The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights

by Sarah Lefebve

  ‘Stop it.’ He jerks me back into the suite by my wrist before dropping it as if burned.

  Ignoring the scald of his touch sparking all the way down to my toes, ‘Silly me, I apologise. Talking in the corridor is probably too public for you.’ I regret it as soon as it’s out.

  ‘You’re angry, I understand that. In hindsight I could have handled it better. That doesn’t mean we can’t—’

  ‘No thanks, no repeats, I’m not going there again.’

  His eyes narrow. ‘Actually I wasn’t offering. I was going to say it doesn’t mean we can’t work together for the time left.’

  He’s offering the perfect opportunity to move on, so it’s not disappointment filling me, it’s relief. It is. ‘Great. Good. Let’s get on with it then.’

  ‘Good.’ He slams the door behind him then winces, putting his hands to his head.

  I can’t help it. As cross as I am, a tiny smile steals across my face.

  ‘It’s not nice to take pleasure in other people’s pain,’ he rasps, then ruins it by giving me a self-deprecating, crooked smile in return.

  ‘I know,’ I reply. ‘But I’m guessing you’ve not had many hang-overs in your life.’

  He shakes his head carefully, ‘No’

  ‘And maybe I’m not nice,’ I add.

  His blue eyes heat up. ‘Oh, I think you are.’

  ‘Shows how much the alcohol has addled your brain then,’ I say lightly, hurrying down the corridor to call the lift. I cannot fall any further under his irritating but oh-so-exhilarating spell.

  An indeterminate amount of time later, I’m ready for escape. And if this is how I feel, God knows what state Alex is in. We’ve done five back-to-back meetings and there are four more excruciating, energy-sapping ones left to go.

  The effort expended on ignoring him is costing me. No matter how much I focus on typing notes into his laptop, every time I glance at him, hear the confidence in his voice, every shift of his mega-hot body, even the smell of his aftershave, triggers the memory of what we did against my bedroom wall. The fact he’s sitting in the chair we shared the kiss on yesterday doesn’t help. Neither does the fact that when he sat down in it earlier I could see the same burning awareness in his eyes.

  ‘Did you get that last bit, Miss Caswell?’ Alex’s voice reels me back to the present.

  ‘Of course, Mr Demetrio.’ I read the last sentence back to him. Is he trying to catch me out?

  ‘Excellent. Thanks.’ He turns to the last of the morning’s managers. ‘I think we’re done, Mr Reilly.’ He shakes the man’s hand. ‘Time for lunch.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the man replies in an attractive Irish lilt, smiling over at me with even white teeth when I glance up. Jess has a thing for accents; she’d love this guy.

  Alex glowers at me across the table, so I focus on saving the document and shutting the laptop down. I don’t know what his problem is. Maybe it’s his hangover. Closing the laptop lid, I pelt out of the room, intending to search for food and respite from his disturbing presence. The plan fails on both counts because when confronted by an array of delicious Mediterranean dishes, the desire to eat curls up and dies, and I turn away with only a small bowl of green salad to find Alex heading straight towards me holding a heaped plate of food, expression intent.

  ‘We need to finish our conversation.’ He follows me to a table, sitting down uninvited. He digs into a steaming pasta dish, appetite seemingly unaffected by his hangover or any emotional turmoil.

  ‘Sorry, I’m on a break.’

  He finishes a mouthful, giving me a searching look. ‘Yes, but this isn’t about work.’

  ‘I’m not … ’ I lower my voice as we attract attention from nearby tables, including a number of employees from this morning’s meetings, ‘I won’t talk about this here.’

  ‘I agree, which is why we’re going to the suite when we’ve finished lunch.’ He forks up more fragrant pasta, the ripe smell of sun-dried tomato sauce wafting across the table.

  I lean back, ‘I don’t know how you can eat that with a hangover.’

  ‘I just feel really,’ his attention drops to my chest, ‘really, hungry.’ I push aside the lurch of lust in my stomach. ‘And don’t avoid the topic,’ Alex growls. ‘Upstairs. Ten minutes.’

