McBride toyed with the remnants of his coffee. He stirred the last half inch in the cup for the third time and pondered over his next move. It was still early evening, Petra’s hair had dried and the scent of her perfume drifted over him. He wondered what her plans were for the rest of the night and whether he should become part of them.
It wasn’t the first time he had entertained such thoughts and the dilemma was the same. If he blundered in without finesse, he would probably be dismissed as some kind of prick-in-hand merchant – a sexual opportunist with testosterone for brains. Although it might have been a fair description of his approach in other liaisons, it didn’t altogether fit with the way he viewed the detective inspector – not that he was entirely certain of the exact shape of that. What he was convinced of was that he wanted to do nothing to jeopardise the relationship – personal and professional – that was developing between them. The truth was that he was also growing afraid of getting too close.
Life after Caroline had been complicated but simple. Lots of women attracted him but he pursued the ones who shared his needs. Some company. Some conversation. And sex, always sex. But no commitment, never commitment. Easy come, easy go. The guys who marked him down as having a high success rate didn’t understand the game. The trick was to know when a woman was interested. That way you didn’t waste time. Funny thing was that some of the women who wanted the same didn’t know it or wouldn’t admit it to themselves. It was easier for them to pretend their desires were less basic.
McBride was not required to wrestle with his thoughts for long. As he lifted his cup to drain the dregs, a voice sounded behind him. It was quiet, feminine and warm and the accent was neutral. It made a statement and asked a question at the same time. ‘You’re here – and with company,’ it said, the last three words an enquiry.
He turned to look into the face of a blonde who was speaking to Petra but gazing directly back at him. She was about the same age as the policewoman but taller. Her hair was not wet but blow-dried and carefully brushed back. She was wearing an Adidas stretch top and expensively cut casual bottoms that did everything for her athletic figure. If she wasn’t one of the club’s tennis pros, she worked out and regularly, McBride thought. Either way, he was impressed. He was invariably drawn to women who looked after their bodies – for what they achieved as well as what the discipline said about them. When they also possessed neat noses with nostrils that flared, McBride liked them even better.
Anneke Meyer did not play tennis but she most certainly worked out. Two evenings a week, after thirty minutes on a treadmill and a session with loose weights, she attended body combat sessions. Petra was among her classmates but that was not their only contact. Anneke Meyer’s day job was in the laboratory of Tayside Police where she was a senior forensic scientist. Beauty, a little brawn and brains – like a moth being pulled towards the flame, McBride found himself irresistibly drawn.
He was pleased when she accepted Petra’s invitation to join them, sitting on his other side in the curved dining booth and ordering mineral water and a smoked salmon sandwich. A sandwich – McBride repeated the word to himself and smiled inwardly. That was how he felt. In his occasional dreams, he’d imagine himself as the filling in an American sandwich, when he would be placed in bed between two outstanding examples of the female form. It had happened only once, in Northern Ireland, but that didn’t count because the amount of drink the three of them had consumed to get them there had produced only incompetence, impotence and somnolence. Now, seated between two perfect specimens, he pondered on how differently he would react if given a second opportunity – in his dreams.
The conversation he had with the two of them was light, impersonal and sporting. They spoke of a forthcoming 10k women’s road race and the closest they came to mentioning a threesome was when Petra and Anneke discussed the viability of them joining with a third runner to form a team. When more water was ordered, he knew it was time to depart with his fantasies intact.
He took his leave with the promise to Petra that he would follow up on their earlier dialogue and hoped she would do the same, trying to sound vague enough not to prompt interest from Anneke.
McBride was barely past the reception desk on his way out when the exchange between the two women swiftly altered direction.
‘Nice.’ The body combat instructor nodded her head in approval as she watched his retreating figure.
‘Him or his bum?’ Petra asked, light-hearted but curious.
‘Both.’
Petra smiled but made no reply.
‘So, what’s the state of play between you? Sorry if I broke something up by gatecrashing your meal.’
‘No – nothing like that. Just a kind of friend,’ Petra said by way of explanation. ‘I’ve known him since I was at school – sort of.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing. That’s it. He’s come back to town and we’ve met up a couple of times. No more – zero, zilch.’
‘Whose idea is that?’
Petra felt her cheeks flush once more, this time without the assistance of a gym workout. ‘Mine … his … both of us, probably. He’s just a friend. Besides, he’s a serial shagger.’ She surprised both of them with the strength of her comment.
‘Oh, like that, is it?’ Anneke laughed, loudly enough to attract glances from a group of silver-haired aqua-aerobic enthusiasts in the adjoining booth. ‘Is that a complaint or a compliment?’ She giggled again.
Petra’s flush deepened. She struggled to find a suitable response but failed. Her customary poise had disappeared.
‘OK, relax. Just wanting to know how interested you are. Wouldn’t want to tread on any toes.’