Читать книгу Hot Single Docs: Blinded By The Boss - Amy Andrews - Страница 16

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.

‘This is a lovely room.’

He nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘Do you play the piano much?’ From the wide-ranging collection of CDs on his shelves, and the grand piano, Edward was obviously passionate about music. In the three days that she and Isaac had been here, though, he’d never once opened the piano. Never once switched on the high-end audio equipment.

‘Most days. Do you play?’

‘No. I love listening, though.’

He must have changed his routine because of her presence. Maybe she could encourage him to change it back again.

Edward didn’t move. ‘I wouldn’t want to wake Isaac.’

‘You won’t. He’s upstairs and he’s fast asleep.’

Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. Maybe this was something private, that Edward didn’t like to share.

It was something private—she could see it in the way he hesitated. But then he made his decision, jumping up and striding across the room. Charlotte tried not to notice the ease with which he lifted the heavy lid, or the way that his shoulder flexed as he propped it open. Suddenly his mastery over the large, shining instrument was physical, as well as just a matter of the mind.

Sitting down, he raised the lid from the keyboard and lowered his fingers onto the keys. ‘Any requests?’

For a moment she couldn’t think. Then Charlotte knew what she really wanted to hear. ‘Something you like.’

He nodded. Charlotte was expecting something classical, but the soft strains of Ain’t Misbehavin’ started to float across the room. Mesmerised, she moved closer and he beckoned her over, shifting up on the long piano seat to make room for her.

She swallowed hard. The music invited her. The way he made the song sound as if it had been written just for her. His sensitive fingers stroked the keys. Charlotte wanted nothing more at that moment than to sit next to him, be a part of this world. His world.

He raised one eyebrow at her hesitation, and the music swelled in reproach. She gave in and slid onto the edge of the stool, angling her body away from his.

‘You’ll fall off...’

The music dropped to a few notes, played with his left hand, while his right arm curled around her waist, pulling her further onto the stool. She was not quite touching him, and the seat was plenty long enough for two, but that didn’t seem to make any difference. She could practically feel his body moving against hers.

There were a few chords that seemed to be his own addition to the mix, and then he segued into As Time Goes By.

‘Mmm. Love this one.’ She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.

‘Yeah. Kind of sad... Haunting.’ He added an extra verse and chorus onto the end and then smoothly moved on into another melody that she couldn’t name, but which she recognised from an old film.

‘You like this?’

‘I feel I should be in a cocktail dress and expensive jewellery. Leaning against the piano and sipping... I wonder what they were drinking in Casablanca?’

He chuckled. ‘Champagne?’

‘You remember?’

‘No. Just a guess. I’ve got a bottle somewhere, if you’d like some.’

Charlotte laughed. ‘No. I don’t have the cocktail dress.’ Or the jewellery. Her mother’s ruby necklace, the one that she thought she’d never part with, had been sold and the money spent on the bricks and mortar of her house. The one that she’d been driven out of just a few days ago.

He seemed about to say something, then stopped himself. Moved on to play another song. The soft, melancholy chords filled the air around them.

Suddenly the music stopped. ‘Hey... Hey, what’s the matter?’

She felt him turn, but didn’t raise her head. She didn’t want Edward to see the tears.

Too late.

His fingers touched her arm, hesitantly at first, and then more resolute. She felt his arm around her and, try as she might, couldn’t bring herself to break away from him.

‘It’s nothing. Just the music.’

‘Much as I’d like to think that it was my playing that moved you to tears, I doubt it.’

She wanted to hold on to him. It felt so natural to do so. But she shouldn’t. She’d always been a sucker for the quiet type, and the last one she’d got involved with had almost destroyed her life.

‘I...I’m just afraid that I’m going to lose everything. And you’ve been so kind...’

‘You’re not going to lose anything.’

He hugged her tight and she gave in and buried her face against the protective arc of his chest.

‘Did you ring my father this afternoon?’

‘Yeah. I’ve arranged to leave work early tomorrow and go and see him.’

‘Good. You can stop worrying, then. He’ll sort this out for you.’

‘I know. Thank you. I’m just being silly.’

She felt his fingers stroking her hair. Just for a moment, before he snatched his hand away again. This must be torture for someone like Edward. So self-contained, so controlled. He didn’t really do tears. She tried to move away from him, but his arm kept her firmly in place.

‘You’re not being silly. You lost everything once. It’s natural to fear that it’ll happen again.’ He drew back, holding her shoulders tightly. Bending to capture her gaze in his. ‘It’s not going to. You’re going to fight it.’

‘I haven’t got anything to fight with. All my savings are gone, and...’ She couldn’t even say it. The money was just a number. It was the loss of little things that she’d hoped she’d always keep that hurt the most. Memories...presents that people had given her over the years. The cot which, at one time, she’d hoped might see some more use. All Isaac’s baby stuff. It hadn’t fetched much, but every penny had counted when she’d been trying to put the deposit on the house together.

