Forever His Darling. Sarah Randall

lipstick might actually cause her some physical harm. She was a viper dressed perfectly in vintage Chanel. She had to give the snake kudos for that.

      She averted her eyes from the unfriendly female stares and bent down to stroke George’s ears as he curled up in front of their table, basking in the heat from the fire. As she brought her head back up to the table, a young barmaid approached their table tentatively, finally gathering courage to come over and ask for her autograph. Anastacia didn’t fail to notice her lick her lips, flutter her eyes, and stick out her small chest. Ana was a model. She noticed such actions. She assumed it was for Matt’s benefit but he seemed completely disinterested and she actually felt sorry for the young woman. Slightly.

      She caught Matt’s unease and displeasure as she signed the girl’s notebook and posed for a selfie with her, Matt having refused to take the picture.

      “Doesn’t that…” he paused as if looking for the right word or trying not to swear, “bother you?”

      “What, your rudeness, or her polite request for a photo?” she teased whilst sitting back in her chair. At his cool stare she continued. “It’s just part of the job. You probably have bits of yours that you hate but tolerate.” She took another sip of her drink before adding, “Like putting up with annoying models who land at your door with no coat and wearing fabulously inappropriate shoes.” She winked and shrugged her shoulders. “This is mine.”

      His thoughts were clearly elsewhere as he stared into the crackling fireplace and ignored her. Stubborn man..

      He stood abruptly. “Another one?” he asked, and she couldn’t help quoting back at him in the hope she could raise a smile.

      “As you wish.” Maybe he had the book in the library back at the house aanndd… Maybe taking that sleeping pill and drinking so much alcohol wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had…

      ***

      Matt had to hide his smile from her. Stubborn redheaded woman, he thought. It was obvious that she hated the pint of bitter but was clearly not going to let on. She may be a top model but she was no top actress. He couldn’t get his head around what her day to day life must be like: constant interruptions and silly requests for a signed piece of paper and a photograph. No privacy. Why the hell would that appeal to anyone?

      He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. George, the traitor, was curled up enjoying Ana’s attentions yet again. He lifted his head briefly to gaze lovingly at her. Good grief, he thought, he had it bad. As if hearing his thoughts, George turned his head to him and gave him a look which Matt loosely interpreted as “What the hell are you waiting for? Get on with it mate.”

      He quickly averted his gaze back to the bar and dropped his head in shame. Yep, definitely jealous of his dog.

      As he waited for Bob to finish serving him he reflected on his surprise at the fact that he was actually enjoying himself. He’d popped into the pub several times since Emily’s departure but never really just sat back and chilled, enjoying someone else’s company. How strange that a woman, apparently known all over the world but not to him and who represented almost everything that he despised, would be the one person he could actually talk to… that he actually wanted to open up to. Yet something still held him back. She was a stranger after all, even if his sister and Mrs Henderson were treating her like a long lost Darling, home for Christmas.

      Okay, so he was attracted to Ana. There, he’d admitted it, if only to himself, and secretly he loved the fact that she was wearing his clothes. She was a model, her job was to attract, so he decided he wouldn’t continue to beat himself up about it. There was no point even thinking of taking it any further. He certainly wasn’t ready for another relationship and anyway, she likely had some macho male model/actor/singer as a companion. They probably stared at themselves in the mirror each morning before congratulating each other on their respective attractiveness.

      He returned to their table and set their drinks down. “Are you married?” Shit, why the hell had he just blurted that out? His mouth and brain were clearly not on the same wave length.

      It was Ana’s turn to choke on the dregs from her glass.

      “Sorry, “she finally managed to mutter, still clearing her throat. “Erm, no I’m not. You?” she countered, raising her brow.

      “No.”

      Smooth Matt, real smooth.

      “I think I need a brandy. You?” He needed to escape, re-group and calm the hell down before he asked her what her favourite colour was and if she’d like to go with him to the school disco. Purple, he thought, as he jumped up and headed back to the bar.

      ***

      Matt had jumped up and almost ran to the bar before even waiting for her reply. She eyed their full glasses on the table. He seemed a bit out of sorts. Correction, more out of sorts than earlier. If she didn’t know better she’d have said he was nervous but she knew his type. Sexy, wealthy, sexy, self- confident business man. Had she mentioned he was sexy?

      Why would he be nervous around her? There was something more to him, hidden behind a carefully constructed grumpy exterior that may or may not be his genuine character. Could it just be a shield? She knew all about shields; hers had been perfected over many lonely years. But if he had one, why?

      She took the “not to be missed” opportunity to openly admire his backside yet again as he stood at the bar and spoke to Bob. She imagined a luscious ripe peach, just waiting to be bitten…

      “My oh my George,” she bent down to whisper at him while her eyes stayed fixated on Matt’s behind, “Have you ever seen a more attractive backside?” She dropped her gaze to meet George’s dark brown eyes as they stared back up at her. She smiled as he tilted his head to one side as if to say, “you think?!” She continued, “Don’t you just want to grab it and squeeze? No? Well, I guess you’re a boy. Now if Alix was here I’d have to prop him up, wipe off the drool, and fan him with the beer mat.” She sat back in her chair and leaned her head to the side. “’’Course that backside could do with a good kick occasionally… just when he’s extra grumpy.”

      Anastacia narrowed her eyes, fascinated as the Village Viper stalked her prey, deciding it was time to make her strike. Her prey was distracted, vulnerable. Matt’s body automatically jerked away as the viper touched his arm and whispered in his ear. It was as if he’d been electrocuted. She smiled to herself, contemplating how long to leave it until she rescued him. Surprisingly, he now seemed overly polite. It must just be her that caused his caustic reaction. She tried to analyse his strange reactions as he attempted to politely dislodge himself from the viper’s ’ O.P.I “Winter Berry" claws without causing offence. When Anastacia saw her reach up to touch his face, she’d seen enough. The man had already told her that he hated attention and he evidently needed rescuing.

      Ditching her David Attenborough commentary, she used stealth to approach them unseen before slipping her hand around Matt’s backside and putting her hand into the back pocket of his jeans, kissing him on the cheek and being secretly thrilled that he hadn’t jerked away from her touch. “Hey honey, just thought I’d see what was taking you so long, I’m so thirsty. Hi.” She turned to the viper, fixing her best professional smile to her lips and offering her hand. “I’m Anastacia, or Ana as Matt prefers to calls me. Pleased to meet you,” she said, charmingly offering her hand.

      The Village Viper gawped for a moment before her eyes widened with recognition and she accepted defeat. She shook her hand and backed off. “You too. See you at the Ball, Matt.” She slithered off back under her rock.

      “You’re welcome,” she whispered in his ear, turning back to their table and re-settling herself in the comfy chair, pleased with a job well done.

      Matt joined her with the drinks, his expression dark. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he complained, shaking his head. “That’s Phyllis Armer, she’s harmless, just lonely.” His eyes darted around the room as if to make sure there was no one around. “Her husband ran off with the mobile hairdresser a few years back. She owns