LITMIR.BIZ

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reran quickly through my head. ‘You stopped going there because of your shin splints. That’s why I paid a fortune for your bloody bike! So you could exercise without your shins hurting!’

      ‘Amy …’

      ‘You’ve been seeing her for six months? Six months!’ Hysteria was giving way to red rage. All that time, he’d let me prattle on about us becoming a family.

      ‘She’s the reason I stopped going to the gym, Amy! She was there – and here at work … I couldn’t get away from her! She pursued me. I made one mistake, and I couldn’t shake her off!’ I started to feel giddy. ‘Amy, listen to me. I didn’t mean to sleep with her—’

      ‘Didn’t mean to? Didn’t mean to?’ I growled. Somebody knocked gingerly on the boardroom door. It wasn’t Adrian, he’d have kicked it down if he wanted to.

      ‘How are your shins now, James?’ I trembled, a disconcerting calm settled into my shoulders. Six months. Not a momentary mistake at all. Another rap on the door. ‘Did the bike I spent a month’s wages on – while you were at it with Glitter Knickers – did it help ease the pain in your shins?’

      Another phone started ringing on the shop floor. No one answered it this time.

      ‘What are you talking about?’ James asked as the boardroom door handle began to rattle.

      ‘Your shins, James? How are they shaping up?’

      James looked perplexed, so I saved him the hassle of asking again. I launched the toe of my red Mary Jane hard and sure into James’s leg. James yelped, grabbing at his assaulted limb. It hurt me, but it hurt him more.

      ‘AMY! What the f—’

      ‘I’m sorry, James!’ I retorted mirthfully. ‘I didn’t mean it! That deliberate, hurtful, action … I DIDN’T MEAN IT!’

      ‘Er, sorry to interrupt …’ The uncertainty in Phil’s voice rendered it almost unrecognisable.

      ‘What?’ I growled, the threat of tears driving on my anger. How could he? How could he sit through all of those meetings, the panel hearing, pretending that he wanted a family with me when all the time…?

      Phil shifted awkwardly, taking in the spectacle of James sat on the photographs, purple-cheeked and clasping at his leg.

      I quickly appraised the dark stranger standing next to Phil. Jeans and T-shirts didn’t usually feature this far from Tom’s end of the office. Baseball caps didn’t feature anywhere at Cyan. ‘Can’t you take delivery of those, Phil?’ I said breathily, nodding at the cardboard tube poking from the stranger’s backpack. Drawings were usually emailed in, but occasionally someone paid to have them couriered instead. ‘James and I are just … having a meeting.’

      The delivery guy considered James, who was trying unsuccessfully not to grimace where he sat. Delivery Guy looked away, the beginnings of a smile eking across his boyish face. ‘I think she likes you, mate,’ he said, turning strangely pale hazel eyes this way. They were startling next to his dark hair and lightly tanned complexion.

      Phil looked at James and began fighting a grin of her own. Delivery Guy pulled his cap from his head, revealing a choppy brunette crop that made his eyes all the more staggering. He instantly looked older. James winced and got to his feet. ‘Shin splints,’ he volunteered to the other man.

      Delivery Guy pouted his acknowledgement. ‘Nasty old business, shin splints, my friend. Painful stuff.’ He was taller than James. Broader, too – his shoulders wide beneath the black tee, framed by the straps of his backpack. James couldn’t make him out either. He looked at me only briefly before hobbling out between the two adults trying to remain straight-faced in the doorway.

      Phil moved further into the boardroom. ‘Um, Amy?’

      I began absently tidying the photos on the table. ‘Yep?’

      Six months. It was a lot of sex-time. A lot of time for hand-holding and secret-sharing.

      ‘Your next meeting …’ Phil said.

      I looked up at her. ‘Hmm? What about it?’ Phil was smiling awkwardly, trying to convey something in the set of her lips. I frowned. ‘My next meeting what? Are these for me?’ I said, holding out my hand out for the tube of drawings.

      Phil gave up. ‘Amy Alwood, Rohan Bywater. Mr Bywater is your next meeting. Shall I get Hannah to bring you some fresh coffees?’

      I felt the colour drain from my face. Phil shrugged, pairing it with an I tried rise of her eyebrows. Mr Bywater sunk hands into his jean pockets and cocked his head, a dazzling smile reaching over his face as I squirmed on the spot. The drawings I’d practically snatched from his hands felt red-hot in mine now.

      ‘Er, Mr Bywater … sorry, come in … take a seat,’ I stuttered.

      ‘Should I grab some shin pads first?’ he asked, jabbing a thumb at the open doorway. An angry bruise leached purplish-red across his right elbow. I felt my cheeks flush a similar colour. Phil slipped back out of the boardroom leaving me to fend for myself.

      ‘About that, Mr Bywater.’ He was smiling. Amused lips, putting me off my already pathetic attempt to redeem myself.

      ‘Call me Rohan.’

      ‘What you just saw, regrettably, was er … not the norm, Mr Bywater, I can assure you …’ A white peep of teeth slowed me again.

      ‘Call me Rohan.’

      ‘Er …’ I nodded to expedite myself back to my point. ‘It’s no excuse … and I won’t bore you with the finer details, but …’

      Rohan Bywater moved around the table to look at the stack of photos I’d neatly ordered in front of me. I waited for him to gather them up and take his business elsewhere. Adrian was going to go berserk.

      ‘Have you had a chance to look through these yet?’

      ‘Er, just a quick look,’ I bumbled. ‘To try to get a feel for the scale of the project.’

      ‘If you want to do that, you’ll need to come and see it for yourself.’ His skin was the colour of the many contractors I’d worked with – bronzed from daily exposure to the elements. He looked serious now, I wasn’t sure I didn’t prefer the smiling. I felt the back of my earring give under my fingers.

      ‘So, how does this all work?’ he asked, leaning back against the table’s edge.

      My brain found a foothold. ‘Well, we can arrange a site meeting, take a look at the spaces involved. You already have plans and ellies drawn up—’

      ‘Ellies?’

      ‘Sorry, elevations. We’ll measure up and check them, talk through your requirements, put a fee proposal together for you.’ He was listening intently. ‘If you’re happy with the quote, we’ll get a contract of works drawn up for you to sign and then we can get down to the bones of your project.’

      ‘Get down to the bones of it?’

      He folded his arms in front of his chest. It was an impressive bruise he had.

      ‘Starting with a meeting so that we can formulate an in-depth design brief together.’

      ‘Together? As in …?’

      ‘As in, yourself and a representative of Cyan’s interiors team.’

      ‘Uhuh,’ he said, lolling his head again. ‘And do all the representatives of Cyan’s interiors team wear red heels? I’m just asking because, hey, I like a challenge, but I’ve seen first-hand how you get down to the bones of things around here … as in directly through your friend’s trouser leg.’ He wore an expression of nonchalance now. He found my discomfort amusing. I found his amusement … annoying.

      A knock at the door and Hannah provided a welcome

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