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‘Things to do after my morning cleaning session,’ she fibbed. ‘But I’ll see to your place this afternoon.’
‘Right, I must be off, too.’ Nat gave her an evil grin. ‘And don’t worry, if Mr Denny comes knocking I’ll throw him out, neck and crop.’
Emily set off for her normal working day with anticipation she firmly dismissed as utter nonsense. Lucas Tennent was feeling rough and needed company; she was merely the person willing to brave his germs. And to brighten him up she was wearing a newish yellow sweater with her jeans, and a touch of make-up. No big deal.
By the time the lift doors opened on the top floor of Lucas Tennent’s building Emily had herself well in hand. She was the cleaner. Lucas Tennent paid her wages. For the moment he was feeling so rotten he needed a helping hand. So she would be brisk and efficient, hand over the paper, complete her usual cleaning routine, make lunch for him, then go straight home again.
Emily pressed the buzzer, unlocked the door and called her name. And this time Lucas appeared at once, haggard, the bloodshot eyes dark-ringed, but with a smile of greeting so different from the hostility of the day before it did serious damage to her resolutions.
‘Good morning, Emily Warner. Good of you to come.’
‘I’m always here on Mondays.’ She handed him the paper.
‘Thank you just the same. But be of good cheer,’ he said, leaning in the doorway. ‘No need to change sheets and force pills down my throat. I’ve performed both duties myself, already.’
‘Well done.’ She took off her jacket and put it on the chest. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Not wonderful. But better than yesterday.’
Which was obvious from the interest he was taking in her appearance.
‘Back to bed now,’ she said briskly. ‘Read the paper while I tidy up.’
‘Forget that. I need conversation. Come and talk to me for a while—’ Lucas broke off to cough, and Emily gestured towards his bedroom.
‘Please go back to bed.’ She went ahead of him to stack the pillows and turn down the newly changed covers. ‘You should have waited for me to do this,’ she said severely. ‘Because you don’t feel so marvellous now, do you?’
‘No,’ he admitted, and slid into bed with a groan of relief.
‘Have you had anything to eat today?’
‘I drank some milk.’
‘Better than nothing, I suppose,’ said Emily, and smiled her approval.
‘Cute dimple,’ he commented.
‘What would you like to eat?’ she asked, ignoring him. ‘Eggs in some form would be best. Something light to start you off.’
‘At the moment I feel too feeble to lift a fork. Later, maybe. When I’ve got over my exertions.’ He eyed her irritably. ‘For the moment just sit down and talk to me, woman.’
Objecting hotly to this form of address, Emily stood her ground for a moment, then sat down on the chair beside the bed. ‘Oh, very well. What shall I talk about?’
‘You.’
She grimaced. ‘Boring subject.’
‘I disagree.’ He slid further down in the bed. ‘Tell me what you did before the domestic engineering.’
‘I worked in a commercial retail agency—I told you it was boring.’
‘Emily, that sexy voice of yours could recite the phone book without boring me.’ He threw up a hand at her scowl. ‘Sorry, sorry. Go on. Tell me why you switched careers.’
She shrugged. ‘I lived for a while with a man who worked in the same agency. When we broke up I moved out and packed in my job.’
Lucas lay watching her, his shadowed eyes alert with interest. ‘Non-amicable parting, obviously. When was this?’
‘Fairly recently. Now, how about that breakfast?’
His mouth twisted. ‘I’m a bit wary of eating. It’s bloody mortifying to keep dashing away to throw up.’
She nodded sympathetically. ‘My mother got a leaflet about flu when I was ill. It said one must try to eat if possible. So will you try?’
‘On one condition—that you keep me company while I do.’
‘If you insist.’
‘Not at all. I’m asking you nicely!’
Emily laughed and went off to the kitchen. When she returned to the bedroom with a laden tray she found Lucas waiting with barely concealed impatience, the daily paper unopened beside him. ‘Sorry I was so long,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m used to cleaning your kitchen, but not cooking in it.’
‘Which you shouldn’t be doing at all,’ he said irritably.
‘Of course I should.’ She laid a clean towel across his chest. ‘Better use this now you’ve made the effort to change your bed.’ She handed him a fork and a plate of scrambled eggs on toast, then feeling a little awkward sat down again. ‘Salt, pepper?’ she asked. ‘I seasoned the eggs a bit, but you might want more.’
‘They’re perfect,’ he said, tasting them. ‘Now, entertain me while I eat. I can tell you’re not a Londoner. Where do you come from?’
‘Chastlecombe, in Gloucestershire.’
‘Snap—same county,’ he informed her with a grin. ‘We’re both country bumpkins, then.’
Anything less like a country bumpkin than Lucas Tennent was hard to imagine. Even lying in bed, haggard and feverish. ‘Speak for yourself,’ she said pertly, then bit her lip.
‘What now?’ he demanded.
‘I keep forgetting.’
‘Forgetting what?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, right. Me boss, you slave.’
Emily glared at him. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that!’
