Page 35 of Tears of Ink

“It was a guess.”

I smile and meet his gaze. Jeez, he’s good to look at. Those eyes… honestly, I can’t believe he’s been walking blinking them at people. How does anyone have a conversation with him without drooling?

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

I take a sip, pleased to be hit by a strong sweet after-note. “And the sugar?”

“Another guess. Figured it would soften that hardened edge of yours.”

“Whatever.” I wave my hand to where there’s a small cramped sofa under the window. The sash is up, letting in the hum of London from below.

His eyes flick over the place. “This is nice. Must cost a pretty penny though?” He sits on the sofa and makes it look even smaller, stretching his legs in front of him.

This flat is officially too small for him.

I swallow nervously. I’m not often nervous, but I am right now. The future is a myriad of crossroads in front of me and this is the defining moment.

He carries on oblivious to my tongue tie. “I can see why you have the studio, too. There isn’t much space in here.”

I nod and glance about my flat. I love this place and I’d never give it up, not even for somewhere I could create at home. “The studio is from the university; they have a few of them. Somehow, I managed to get one.” I cringe as a moment of realisation hits me. Gerard ‘I’m-so-married’ Steers wangled it for me. It had nothing to do with my skill, and more to do the with the fact I’d made it very clear early on I was going to sleep with him.

I guess he must have been disappointed I only put out once. That’s an expensive shag.

“This place is mine,” I add.

He doesn’t ask how I can afford a prime piece of real estate in an expensive part of London. Instead he takes a sip of his coffee and I watch his lips cling to the plastic lip. I reckon he’s a great kisser.

Faith. For God’s sake…

“Here, I grabbed a few pastries, too.” He thrusts the bag at me, a small smile sliding across his face. “I got the impression this could be bad news, and I’d need all the pain au chocolat’s I could find.”

My stomach rumbles as I take the bag. I didn’t eat last night when I got back as it was too late, and I’d only managed a snack at Abi’s; which means my last full meal was two days ago. It’s not like I can’t afford groceries, I just can’t be bothered to go and get them. Mundane jobs like shopping and laundry don’t register with me. Or putting on a bra, that kind of thing.

“Faith, it’s really hot in here. You can’t possibly breathe in here, surely?” Elijah turns for the windows, but then frowns when he finds they are all open.

“You kinda get used to it,” I reply with an offhanded wave of my fingers.

He shakes his head and I’m mesmerised by the flash of his eyes as they twinkle at me.

“Either we go out and drink our coffee somewhere shady, preferably with air con, or you’re going to need to find some more tissue paper for me to use under my own armpits.”

I scowl and flush a burning red, from my chest to the top of my head.

“There’s a park behind, if you fancy a walk?” I suggest, still clutching the bag of goodies. This is odd. Here’s this man: gorgeous and refined, standing in my tiny flat, like he can just about fit in it, and I can’t stop looking at him.

He’s beautiful.

I could become obsessed.

That familiar tingle of longing cruises its way into my consciousness.

I can imagine us hot and sweaty, skin slipping and sliding, hands wandering, limbs tangling.

I bite my lip and consider my options.

But then he might be my boss for the summer, and I don’t break my one-time-only rule for anyone. If I allowed my usual obsessive nature to take over, it could ruin everything.

“Sure.” He holds his hand in an ‘after you’ gesture to the door, but then stops. “Wait, Faith. Shall we just do the business talk now, get it over and done with?”