Slaying Goliath

Chapter 3

He was kicking himself. He'd lost her number. He'd had it in the car and he'd picked it up when he'd got out of the vehicle. But that was the last time he remembered seeing it. He was stuffed.

He had spent all week searching and was pulling his hair out. He didn't know her last name and couldn't recall what division she said she worked in. All he could remember that she said something about Friendly accountancy or something like that. But Sam had assured him that there was nothing friendly about accountancy. The event was run by the Accounting Firm, MS&T, and he knew that she worked for them. He had gotten Sam to ring them, asking for her, but they wouldn't put him through without more information.

He'd considered driving down to her flat and knocking on the door. It wasn't that simple though. She worked during the day and he worked in the evenings. He didn't really think that turning up at midnight would be appropriate.

This week wasn't a good week for him. The show started on Thursday and they were still rehearsing and making sure all the lights, sounds and stages were ready. He couldn't run off. He would have to wait until Saturday. She would be home Saturday and he could drive down there in the morning and surprise her. He realised that this might make him look like a stalker, but he was running out of options. He had to see her again.

But, that was where his planning ended. He had no idea what he'd do if she opened the door. It wasn't like he could explain why he was there, opening and closing his mouth like a silent goldfish. He'd look like a serious idiot. She'd probably call the cops. He dropped his head into his hands. He had to find her. It didn't matter if he looked like a complete loser. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't try.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was Friday. He hadn't rung. She knew this because she'd had the phone attached to her constantly. She'd even taken it into the bathroom while she showered, just in case. She become one of those pathetic women who waited, biting nails, for something that wasn't going to come.

She blamed his kiss. She wasn't a virgin and she wasn't naïve but when he kissed her she felt like she was sixteen years old and being kissed for the first time. When his lips touched her, every prior experience seemed insignificant, inadequate and forgettable. She was positive that from that point in time going forward, every kiss and every touch would be equally as bland unless it was coming from that man. In one kiss he'd managed to make her want to re-write her book.

Belinda Compton had a well-established story. She knew where she was from and she knew where she was going. She had plans for her future both career-wise and relationship-wise. Once she'd ticked all her boxes regarding her career and the house was brought and paid for, she would relocate home, sit on some NZ corporate boards, and settle down with the nothing-special-to-look-at husband and start a family. It was a simple plan.

She was an independent career woman. The man she saw herself with didn't need to look good. He needed to understand Profit and Loss statements, Balance Sheets, and know his way around a Board table. They would talk work, and sex would be something for Saturday night, if they had no other commitments. It was a sensible plan.

None of this involved a hot man with lips that could turn her body the jelly and make everything inside her curdle. Josh, she didn't even know his last name, wasn't in her story. He shouldn't even be looking at her. She wasn't his type. She wasn't anyone's type. She was tall, a turn-off for most men, willowy with breasts which were disproportionate to her figure. She brushed her mousy hair off her face. Her eyes were too large, her face too small and her neck was too long. She was odd looking. The only thing that men seem to want from her were her breasts and she listed those as her worst feature.