‘I should bloody well hope not,’ he said forcibly, and eyed his empty plate in surprise. ‘That was good. Thank you.’
Emily took his plate to the kitchen, then returned shortly afterwards with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Lucas, then resumed her place in the chair. ‘You look a little better now,’ she said with approval.
‘I feel it.’ He drank with relish, then settled back against his pillows. ‘So tell me more, Emily. What course are you doing?’
She winced. ‘I lied about that.’
‘Did you now?’ he said, eyeing her flushed face with amusement. ‘So what exactly are you doing on that laptop of yours? Hacking into state secrets?’
‘Nothing so exciting. I’m trying my hand at a novel. I make a sort of rough draft of the next bit in my head while I’m cleaning, then get it down on my laptop later. But if I hadn’t been stupid enough to lie to you when you caught me,’ she added bluntly, ‘I wouldn’t be telling you this. No one else knows, not even my family.’
‘My lips are sealed,’ he assured her, hand on heart. ‘But why the secrecy?’
Her chin jutted. ‘I experienced a pretty humiliating form of rejection recently. If—or more likely when—the manuscript’s rejected, too, I’d rather no one knew about it.’
CHAPTER THREE
LUCAS eyed her with respect as she got up to refill his coffee cup. ‘You’re a lady of surprises, Emily.’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. All my life, until recently, I did everything by the book.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Miles Denny happened.’ Emily sat down again. ‘My family disapproved. They don’t like him.’
‘I don’t either.’
She laughed. ‘You haven’t met him.’
‘I don’t have to.’ He frowned. ‘Emily, I’ve got a name, but you haven’t used it yet. I thought we’d sorted that out.’
She gave him a fulminating look, and jumped to her feet. ‘Right—Lucas! I’m going to clear up now.’
‘Don’t go yet! Please?’ His eyes met hers with a persuasion she found impossible to resist.
‘I’m still going to clear away and so on,’ she said firmly, picking up the coffee tray. ‘But I’ll come back afterwards for a few minutes. Then you should try to sleep.’
‘I can do that when I’m alone,’ he said testily.
While Emily loaded the dishwasher later she fought a losing battle with her common sense. She’d achieved her aim in coming here to check on Lucas Tennent, feed him, and make sure he wasn’t any worse. So she should go home once she’d finished her usual routine. But it was such balm to her dented ego to have a man like Lucas Tennent pleading for her company. Besides, she thought, brightening, it was all an aid to research. The more she saw of him, the more her fictional hero would take shape.
She paid the living-room some attention, made sure the kitchen was immaculate, then cleaned the bathroom in the hall to complete at least part of her usual routine for Mondays. Afterwards she brushed her hair, used a lipstick, then went to rejoin Lucas, who regarded her with bloodshot, accusing eyes.
‘I thought you’d gone,’ he said, his jutting lip so much like young Tom Sedley in a strop that Emily bit back a smile.
‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded.
‘You reminded me of someone.’
He scowled. ‘Not the much-disliked Miles?’
‘No. I’m very fond of this someone.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Son of my landlord.’
‘One of the twins?’
‘You remembered,’ she said, surprised, and sat down in the armchair.
‘I remember everything you’ve told me so far,’ Lucas assured her. ‘I’ve felt too lousy to read, or watch television, so I lie here and think about you.’
‘Time I was going,’ she said hastily, and got up, but he lunged swiftly and caught her hand.
‘I was not coming on to you. I meant that you interest me.’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘Is that a compliment?’
‘It’s the truth,’ he said simply, and released her hand.
Appeased, Emily resumed her seat. ‘By the way, Lucas, the new number I left for you is unlisted. My family have it, of course, and my closest friend, but—’
‘Not Miles,’ he said, nodding.
‘That’s the problem. He’s got hold of it somehow. He rang me last night.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Did you speak to him?’
‘No. I just listened while he left a message. He tracked the number down somehow. Now I’m afraid he’ll find out where I’m living.’ She shivered at the thought.
Lucas frowned. ‘Emily, are you afraid of this guy?’
‘Certainly not. I just don’t want to see him again.’
‘Why did you leave him?’
Her lips tightened. ‘The usual reason.’
‘Another woman?’
‘One that I know of personally, but probably a lot more that I don’t.’ She shrugged. ‘A boring little tale.’
He settled more comfortably against the pillows. ‘Tell me about your family instead.’
Preparing to lie about some fictitious appointment, Emily hesitated. Lucas Tennent was enjoying her company. And she was enjoying his. But she had no illusions. Without his dose of flu none of this would be happening.
His heavy eyes narrowed as he watched her face. ‘You’re about to say you can’t stay. Are you due at the Donaldsons’?’
‘No, not today. But I should be going home.’
‘Don’t tell me we’re back to this “upstairs, downstairs” garbage again?’ he demanded irritably.
‘You should be resting.’
‘I can do that after you’re gone.’ He gave her a cunning look. ‘I could pay you overtime.’
