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“Are you heading home?” he asks. “Or do you fancy a drink?”
I don't miss a beat. “A drink sounds good.”
Ten minutes later we’re nursing beers in the corner of a non-descript bar, surrounded by dozens of suits doing exactly the same thing. I lift the bottle to my lips, and swallow a mouthful of beer.
“How are you getting on?” he asks, staring at me.
“It’s great,” I tell him, still feeling breathless. “I think we’ve almost hit the first milestone. I just need to speak to a few more people.”
He looks pleased. Proud, even. “Everybody tells me how well you’re doing. I feel like my protégé’s all grown up.” Though his words are teasing his voice isn’t. It’s sexy.
“I’m definitely grown up.”
“I can see that, Amy.” His eyes sweep down, his scrutiny making my nipples harden. If he can do that only with a look, who knows what he can do with his hands?
“It’s not the same without you around though. Going through the day without being shouted at is boring.” I tease him in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I even buy coffee before nine nowadays.”
“You’re a heathen.”
“I believe you’ve told me that before.” I smile at him.
“The place isn’t the same without you either,” he says.
There’s something sparking between us that I can almost taste. “You know I can come down and make your life a misery every now and then if you’d like.”
His lips quirk up. “Ah, just the thought of it makes my skin crawl.”
“I thought it might.”
The noise of the crowd is drowned out by the sound of my pulse.
“Have you heard from your father?”
I quickly shake my head, welcoming the change of subject. “No, I’m still trying to decide whether to see him or not.”
“You’re considering it?” He frowns. “After all he did to you? Jesus Amy, you can’t see him.”
It’s as if I’m talking to Alex again. “I’m a big girl. If I want to see my dad, I’ll see my dad. And if I don’t want to, well, that’s my decision, too. And I’m the only one who gets to make it.”
His expression is warm. “I understand that. But if you do decide to see him… well, I’d like to know. Just so I can keep an eye out for you, okay?”
I take another swig of beer, trying to ignore the way my heart races every time I look at him. His offer is sweet, caring, and it’s puzzling the hell out of me. I’ve no idea where we stand, especially now he’s not my boss. All I know is something between us springs to life every time we’re in the same room. It pulses and it sizzles and it makes me want everything I shouldn’t.
It’s becoming almost impossible to ignore.
15
A few weeks later I'm sitting at the kitchen table in my pyjamas on a Sunday morning, furiously cursing at a spread sheet that doesn't seem to add up. Before I check it for the third time, I refill my coffee cup. Pulling out my chair, I slump back down and stare at the numbers.
The laptop pings. I'd forgotten I was logged into the network. Normally I download what I need and then log straight out in an effort not to look too much like a girly swot who spends her whole weekends working. I guess on this occasion I forgot.
Ferguson, C: Working on a Sunday? Tut, tut, Amy. All work and no play...
I try to stifle my smile at the way he's turned my own words back on me.
Cartwright, A: Pot, meet kettle. Have you nothing better to do on a Sunday?
Ferguson, C: Sadly not. I've a meeting in New York and my lovely PA isn't answering her phone. Any idea how to book a return ticket for tomorrow?
