hour or so together doing something on the piano,’ Quinn suggested.
    ‘Don’t say things like that unless you mean them, not where my brother’s concerned,’ George ordered almost angrily.
    ‘I don’t say things unless I mean them. Tell him to ask for me tomorrow after noon before the show, say four ?’
    ‘ Four ,’ George repeated.
    ‘Yeah and if you wanted to come along that would be good too,’ Quinn said his turquoise eyes studying her.
    ‘Sorry, four ’s no good for me, I’ll be busy coordinating an Army party and trying to create something exciting and never seen before, using salmon as my muse,’ George answered as she clambered carefully over the side of the roof and her foot made contact with the fire escape. No going back now.
    ‘I want to see you again,’ Quinn said, leaning over the edge and watching her descend.
    ‘You will. I’ll be one of the waitresses holding a silver tray at your party tomorrow night,’ George answered.
    She jumped down onto the fire escape, put on her shoes and went back inside, closing the door behind her.
    Once inside she leant against the door and tried to get her breath back. If the phone hadn’t rung would she have stopped him? Would she have stopped herself? Or would she have had sex on a rooftop without thinking about the consequences? Why did he have t his effect on her? Yes he was gorgeous, but there was more to it than that, something about him was different. He got to her.
     
     
    He was buzzing from head to foot, even more than from the gig. His heart was racing like he’d taken a shot of something. She was hot and sexy and she’d tasted like all his fantasies rolled into one. He stood up on the roof, stretched his arms up to the sky and howled.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Eight
     
    ‘Oh. My. God. Like, could my life get any better? I’ve just finished spreading three hundred slices of bread, we’ve got an Army party this afternoon, with like loads of gorgeous blokes, and tonight we’ve got another after-show party full of more eye candy, including the totally awesomely hot, Quinn Blake,’ Marisa announced over strains of The Black Eyed Peas.
    The radio was picking up Radio One again although George wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. Marisa had a limited knowledge of music when it came to the 1970s and 1980s and that meant less singing and more work getting done. Marisa fighting Will.I.Am for lead vocals, meant time management went out the window.
    ‘You can do some egg separation for me next. I need yolks please, put the whites to one side, in a bowl obviously,’ George ordered, ignoring her excited comments and studying a recipe book.
    ‘Like what did you think I was going to do? Break them open on the worktop?’ Marisa replied huffily.
    ‘Is Adam working tonight?’ Helen enquired as she washed her