  ‘Don’t order me around!’ I flare. ‘And besides, some things are better left unsaid. We’re out of here tomorrow. We won’t have to see each other again.’ It’s not a question, so it’s weird my voice rises at the end.

  Alex sets his cutlery down, ‘You’re right. We won’t have to.’

  He’s agreeing with me, so I should be pleased. Instead it cuts. ‘Then there’s nothing to talk about.’

  A member of his staff sits down at the next table, so he lowers his voice. ‘I still want you to hear me out.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less,’ he replies po-faced.

  ‘Are you laughing at me?’ I ask suspiciously.

  ‘Wouldn’t dare, I’d be too scared,’ he drawls, then gives me a small amused smile and devours the last few mouthfuls of food, peering at me through long, dark lashes.

  Bugger, he’s more gorgeous than ever. Is it because he’s even further out of reach, or because I know how clever his hands and mouth are? ‘I can’t imagine you being scared of anything,’ I say, to distract myself from his physical appeal.

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ he frowns. ‘Aren’t you going to have that?’ Gesturing at my untouched salad with his fork.

  ‘Not hungry. I’ll grab a snack during tea break.’

  ‘Make sure you do. I wouldn’t want you fainting on me, we’ve got lots to do today. Speaking of which, I’ve agreed to fit in an extra meeting, so we may finish later than planned. Sorry.’

  More time in his company, fantastic. ‘Whatever you need. You’re the boss. As long as you’re not going to spring another party on me.’ I shut up as I remember how last night’s party ended. With stuff fantasies are made of.

  Alex seems lost in thought too, then clears his throat and shifts in his seat. ‘You’re still doing a good job.’

  ‘Thanks. I wondered if you thought so after the way you asked where I was up to.’

  ‘That was only because we were going so fast. I was worried your hands would cramp. Stuart’s do.’

  I’m touched. It’s nice.

  ‘You didn’t think I was trying to catch you out because you slammed the door in my face last night?’ he demands.

  ‘No!’ I squirm.

  He leans forward, tanned hands sliding across the tablecloth towards me. I look down at them. Thinking of what they did to me. ‘Business is business, Charley. Anything else is separate. I don’t let personal feelings colour my working relationships. I’m better than that.’

  ‘You’re a robot then, or a saint, if you can switch off your emotions that way. It must be lovely to compartmentalise so easily,’ I say sweetly, pissed off at him but not sure why. ‘Tell me,’ I goad, forgetting where we are, forgetting I should be trying to get back in his good books, ‘does your halo ever slip?’

  A nerve pulses in his jaw, ‘You know it does.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘You were there last night when it did.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘In your bedroom. Against the wall.’ His voice goes that rock-star husky again.

  I squeeze my thighs together. ‘So I was,’ my voice climbs, ‘but are you referring to before, during or after?’

  ‘You’re still annoyed.’ His fingers wrap around mine, stroking them, drawing me in. ‘Whatever you say about forgetting it, we have to talk. In private.’

  Why is he touching me like this in public? He’s just making it harder. My chair scrapes along the marble floor as I reclaim my hands and push away from the table. I can’t give in to this. ‘Far as I’m concerned there’s nothing to discuss. So if it’s about your privacy again, what I said stands,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t intend to tell anyone, ever.’

>   ‘Charley.’ Alex springs from his chair and sways, going pale green.

  ‘I’ll see you in the meeting room later. I need to go and clear my head.’ I catch sight of an open-mouthed employee sitting at the table next to us, shamelessly eavesdropping. ‘And as for your privacy, guess that was an epic fail, huh?’

  Alex follows my eye line and glares at the man, who immediately finds something riveting to study on the opposite side of the room. It would be comical if I wasn’t so desperate to get away.

  My luck is out. Recovering, Alex skirts the table and wraps a hand around my elbow, towing me over to the window, our backs to the audience. ‘See what I mean?’ he says roughly. ‘I have no privacy. And everything seems to make my life more complicated.’

  ‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? To empathise with a billionaire with properties around the world, no worries about job security or money, no commitments tying you down?’

