Talk to Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

glass of wine was window dressing as my stomach was still on its final spin. It might be a long evening. Emily and I positioned ourselves so it looked as if we were talking to one another, when in fact we were scanning the room over each other’s shoulders.
    The room was almost circular, the circumference ringed by alcoves containing tables lit by angular desk lamps. The line, ‘Ve hav vays of making you talk’, ran through my head.
    ‘Seen anyone interesting?’ asked Emily, tossing her long blonde hair back over her shoulder for the fifth time.
    ‘I’m trying not to make it seem too obvious.’ I gave my wine another tentative sip. ‘If I catch anyone’s eye they might think I’m desperate.’
    ‘Olivia, people go speed-dating all the time. They’re probably all veterans.’
    And that was supposed to make me feel better?
    Dotted around the room were the odd twosome, like us, pretending not to be eyeing everyone else up. A few brave solitary souls, clearly mad or desperate, were busy examining the huge curved pieces of artwork that hugged the walls.
    One man stood out. Nothing mad or desperate about him. If anything he seemed to preen under the curious glances, self-assured and haughty as he gazed airily around the room as if looking for inspiration before reapplying himself to his
Times
crossword.
    It went quiet as Barney strode into the centre of the room to explain the rules of engagement. I thought it was all pretty obvious but Barney had to make a meal of it. At last, just as I was thinking about sidling out of the room, he finished with, ‘Ladies and gentlemen – good luck.’
    ‘Who does he think he is, head of MI6 sending us off on a mission?’ I whispered, my stomach lurching in panic. Emily tossed her hair again and gave an excited little skip.
    I almost expected a bell to ring to start us off, but with an imperious, ‘To your tables,’ Barney clapped his hands and we all jumped like well-trained sheep.
    ‘Show time,’ sang Emily and sailed off to her table, her hips swinging.
    Searching out table seven, I arrived before my date.
    Slipping into the chocolate brown leather banquette in my allocated alcove, I stuffed my bag at my feet with shaking hands and then hopped back on to my feet.
    What was speed-date etiquette? Should I stand and wait, or sit back down?
    Before I could decide one way or another a tall figure loomed over my hunchbacked position. Crossword Man. He held out a slim tanned hand before coiling himself onto his chair.
    Up close he was gorgeous. Even my one-man libido sat up and took notice. Smooth coffee skin, sleek black hair, perfect teeth and dark brown eyes with amber flecks, but there was something distant and aloof about him.
    ‘Anthony,’ he announced in a deep voice adding, ‘and you are?’ His mouth curved with a slight hint of disdain, as if there was a nasty smell under his nose.
    ‘Hi, Anthony.’ My heart thudded uncomfortably. Why had I let myself in for this? ‘I’m Olivia.’
    Settling himself onto his seat, he seemed at ease, almost as if he was conducting an interview. I wished I felt that confident or could even pretend to be.
    ‘Do you come here often?’ he asked, inclining his head and nodding as if he was a professor in a tutorial. It threw me.
    ‘Bugger, that was my question.’
    There was a startled flicker in his eyes. Oops, shouldn’t have sworn so early in the date.
    ‘Of course, I meant it purely in an ironic sense.’ I couldn’t miss the patronising edge to his tone.
    ‘Y-yes … of course,’ I stuttered, feeling wrong-footed already
    ‘You know. I meant to imply the opposite of what—’
    Great, not only was I foul-mouthed, but stupid too.
    ‘Yes, I do know what irony is.’ Perhaps I should have brought my degree certificate along.
    He leaned back and paused for a moment, as if putting a great deal of thought into his next words. With great ceremony his fingers came together in a delicate point under his chin. ‘Tell me. What was