Amy Andrews - Hot Single Docs - Blinded By The Boss

Isaac was watching his every move, eyes wide as saucers. ‘Can I have some?’

‘No, sweetie, this is for grown-ups.’ Charlotte quietened him with a quick look.

‘Pleeeease.’ Isaac was obviously unused to not sharing everything with his mother.

‘I’ve got something better for you.’

Edward gave him a conspiratorial grin and the boy quietened. He went to fetch a sturdier glass from the kitchen cupboard—not the fine crystal that he’d given to Charlotte, but a nice-looking faceted tumbler—and grabbed a bottle of sparkling raspberry cordial from the fridge.

‘Here you are.’ He set the glass in front of Isaac and filled it. ‘Try this.’

He sat down, aware that Charlotte’s smile was on him. It seemed to slide into his senses, warm and tingling, like fine brandy. Isaac took a sip from his glass and gave the same nod of approval that his mother had given when she’d tasted her wine. He was a part of this little treat.

Funnily enough, Edward felt a part of it, too. Eating together...praising Charlotte on the meal. Hearing the silly jokes passing between Isaac and Charlotte, which both of them expected him to laugh at, too. He was probably expected to tell a few, as well, but he couldn’t think of any that they might like at the moment. But even that didn’t seem to matter.

The doorbell rang.

Isaac jumped and would have spilled his drink if Edward hadn’t put out a hand to steady it. Instead his fork slithered to the floor, bouncing across the rug and clattering noisily on the wooden parquet.

‘Let’s not answer that.’ Edward shot a grin at the boy. Doorbells didn’t appear to be his favourite thing at the moment, and who could blame him?

‘It’s okay.’ Charlotte passed her own fork over to Isaac and bent to retrieve his. ‘It might be something important.’

Isaac’s gaze pleaded silently with him.

‘So what if it is? We’re eating.’ A feeling of bravado, quite out of proportion with the deed, sparked in Edward’s chest.

‘But it could be a friend. Someone you know.’

Unlikely. And if it were they’d know him well enough not to give up after the first ring. Opening the door when the bell rang was one of those things that Edward classed as optional.

‘If it is they’ll ring again. Or phone me.’ Edward generally picked up the phone. Unless he was in the middle of something really interesting.

She laughed. ‘Aren’t you even curious?’

Edward shrugged. ‘It’s probably someone wanting to sell me something.’ And, anyway, he was making a point.

‘And a man’s home is his castle, eh?’

‘Er...possibly. In a manner of speaking.’ It was certainly somewhere that his mind could wander freely. Explore the nuances that everyday life seemed to ignore so heedlessly. He hadn’t thought about the aspect of fortification, though...

Charlotte leaned towards him. ‘It’s just an expression. One size fits all.’

She was smiling at him, and that smile seemed to banish all thoughts of whether, either in truth or in paradigm, his home really was a castle. All he could do in the face of such unarguable persuasion was smile back.

‘Yeah. Well, then, whatever size my home is...’ he flipped a glance towards Isaac, hoping he’d get the point ‘...or I am, it’s definitely a castle. Which means I don’t have to answer the doorbell if I don’t want to.’

Isaac seemed to understand and turned his attention back to his meal. Charlotte was more difficult to satisfy.

‘So... Don’t you think you’re missing out on something?’

‘Like what?’ Like the world that she seemed to inhabit? The one where she seemed to navigate chance meetings and random conversations so easily.

‘I don’t know. That’s the thing, isn’t it?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s no one. And, anyway, we’re eating.’ He turned back to the plate in front of him. ‘And this is very good.’

CHAPTER SIX

CHARLOTTE HAD STACKED the dishwasher, sat with Isaac until he started to yawn, and then taken him up to bed. She tucked him in, along with Stinky, in the small second guest room which adjoined her own, and closed the connecting door between the two. Isaac had slept soundly for the last two nights, and showed no signs of doing anything else tonight.

Edward had seen to it that Isaac should feel at home here. When he’d taken them both back to the house on Saturday afternoon he’d filled the boot of his car with Isaac’s things—toys, games, clothes—so that he shouldn’t wake in the night and find himself in a completely strange place. Somehow the molecule modelling kit had found its way up here, too, and Charlotte wondered whether Edward had put it there. The thought made her smile.

When she got back downstairs the room was silent. Edward was in an easy chair with his nose in a book. Not wanting to disturb him, Charlotte retreated to the kitchen and set about cutting sandwiches for Isaac’s lunch tomorrow.

It was awkward being alone with him. At work, and when Isaac was around, she had a reason to ignore the desire to touch him. Now it was just him and her, and the empty space between them seemed almost to be daring her to breach it.

She’d finished the sandwiches, and was sitting at the kitchen table wondering what to do next, when the door opened quietly.

‘Hey.’

‘Oh...’ She jumped, almost spilling the cup of coffee in front of her. Suddenly she noticed that the deep blue open-necked shirt he’d pulled on when he got home emphasised the colour of his eyes. ‘You’re busy. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

He shook his head, as if the concept were new to him. It probably was. Short of a nuclear explosion, it was practically impossible to divert his attention away from what he was doing at work. ‘You don’t need to sit in here, you know.’

‘Yes... I mean, no. I mean... I don’t want to get in the way.’

‘You aren’t. I’d appreciate the company.’

He meant it. Edward who had always seemed so aloof at work, so self-sufficient. And yet he’d surprised her by seeming to understand just how she and Isaac felt. There was a great deal more to Edward than met the eye.

‘Me, too. I’ll...make some coffee, shall I?’ She looked at the mug of instant in front of her. ‘Some fresh coffee.’

‘That’s okay. I’ll do it.’ His mouth quirked. ‘Refreshments and snacks don’t count as cooking.’

His quiet, dry humour curled around her like a delicious full-bodied chuckle. ‘Oh. So you’re beginning to chip away at our bargain, are you?’

‘I don’t think so. I don’t remember any mention of brewing, looking in the fridge, or pouring.’ He measured the coffee into the machine and switched it on. ‘And I certainly don’t recall having covered electrical appliances.’

She smiled at him. ‘I’m going to have to watch myself, aren’t I? Next time I make a bargain with you, I’ll make sure I read the small print.’

Did that sound a bit too forward? Hopefully everything would be settled in a few days’ time and she would be on her way back home. Edward would forget her as he moved on to his next project of interest.

‘Yeah. Always read the small print.’

He flipped open the cupboard doors and pulled out two cups, his long fingers placing them precisely on the counter. He had a delicate touch. He had to have. Microsurgery was one of the most challenging disciplines in a challenging world. And Edward was the best at what he did—just like everyone else at 200 Harley Street.

He made the coffee and picked up her cup with his own, taking it into the sitting room, as if unsure whether she might follow otherwise. Charlotte perched herself on the sofa, casting around for something that she could make conversation about.