Free Alberta Clipper by Sheena Lambert Page A

me for outing your secret lover?”  He grinned at her, but there was a hint of admission in his eyes. 
    “It appears I have.”  Christine leaned against Craig’s desk, trying to peer into Mark’s office.  “What do you think is going on in there?”
    Craig glanced over.  “Dunno.  Look, I’m actually a bit snowed under here, sweet-cheeks.  I’ve got a golf outing in the morning and I’ll be away all day, so I’d better stay here and get my desk sorted.  Sorry.”
    “No worries.”  Christine drained her coffee.  She lifted a coffee cup from Craig’s desk, and checked to see it was empty before taking it with her own back to the coffee room.
     
    ~
     
    The weather was still good on Friday when Christine arrived in Mallin Station at eight o’clock.  After what had been the hott est June in Dublin for years, July was showing no signs of cooling down .  The restaurant was adjacent to the train station, so she ran to the station washroom to check her hair and make-up before walking out on to the street.  She could see Gavan waiting for her, looking out at the sea.  Dun Laoghai re harbour was protected by granite piers which stretched out like two strong arms, holding the small boats that traversed the still waters within their embrace.  Twenty or more little sail boats were there that evening, most likely a sailing school’s beginners’ class, while larger boats and windsurfers littered the waters on the other side of the pier walls, making the most of the fine weather.  Gavan seemed to be engrossed in the spectacle.  She walked up behind him, unsure how to greet him, but as she approached he turned and a big smile lit his face.
    “Hey there,” he said.  He stood before her.  They were almost touching, but he paused, almost as if to savour the moment.  She was about to say something innocuous like ‘hello’, when he took her face in his hands and kissed her. 
    And there it was.  The feeling they had shared on Saturday nig ht.  It had continued through to Sunday morning, but when he had left, Christine had been unce rtain of its authenticity.  He had texted her on Sunday evening, and phoned her on Tuesday to arrange this date.  But she hadn’t been certain that he had felt it too.  Until this moment.  Wow – was this how it worked when you were grown-up?  She remembered second dates being generally more awkward than first – now, it appeared if you knew, you knew.  There was no pretence.  No games.  After the kiss, standing there on the steps of the restaurant enveloped in his arms, Christine had the crazy thought that if she and Gavan were to run off and get married, right now, if it were possible, they would probably stand as good a chance as any couple.  She sniggered into his linen jacket at the thought of it, and then pulled away, leaving a small damp patch on his lapel. 
    “Sorry!”  She giggled and tried to wipe it.
    “Lovely.  Spitting on me already?  I’m glad you feel that comfortable.”  He took her hand away from his jacket and kissed it.  He didn’t let it go, and he led her up the steps to the restaurant door.  “Would you rather sit out side?”
    It was warm, but there was a strong breeze blowing intermittently.  And the room inside was dimly lit by candles.  Candlelight would be nice.
    “Let’s go in.”
    They sat at the bar while their table was made ready.  Christine was conscious of how much leg she was showing, sitting up on the high stool.  She knew her dress was on the shorter side of decent, but she had planned on the table covering her modesty.  Gavan took a menu from the barman and opened it.  He looked over to Christine with a serious expression. 
    “I’m thinking you are a mojito kind of girl?”
    She laughed.  “I like mojitos.  What makes you say that though?”
    “Well, you’re too sophisticated for something like a cosmopolitan, or a martini.”  He stood down from the stool to remove his jacket.  The maitre d’