  ‘No commitments?’ Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alex blinks. ‘What do you know? What would you call running a high-profile company? It’s constant, twenty-four seven. There’s always someone or something calling on my time, somewhere I have to go, some place I have to be. Added to which I have a—’ He stops, the sentence hanging in the air between us.

  ‘What?’ I’m intrigued, my temper slinking away. This is the real man, the honest one behind the corporate image. We all wear masks. Some people just wear them better than others.

  ‘Nothing. It’s nothing you need to know about.’ Yanking his mobile from his jacket pocket as it makes a beeping sound, he reads a text. Swears. Curls his fingers around the gadget like he’d crush it. Rubbing his neck, he stares broodingly out the window.

  It makes me feel bad for him. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve made assumptions about your life,’ I offer, ‘but it’s only because I don’t really know about it.’

  ‘Why would you?’ He turns his attention back to the phone to re-read the screen and mutters absently under his breath, ‘You’re only a temporary employee.’

  Ouch. I suck in a sharp breath, his comment unexpectedly painful.

  ‘Of course I am,’ I reply in a carefully modulated tone. The Queen would be so proud. ‘Well, I have an important call to make,’ I fib easily. But then I’m used to lying. To Alex, to myself. ‘I’ll see you at the next meeting.’

  ‘Hmmm?’ He barely knows I’m here while he taps out a text.

  ‘That is so rude,’ I mumble under my breath. Talking louder: ‘See you in a bit.’

  ‘Yes. Fine.’

  I leave him by the window, dark head bent over his phone. It makes him look lonely and I wonder how many genuine emotional connections he has in his life; ones that aren’t business-related.

  It doesn’t matter. I can’t be part of his world. So I don’t know why his comment about me being a temporary employee hurts, like I’ve lost a treasure that was almost within reach.

  No. I’m being an idiot. A romantic fool.

  Once I’m back in the suite I lock the interconnecting door to the lounge and lie on my bed with an icy cold flannel over my face, hoping the shock will bring sensible Charlotte back. Hoping the plan can still be salvaged.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. Bolting up, I fling the flannel into the bathroom and go to the door.

  ‘Charley, I know you’re in there. Come out please, we need to talk.’

  ‘Can we do it later please?’ I put a hand against the grain of the wood.

  ‘I’m sorry I was rude earlier, burying my nose in the phone,’ he says softly, and my face burns. He heard my mumbled comment. ‘But I expect you in the lounge in two minutes,’ he insists, voice hardening.

  The way he speaks makes me think if I don’t come out he’ll come in, forcibly if necessary.

  ‘Fine.’ Wrenching the door open, I charge smack into Alex’s broad chest. We untangle ourselves in a flurry of arms and muttered apologies.

  ‘Sit down,’ he orders.

  I stand, arms crossed.

  Rolling his eyes. ‘Oh. Right. You don’t like orders. Please?’

  ‘Do we have time for this?’ I perch on the edge of the sofa cushion.

  He checks his watch. ‘Twenty minutes. I don’t think our conversation about last night can wait until later.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  Studying my blank face, he heaves a short sigh. ‘Firstly, I’m sorry if I upset you. You know I’ve got stuff going on but I should have paid more attention to what I was saying. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.’ He rubs his face.

  ‘Thank you,’ I reply, somewhat mollified. ‘But does being a temporary employee mean I’m a second-class citizen or what?’

  In the act of taking off his suit jacket and throwing it on a chair, he freezes, eyes zeroing in on me. ‘Don’t be silly.’ A disbelieving smile kinks the corner of his mouth, ‘Why would you say that?’

  I shrug, feeling oddly caught out, ‘I don’t know,’ my gaze skitters away, ‘it was the way you said it. Only a temp.’ Am I making a big deal out of nothing? He was just stating a fact. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Unfreezing, Alex prowls over and sits on the other sofa, at right angles to me. ‘It does matter, you saying it makes it matter. Tell me, Charley.’ He scoots forward until he can peer into my face. ‘You know I care a great deal about my privacy. But it’s not that. I don’t think it’s appropriate to offload my personal problems onto my staff, even agency ones. It would be unfair. They need to see me confident, not confused. Otherwise what would … ’ His white teeth click together.

