Free The Piano Man Project by Kat French Page A

crowd.’ His face dropped. ‘Except Selina works there so I’ll probably have to, I don’t know, resign or something.’
    Selina again.
He didn’t even seem to realise he’d said it.
    ‘As long as it pays the bills,’ Honey said, unsure how to develop a conversation around anything as deathly as accounting. ‘You must be good with numbers then?’ she ventured.
    ‘Thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six are my favourites,’ Deano grinned and outlined an hourglass in the air with his hands, then dropped them slowly as if he’d belatedly realised that his best accountant joke was inappropriate for the occasion. ‘Er, sorry.’
    Honey pulled her glass towards her, sneaking a glance at her watch at the same time. She wasn’t certain how much longer she could sit and make lad-chat about Deano’s no doubt perfectly curved ex without throwing the wine down the front of his ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.
    It was just after eleven when Honey turned the front door key and let herself into the lobby. She hadn’t stayed at The Cock for last orders, because the more Deano drank the more morose he’d become about Selina, she of the apparently willowy skier’s legs and perfect rack. Honey had left him searching the jukebox for anything by Take That – he’d told her at least four times that they were Selina’s favourite and that she had a crush on Gary Barlow, who Deano would quite like to punch.
    She tried to close the front door quietly out of consideration for Hal, although given their last encounter it was anyone’s guess why he deserved her consideration. As she tiptoed across the lobby, his door swung open.
    ‘Jesus, were you waiting up for me? You’re worse than my dad used to be,’ she said, letting him have both her annoyance in general at an evening wasted and her annoyance at him in particular for being so rude yesterday.
    ‘I heard you come in. Most people would’ve, given the racket you were making trying to get your key in the door. Are you pissed?’
    ‘Phhfft. Pissed off, more like. I was quiet and you know it. You were waiting for me.’
    He leaned his shoulder against the wall, and the movement hitched the bottom of his t-shirt away from the waistband of his battered jeans. Honey noted the smooth line of skin exposed by the move, and the fine central line of hair that dipped into the denim. How was it that this man had her more aware of his body in two minutes than Deano had managed in two hours?
    ‘So, how was your date?’ he said, crossing his arms across his chest.
    Honey slung her purse and keys into the glow of the lamp on the hall table, then kicked off her high heels as she moved towards him. Her mind was too relaxed with wine to stay angry.
    ‘Umm … it was … okayish?’ she said, and then corrected herself, standing close to him. ‘Actually, it was pretty shit. He wanted to talk about his ex-girlfriend’s perfect rack all night.’
    Hal scrubbed a hand over the side of his face. ‘Sheesh. That’s pretty bad. She must have been an impressive girl.’
    ‘Yup.’ Honey pulled the artfully arranged pins from her hair and mussed it loose with her fingers, shoving the hairpins into the pocket of her denim skirt.
    ‘So what did you get wrong, Honeysuckle? Are you dressed like a nun or something?’
    ‘Piss off. I made an effort. I wore matching undies and everything, even though he was never going to find out.’
    ‘You mean your knickers actually say Friday?’
    ‘Ha bloody ha, Hal. No. I mean I tried to look nice for him and he didn’t even notice.’
    She leaned against the wall, suddenly weary with the whole thing.
    ‘You smell good,’ Hal said quietly. ‘And I’m willing to bet you look good, too.’
    Honey swallowed hard. Here he went with his ten per cent of brilliance, and here she went going jelly-kneed on him again.
    ‘I tried pretty hard,’ she said. ‘This skirt’s a twelve, and in a perfect world I’m a thirteen.’
    She swayed a little on her feet, and for no