LITMIR.BIZ

      Hugh was already boiling the kettle in his mother’s kitchen when April arrived the next morning.

      Her gaze flicked over him as she walked into the room, her bag slung over her long coat, her scarf in shades of green today.

      ‘Good morning,’ she said, in that polished, friendly tone he was becoming familiar with. She was good at sounding comfortable even when she wasn’t.

      He could see the questions in her gaze and the instant tension in her stride as she walked towards the bar stools tucked beneath the marble counter.

      ‘Morning,’ Hugh said as she dumped her bag on a chair and then shrugged out of her coat. ‘I thought I’d help move those heavy boxes.’

      Her email last night had explained that she’d found some boxes that would need two people to lift them. He’d considered contacting the temp agency to recruit someone, and then had realised that to do so would be preposterous. He was thirty-six, fit and he lived ten metres away. He could move the damn boxes. They were, no matter how much he seemed needlessly to over-complicate them, just boxes. He didn’t have to deal with any of the stuff inside them.

      She nodded. ‘Great!’ she said, although he couldn’t tell if she meant it. ‘I thought you’d just organise someone to come and help me.’

      ‘I did,’ he said, then pointed towards his chest. ‘Me.’

      Her smile now was genuine. And lovely. He’d thought that every time he’d seen her smile. It was another reason he’d considered calling the temp office. But similarly—just as the boxes were only boxes—a smile was only a smile. It, and his admiration of it, meant nothing more.

      ‘It shouldn’t take long. I could probably do it myself, but I’d hate to drop one of the boxes and break something.’

      The kettle clicked as it finished boiling.

      ‘Doesn’t matter if you do,’ Hugh said. ‘But still—ask me to help move anything heavy, regardless. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.’

      April blinked as if he’d said something unexpected. ‘Okay,’ she said.

      They took their coffee into the second reception room.

      As always, the cluttered space made Hugh feel stiff and antsy—as if he could run a marathon on the adrenalin that shot through his veins.

      So far April had cleared only a small section of this room. Once it had been his mum and Len’s TV room. They’d sat on the large, plush couch, their legs propped on matching ottomans, dinner balanced on their laps.

      The couch was still there—one arm visible amongst the bevy of boxes.

      The heavy boxes were near the window. They were much bigger than the boxes that had filled the first room—probably five or more times their size—and stacked only two high.

      It was the top boxes that April wanted to be lifted down.

      Coffee placed carefully on the floor, it was easy for the pair of them to lift the boxes: one, two...

      For the third, they both had to reach awkwardly around it, tucked away as it was between the heavy curtains and another wall of boxes.

      In doing so their fingers brushed against each other, along the far side of the box.

      Only for a second—or not even that long.

      Barely long enough to be noticed—but Hugh did.

      Her hand felt cool and soft. Her nails glossy and smooth beneath his palm.

      His gaze darted to April’s, but she was too busy lifting the box to pay any attention at all.

      Or too busy deliberately looking busy.

      He suspected the latter. He’d noticed her reaction in his flat when she’d so briefly brushed against him. Her cheeks had blushed pink in an instant.

      He’d reacted, too.

      It was strange, really, for his blood to heat like that from such an innocent touch.

      He hadn’t expected it.

      Not that he hadn’t continued to notice April’s attractiveness. It would be impossible not to. She was beautiful in a classic, non-negotiable way—but beauty was not something Hugh should be paying much attention to when it came to a woman working for him.

      So he’d made sure he hadn’t.

      Except for when she’d stood beside him at the sink a few nights ago, when his thoughts had been jumbled and unfocused. Then the shape of her neck, of her jaw, the profile of her nose and chin...

      Yes, he’d noticed.

      But, more, he’d noticed her

Скачать книгу