The Real Liddy James by Anne-Marie Casey Page B

perfect.)
    â€œBut how will you get a table?” she said, skipping straight to what seemed most improbable about the scenario to her.
    He scoffed and said, “Be there, wear a skirt. I’m sure your legs are fabulous.” Then he walked off, cologne and testosterone trailing behind him, pausing only to hold the room door open for Marisa, who had arrived, exhausted-looking and slightly out of breath, clutching a large bottle of calamine lotion.
    Liddy was affronted, and thrilled, and in a disorienting state of erotic excitement.
    â€œWas that Sebastian Stackallan?” asked Marisa.
    â€œIt was,” Liddy replied. “Did you see the footage?”
    â€œNo, but I heard! You win some, you lose some.” Marisa shrugged. “He’s good, that young man. And very . . .
alluring.
”
    Liddy turned to her in surprise.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œGood old-fashioned masculine appeal, perhaps? The way he talks? Those impeccable manners?” Marisa paused. “No, I tellyou what it is. You look at him and you
know
he’s brilliant in the sack. In fact, I do know, because Judge Killane told me he was.”
    â€œWhat?”
said Liddy. Susan Killane was a glamorous, but notoriously uptight, fifty-year-old recently appointed to the appellate court.
    â€œThey’re in some sort of open relationship.”
    Liddy grimaced. She had never seen the point of open relationships. The idea seemed the ultimate oxymoron.
    â€œHe just asked me out for dinner.”
    â€œYou should definitely go,” said Marisa. “It’ll be good for you after all this business with Peter. You could even try having sex just for fun!”
    Liddy had never attempted a one-night stand, but she trusted Marisa’s advice in most things, so at lunchtime, instead of drafting a template document about custody of wedding presents, she went out and bought herself a new dress and tried on a pair of glittery Louboutins she could hardly walk in. The saleswoman warned her to descend stairs sideways and never to wear the shoes in the rain, as the red soles were notoriously slippery, but even after this Liddy bought them, teetering cautiously into the restaurant that night, feeling fantastically feminine and ready to have “fun.”
    Sebastian had not changed, which immediately made her feel at a disadvantage, but he seemed to appreciate her outfit, loosened his tie with his left hand, and ordered champagne, which she took as a positive sign. Liddy asked polite questions and made amusing comments and he seemed to find her charming and even brushed his hand against hers a couple of times, so she drank two glasses straight down in order to facilitate flirtation, which did not comeeasily to her. She stared at his mouth and wondered what would happen if she leaned across the table and kissed him. But she had been brought up a Catholic so she didn’t. Instead, the bubbles went straight to her head and, unfortunately, when the conversation meandered into the byways of another country, her unadulterated personality belched out of her mouth in words that were slurred.
    â€œI haven’t been to Ireland for years. I hated going back there when I was young. I had to sleep in my cousin Roisin’s bed, in her unwashed sheets, with her dolls staring down at me. She used to keep a pile of nail clippings under her pillow!”
    Sebastian did not seem to share her outrage (or interest in cousin Roisin’s cuticles).
    â€œWhere is your family from?” he asked, suddenly glancing around the restaurant in the hope he might see someone, anyone, he knew.
    â€œSuburbs of Dublin. Elderly aunties in corporation houses, you know, picture of the pope next to JFK. And of course, once during the trip, there’d be the obligatory trudge round Glendalough in County Wicklow.”
    Sebastian perked up. “That’s where I grew up. My family home is near there.”
    â€œInteresting,” said Liddy,