LITMIR.BIZ

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Everest Records. She was afraid that we’d be all corporate and not ‘get’ her music.”

      “Of course we won’t be. I like her. I wasn’t trying to convince her of anything.”

      “I know, that’s why it worked. I think you are going to be an asset to my team,” Henry said.

      Astrid smiled and felt a flush that came with knowing she’d done a good job. That was it, she told herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that Henry had leaned in close to her and had his arm around her shoulder.

      “I want to hit one more club before calling it a night,” Henry said. “You up for that?”

      She thought about her after-Daniel routine—evening television programs followed by a cup of chamomile tea and bed by eleven. For the first time since she’d lost her baby she felt alive. Really alive.

      “Yes, I am.”

      “Good. Let’s go,” Henry said.

      They talked a little more about what he wanted on their way to the next club, and Astrid was careful to listen to what he said. Throughout the rest of the evening he didn’t push anymore to find out why she’d left Mo Rollins’s organization, and she was glad of it.

      She knew, though, that it was a temporary reprieve. Henry was going to get the answers to his questions. He was simply biding his time and letting her get to the point where she was finally comfortable.

      She thought she’d have weeks to get to the point where she’d casually mention Daniel and the fact that over the eighteen months she worked for him their relationship had progressed from professional to personal, but that all changed when they left their third club of the evening and she stepped out into the night air and nearly collided with a tall, broad-shouldered man.

      “Sorry,” she said, glancing up into eyes that were very familiar.

      “Astrid? What are you doing here?” Daniel asked.

      “Working,” she said.

      “For me,” Henry said, stepping behind her and putting his arm on her elbow as he drew her away from Daniel.

       Four

      Henry didn’t like the way the other man was looking at Astrid. It was more than the way an ex-boss should. Over the course of the day he’d started thinking of her as his. Not in a sexual way … well, not completely in a sexual way. And he could tell from the frozen expression on her face that this man wasn’t a friend of hers.

      “Henry Devonshire,” Henry said, offering his hand to the man.

      “Daniel Martin.”

      Suddenly a lot of things fell into place. Astrid’s old boss was more than her boss. No wonder she’d been reluctant to talk about him.

      “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

      “You, as well. Steph Cordo was quite a coup for you. A lot of producers are envious they didn’t get the drop on you.”

      Henry smiled affably. His time in the spotlight taught him how to conceal what he really felt about others. And he didn’t like the brash American Daniel. He rubbed Henry the wrong way.

      “Henry’s got an eye for talent.”

      “Let’s hope he can also spot the slackers,” Daniel said.

      Astrid flinched and drew her handbag closer to her body. “I’ve always known how to build winning teams. There’s our car. Good evening, Daniel.”

      Daniel nodded, and Henry led Astrid to the valet stand where his car waited. She was eerily silent for someone he’d come to expect to be sassy and spunky. Was the cheeky girl he’d come to know just a façade, and was this introspective woman the real Astrid?

      “Daniel was the reason you left your last job,” Henry said.

      “It was attendance, like my record stated. I know that Daniel wouldn’t have given me a recommendation.”

      “He didn’t.”

      “Figures.”

      “How long were the two of you involved?” Henry asked.

      “Why do you think we were?”

      Henry gave her a shrewd look. “Ex-lovers make everyone react differently than ex-bosses. So … how long were you two involved?”

      “Too long,” Astrid said. “I … I’m not normally like that. I really thought that Daniel was a different man.”

      Henry sensed that about Astrid. She was funny and outgoing, but he had noticed earlier in the evening that she kept a barrier between herself and others. He’d recognized that trait mainly because he always did the same.

      “Do you want to talk about it?” Henry asked.

      She shook her head and clenched her hands tightly on her lap. He knew that she was trying to control her reaction to seeing her ex-lover.

      Henry said nothing, just kept driving. He didn’t know where Astrid lived, and he didn’t want to interrupt her in the middle of whatever she was going to say.

      “I always thought … Well, that hardly matters. Where are we going now?” she asked.

      “Home. But I’ll need your address.”

      “You can drop me at the nearest Underground.”

      “No, I can’t. They’ve stopped running at this hour.”

      She glanced at her watch and then shook her head again. “You’re right. I live in Woking.”

      He put her address into his Sat Nav system and then followed the directions of Mr. T’s voice. As he expected, Astrid laughed a little the first time the recorded voice told him to “turn around, fool.”

      “I can’t believe you have that rude voice on your Sat Nav.”

      “It’s Mr. T. That’s his persona—big tough guy.”

      “I don’t get it. But then Americans are very different, aren’t they?”

      “Some. They don’t get rugby, which makes no sense at all to me.”

      She smiled again, and he felt good for having made her smile. “I guess they are just daft.”

      “Must be. Do you follow rugby?” he asked.

      “Some,” she said, blushing the slightest bit. He could only see the rise in color as he braked to a stop for the traffic light. “I used to when I was younger.”

      “Which teams?”

      “England, of course, in the 6 Nations.”

      “Have you been to any games?” he asked.

      “A few. I used to be really into going to the games at Madejski Stadium to watch the London Irish play.”

      “Why’d you stop?” he asked. His old team was still a contender.

      “My dad got too sick to go. And it was always something I did with him.”

      “Your family must be very close,” he said.

      “Why do you say that?” she asked.

      “You had lunch with your sister, went to games with your dad.”

      She shrugged. Something he noticed she did a lot when she was evading answering a question. “I suppose we are. What about you? Your mum is Tiffany Malone. That had to be exciting.”

      “She’s still my mum,” he said. “We’re quite close, actually. She loves being a mum and smothers my brothers and I with her mothering.”

      Astrid smiled again. “Are you a bit of a mummy’s lad?”

      “What do you think?”

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