He shook his head. ‘I wish you’d told someone. The clinic might have arranged an employee loan, or if not...’ He pressed his lips together, apparently not wanting to finish the ‘or if not’.

‘I’d only been there for a couple of months. I was just glad to have the job. The extra income meant I could make the mortgage. Anyway...it would just have been another debt that I couldn’t pay back.’

‘So you sold everything you had?’ His grip on her shoulders relaxed and his hands slid down to her elbows.

‘Pretty much.’ Charlotte put it to the back of her mind. ‘But that’s okay. Things are easier now. I’ve had a pay rise, and the first year’s always the worst with a mortgage.’

‘And I guess the extra shifts come in handy?’

He’d noticed, then. The way that she grabbed every bit of overtime that came her way, even though it meant that she had less time to spend with Isaac. ‘Yes, they do.’

‘You’ve worked hard. No one’s going to take that from you. Just explain everything to my father and let him sort it out. And in the meantime you can stay here. Isaac seems...well, he doesn’t seem to mind the arrangement.’

‘You’ve made us both very welcome. Being here has been so good for Isaac.’ It was Edward who had been good for Isaac, not the house. Providing a broad pair of shoulders that her son felt he could rely on. For that matter, he’d been good for Charlotte, as well.

‘You can stay as long as you like.’

‘Thank you. But we won’t outstay our welcome.’

Like always, his smile was reticent, hard won, but all the better for it.

‘Then I think we’ll be okay. I can outlast you.’

No doubt he could. At the moment Charlotte reckoned that she had about ten minutes before she made a fool of herself and threw herself into his arms if she didn’t find something to distract him.

‘Will you play something else?’

* * *

Edward couldn’t get the image out of his head. Charlotte in a dark figure-hugging dress. Something sparkly at her wrist and around her neck and a glass of champagne in her hand. Leaning against the piano, the gold flecks in her eyes reflecting the light better than any jewel could.

He played for a while on autopilot, while he added the fine detail to his vision. Then the real Charlotte broke in, her body warm and moving to the rhythm next to his.

‘You’ll have plenty of offers if you ever decide to give up the day job.’

Her smile made him stop thinking and start feeling as he ran his hands across the keyboard in a short, improvised cascade of notes.

‘I used to play in a bar. When I was at medical school.’

‘Yeah?’

‘It paid better than stacking shelves. And I got to keep the tips as well.’

‘Tips are always good.’

‘Yeah. Made a big difference.’

‘I bet you spent them on books.’

‘Um... Yeah. Okay, you’re making me feel predictable again.’

With Charlotte he could begin to fathom what people saw in small talk. It was easy. Delightful. Maybe they were getting a little too close to flirting, but that would be okay as long as he kept playing. Somehow the music made pretty much anything permissible.

She laughed. ‘I think you’re one of the most unpredictable people I’ve ever met.’

‘Dancing to the beat of a different drum, you mean?’ People had said that to him, and about him, all his life. That he was gifted. Different. That he didn’t need the company of his peers as much as he needed to fulfil his potential.

‘Is it a different drum? I rather thought that it was the same drum, but you just hear it a little more clearly.’

Edward let the thought percolate. ‘That might be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.’

The unexpected idea that words might not be enough to express his feelings on the matter occurred to him. He wanted to hold her again.

She smiled and his theory morphed into a tried and tested fact. Charlotte’s smile held so much more meaning than words, and he allowed himself to bathe in it, feeling its warmth lap against his skin.

He didn’t know how long he played for, and didn’t much care. However long she sat here next to him, her body melting into the rhythm of the music, it wouldn’t be enough.

When finally she drew away, another of those gorgeous smiles on her lips, the world felt suddenly cold.

‘You play wonderfully.’

He nodded in acknowledgement. ‘You listen wonderfully.’ It was more as if she’d been a part of the music, shaping the emotion and cadence with him, although her fingers had never touched the keys.

She laughed, getting to her feet. ‘I should go and get some sleep, though. Thank you for a lovely evening.’

‘My pleasure. We should do this again.’ The words escaped his heart before his head could issue the caution against asking for trouble.

She flushed a little and nodded quickly. ‘Goodnight, Edward.’

He played a short, quiet goodnight, listening to the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. Then he closed the lid over the keys.

Charlotte was everything that he held himself aloof from. The instinct and emotion that he saved only for his music seemed to bleed into her whole life. It was captivating—tantalising, even—but it was a language that he didn’t know how to speak. However much she tried not to disrupt his life, however well-behaved Isaac was, the two of them had the power to turn his well-ordered existence upside down.

Archie roused himself, stretched, and joined him on a restless errand to the kitchen, which had no particular purpose other than his need to go somewhere. Edward poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle they’d opened at dinner, leaving Archie to pounce on his food bowl as if he hadn’t eaten in years, and wandered back into the sitting room. The book that he’d abandoned in favour of going to talk to Charlotte still lay on the sofa, and he picked it up, flipping it open. This, at least, he knew how to handle.