Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection. Rebecca Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ though I’d explained that Michael was generally less Grinch like now than at our first encounter, the nickname had stuck.

       No problem. And you xx

      I typed quickly and pressed send. Except actually, big problem. Because that meant I couldn’t get Bernice to take over Michael’s session tomorrow.

      I got off the escalator and joined the throng of people turning right towards the platform I needed. It felt even warmer than usual down here this evening, probably in contrast to the cold weather playing out above our heads. I slipped off my coat and hung it over my shoulder bag. The train pulled in and we piled inside. All the seats were taken but I managed to wedge myself against the wall next to the doors and wrapped my hands around the yellow pole beside me, partly to steady myself against the couple of sharp curves I knew lay ahead on this line and partly because I had the odd feeling that if I didn’t hold on to something I was going to end up on the floor.

      ***

      ‘You should go home.’ Michael’s look brooked no argument when he opened the door to me the following day.

       Great. I’d totally blown it.

      I’d had a terrible night going over the argument with Michael in my head, and all the memories that had dragged up, not to the mention still trying to get my head around the whole Calum thing. I’d gone to bed, not being able to decide if I was hot or cold, and feeling like someone was using my cranium for cymbal practice and had woken up to find that the whole percussion section had now joined them. And just to add to the fun, talks to avoid a Tube strike had broken down meaning I’d had to hike along Hyde Park Lane, battling against forty-five degree rain and a headwind. And all for nothing as my client wasn’t even going to let me in the door.

      ‘Michael, please just let me explain. I totally understand that you probably don’t want me anywhere near your house after my meltdown yesterday, and I was actually going to ask Bernice to cover these last sessions for me, knowing that you wouldn’t want to continue with me – ’

      ‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said, scooping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me inside the house. ‘I meant you look terrible and should be at home in bed.’

      I looked at him properly for the first time since he’d opened the door and saw that his face was creased with concern, deep furrows on his forehead, and his mouth set in a grim line.

      ‘You’re soaked,’ he said, helping me out of my coat. ‘I know there’s a Tube strike but please tell me you got a taxi.’

      I raised an eyebrow. ‘At this time in the morning, at Christmas, and when there’s a strike on? It was quicker to walk. And I’m fine. It’s just a little cold.’

      He shook his head. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

      I looked up at him hesitantly. ‘And what is the answer to that question?’

      Michael tilted his head.

      ‘I mean, am I fired?’

      ‘Are you fired? For what? For finally telling me something about yourself? Of course you’re not fired. Come on, let’s get something hot inside you.’

      I waved my hand and felt myself turn a little green.

      ‘No, really I’m fine, thank you. I’m happy just to get this last – ’

      Michael’s hand caught mine and pulled me back gently. His other hand went to my chin, tilting it up until my eyes met his.

      ‘Kate. You’re really not well. I’m not happy about you working like this. I already got loads done the other night after you left.’

      ‘You did?’

      He nodded. ‘I needed something to focus on.’

      I lowered my eyes, but my chin was still caught in his hand, the slight roughness of his fingers feeling disturbingly good against my skin.

      ‘I really should have got Bernice on this job, I think. I’ve never once lost my cool with a client, and then you come along and ruin my perfect score.’

      His mouth curved into a half-smile. ‘Sorry about that.’

      ‘Just so long as you don’t put a bad review up online about me.’

      ‘Definitely not going to happen.’

      I smiled, still trying to ignore the clanging in my head. ‘Thank you. And I really am sorry. I’m normally so much more professional than this.’

      ‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. Really. In my family, we say what we think. There are some arguments, sure, but then the air is clear. Everyone knows where they stand. And that’s right behind one another. It’s how things work. Doesn’t do anyone any good to keep stuff bottled up inside. I just wish you’d said something earlier.’

      His hands had moved to my shoulders now and I had the distinct feeling they were helping me stay upright, even if Michael didn’t know it.

      ‘I’m hardly going to go around telling clients something like that.’

      ‘No. I just meant…’

      I lifted my eyes to find him looking at me. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. ‘No, of course not. Come on, let’s get you a hot drink at least. Do you have a jumper or something? You’re shivering.’

      ‘No, I’m all right,’ I replied, feeling anything but and less so with every minute. But I was pretty sure I could work through it and distract myself by just getting on with the job as I usually did. ‘And I don’t feel cold at all.’ This part, at least, was true. I actually felt pretty damn warm.

      ‘Right.’

      Five minutes later I was sat in the living room, where Michael already had the wood burner fired up. Pilot was lying in front of it, snoring. As we entered, he woke and lifted his head, his tail banging lazily on the floor as he decided whether he could muster the energy, or inclination, to relinquish his comfy spot.

      ‘I went out for a run last night and first thing this morning. I don’t think he’s used to quite that much exercise.’

      ‘I think you’re right. He was a little overweight when he came to us. He did get walked, just perhaps not as much as he needed. Looks like that’s changing.’

      ‘I don’t know if he’s too impressed about that.’

      I touched Michael’s arm, still looking at the dog. ‘He’s loving it.’ I broke away to lean over and give Pilot a stroke. ‘I didn’t know you were a runner.’

      Michael lowered himself to the floor beside us, stretching his long legs out in front of him, one knee falling to the side a little.

      ‘I’m not really. Too many years of rugby has knackered my knees a bit but I still do it sometimes. Good for clearing the head.’

      I stored that nugget of information away. A bit of head clearing didn’t sound like a bad idea to me at the moment. Although, let’s face it, me and running equalled a very СКАЧАТЬ