It was handy that he lived right next door to her in this old apartment block. All she had to do was ask and either Josh or his partner, Larry Berger, would help her with anything she needed help with. Gay men, she had decided long ago, could make the very best friends for a woman.
Even before she had known Josh was gay, back in their school days, she had really liked him as a person and they’d been good friends. He was kind and sensitive and supportive, as well as being great fun.
She had been grateful to have him as her boyfriend then, being able to go out as a couple without any of the hassle of being pressured to have sex. Some boys could get mean and nasty in pushing their wants. Some men, too, she’d found in later years. Even the few relationships she’d enjoyed for a while had lost their shine with the build-up of selfish demands. On the whole, her mother was right. Men wanted women on their own terms and being fair didn’t come into the equation.
Josh was always sweet relief from all that. His company had no price-tag on it. He was safe and safe was good. She couldn’t get into any trouble with Josh Rogan. He didn’t feel any sexual desire for her and she didn’t feel any for him. In fact, he was the perfect foil to her ungovernable feelings towards James Hancock, whom, in her wilder fantasies, she’d like to handcuff to her bed and watch him go mad with lust for her.
Which she knew was absurd!
James Hancock was never going to see her as anything but his worthy secretary. But no way was she going to let him think the only man she could attract was a boring accountant!
Having emerged from the stairwell, she bypassed her apartment door and strode straight to Josh’s, ringing his doorbell with an emphatic need for a swift response.
He was satisfyingly prompt in opening the door. ‘Lucy love!’ His eyebrows arched over merry brown eyes. ‘A change in plan?’
‘Yes,’ she snarled as a fresh rush of venom spilled onto her tongue. ‘My beastly employer thinks my escort this evening will be an accountant.’
‘Like…boring?’
Very quick on the uptake was Josh. ‘Exactly,’ she confirmed. ‘In retaliation I told him you were hot stuff.’
‘Absolutely! When I’m hot I literally sizzle with high octane energy. You want me to sizzle?’
‘I want you to burn him up. And Josh, wear that gorgeous metallic waistcoast and the blue silk tie.’
‘A touch of flamboyance with the formal suit?’
‘Shining is the order of the night.’
‘Lucy love, I shall glitter for you.’
‘Not too much,’ she warned. ‘You’re not to let anyone guess you’re gay.’
‘Totally straight behaviour, I promise.’
She heaved a sigh to relieve all the horrid pent-up feelings James Hancock had left her with today. ‘I need to get that guy, Josh.’
‘In more ways than one I gather.’
She eyed him wryly. ‘Hopeless case, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, little miracles can happen.’ He grinned, gleeful mischief twinkling in his eyes. ‘Trust me. We’ll make the man see you in a different light tonight.’
‘I’ll still be me, Josh.’
‘And so you should be. It’s his vision at fault, Lucy love, not you,’ he assured her. ‘Now go and put your glitter gear on and practice some sultry looks in the mirror. If I sizzle and you simmer…’
Despite the dejection that had suddenly overtaken her anger, she laughed at the picture he painted. ‘I’m not exactly a sex-pot and he’ll be with one. Buffy Tanner, the swimsuit model with the overflowing D-cup.’
Josh gestured an airy dismissal. ‘You’re fixated on big boobs. Superficial padding.’
‘Padding or not, I wish mine were bigger.’
‘Sexy is more in the attitude than the equipment,’ came the knowing advice. ‘And one other thing. Best to turn up late.’
‘I’m never late. I don’t like being late,’ she protested.
Sheer wickedness sparkled back at her. ‘But I’m hot stuff, Lucy love, and you just couldn’t resist having me. Punctuality shot to hell!’
She couldn’t help laughing again. ‘I doubt he’d even notice, Josh.’
‘Oh, he’ll notice all right.’ He waggled his eyebrows as he elaborated. ‘His predictable little secretary suddenly not fitting the frame he’s put her in. Believe me. He’ll notice.’
‘Well, I don’t actually need to be there on time,’ she argued to her obsession for punctuality. ‘He did say the tickets were free, no work-strings attached.’
‘There you are then,’ Josh asserted triumphantly. ‘Off you go. I’ll bring you a gin cocktail at seven-thirty. Some Mother’s Ruin to put you in the right party mood.’
They should be leaving at seven-thirty, her time-keeping brain dictated. It would take half an hour to get from Bellevue Hill to Darling Harbour, park Josh’s car, walk to the Sydney Convention Centre where the fund-raising ball was being held in the main auditorium. Cocktails in the foyer from eight o’clock the tickets read.
But so what if she had a cocktail here? The world would not come to an end if she didn’t turn up on the dot of eight o’clock. Why not be unpredictable for once?
‘Okay. And thanks, Josh.’ She flashed him an appreciative smile. ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed.’
The very best of friends, she thought warmly as she left him and let herself into her own apartment. Even this place, which was now hers—with a hefty mortgage—Josh had advised her was a good buy, if she could scrape up the money. The previous owners, now a divorced couple, had wanted a quick sale, and Lucy had stepped into a bargain, considering the real estate values in this location, midway between the inner city and Bondi Beach.
Walking into her very own space always gave her spirits a lift. James Hancock could call her a money-grubber as much as he liked. At least she didn’t have to depend on a man to provide her with the security of a home, which wasn’t secure at all if there was a divorce. Her careful savings over the years had added up to a solid down payment on this apartment. She was now a woman of property and she’d achieved it by herself.
Her mother was definitely right.
Being sensible did bring its own rewards.
Yet as Lucy headed for her bedroom, she wished she had splashed out and bought a glamorous gown for tonight. Although her one little black dress was perfectly adequate for any evening engagement, it was…boring. Not that it really mattered, she told herself. It was still a classy dress, bought cheaply from a secondhand designer boutique, and it would do…once again. She couldn’t compete with Buffy Tanner anyway. No point in trying. And the money saved would go towards buying the furniture she wanted.