Champagne Kisses by Amanda Brunker Read Free Book Online

spent giving it a glamorous new century makeover, and while the dotcoms have moved in, not all of the undesirables have moved out.
    My neighbour Mrs O’Flaherty had once told me about St Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. She said if I prayed to him, he’d take care of me. In light of recent events I had attempted an occasional chat with the fella.
    But I think my waffling had fallen on deaf ears. He must have thought I was beyond lost.
    Buzz … Buzz … Buzz … I hammered at the intercom. ‘Let me in, it’s Eva.’
    ‘Ohh, hello my little marriage-wrecker,’ gushed Parker. ‘Move it on up, girlfriend.’ Buzz.
    The lift doors opened and I pulled on a weak mask of a smile. Parker greeted me with his usual pose. The music in the mirrored lift may have been Bach, but Parker quickly changes the tune to totally diva.
    He ushered me through to his bachelor-style grey and black living room, giving me the inquisitive, once-over eye. ‘Well, tickle
you
pink, you don’t look bad for a woman on the edge. A little fleshy around the gills but that’s to be expected after your hibernation. But not bad, Miss Valentine, not bad at all I must say.’
    ‘Thank you, Parker. Your support is super-generous and appreciated.’
    ‘OK, enough about you, I’m in the middle of some text flirting. Quick, grab a glass, I need your help.’
    Knowing my grievances would fall on deaf ears, I pulled a large John Rocha out of one of the smoked-glass units in his stainless steel kitchen, and filled it to the brim with the ever-ready supply of pink bubbly which Parker keeps in the freezer. Why in the freezer? Well, it’s just never left there long enough for it to fully freeze.
    ‘So who are we toying with tonight then?’ I asked, strutting back into the room with my glass and the bottle and staring out the large glass patio doors overlooking the city and the River Liffey.
    ‘The builder boy,’ he beamed.
    ‘Which one is he?’
    ‘The buff puff with the scar on his chin, that I met a couple of months ago. His family are worth millions, don’t you know. Well, he pretends to be straight, but he really loves the boys.’
    ‘Nah, I don’t remember him.’ I found it hard to keep up with his conquests.
    ‘Who cares, it doesn’t matter …’
    ‘Hang on a minute, I do remember him. I thought you said his hairy back freaked you out.’
    ‘Ha! Yeah that’s the guy. But it was his hands that were hairy. Anyway, I’d forgotten all about him until this evening. But he started texting about half an hour ago asking me to meet him. What should I do?’
    ‘Ignore him. What’s the point if you don’t like him?’
    ‘Yeah, but he also mentioned that he wanted to fly me – get this – in his own plane to London for the weekend. Apparently there’s some society party with loads of celebrity types that his company is sponsoring, and he wants me to go with him. What should I do? I didn’t realize he was a pilot as well. How cool is that?’
    ‘I’d say arctic. Need anyone to carry the bags?’
    ‘Maybe, let’s ask him … So, builder boy. How big is ure – plane?’
    Like children we sat giggling around the phone waiting for his reply and swilling on the already half-empty bottle of Laurent Perrier rosé. The bubbles had started to go to my head, and I relaxed into ole Valentine mode.
    Beep. Beep. ‘1 Message Received’ flashed up in Parker’s phone.
    ‘BUILDER BOY: It’s always large with me babe x x.’
    Not wanting to let the moment pass, I grabbed the phone and texted back, ‘Are you writing cheques you can’t cash?’
    Thinking I was decidedly witty I refused to let Parker have his phone back, convinced of a great reply, and ordered him to top up my glass.
    Beep. Beep. ‘1 Message Received BUILDER BOY:????’
    ‘Ah, crap.’
    ‘What did he say?’
    ‘Absolutely nothing. Look, he only sent back question marks. He’s no fun.’
    ‘Shut up. Let me have a go.’
    ‘Builder Boy, since ure plane is sooo big, can I bring