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Wharf for a fight.”
I think of Callum, and his strong, lean, muscles. “I wouldn't fancy Alex's chances.” Putting my now-empty mug on the coffee table, I try to get that image out of my mind. “Did you say Callum took advantage of me? You don't really believe that, do you?”
Lara tips her head. “Do you?”
Her words make me think. Really think. I close my eyes, remembering the events of last night, the way he touched me and held me. His words and his lips were soft, his fingers hard and demanding. But he didn’t take advantage, or assume anything. More than once he asked if that was what I wanted.
And it was what I wanted, very much—at least until reality dawned.
“He didn't take advantage,” I tell her. “If anything, it was the other way round. We had sex then I asked him not to tell anybody. I left him as if it meant nothing.”
“Did it mean nothing?”
“Yes... no... Ugh, I don't know.” I rest my elbows on my thighs. “It can't mean anything, can it? Not when I work for him. If anybody found out I'd lose my job, and I can't let that happen.”
“What if you didn't work together?” she asks. “What if he was a guy you met in a bar? How would you feel then?”
“Completely different,” I admit. “Because he's gorgeous and charming and everything I want.” Not to mention the fact he’s amazing in bed. “But I can't, so that's that.”
“It's that easy?” There's still a hint of amusement to her voice. “You think you can just turn attraction on and off like a tap?”
I turn and stare at her. “I don't have a choice. It doesn't matter how much I like him.”
“There's always a choice, Amy. Don't kid yourself, there's no black and white here.”
I groan loudly, closing my eyes so tightly I see stars floating behind them. “But I want there to be. Because I've no idea what to do about this.”
“Do you like him?”
I picture Callum's handsome face, and his strong body. Just thinking about him is enough to make me feel dizzy.
“Yes, I like him,” I say, finally. “Much more than I should. I’m not sure there’s anything I can do about that.”
19
I manage to avoid Callum until Wednesday morning, when a project review meeting is arranged. Collecting the current data, I rapidly form it into a presentation which I hope will be enough to reassure the partners that everything is going to plan. My desk is cluttered with papers, as well as a vase of flowers that Charlie sent on Monday as some kind of peace offering. Though I reluctantly accepted the roses, I haven't quite accepted his apology yet.
Glancing at my watch I notice it's almost ten o'clock. The meeting is supposed to last for an hour and a half, which works out well as I'm due to meet Douglas for coffee at one. I can't quite bring myself to call him 'Dad'. I'm not sure I ever will.
Though Mum offered to come to join us, I turned her down. I figure a busy coffee shop in the middle of Canary Wharf is as safe as it gets, and I'm nervous enough about meeting him. She'd only make things worse with her fussing.
I'm still thinking about my family when I walk into the conference room. Distracted, I plug my laptop into the audio-visual system, playing around with the mouse until my presentation is on the screen.
Then I feel my hackles rise.
Callum walks in, followed by the rest of the technical team, and his eyes immediately catch mine. They're dark and narrowed, the shadows beneath them prominent, and his pale, chiselled beauty is hard to ignore. Flustered, I look away, feeling heat spreading across my face.
“All right, Amy?” Paul, one of the technical engineers, nods at me. I flash him a weak smile in return. I hate the way I react in Callum's presence.
When I sneak another glance, he's still staring. My heart stutters in my chest.
The catering staff come in, wheeling a trolley laden with coffee and biscuits. There's an immediate dash for the sideboard as the team fill white porcelain mugs with coffee, playfully fighting over the chocolate chip cookies.
When I walk over and take a cup, Callum's immediately beside me. He dwarfs me, his expression unreadable, his lips drawn into a thin, pale line. “You okay?”
I nod, because I can't find any words. Silently, I pour out two coffees, adding a splash of milk to his before passing it over. His fingers touch mine, warm and rough, and the sensation is enough to make me jump. I'm too damn jittery for my own good.
“Have lunch with me,” Callum murmurs. “We need to talk.”
