His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall

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slow shake of the head, she knew he wasn’t mad at her. He dropped his shades back down and propped his arm on the car’s door frame. Job done, she thought, pleased with herself. James and Melina would only have to set eyes on each other and bam, the chemistry would be there immediately, sparks would fly, no messing around. If only her own love life were so simple to fix…

      Before James could ask any more questions, Pip turned on her iPod connected to the car’s stereo system. Not bothering to try to secure her once-again wayward hair, she sang along to Bob Marley.

      She chose to ignore the rib from James about her singing not improving. Nothing could blight her good mood.

      ***

      Jumal cursed as he simultaneously tried to rinse shampoo out of his eyes, fumble to shut off the shower and reach for his ringing mobile phone he’d set on a towel on the marbled vanity.

      He managed to answer it, still blinded, before it went to answerphone. He held it in the crook of his neck whilst grabbing the towel to wrap around his hips and dabbing water in his eyes from the sink. Whoever said men couldn’t multitask hadn’t met him.

      “Hey Malik, yeah.”

      “Oh hey, yeah it’s me, erm, so you know you told me to keep an eye on Pip and call you if I thought you needed to be here for any reason whatsoever?”

      “Yeah. Ow shit,” he cursed again. How the hell could this stuff sting so much?!

      “Well. I think you should come on down.”

      “Is she okay?” he asked, trying to keep calm. Christ what if she needed to get to a hospital or something? He could barely open his eyes.

      “Yeah. She’s fine but put it this way: she could head straight to the beach and she’d still be underdressed and er, she’s getting quite a lot of attention.”

      “What the hell does that mean? You know what, never mind. I’m on my way. Just don’t let her out of your sight,” he growled.

      He ended the call, abruptly cutting off his friend in his rush to dress and get to Pippa.

      ***

      “Where is she?”

      Jumal followed Malik’s nod towards the packed dance floor. Jumal craned his neck and shielded his eyes from the glare and dazzle of the disco lights but was still not able to see her.

      Suddenly, the crowds parted like the Red Sea.

      “Holy mother of Allah. Is that…?”

      “Yep,” Malik acknowledged loudly before throwing back the shot he was nursing.

      “Why the hell didn’t you call me sooner?” he challenged whilst tracking Pippa’s stroll towards them.

      “Hey, Jumal, you came!” she yelled at him over the bass of the music before turning her attention from him. “Malik, you ready to dance with me yet? You promised.” She popped her hip and pouted.

      Jumal didn’t move his eyes from Pippa as he placed a restraining hand on his friends arm, knowing his friend would understand his message loud and clear. Malik cleared his throat. “Right well erm, I think I’ll go and get us a drink,” he said motioning his thumb behind his shoulder towards the bar. “Save me a dance for later, birthday girl.”

      Jumal thought he caught Malik saying something along the lines of him needing luck as he walked past him to the bar.

      “Brilliant fancy dress, Jumal,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘tight-arsed, control freak, big boss man slash relaxed Friday night combo’ down to a tee.” He watched tight-lipped as she waved her hand judgementally as his clothes.

      He scowled at her. “And what the hell have you come as? A Victoria’s Secret model?” He inwardly winced. He hadn’t intended for his voice to be quite so aggressive.

      “Humph, isn’t it obvious? I’m Halle Berry from the James Bond film and James—” she turned and waved her arm randomly towards the dance floor “—has come as the man himself, although to be honest he didn’t have to make much of an effort, just put on a tux—handsome devil that he is. And,” she went on, “can you believe that he wouldn’t let me strap my diver’s knife to my thigh? Anyway,” she continued, as she punched his arm in what he presumed was supposed to be a friendly way but had a surprising amount of force to it, “get you, knowing about VS. There may just be hope for you yet.” She winked at him.

      “So what do you think?” she asked, as she gave him a twirl. “I pretty much nailed it, didn’t I? Well apart from the hair,” she said as she flicked the ends of her hair dismissively over her shoulder. “Couldn’t do much about that with this mop, but my second attempt at applying a fake tan was much more successful. Don’t you think? Jumal?”

      “Huh, what?” Crap he’d been caught ogling. Again. “Come on, I think it’s time I took you home,” he told her, holding out his hand.

      “What?” she shrieked at him and he automatically dropped his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s my birthday, well my party anyway and I’m not ready to go home, not for a long time.” He knew it wasn’t her birthday for a few days yet. She surprised him by taking hold of his hand and gently urging him forward. “Come and dance with me and then you can keep a proper eye on me like I know my brother told you to.”

      Jumal was pleased that she was making her own assumptions about his turning up at her birthday party. For once, it worked in his favour.

      “I don’t dance,” he said sharply, shaking his head.

      She dropped her hand from his and strangely he missed the comforting contact. He wasn’t a “hand-holding” kind of person, even with his family or Faridah. “You’re kidding?” She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. God she was beautifully annoying.

      “As you have told me on numerous occasions, I don’t have a sense of humour when it comes to you,” he replied, straight-faced.

      “Fine, you can just stand like a sulking Muppet and I’ll dance around you like a bloody maypole.” And she was off again, twirling around him whilst holding his shoulders as he kept his focus straight ahead, fighting the need and desire to track her every movement.

      “A what?” he asked, when she finally came to a stop.

      “Oh never mind.” She sulked again with her hands on her hips. Was she aware that the action caused her perfectly sized breasts to jut out even further? “It’s just as I thought,” she ranted at him.

      “What is?” he asked, impatiently. The girl spoke in riddles.

      “You’re too old to have fun. You act like an old fart. I can’t believe that I—” she waved her arms dismissively at him “—never mind. Your loss.” And with that she was off, leaving him standing there in the wake of Hurricane Halle, his mouth hanging open like a fish—or to use her earlier phrase, a Muppet.

      He tracked her movements again as she laughed and joked with her friends at their table and finished off a long dark drink before she made her way back to the dance floor.

      “She didn’t manage to get you dancing then?” Malik enquired as he handed him another beer and took up position at his side.

      “Not a chance,” he replied, taking a long swig. He surveyed Malik and shook his head. “So what the hell have you come as and why didn’t you tell me it was fancy dress?”

      “Me? Well I’m the American President.”

      Jumal looked him up and down and gave him a puzzled look. “Which one?” he asked.

      “Any. See, I’m wearing the little stars-and-stripes pin on my suit jacket.” He turned to show him the pin.

      Jumal couldn’t help but chuckle. “That has got to be the worst fancy dress I have ever seen,” he teased, smiling.

      “Hey,

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