Temptation
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‘No thanks, I’m waiting for someone,’ said Jenny. The man who had offered to buy her a drink withdrew, shaking his head. Jenny shrugged her pretty shoulders. Okay, so she had been sitting at the bar long enough for the ice cubes to have melted in her orange juice, but it was true. She was waiting – for the right man. Not just anyone would do.

She looked up hopefully as the pub door opened again. A sigh of relief escaped her as she studied the newcomer. He was carrying a briefcase with an evening paper tucked under one arm. He looked a typical city executive type, popping in for a quick drink after work before catching the tube.

Jenny’s eyes narrowed contemplatively and she sighed. He was a real hunk, very dishy indeed.

The barman was already pouring what must have been his regular gin and tonic.

Jenny knew she looked stunning, but she turned sideways just to make sure. Her honey-blonde hair glowed in the mirror tiles behind the bar. Thin strands of gold jewellery winked discreetly against creamy white skin, and her low-cut dress in crimson silk shimmered with every movement.

The man glanced at her and she smiled. But then he looked away hurriedly and downed half his gin and tonic in one gulp. A minute later she caught his eye again and his tanned cheeks took on a ruddy hue.

Irritably, Jenny peered into her glass, swilling the dregs of her orange juice. All men were the same, only after one thing. So what was his problem? Did he need another drink before he took the plunge? Oh, do hurry up. This is getting boring.

‘Mind if I join you?’ asked a rich, bass voice at her elbow.

Jenny looked up, startled, and there he was! Ten minutes later they were chatting like old friends.

He said his name was Damon, and naturally he wanted to know what had reduced a classy woman like her to picking up men in pub bars.

‘I’ve been working on the continent for awhile. You know programming… contract work,’ explained Jenny. ‘I got back a couple of days ago, and my old friends work too hard to find much time during the week. So here I am starting up my own social life.’

‘In here?’ Damon’s arresting dark eyes looked baffled. She found his tanned good looks very attractive, and the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled were simply adorable. ‘Granted, a beautiful woman needs a social life, but this is rather – um – an extreme way of going about it, wouldn’t you say?”

‘It’s what I prefer. And so do you, or you wouldn’t be sitting here talking to me,’ was her even reply as she gazed at him coolly. ‘A casual encounter. Parting with no regrets. Satisfaction without strings. Doesn’t that suit you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ agreed Damon quickly, his eyes shifting hurriedly away, as if rather overwhelmed at her frankness. Then he seemed to recover himself. ‘Another drink?’ he asked. Jenny saw that his face now wore a lopsided grin. Only he probably thought it was suitably rakish in the circumstances. The fragile male ego fortified by alcohol!

Jenny nodded, not trusting herself to speak. A familiar despair washed over her. She’d hoped he would be different. This time, just this once, she had willed it with all her heart. Now, painful memories clouded her eyes.

It had happened five years ago. It had been her younger sister Alison’s 21st birthday party. But the real star had been Jenny. She’d looked radiant. Everyone could see she was in love with Phil. Most had been invited to their wedding a week away.

They were inseparable – until a minor lovers’ tiff halfway through the party. But everyone nodded wisely; these things happened, they would be back together soon.

And so they were, but something was wrong. Phil’s handsome face was gloomy and Jenny was holding back the tears. Late at night when the guests were leaving Jenny rushed to Alison.

‘Ali, have you seen Phil?’ she asked frantically. But one look at the anguish on her sister’s face and Jenny knew the worst. She threw herself in Alison’s arms and cried as if her heart would break. And it did. Because Phil had been seen leaving with Gisela, a beautiful young divorcee and a notorious flirt. It was to her that he had turned for sympathy after quarrelling with Jenny.

Phil had turned up early the next morning. He had asked Jenny’s forgiveness while standing in the doorway reeking of Gisela’s cheap perfume. Blubbering like a seal, he blamed it all on the beer. It was disgusting. She knew she could never trust him again. It was over.

‘Was it something I said?’ asked Damon.

Jenny looked up to see he had returned with their drinks. She shivered.

‘No. But stay with me now, Damon. I don’t fancy being on my own this evening.’

‘Of course I will.’ He took her hand and squeezed it gently, his touch firm and reassuring. ‘As bad as that?’ he enquired with genuine concern.

Jenny looked up into his kindly face and nodded.

‘It’s just something that comes over me sometimes. My parents died a couple of years ago. Look… I don’t mean to be a turn-off.’

‘You’re not. In fact you’re very beautiful when you’re looking lost and frightened. Did you know that?’

She smiled weakly. He certainly wasn’t too great on the originality front. Maybe he didn’t do this sort of thing very often. But then she noticed that Damon’s eyes had darkened to a deep charcoal grey. Trying not to be too obvious, she disengaged her hand from his own.

Jenny hoped he wouldn’t be difficult in the morning when he got the boot. Because lovely man though he was, Damon couldn’t be trusted. No man could, they always gave in to temptation. She could prove it any time, as she was fond of boasting to her few women friends. And they knew she could, and they feared her for it.

‘You’ve gone rather pale,’ commented Damon. ‘Maybe right now a spot to eat would do you more good than another drink. Fancy dinner?’ he asked.

‘I don’t mean to put you out…’ she began.

‘Not at all,’ he cut in swiftly. ‘The pleasure will be mine,’ he added, looking deep into her eyes.

Quite a decent chap, mused to Jenny. Just the kind of man women were quick to fall in love with. Intelligent and thoughtful too, as she learned over dinner. He didn’t ask too many questions, and neither did she. It was best this way. He was accepting her terms.

They dined at a little Greek restaurant on the softest kebabs and the fluffiest white bread. The Retsina was cool and sharp – and quite strong. Soon they were letting their knees brush together more often beneath the tiny wooden table. Jenny began enjoying herself with a rare abandon.

Damon was witty and made her laugh a lot. Jenny found it natural to reach for his hand in their moments of shared enjoyment. Soon Jenny was looking forward to being in his arms.

‘I think we should go now. I’ve had such a wonderful time,’ she murmured when she caught Damon glancing discreetly at his watch.

Damon paid the bill and Jenny put a companionable arm around his waist. Leaning against each other, they stepped outside.

It was raining as they hailed a taxi. Giggling all the way, they reached her flat. Jenny fumbled with the key and Damon took her hand in his own to steady it. Together they opened the door. She stepped inside and turned to embrace him for their first kiss, to guide him gently inside out of the pouring rain – except that she couldn’t.

He had gone as stiff as a board. Tenderly he took her arms from around his neck.

‘I’m sorry, Jenny. I can’t.’

‘What?’ she asked, heavy-eyed and unsure she had heard right.

‘I have to leave now. It was a mistake. Can’t explain, but thanks for a fantastic evening.’

In a daze she watched him leave, for the first time noticing that he’d made the taxi wait.

Jenny felt her heart lift up on a wave of pure joy. Quivering all over with happiness she dashed to the phone.

‘Alison? It’s me. Great news. Damon stayed true to you. He passed the test. Go ahead and marry him, you have my blessing.’

As her sister began to thank her for the favour Jenny wiped her cheeks dry, unaware that tears had mingled with the rain.

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