Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(21)

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, I didn’t tell you something about myself and—”

His head cocks, and he’s listening intently. But not to me. He’s focused on something in the distance. I fight a surge of hysterical laughter. I have never met a man more equipped to knock me off my pedestal. It’s energising and yet scary.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s Thursday. I forgot.”

“And is that vitally important?”

“I’ll say. Come on.” He seizes my hand and drags me after him.

“Where are we going? Joe, I have work to do, and it is in completely the opposite direction from where we’re heading.”

He drags me out of the park onto a side street and stops dead. “Ta-da.”

“Ta-da, what?” I say crossly. “It’s like being with Steven Mulhern but twice as irritating, which is really saying something.”

“Look.”

I gaze over at where he’s pointing and blink. A line of men is queuing outside a small building called Malones. They are all without exception dressed in eighties costume. Fluorescent socks and extremely tiny shorts abound, and I can hear their excited chatter from here.

“Have we time travelled?” I ask.

“It’s Thursday Bunk Off,” he says, laughing.

“Thursday what?”

“Mike runs that club.” That strange bristly thing happens in my chest again like it did when he kept mentioning his boss Jed. He carries on talking, oblivious to my discomfort. “I did his wedding last year and got to know him. He’s lovely and he does a Thursday afternoon gay eighties event. Come on.”

I’m stupidly relieved that he knows Mike because of a wedding, but I dig my heels in. “I’m sure I’ve misheard you, but for a minute I could have sworn you were trying to persuade me to go clubbing on a workday.”

He grins. “You heard perfectly well. Glad to report that your hearing is still good, daddio.”

“Please don’t call me that,” I say.

He chuckles and grabs my hand. “Come on.”

“Where? Into the club? What the fuck?”

“Of course.” His eyes are glowing, and that mischievous look is back on his face. It’s never very far away. “Why not?”

“Because I am an adult and not a student and because—” I falter. “And because I don’t have a costume.”

“Pah. No problem. We’ll unbutton your shirt a bit and say you’re Harrison Ford in Working Girl. I’ll be someone from Miami Vice who’s lost his espadrilles.”

“I’m so relieved that you’ve solved that life-shattering problem. Just a few more to deal with before you take me into a nightclub during the workday.”

He comes close, his enticing scent weaving around me and making my head spin. “It’ll be fun.”

“You’re rather impulsive, aren’t you?” I say in dawning realisation.

He throws his head back, laughing. “Of course,” he says through his chuckles. “That’s what makes life fun.”

It makes me uneasy. I was an impetuous kid and constantly getting myself into scrapes, and I trained myself out of it a long time ago. “It’s what makes people penniless. I have a job.”

“Come on,” he coaxes. His eyes are alight with fun and joy, and I feel myself weakening. The truth is I don’t want to go back to my quiet office. I want to be with him and that frightens me more than anything in a long time.

He senses weakness and I expect more coaxing, but Joe manages to surprise me as usual.

“You’re absolutely right, Lachlan,” he says gently. “Let’s go back.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you reverse managing me?”

“Sounds rather deliciously kinky, but no. It’s not fair of me to push you to do things when you have work to do. I wouldn’t appreciate you pushing me in the same position.” He reaches up and kisses me. “Come on. Let’s go back to work.”

He starts to walk in the other direction, but stops when I tighten my grip on his hand. “Wait,” I say.

He raises one eyebrow. “You okay?”

I nod rather frantically. “Let’s do it.”

His eyes glow. “Really?”

“Yep. Come on. You’re right. I need a bit of fun.”

“I think you have a lot of that already, Lachlan. It’s just all on your own terms.”

“Are you psychoanalysing me or are we going dancing?”

“I can do both. I’m a rare male multitasker.”

“It’s nice to meet one in the wild. Come on.”

I tug him across the road to join the queue where he immediately engages everyone around in conversation, animated and irresistibly handsome. Laughter fills the air, and I feel as though I’m being dragged beneath the surface of a sparkling sea named Joe. I struggle vainly. I’m not used to being helpless. But that doesn’t stop me following him into the club. It doesn’t make me demur when we start drinking and dance together for hours. It doesn’t stop me pulling him closer as Madonna croons about being crazy for you.

I think I am crazy for you, I muse as he sways against me, his lithe body hot and his skin glowing as the strobe lights flicker pink over his gorgeous face. I really think I am.