Free ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT? (Running Wild) by Bobby Hutchinson Page B

growing the way his penis had a moment before. “I’m a freelance adviser, sort of a peacemaker. I go in when two companies merge and I make the situation as smooth and painless as possible.” He hadn’t realized how rotten it was going to make him feel, looking across at her and outright lying to her. She had the kind of face that really shouldn’t be lied to, damn it.
    “Harry, you old son of a gun, how are you anyway?"
    The jovial voice, the pudgy hand that landed on his shoulder, made Harry’s stomach clench and his heart skip a beat.
    "I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age, I was over at the wine bar and I thought I’d come and say hello.”
    God help him, the game was up. His cover was about to be blown, and he’d be lucky if she’d ever speak to him again

Chapter Eight
     
    Harry made a monumental effort to hide his aggravation as he turned and smiled at the short, stocky man behind his chair. "Hello, George.”
    George Joost was the owner of a small software company for whom Harry had written an overview and business plan when the company filed for a listing on the stock market a year ago. George, whose wife in Toronto refused to move west with their two children, had spent several evenings at Harry's house, and he’d made a huge fuss over Sadie, even bringing her a Barbie doll with a wardrobe of clothes.
    "Good to see you out and about, you old hermit, you." But George’s spectacled gaze wasn’t on Harry. His eyes were feasting on India.
    Harry knew the other man was waiting for an introduction.
    Harry couldn't chance it. George, affable and talkative, would undoubtedly say something about Sadie, or ask what Harry was writing these days.
    “I’ll call you, George. We’ll get together for lunch," Harry said in the most dismissive tone he could muster.
    "Sure, Harry.” George took the hint, good-natured as always. “Enjoy your dinner. Oh, and give Sadie my love and tell her I said hi." He gave them a small salute and then walked away.
    “Business acquaintance," Harry' managed to croak through a throat that was suddenly parched. "Sadie’s my, er, secretary'."
    India’s expression told him nothing, and he could only pray that she bought this new addition to his fat folder of lies.
    He was relieved that the waiter brought the menus just then. They studied them in silence for a while.
    "It all looks wonderful,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been afraid she’d ask him more about George, or worse, about Sadie. But obviously she’d bought his explanation.
    He studied the menu. Now that the crisis was over, he was starving. Lunch had been baked beans on toast. Since Sadie, he’d mastered some of the absolute basics of cooking, but his menus ran strongly to stews and soups and Kraft dinners, because he’d learned there was little possibility of going too far wrong.
    India, undoubtedly, was accustomed to far more sophisticated fare.
    He was convinced of it when she ordered mustard herb-basted free-range chicken and some complicated salad he’d never heard of.
    Harry had a steak.
    Awkward silences filled the interval between ordering and the arrival of their food. India wasn't as talkative as he’d imagined she’d be, and there was a strain between them that hadn’t been there when they had talked on the phone.
    It might have something to do with the powerful sense of attraction he felt every time he looked over at her. He kept thinking about kissing those lush lips and forgetting that this was really just an interview. The neckline of her suit dipped low enough to show the swell of creamy breasts, and he kept breathing in her seductive perfume.
    When the food arrived, they ate for a while in silence. Harry was having a hard time remembering the list of questions he’d compiled. He finally came up with a couple that needed answering.
    “You mentioned that your mother had died. Is your father still alive, India?”
    She paused with a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. She