Page 37 of Sparring Partners
Luca claimed a place on a small Chesterfield on the edge of the group and Adrian went to the bar, waiting his turn behind a press of customers. Finally served, and a couple of steps short of the Chesterfield, he stumbled back as Jonathan shot in front of him, blocking his path.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t attend the meeting,” Jonathan announced to the group, as he peeled off his jacket. “Work, I’m afraid, all very last minute. Luca,” he said, smiling, “I’m sure you can fill me in? Perhaps over dinner?—”
“Excuse me.” Adrian smiled, tight and hard, as he angled past Jonathan, resisting the urge to shoulder him out of the way, and sat down next to Luca. “G&T as ordered.”
Luca took it with a mumble of thanks.
“I can make a booking for us at Le Bistro.” Ignoring Adrian, Jonathan scrolled through his phone.
“Sorry, Jonathan, but not this evening. I’m only staying for one, for Oliver’s birthday. I really do have to get back to the hotel quite soon.”
“Really? I was hoping we could have a quiet evening together.” Jonathan threw a glance at Adrian, who grinned up at him, not caring that he was being an arsehole.
Adrian’s grin was starting to hurt as he leant forward. “In your absence, you were nominated to run the meat raffle.”
Jonathan spluttered. “Meat raffle? What in god’s name?—”
“Hmm, you know. It’s a raffle. To win meat. Piles and piles of it. Always very popular. Last year, somebody won a whole pig carcass.”
“I am not pulling out raffle tickets for somebody to win sausages, chops, or any other portion of a dead animal. I’m a committed vegetarian.And I certainly wasn’t aware that we’d be doing something likethat.”
Adrian shrugged. “Best speak to Eva.”
“Luca? Did you know about this?”
“Well—”
“My understanding was that I’d take on the key role as liaison with the restaurants.”
“Ryan’s doing all that,” Adrian cut in. “Seems sensible, given that he’s lived here all his life and is in the hospitality business. He knows all the restaurateurs well. Including the owners of Le Bistro.” Adrian shrugged. “Meat’s still food, and it’s a popular part of the fête. Sorry, I mean festival. It’s a remnant of the rough and ready rural event it used to be. Being meat master’s an important job. Cheers.” Adrian raised his glass in salute.
Ticket sixty-six for two pound of sausages, a dozen chicken legs, four pound of liver, and a couple of trotters goes to…
“I’m not happy about this. Not at all. I’ll speak to Eva privately.” Jonathan swung around and made for the bar.
“He’s so bloody pompous.”
“No, he’s not. And it was rather dumped on him in his absence. I’ve told you, he’s very?—”
“Nice. Yes, you’ve said. Is that what you want? Nice? Oh, I’m sorry,” he said when Luca glared. “Am I being a dick?”
“Yes. Totally. You’re off the scale.”
“I don’t like the way he seems to see it as his right to?—”
“To what?”
Adrian’s gaze settled on Luca’s, seeing the question in his eyes. “To make some kind of statement about you. And him. You said he’s not your boyfriend, but he still wants to claim you as his.”
Luca’s eyes widened and his lips parted. Adrian’s gaze dipped to Luca’s mouth, the muscles deep in his belly tingling as the taste and feel of those lips flooded his brain and stoked a fire in his blood.
“Jesus, Adrian.” Luca’s voice was as unsteady as he looked, his glass shaking in his hand. “He doesn’t have any claim on me. Nobody does.”
“Then you should let him know. Every time the guy so much as looks your way his tongue’s hanging so far out of his mouth it’s almost licking his boots.”
“Oh, come on, that’s?—”
“Eva claims she’s too busy to discuss this ridiculous meat raffle idea, even though she seems perfectly happy to gossip with that hair dresser woman.”
