OPENING night at Sydneyâs new Havana Club and Joaquin Luis Sola stood at the extremely busy bar, waiting for the drinks heâd ordered and idly watching the talent on the dance floor swirl by. His friend, legal advisor, and highly eligible man about town, Tony Fisher, had promised all the beautiful people would be here, to see and be seen in the hotspot of the moment, and Quin could undoubtedly pick himself a partner for more than dancing.
Much waggling of eyebrows to underline the point, but for Quin, joining Tonyâs party was more an escape from a sense of restless boredom than a quest for casual sex. Having recently ended a less than satisfying relationship, Quin wasnât sure he wanted to complicate his life with another woman just yet. A one-night stand didnât appeal, either. He wasnât actually watching for targets of possible interest, just watchingâ¦
A colourful kaleidoscope of couples were swinging around the dance floor, doing the salsa. Latin American dancing was big on the social scene right now due to a number of popular television shows featuring competitions. The Havana Club was cleverly capitalising on this latest trend.
âGreat way of meeting people,â Tony had enthused. âEveryone putting themselves on display, strutting their stuff.â
They were certainly doing that, Quin thought, somewhat bemused by the exuberant and very public plunge into fun and fantasy. Most of the people here had wildly embraced Latin dance fashion; the guys in fitted shirts with big cuffs, bootleg pants, much attention paid to their hairdos; the women very glamorous in slinky sheaths with side splits, skintight black pants with halter midriff tops, frilled skirts and strappy stilettos.
Being in this club was like being in an exotic and erotic foreign country. Quin could see its appealâa quick fix escape from the pressures of todayâs fast and frantic societyâa place where people could let their hair down, revel in uninhibited dress-ups, enjoy the primitive pleasure of moving to music, not to mention the sexual excitementâ¦with the right partner.
A flashy couple caught his eye. The guy was all in white, his long black hair slicked back into a ponytailâvery dramatic with his dark olive skin and hard featured handsome face. The woman partnering him was wearing a virtually backless black dress, its figure-hugging skirt ending in a ruffle edged in white. She also had long black hair, but it was a wild loose mass of curls falling to below her shoulder-blades, reminding Quin instantly of Nicole Ashtonânot a memory he cared to dwell on.
âYour drinks, sir?â
Quin paid the bartender, cynically reflecting that the price of cocktails in this club belonged to the fantasy realm, too, aimed at a clientele who never counted the cost. Strange how it didnât matter how wealthy he had become, the concept of value for money still counted in his mind. Not that it stopped him from doing or buying whatever he wanted. It was simply impossible to forget the lessons of poverty.
With the drinks firmly clutched in his hands, Quin turned to weave his way around the crowded dance floor to the tables Tony had claimed for his party, and found the woman with Nicoleâs hair twirling right in front of him.
She had a great body; lush breasts straining against a halter-necked bodice edged in white. The skirt was split up to midthigh, the ruffle following the opening up, diminishing to a white tie-belt around a hand-span waist. Her hips were female poetry and her long shapely legs flashed with sexy elegance.
The guy in white caught her and dipped her over his knee, her lovely lithe body arched, toes in their black stilettos pointed, head thrown back, hair sweeping the floor, stunning green eyes sparkling with pleasure, her whole beautiful face vividly lit by a laughing smileâa face that delivered such a jolt to Quin, the drinks he was carrying sloshed over the rims of the glasses.
It was Nicole!
The thump to his heart and the kick to his gut were instantaneous. Shock, he tried to reason, after heâd pulled himself back from shooting a blistering bolt of hatred at the guy in white and halted the rampant urge to tear Nicole away from him.
Quite simply hadnât expected to run into her like this, hadnât expected their paths ever to cross again. Sheâd gone overseas after breaking up with him, taking herself completely out of his reach, yet here she was in this Sussex Street club, right under his nose. And attached to another guy.
Which also stood to reason, Quin savagely told himself. Why wouldnât she move on to other men? Heâd moved on to other women, though never feeling the same intensity Nicole had drawn from him. In fact, he hadnât wanted to feel any deep emotional connection with anyone after she had walked out of his life. It was easier to function on the fast-moving business level without that kind of distraction.