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“An interview for the paper. Ashok and I were just discussing what sort of photograph he should take for the front page.”
Sasha threw a boisterous arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. “Joseph said he’d like you to interview him, sweetie. Apparently you mentioned our humble publication to him. Thank you!”
“This should be so great for our sales,” Ashok said in his mellow Indian accent. “Think of all those extra editions. The homeless will be thanking you for bringing us this gift of Joseph Quinlan!”
She rolled her eyes. “Gift of Joseph Quinlan… Jesus.”
Joseph winked at her. “I was inspired by what Eleanor said about how one person can make a difference. I’m beginning to believe her.”
“She’s a great persuader,” Sasha said.
Joseph gazed into Eleanor’s eyes. “She is. She knows how good it feels to use her talents to help others.”
Eleanor glanced at her watch. She knew precisely what Joseph was doing – trying to convince her to give up her dream job. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Go?” Ashok asked. “But you’ve only just arrived.”
“I know… I came here to tell you I’ve been offered a job with News Scape. I’m working on a front-page story.”
Sasha’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, Eleanor! That’s wonderful – you’ve had your eye on that broadsheet for so long. Matthew’s contacts finally came good, huh?”
Sasha threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. Eleanor flinched and pulled away, feeling like a fraud. “It’s not for the broadsheet. Not yet. Robertson’s testing me by making me write a story for his trashy tabloid. Joseph’s trying to distract me.”
Joseph shrugged. “If you’d prefer to go there, feel free. But Ashok was just saying if we do the interview now, we’ll make this week’s edition. It’s up to you, of course, but wouldn’t you rather stay here with me… with us? And then I’ll give you a ride to work. How about it?”
Eleanor dumped her purse on a spare desk. “Right, fine – let’s make it quick. I’m sure you need to get to work too, Joseph?”
“Actually, I’ve told my manager I’m sick.”
“Sick?”
“Yeah – sick of the sight of him.”
Eleanor smirked. “Seems a common ailment.”
Joseph grinned. “You got it too, huh? Listen, I was thinking we could make it more interesting if I was to interview you. I could be your guest reporter this week – how about it, Sasha?”
“I think that sounds like a great idea! Why don’t you go out back for some privacy?”
Eleanor shot Sasha a look of disapproval. Was she purposely trying to match-make? Did she know what was going on between her and Joseph? She knew Joseph wasn’t the bragging type, so perhaps Sasha could tell from Eleanor’s demeanour how much she desired him. Much as she was trying to resist, the truth was
he made her body tingle all over with sizzling heat.
Joseph grabbed a notebook and pen, then he picked up two mismatched wooden chairs and carried them through to the kitchen, so Eleanor followed. The kitchen was as rundown as the rest of the building – the red floor tiles were cracked, the white walls were grubby, and the old industrial extractor fans had ceased working years ago. The huge jet-engine-sized printing press was motionless at the moment, but when it was in action, Eleanor loved to sit and watch its mechanisms slide back and forth, clunking hypnotically to produce page after page of news, filling the room with the smell of fresh print. It was like a giant metallic heart pumping the lifeblood into The Big Society.
Eleanor sat herself down on one of the wobbly chairs, and Joseph sat opposite, making sure their knees were touching.
“Hi,” he said, grinning.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to stop you from ruining Pierre’s life – and helping your newspaper at the same time.”
She glared at him. “That’s what I thought.”
He reached out and rubbed her knee, pushing up the hem of her skirt with his gorgeous fingers. “Hey, do you think it would be appropriate for me to kiss you passionately back here? Would it compromise our reporter/interviewee relationship?”
She couldn’t help but smirk. “Shut up.”
