Christy McKellen - After Hours...

Her face seemed to pale and he realised he could have phrased that better. He’d never been good at letting his colleagues know when he was pleased with their work—or Jemima when he was proud of something she’d achieved, he realised with a stab of pain—but after Cara had given it to him straight about how it affected her, he was determined to get better at it.

‘What I mean is—I’m really impressed with the way you’ve handled the work here this week while I’ve been away,’ he amended.

‘Oh! Good. Thank you.’ The pride in her wobbly smile made his breath catch.

He nodded and gave a little cough to release the peculiar tension in his throat, turning back to the counter to grab a mug for his drink and give them both a moment to regroup. There was a brightly coloured card propped up next to the mug tree and he picked it up as a distraction while he waited for the kettle to finish boiling and glanced at what was written inside.

‘You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,’ he said, turning to face her again, feeling an unsettling mixture of surprise and dismay at her not mentioning something as important as that to him.

Colour rushed to her cheeks. ‘Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to leave that lying around.’ She walked over and took the card from his hand, leaning against the worktop next to him and enveloping him in her familiar floral scent. She tapped the corner of the card gently against her palm and he watched, hypnotised by the action. ‘It was on Wednesday. As you were away I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.’ She looked up at him from under her lashes. ‘Don’t worry—I didn’t have a wild house party here while you were away, only a couple of friends over for dinner and we made sure to tidy up afterwards.’

Fighting a strange disquiet, he flapped a dismissive hand at her. ‘Cara, it’s okay for you to keep some of your things in the communal areas and have friends over for your birthday, for God’s sake. I don’t expect the place to be pristine the whole time.’

‘Still. I meant to put this up in my room with the others.’

Despite their pact to be more open with each other, it was evidently going to take a lot more time and effort to get her to relax around him.

Maybe he should present her with some kind of peace offering. In fact, thinking about it, her birthday could provide the perfect excuse.

He’d seen her reading an article about a new play in a magazine one lunchtime last week, and when he picked it up later he noticed she’d put a ring around the box office number, as if to remind herself to book tickets.

After dispatching her back to the office with a list of clients to chase up about invoices, he called the theatre, only to find the play had sold out weeks ago. Not prepared to be defeated that easily, he placed a call to his friend James, who was a long-time benefactor of the theatre.

‘Hey, man, how are things?’ his friend asked as soon as he picked up.

‘Great. Business is booming. How about you?’

‘Life’s good. Penny’s pregnant again,’ James said with pleasure in his voice.

Max ignored the twinge of pain in his chest. ‘That’s great. Congratulations.’

‘Thanks. Let’s just hope this one’s going to give us less trouble arriving into the world.’

‘You’re certainly owed an easy birth after the last time.’

‘You could say that. Anyway, what can I do for you, my friend?’

‘I wanted to get hold of tickets for that new play at the Apollo Theatre for tonight’s performance. It’s my PA’s birthday and I wanted to treat her, but it’s sold out. Can you help me with that?’

‘Your PA, huh?’ There was a twist of wryness in James’s voice that shot a prickle straight up his spine.

‘Yeah. My PA,’ he repeated with added terseness born of discomfort.

His friend chuckled. ‘No problem. I’ll call and get them to put some tickets aside for you for the VIP box. I saw it last week—it’s great—but it starts early, at five, so you’ll need to get a move on.’ There was a loaded pause. ‘It’s good to hear you’re getting out again.’

Max bristled again. ‘I go out.’

‘But not with women. Not since Jemima passed away.’

He sighed, beginning to wish he hadn’t called now. ‘It’s not a date. She’s my PA.’

James chuckled again. ‘Well, she’s lucky to have you for an employer. These tickets are like gold dust.’

‘Thanks, I owe you one,’ Max said, fighting hard to keep the growl out of his voice. To his annoyance, he felt rattled by what his friend was insinuating. It wasn’t stepping over the line to do something like this for Cara, was it?

‘Don’t worry about it,’ James said.

Max wasn’t sure for a moment whether he’d voiced his concerns out loud and James was answering that question or whether he was just talking about paying him back the favour.

‘Thanks, James, I’ve got to go,’ he muttered, wanting to end the call so he could walk around and loosen off this weird tension in his chest.

‘No worries.’

Max put the phone down, wondering again whether this gesture was a step too far.

No. She’d worked hard for him, under some testing circumstances and he wanted her to know that he appreciated it. If he wanted to retain her services—and he was pretty sure now that he did—he was going to have to make sure she knew how much she was valued here so she didn’t go looking for another job.

Cara was back at her desk, busily typing away on her laptop, when he walked into the room they used as an office. Leaning against the edge of her desk, he waited until she’d finished and turned to face him.

‘I’m nearly done here,’ she said, only holding eye contact for a moment before glancing back at her computer.

‘Great, because a friend of mine just called to say he has two spare tickets to that new play at the Apollo and I was thinking I could take you as a thank you for holding the fort so effectively whilst I’ve been away. And for missing your birthday.’

She stared at him as if she thought she might have misheard. ‘I’m sorry?’

He smiled at her baffled expression, feeling a kink of pleasure at her reaction. ‘We’ll need to leave in the next few minutes if we’re going to make it into town in time to catch the beginning.’ He stood up and she blinked in surprise.

‘You and me? Right now?’

‘Yes. You don’t have other plans, do you?’

‘Um, no.’

He nodded. ‘Great.’

Gesturing up and down her body, she frowned, looking a little flustered. ‘But I can’t go dressed like this.’

He glanced at her jeans and T-shirt, trying not to let his eyes linger on the way they fitted her trim, slender body. ‘You’re going to have to change quickly then,’ he said, pulling his mobile out of his pocket and dialling the number for the taxi.

* * *

Cara chattered away in the cab all the way there about how the play had been given rave reviews after its preview performance and how people were already paying crazy money on auction websites for re-sold tickets to see it. Her enthusiasm was contagious and, stepping out of the car, he was surprised to find he was actually looking forward to seeing it.

The theatre was a recently renovated grand art deco building slap-bang in the middle of Soho, a short stroll from the hectic retail circus of Oxford Street.

It had been a while since he’d made it into town on a Friday night and even longer since he’d been to see any kind of live show. When he and Jemima had moved to London they’d been full of enthusiasm about how they’d be living in the heart of the action and would be able to go out every other night to see the most cutting-edge performances and mind-expanding lectures. They were going to become paragons of good taste and spectacularly cultured to boot.