An Autumn Crush Read Free Page A

lungs.
    ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Coco. ‘How about something to occupy the time between now and you becoming Mrs Winstanley-Black?’
    Ooh, that sounded good, thought Juliet. She mouthed the words ‘Juliet Winstanley-Black’ and thought it made her sound like a magistrate. ‘Like what?’
    ‘Internet dating.’
    ‘Internet dating?’ echoed Juliet. ‘What’s brought this on?’
    ‘I’m bored,’ said Coco. ‘I’m seeing all the same faces at all the same clubs and I want some fresh meat.’
    ‘Get to Barry the Butcher’s then on Lamb Street.’
    ‘Ho ho. Marlene my Deputy Manager met her fiancé online. And her cousin is going out with an architect that she met on the same Singlebods site. So they aren’t all Jeremy
Kyle rejects that sign up to these things. Oh come on, it’ll be fun. And I need something to take my mind off Darren.’
    At that moment Juliet heard the velvet voice of Piers Winstanley-Black say ‘Good morning’ to the receptionist.
    ‘Okay, count me in,’ hurried Juliet. ‘Laters. He’s here,’ and she had just enough time to end the call, run her fingers through her long, black sheen of hair and
stick out her tits.
    Amanda and Daphne, who shared the same office, were also having a quick hair-primp and straightening their backs. Would he come in and choose one to go upstairs to his office to ‘take
something down’? they all hoped collectively.
    Piers Winstanley-Black. Owner of a prestigious family hyphen and, as from four years ago, partner at Butters, Black & Lofthouse where Juliet had worked since leaving college and was now the
most efficient legal secretary in the history of the place. Not that it stood her in good stead with ‘the boy from Ipanema’ as her twin brother Guy called Piers. Just like the song,
Piers Winstanley-Black was tall and tanned and long and lovely with a flashing white smile that made Simon Cowell’s look grey by comparison. He drove fast cars, wore sharp suits that
accentuated his broad shoulders and trim gym-toned waist, hand-made shoes and expensive Italian aftershave of which Coco would have mightily approved. Despite being months away from turning forty,
he had never married – although Juliet suspected he had a little black book full of women just waiting for him to call and propose. He emerged every so often from his own arse to acknowledge
his gorgeousness and witness himself sending a million champagne bubbles of erotic shivers down female spines. He did well to milk it now for all it was worth, since in ten years’ time,
Juliet thought, he might have jowls like a Basset Hound and a bald patch the size of Mars.
    Despite all three women having puffed themselves up with breathless anticipation, his eyes didn’t even touch any of them as he passed by the open door. There was obviously a long wait to
be had until Juliet could carve her double-barrel onto their joint four-poster bedhead.
    Daphne let her breath out. ‘If I were only twenty years younger . . .’
    ‘You’d still be fifteen years too old for his tastes,’ laughed Juliet. ‘Even Amanda is too old and she’s twenty-five.’
    ‘Tell me about it,’ huffed Amanda. ‘Plus he likes blondes with legs up to the ceiling and boobies like beachballs.’ At four foot eleven with short dark hair and a AA
chest, she knew that Piers Winstanley-Black was more likely to look at blonde Daphne than her.
    ‘If I roll my boobs up from my knees, I might be able to turn his eye,’ chuckled Daphne.
    ‘Daf, don’t be gross. And I do believe it’s your turn to put on the kettle,’ said Juliet, in her best mock-authoritarian voice.
    ‘Aye, lass,’ said Daphne, getting to her feet. ‘A cup of tea instead of sex. Story of my life.’
    ‘And sadly mine,’ replied Juliet, wondering what the magic key was to make Piers Winstanley-Black see her with man eyes. There had to be a key – with men there always was.

 
Chapter 3
    Juliet’s parents managed to restrain themselves until