Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas. Sandra Marton
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Paisley shirt, or something equally suspect. But no, he looked very attractive and sportily masculine in knee-length cargo shorts and a chest-hugging sky-blue top that complimented his fair colouring and showed off his great body.
‘And you too, babe,’ Derek returned, startling Sarah with his choice of endearment, not to mention his leaning over the rather large present he was holding to kiss her full on the mouth, taking his time.
‘You look incredible,’ he said on straightening. ‘Doesn’t she look incredible, everyone?’
Neither Nick nor Chloe said a word.
Sarah flushed with embarrassment, but Derek was undeterred.
‘I hope this fits, babe,’ he said, then pressed the present into her hands. ‘I saw it in a shop window and I thought straight away that it was you to a T.’
Sarah didn’t know whether to be pleased, or afraid of the contents. Derek had a wicked streak in him that was proving to be as entertaining as it was worrying.
‘I … I’ll open it a bit later,’ she hedged. ‘I have to help Nick greet our guests. Which reminds me. Nick, this is Derek,’ she said by way of a formal introduction. ‘Derek, this is Nick, my guardian.’
‘No kidding,’ Derek said as he shook Nick’s hand. ‘I got the impression you’d be older.’
Sarah tried not to laugh. But it was rather funny, seeing the expression on Nick’s face.
‘And I’m Chloe,’ Chloe said with a sickeningly sweet smile. ‘Nick’s girlfriend.’
It never ceased to amaze Sarah how females like Chloe possessed split personalities—a super-sweet one for dealing with the male sex, a super-sour one, for their own.
‘Why don’t you go open your Christmas pressie in private?’ Chloe suggested to Sarah with pretend saccharin-sweetness. ‘I can help Nick answer the door, can’t I, darling? I mean, all of the guests—other than Derek, of course—are Nick’s friends.’
‘What a good idea!’ Sarah said, jumping at the chance to remove herself from Chloe’s irritating presence. Of all Nick’s girlfriends, she disliked this one the most, the conniving, two-faced cow!
‘No, not down there,’ Derek whispered when she grabbed his elbow and began steering him across the foyer towards the sunken family room. ‘Take me upstairs. To your bedroom.’
‘My bedroom!’ she squawked, grinding to a halt.
‘Ssh. Yes, your bedroom,’ he went on softly. ‘Don’t ask why, just do it. And don’t look back at either of those two. Just giggle, and then skip up those stairs with me.’
‘I never giggle.’ She hated females who giggled.
‘You’re going to today. That is, if you don’t want to wonder for the rest of your life what it would be like to spend a night in Mr Dreamy’s bed.’
Sarah finally saw what he was up to. ‘This won’t work, Derek, trust me.’
‘No, you trust me. I know what I’m doing here, Sarah. I’m a master at the art of sexual jealousy. All gays are.’
‘Ssh. Don’t say that out loud.’
‘Then do as you’re told.’
Sarah refused to giggle. But she did laugh, then let Derek usher her with somewhat indecent speed up the stairs.
‘Which room is yours?’ he asked once they reached the landing.
‘The third one on the right.’
‘Nice room,’ he said on closing the door behind them.
‘Nick thinks it’s too girlie. He also thinks I’m too thin now. He still doesn’t fancy me, Derek. You’re wasting your time trying to make him jealous.’
Derek smiled. ‘That’s not the impression I got when I kissed you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I kept my eyes open a fraction and watched your guardian’s reaction over your shoulder.’
‘And?’
‘He hated it. And he hated me. I could feel his hatred hitting me in waves. Then, when he shook my hand he tried to crush my fingers.’
Sarah shook her head as she walked over and placed Derek’s present on her pink quilt. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said as she sat down next to it.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I … Because he … Just because!’ she snapped.
‘You know what, Sarah? I think you’re afraid.’
‘Afraid of what?’
‘Of success. You’ve lived with this fantasy for far too long. It’s time to either let it go, or try to make it real. Which is it to be?’
Sarah thought of lying alone in this bed tonight whilst Nick cavorted with Chloe in his bed. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for several seconds whilst she made up her mind. Then she opened them and looked into Derek’s patiently waiting face.
‘So what’s the plan of action?’
Derek grinned. ‘Stay right where we are, for starters. What time is lunch served?’
‘Actually it’s not served as such. It’s a buffet. Nick usually tries to get everyone heading for the food at one o’clock.’
Derek glanced at his watch. ‘In that case we’ll make a reappearance downstairs at around five to one.’
Sarah frowned. ‘We’re going to stay up here till then?’
‘Yep.’
‘You do realise what Nick is going to think we’re doing.’
‘Yep.’
‘He’ll think I’m a slut!’
‘If I’m right about him, he’ll have trouble thinking at all. Now open your present. And make sure, when you come downstairs, you tell him what I gave you.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
NICK tried to hide his growing agitation, but where the hell was Sarah and what in God’s name was she doing? It didn’t take that long to open one miserable present. Damn it all, it was getting on for one o’clock.
The obvious answer just killed him: she was up in her bedroom, doing unspeakable things with that lounge lizard she was madly in love with and who had obviously pulled the wool over her eyes.
If ever Nick had seen a fortune-hunter it was darling Derek, with his fake smile, his fake blonde hair and his equally fake suntan!
Unfortunately his muscles didn’t look fake, a fact that irritated the death out of Nick. He’d never thought Sarah was the sort of girl whose head could be turned by such superficial attractions. But clearly she was. She even seemed to like being called babe.
Didn’t she know darling Derek probably called every one of his girlfriends babe? Saved him having to remember their names, since it was obvious he didn’t have enough brains to make his head ache.
‘Nick, Jeremy’s talking to you,’ Chloe said somewhat waspishly.
‘What? Oh, sorry.’ Nick dragged his mind away from his mental vitriol to focus back on the man talking to him.
Jeremy was his production company’s location manager. Quite brilliant at his job, and gayer than gay.
‘What were you saying, Jerry?’
Jeremy gave him a sunny smile over the rim of his martini. ‘Just that I’m super-grateful to you for inviting moi for lunch today. Christmas is the one time of year when gays are severely reminded that lots of people are still homophobic.