  ‘What?’ I lean forward despite myself.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he repeats, shifting back on the sofa.

  ‘It does matter, you saying it makes it matter,’ I echo his comment.

  He exhales, eyes twinkling. ‘Very good, you got me.’

  ‘So?’ Crossing my legs, I think about taking my shoes off but mustn’t get too comfortable. ‘Tell me. They need to see you confident, not confused, otherwise what would what?’ Prodding, ‘What would people think, what would they do? Have you ever wondered if you worry too much about what people think? Image isn’t everything.’ Remembering his hasty exit last night, ‘Or is that it? Why you left like that, what the request to not tell anybody was about? You’re worried about people knowing you got hot and heavy with a lowly staff member?’

  ‘Yes!’ Alex admits.

  Stunned, I fall silent, mouth open.

  ‘But not like that,’ he explains. ‘It’s nothing to do with you being junior. I don’t think of any staff as lowly. I respect them, I’m glad of the hours and effort they put in, their passion and energy. Wow, I must really be off my game if you think—’

  ‘I don’t. Not really,’ I confess. Though he can be arrogant, I can’t pretend he’s some high-handed bastard, even if it would make it easier not to like him.

  Nodding to accept my admission he goes on, ‘It’s about me flouting the “no workplace relationship” policy, Charley. It wouldn’t do my credibility much good, would it? I had my work cut out when I introduced the clause into the contracts a few years ago. In fact it got quite divisive. So if it was publicised that I wasn’t sticking to it, there would be one hell of a backlash.’

  ‘If it’s been that troublesome, why have the clause?’

  ‘As I said yesterday, I think it offers the best level of protection for people.’

  Except it didn’t protect me from Tony, I think bitterly, rage bubbling up as I think of what he did.

  ‘You’ve gone pale.’ Alex looks concerned. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes. I probably should have eaten properly, like you said. Please don’t say I told you so,’ I add.

  He smiles crookedly, eyes crinkling, and my hormones sizzle. ‘I won’t.’ He goes to the bar and returns with a sealed packet. ‘Ginger biscuits. It’s not much but it might help.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I’m touched, more than I should be. I take the packet with care to avoid maki
ng physical contact with him.

  There’s a silence between us as I nibble on a biscuit. ‘Maybe you could retrain as an air steward,’ I muse after a moment, forgetting myself.

  ‘Pardon? Why would I need to?’

  Pointing at him with the edge of a biscuit, ‘You might enjoy doing something else. You don’t seem happy being CEO.’

  He rockets off the sofa and marches to the window, shoving unsteady hands into his pockets, staring outside. ‘You’re wrong. It’s something else bothering me.’

  ‘Maybe, but I don’t think I am wrong.’ Rising from the sofa, I slope over to him, afraid he might bolt. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But I did. And sometimes it’s better to face things head-on. You don’t like what you do, don’t enjoy running the company.’

  ‘I told you, I won’t confide in employees.’ The angle of his head changes, arms going angular and stiff.

  ‘You already did last night. About me running away to the city. Some of us don’t have the luxury to do what we want. And downstairs, it’s constant, twenty-four seven.’ I want to stroke the back of his neck, offer him comfort. I can’t. ‘And I won’t be an employee after this weekend.’ What the hell am I saying? Am I nuts?

  ‘But what if I offer you an ongoing assignment?’ he challenges. ‘What if I’m so impressed I tell the agency you should stay on somewhere? Are you going to give that up just in case something might happen between us, when I’ve already told you I can’t get involved?’

  Rather than my mouth watering at his gorgeousness, this time it’s at the prospect of continuing work. I could stay in the city, with Jess. Get my old life back.

  He must see the greed in my eyes. ‘See? You’d want it. And I can’t get involved, especially with someone I work with. It just messes everything up. I won’t perpetuate one mistake with another.’

  ‘Oh. I’m a mistake.’ A mess to be cleaned away. Like I was for Tony. ‘I get it.’

  ‘You don’t.’ Spinning around he glowers at me. ‘You don’t understand anything.’ His voice breaks. ‘Why would you? We lead completely different lives.’

  Frustration bursts to life hot and fast. ‘So help me understand.’