‘How would you put it?’ she challenged fiercely, completely losing her cool as resentment of his selfish decision raged through her.
His gaze flicked to Josh, then back to her. ‘Interesting to think of what caused you to be late, Lucy,’ he drawled. ‘Somehow I doubt it was intellectual conversation.’
Shock zapped her mind for several seconds. Then a wild welling of triumphant glee billowed over the shock. It had worked! Bringing Josh and being late was making James see her differently. At the very least he no longer had her pigeon-holed as his worthy secretary. She was now an interesting woman!
A smile tugged at her lips and broke into a full-blown grin. ‘It’s such a pleasure to feel free of responsibility, I just let my head go,’ she airily explained.
‘Heady stuff…wine-tasting,’ he remarked sardonically.
Another jolt as Lucy realised he was actually thinking sexual tasting. Which was hilarious in one sense, given Josh’s inclinations, yet deliciously satisfying in another, given the erotic images James was now applying to her.
She giggled. It was the wrong thing to do. She should have simmered. Josh’s advice had been spot on so far. If she was to strengthen the result that had been attained, she had to project a sexy attitude. To cover the sensuality gaffe, she snatched up the glass of champagne a circling waiter had poured and lifted it in a toast.
‘To tasting more of the best,’ she cried recklessly.
He picked up his glass and she could have sworn his eyes simmered as he said, ‘Perhaps the best is yet to come. One has to taste a range of bottles to know which gives the ultimate pleasure.’
‘I’m sure that’s true,’ she agreed, her fantasy world swiftly building a line of gorgeous men with James placing himself at the end of it, ready and willing to show her he was the best.
‘What’s true?’ Buffy interjected.
Lucy’s fevered mind snapped back to sober reality. Seeing her differently didn’t mean that James found her any more attractive. He might be intrigued by the light Josh had supposedly shed on her private life, but Buffy was his choice for his private life. She scrambled for a sensible answer to the question asked.
‘You need to sample a lot of different wines before judging which pleases the palate most,’ she eventually managed, turning to Josh for his support, wanting him to carry the conversation while she recovered some equilibrium. ‘Isn’t that so, Josh?’
‘Absolutely,’ he chimed in. ‘Though I must say the very finest do stand out, once tasted.’ He slid Lucy a mischievously intimate glance. ‘Unforgettable.’
The urge to giggle again almost made her choke on her champagne. Josh had obviously been eavesdropping on her conversation with James and was deliberately stirring the hot-pot, being wickedly suggestive. She controlled herself enough to sip the champagne, pretending nothing of any great note had been said.
‘Do you do wine-tasting too, Lucy?’ Buffy asked.
She constructed a gently dismissive smile. ‘Not really. Josh occasionally shares his experience with me.’
That should have been an end to it. However, her partner in pretence decided he’d been thrown the ball and it was his job to run with it as provocatively as he could.
‘Lucy uses me shamelessly, Buffy,’ he declared. ‘As far as she’s concerned, I’m on call to deliver—’ he paused to slide Lucy a salacious look ‘—anything she wants…when she wants it.’
Lucy kicked him under the table. He was exaggerating their relationship and making ‘the wants’ sound far from innocent.
‘And do you?’ James asked somewhat dryly.
‘If it’s humanly possible,’ came Josh’s fervent reply. ‘An invitation to be with Lucy is a gold-card guarantee of pleasure.’ He sighed and shook his head at her as he added, ‘I wish she didn’t keep herself to herself as much as she does.’
She kicked him again, forcefully warning him he was overplaying his hand, but his eyes were dancing merrily and she knew he was having too much fun to desist.
‘So Lucy calls the shots in your relationship,’ James commented.
‘Very strong-minded lady,’ Josh confided. ‘When Lucy sets her mind on a path, you either fall in with her or get off.’
‘Now come on, Josh,’ she chided, feeling she had to scale down his assertions about her. ‘I’m not that inconsiderate of you.’
His hands lifted in an eloquent gesture of appeal. ‘Lucy love, I wasn’t complaining. I wouldn’t miss falling in with you for anything!’ He laid one hand over his heart. ‘Here I am, your willing slave for the night, your pleasure my pleasure.’
‘A willing slave,’ Buffy repeated, as though that was her idea of heaven, and if only Josh would offer such slavery to her she’d snap it up.
Things were definitely getting out of control here, Lucy thought, but didn’t know what to do about it. She’d brought it upon herself, agreeing to Josh’s plan, but now she wasn’t sure it was leading to anywhere she wanted to be. If James started thinking she was using Josh as a toy-boy…
‘I didn’t know you had dominatrix tendencies, Buffy,’ James drawled, an edgy note in his voice.
‘What?’ Clearly she was attempting a mental shake as she switched her attention to him, but her big amber eyes looked empty of any understanding as they appealed for him to explain himself.
Lucy’s mind was reeling, too. A dominatrix? Was that how he was now seeing her…in tight leather gear with a whip in hand, forcing men to perform to her will? She almost died on the spot!
Buffy’s blankness forced James to speak again. ‘Never mind,’ he said bruskly. ‘What do you think of the band?’ He gestured to the musicians on stage to redirect her attention.
‘Oh!’ She obediently looked and listened. ‘They’ve got a good beat. Is this the band you think may do as well as Silverchair?’
James pursued the conversation with Buffy, much to Lucy’s relief. She needed some breathing space to assess what had happened, to get her thoughts into some kind of order for handling the rest of the night which now stretched ahead, loaded with perilous double meanings to everything!
‘He’s hooked,’ Josh whispered triumphantly.
She looked askance at him. ‘He’s taken the bait but he doesn’t like it.’
‘And doesn’t that say something? No indifference there, Lucy love. The man is wriggling beautifully.’