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How can you type so fast?
Kind regards,
James
PS - I’m not staring, I’m contemplating.
From: Estelle Foxbrooke
To: James Hunter-Savage
Subject: Re: Wondering…
I’m not a Rubik’s Cube.
From: James Hunter-Savage
To: Estelle Foxbrooke
Subject: Re: Wondering…
I know. You’re far more interesting and complicated.
Would you feel more comfortable if I left the office?
The moment he pressed send, he regretted the decision. It seemed he was compelled to flirt with Estelle almost as much as his lungs compelled him to breathe.
Her fingers were silent. Clearly, she couldn’t easily decide whether or not to send him packing.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside was followed by a knock at the door.
James leapt out of his seat to open it.
‘Hey, babe,’ his mother said, coming into the room. ‘This arrived for you.’
He took a long box from her and she went to Estelle, holding out a plate of French Fancies.
‘Ooh! Yum,’ Estelle said. ‘Thank you, Beverley. Are these all for me?’
‘If you want, babe, but you might have to fight James for ’em. They’re his favourite.’
Estelle selected a cake. ‘Are they now? Thanks for the insider intel. Got any other secrets about him you can share?’
‘Well—’
‘No, she hasn’t,’ James interrupted, giving his mother a hard stare. Estelle was grinning at him as she chewed.
Beverley playfully slapped his arm. ‘I’ll only ever tell her the good stuff.’
‘Humph,’ he replied, putting the box behind his desk.
‘What’s that?’ Estelle asked.
‘It’s a—’ Beverley began.
‘Nothing,’ James said, beginning to regret the purchase he’d made whilst watching Estelle do yoga.
‘Is it a present for me?’ Estelle asked, getting to her feet.
