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That he liked her too.
It was time he did.
If Polly wanted to have the whole white-picket-fence dream while running the world’s most famous department store then she was going to need the best by her side.
And Gabe had always liked a challenge.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘GOOD MORNING, RACHEL.’
Polly smiled at her assistant. Rachel had done her job beautifully. Unable to bear some big announcement of her pregnancy, Polly had, instead, confided in her PA. The news had spread around the store in less than a day, just as Polly had known it would.
At some point she would have to have a word with the gossip-loving woman about confidentiality and discretion. But not yet, not when she had just used Rachel to her advantage.
‘Good morning, Miss Rafferty. There is a mint tea on your desk and Chef says that he has a summer fruit compote and a breakfast omelette for you this morning.’
It was surprising—and rather sweet—how many of her staff had taken the news of her pregnancy and turned it into a project. The kitchen sent up nutritious meals three times a day and were hopefully awaiting outlandish cravings so that they could rise to whatever challenge she set.
The make-up department manager had put together an entire basket of pre-natal oils, creams and bath salts and was sourcing and testing the very best in post-natal and baby unguents. As for the personal shoppers, not only were they putting aside more clothes than triplets could easily get through, they were also ensuring she would be the chicest mother-to-be in London.
Polly had always felt respected rather than liked—she had encouraged it. This new two-way process was a little disconcerting. But she was rather enjoying the interest and attention. It didn’t feel as intrusive as she had feared, more warm and friendly.
Only Gabe was nowhere to be seen. He seemed to be constantly in meetings although he sent detailed emails and was obviously working as hard as ever. It wasn’t hard to deduce that he was avoiding her.
She shouldn’t have used words like love.
But somehow Polly couldn’t bring herself to feel regret or embarrassment. She’d tried.
A little at least.
‘Oh, Miss Rafferty, there’s been a change to your afternoon appointment. The one with the web developer?’
‘Has he postponed?’
Up to now Polly had left all the details about the possible new website with Gabe, but she wanted to check some final budgets and meet the developer herself before making the final recommendation.
Finding a mutually convenient date had been problematic—and now he couldn’t make it? She hoped this wasn’t a portent of his professional reliability.
‘He’s stuck in Paris and asked if you would mind going there instead?’
‘To Paris?’ Polly echoed. ‘That’s...’
‘Less time to get to than Edinburgh,’ Rachel said, putting a pile of papers onto the desk. ‘I’ve booked you onto the noon Eurostar so a taxi will be here to take you to St Pancras for eleven. A car will collect you at the other end.’
Rachel looked a little anxious. ‘I have done the right thing, haven’t I? It’s just you told me to use my initiative more and I know you want to talk to him yourself before making a final decision...’
‘No, you did right. As you say it’s quicker than Edinburgh.’ Polly scooped up the pile of papers, including her passport, she kept it at work for just this reason, and retreated into her office.
Sorry, Mummy, looks like I won’t be keeping my word after all, she thought. But maybe this is a good thing. Demystify Paris as part of her new start.
Baby steps.
* * *
It was so comfortable in Business Class that Polly realised with a jump that she had almost nodded off. I think I preferred the nausea to the tiredness, she thought as she jolted back to awareness when the train braked, the papers still unread on the table in front of her, her laptop reverted to sleep mode. There were times when she eyed the couch in her office longingly, desperate to stretch out and just close her eyes.
Until she remembered Gabe sprawled out. The firm toned lines of his body, the tree spiralling up his back.
The couch seemed a lot less safe then.
Polly pulled her mind back to the present. She had enough to do without daydreaming and dwelling on the past, including finding her way around a totally strange city. Paris might be quicker to get to than Edinburgh but it felt a lot more alien.
Luckily she didn’t have to think or organise herself at all; a driver was waiting for her as she stepped out of the bustling, light-filled Gare du Nord station with its imposing Gothic façade and, before she had a chance to take in the fact she was actually in Paris at last, he had pulled away into the heavy traffic.
