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‘And I’ll have the Thai fish curry, thanks.’ Miranda handed the menu to the waiter, and while Sam continued his phone conversation, she mentally reviewed her ideal man list:Lover of fine food and wine – check!
He ended his phone call. ‘Sorry about that, it was my brother. I’m in the process of selling his house.’
‘Do you have any other siblings?’ Miranda rested her elbows on the table and her chin on her entwined fingers as she began the ‘getting-to-know-you’ conversation.
‘No, just him. He’s a lawyer, and he’s pretty set on the price he wants, so I’ll keep negotiating until we get the best deal.’
‘Sounds like you’re good at your job.’
‘As I said to you earlier, I do what I need to do to make things happen.’ He winked.
The wine arrived and they clinked their glasses together, toasting Miranda’s move and Sam’s impending deal. Miranda told him about her job at Harbourside Towers, and how she’d be finishing her beauty therapy qualifications in the middle of the year.
‘Will you give up your hotel job to do beauty therapy full time?’ asked Sam.
‘Depends what jobs are available. I still like working in hotel reception, so I might try a part-time job first. I’m hoping the hotel’s salon might even have an opening.’
‘What about running your own business?’ He topped up her wine glass, then his. It was good to have a glass in her hand as it stopped her from over-gesticulating and swishing wine around the restaurant.
‘I’d like that eventually, but first I think it’s a good idea to – ’
He held up his hand as his phone rang again. ‘Excuse me again, Miranda.’ He held the phone to his ear.
Ignoring the little jolt of annoyance inside, Miranda sipped her wine, glancing around the room; couples with intertwined hands resting on tables, friends toasting each other, and business deals being finalised. She’d have to come here with Trisha sometime. They’d hardly seen each other since the wedding.
‘Now, where were we?’ Sam scratched his head. ‘Oh yes, you want to set up your own business eventually.’
‘Eventually. What about you, have you ever thought of opening your own real estate agency?’
‘I have, but things are really good for me right now, and as I like to say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ Sam guzzled more wine, and the waiter set the meals down on the table.
‘Do you get much time off from your job?’ asked Miranda, wondering if he ever let his phone out of his sight for more than a minute.
‘The odd day, but I need to be available all the time. Keeps the clients happy. Happy clients mean better deals.’
Sam spoke further about his job and how he came to live in Sydney, throwing in a few jokes for good measure, and an affectionate pat of her hand as he recounted another funny story from his thirteen-year history in the industry. Even though his ringtone was getting on Miranda’s nerves – his phone ringing another three times – Sam had ticked almost every item on her checklist. Miranda desperately wanted to tick off another, but thought it best not to bring up the topic of childrenjustyet. She’d made that mistake on a previousdate, not realising until her date didn’t return from the bathroom.
Sam paid for the meals, and by the time they left the restaurant, Miranda felt qualified enough to start selling houses tomorrow after the crash course she’d received. They strolled along the harbour, where teenagers dangled their legs over the boardwalk. Laughter and music blared from a party onboard a nearby boat. The city: just as alive now as during the day.
‘I never get sick of this.’ Sam waved his hand around, and they stopped near a tree embedded into a cut-out square of pavement.
‘Me neither.’ Miranda took in the many lights from skyscrapers, street lamps, and the moon, reflecting on the rippling water in the harbour like glistening jewels.
Sam turned to face her and slid his hands into hers. His eyes glistening too, she knew what was coming and her heart beat faster in anticipation. He leaned in and lightly pressed her lips with his. Miranda softened, and for some reason she imagined harp music in the background. She always had a strange habit of spontaneously conjuring up music to the memorable moments in her life, and was often surprised at what she heard. Sometimes it would be modern day pop songs, other times; eighties and nineties rock ballads. She’d told her first boyfriend, Malcolm, that every time she saw him at school, the song ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ played in her mind, so he made her a mixed CD with that song included. However, two weeks later, he gave a mixed CD to another girl, and ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ was replaced in Miranda’s mind by Alanis Morissette’s ‘You Oughta Know’.
As their kiss continued, the harp music morphed into arhythmic acoustic guitar number, then rapidly switched to a familiar tune...
Wait, how did Mission Impossible make its way into my soundtrack of kissing music?
Sam broke the kiss and answered his phone.
You’ve gotta be kidding me!
‘Okay, mate, no worries.’ He pocketed the phone. ‘Sorry, Miranda, that was my brother’s nine-year-old son, he accidentally called my number. I don’t know how my brother does it; four kids and a full-time career, I won’t be following in his footsteps in a hurry!’
A wave of disappointment washed over Miranda and the high from the kiss plummeted to a familiar low. Hormones pulled her in one direction, while her heart and logic pulled her in another. She usually stuck it out for at least three dates before deciding a guy wasn’t worth her time, but thanks to her looming deadline and the accountability of The Club, she had to be pickier and more discerning from now on.
She wouldnotsettle for second best.
