A Perfect Life by Raffaella Barker

on the hem of her skirt. She catches his eye and he knows that she knows he has been looking at her more than he has looked at the loft space.
    He clears his throat. ‘So, this is the bedroom, is it?’
    Carrie is leaning against a column, her back to the window. Close to her, Nick breathes in her scent, and her scent is sex. He thrusts his hands into his pockets. She wants him, he is sure. Or as sure as he ever is in anticipation.
    â€˜Yes, there is the option to build a platform, too, for a second sleeping area here.’
    Nick swivels towards her, Carrie puts her hands into the small of her back and arches her spine, and she looks up at him from under her lashes. He is pretty sure she will be sensational in bed, he’s got four nights here and there are a lot of apartments he can look at with her. Why waste any more time?
    â€˜Shall we go for a drink?’ he says.
    â€˜It’s lunchtime.’
    â€˜I know.’
    * * *
    Nick pulls open the door of the brasserie and Carrie walks through in front of him. Inside, a marble-topped bar is crowded with people sitting at it. The espresso machine hisses, waiters carrying plates of oysters weave between the mass of bodies, bending and yielding to find the line of least resistance. Nick puts his hand on Carrie’s waist to guide her, and he could swear that she softens and moves closer. She is separated from him for a moment by a waiter spinning with a tray of empty coffee cups, and in that instant Nick steps closer to the bar to get out of the way. A girl on a stool reaches out and touches his arm.
    â€˜Hey,’ she says. She has slanting dark eyes and a diamond stud in her tongue. Her lips are dark, like good red wine, and her teeth are small and even. Nick is bewildered. The girl smells of spice and incense, expensive and complicated.
    She must have mistaken him for someone, or maybe the person she wants is behind him. He looks round, but there is no one. The girl is smiling at him, so she must be someone he knows, but who and from where? He searches as fast as he can through his mind to find out who she is.
    â€˜Would you like to come and buy me a drink, or are you with her?’ She shoots a sly glance towards Carrie, who is further down the bar now, perched up on a stool, running her fingers through her hair and looking back to see where Nick is.
    Nick realises that he doesn’t know this woman after all – she is picking him up. This is thrilling. And so unexpected. What a waste that it has happened nowwhen he is hot on the trail of Carrie. Two sensational chicks – the obvious thought flashes across his mind for a luxury moment – ‘Two!’ but he dismisses it right away – it is just too difficult to pull off. Undoubtedly he would be left with none, or worse, two very cross women. He looks at Carrie. She has taken off her sunglasses, and leans her elbow on the bar playing with her hair, shifting in her chair. She glances down the bar again to Nick and the stranger and tosses her hair back before reaching into her handbag. Any minute now she will leave. Nick needs to act fast. Decision time.
    â€˜Yes, I am with her.’ Blinking regretfully – this girl has great tits under a soft, tight, brown velvet top – he steps away. Making a mock-sad face, she reaches for her drink, sipping from the straw. She looks up at him with a sideways smile.
    Christ, she’s even got dimples – that is cute, Nick sighs.
    â€˜Lucky for her, pity for me,’ she murmurs. Nick laughs, moving away, his testosterone flying now as he slides on to the stool next to Carrie.
    The barman is there immediately. ‘What can I get you, sir?’
    Nick raises his eyebrow at Carrie.
    â€˜I’d like a Diet Coke,’ she says.
    â€˜And I’ll have an espresso and a soda water. No ice, no lemon.’ Nick has to press both feet firmly on to the floor and shove his hands into his pockets to stop himself seizing Carrie