Chapter 2.
The visiting manager from head office was 42 years old. He was reserved, efficient, highly successful, and (as Jennifer Brown had been quick to appreciate) quite handsome.
Today, however, he was not feeling efficient or successful, he was feeling deeply frustrated. He had planned to spend two days in this one-horse town getting the company's regional office in order, but he had apparently underestimated both the scale of the job and the incomptence of the middle managers. The only person who was of any use at all was the bloody secretary. But today not even she had managed to turn up. It was looking as though he would have to extend his booking at the local hotel to the end of the week, and he was not happy about it.
He was still glowering as he stalked through the foyer of his hotel, carrying his briefcase and heading for his room. He paused in front of the lifts, then suddenly changed his mind and turned away, making instead for the busy lobby bar.
'Whiskey on the rocks,' he muttered to the bartender. 'Room 16.'
At the sound of his voice a woman a few barstools away stiffened, and flashed him a glance. She looked away again almost immediately, almost as though she was embarrased, which was a little odd. He shrugged and picked up his drink, but in the absence of anything else interesting to look at he found his gaze drifting back to the woman at the bar.
She was worth the second glance, he decided. Her hair was loose and thick, and dyed a firey red which was quite arresting. She was a bit on the plump side but she was wearing a tight black skirt that hugged her bum and legs all the way to her knees, a wide red belt, and a white blouse unbuttoned over a generous cleavage. Someone had done her makeup in great dramatic style, with red lips and sweeping dark eyeliner.
He realised he was not the only one observing. Out of the corner of those sexily painted eyes she was watching him too. Well, he was here alone for another night and it had been a shit day, what was the harm in a little conversation. If it came to nothing he'd still have something nice to think about while he masturbated later.
He closed the short distance between them.
"Good evening," he said. But that was all.
The woman was looking straight at him, a little quizically, her cheeks a little flushed, her spine very straight. But after a couple of beats she almost seemed to relax a little, and she replied, just a little hoarsely, "Hello."
"Can I buy you a drink?"
She smiled slightly. "Yes. Yes you can. Better make it a double, though."
He inclined his head. "Certainly. A double what?"
"Oh, a double anything actually. Whiskey. Vodka. Rocket fuel."
"Has it been a bad day?" He barely took his eyes from her as he placed an order with the bartender.
Her drink arrived and she took a quick gulp, grimacing slightly, then half-smiled. "A bad day? No. It's been a ... revealing day." She met his gaze, again with that slightly secretive, inquiring look. "I hope, however, that it's going to end a very good day indeed."
