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‘We’ll take the stairs,’ he muttered. ‘Isn’t your meeting about PR, anyway?’ he went on once safely out of Jewel’s sight. ‘I should know what’s going on.’
‘I’ll fill you in on the details afterwards,’ I tried.
‘No, I’d better come. I wouldn’t put it past Jewel to come back and surprise me,’ said Phin, with an exaggerated grimace of fear. ‘And where would I be without you to rescue me?’
If I resisted any more, Phin would start wondering why I was so keen to be on my own with Jonathan, and that was the last thing I wanted. I could hardly refuse to take my own boss to a meeting, after all, but I was rigid with disappointment as we made our way up to Jonathan’s office on the floor above.
Not that Phin seemed to notice. He was in high good humour, having escaped Jewel’s clutches, and he breezed into Jonathan’s office and completely took over the meeting. I had no need to bring out my line about grabbing a sandwich.
‘Let’s talk over lunch,’ said Phin, and bore us off to a wine bar tucked away in a side street between Covent Garden and the Strand.
So much for my date with Jonathan. I walked glumly beside Phin, listening to him setting out to charm Jonathan, who was obviously delighted at Phin’s unexpected appearance. I was feeling pretty miserable, if you want the truth. I couldn’t fool myself that there had been even a flash of disappointment from Jonathan because he wouldn’t be meeting me alone.
Still, I found myself grabbing onto pathetic crumbs of comfort—like the way he arranged for me to sit next to him at the table. Later, of course, I realised it was so that he could sit face to face with Phin, on the other side, but at the time it was all I had to hang on to.
Not that it did me much good. I wanted to concentrate on Jonathan, but somehow I couldn’t with Phin sitting across the table exuding such vitality that even after what had obviously been a heavy night with Jewel everyone else seemed to fade in comparison to him. Whenever I tried to slide a glance at Jonathan my eyes would snag instead on Phin’s smile, or Phin’s solid forearms, or his hands that fiddled maddeningly with the cutlery as he talked and gesticulated.
The two men couldn’t have been more of a contrast. Jonathan was in a beautifully cut grey suit, which he wore with a blue shirt and dotted silk tie. Anne would have looked at him and said conventional and boring, but to me he was mature and professional. Unlike Phin, whose hair could have done with a cut and who was wearing a casual shirt and chinos in neutral colours and yet still managed to look six times as colourful as anyone else in the room.
‘Glitz are planning a major spread,’ Jonathan was explaining to Phin. ‘It’s a great opportunity for us to promote a more accessible image. Market research shows that Gibson & Grieve are still seen as elitist, so for the new stores we need to present ourselves as ordinary and family-friendly. Your image as a celebrity will be very valuable to us, but up to now you’ve been associated with the wild. What we want is to associate you with the home, and we’d like Glitz to interview you at your house, so that their readers get an idea of you in a domestic setting.’
Jonathan paused delicately. ‘If you have a girlfriend, it would be very good to get her involved as well—perhaps even give the impression that you’re thinking of settling down. I did hear that you’re going out with Jewel Stevens…?’ He trailed off, more than a touch of envy in his tone.
Phin’s eyes met mine. ‘I’m not involving Jewel,’ he said with a grin. ‘It might give her all the wrong ideas—and besides, I wouldn’t have any crockery left by the time Glitz turned up. I’m reduced to eating off paper plates as it is!’
‘She sounds very feisty,’ said Jonathan. I don’t know if he was aiming for a man-about-town air or humour, but either way it didn’t quite work.
I glanced at Phin and away again.
‘Feisty is one way of putting it,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Jonathan, but I’m going to have to do this as single guy.’
Jonathan looked disappointed. I got the feeling that he would have liked to have talked more about Jewel. ‘Well, perhaps you could give the impression that you’re thinking of settling down without mentioning any names,’ he suggested.
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘What about your house? Do we need to redecorate for you?’
‘Redecorate? I thought the article was supposed to be showing me as I am at home?’
‘No, it’s to show you at the kind of home we want readers to associate with Gibson & Grieve,’ Jonathan corrected him. He turned to me. ‘Summer, you’d better check it out. You’ll know what needs to be done.’
‘She’ll just tidy me up,’ Phin protested.
‘Summer’s very competent,’ said Jonathan.
Competent. You know, when you dream of what the man of your dreams will say about you, you think about words like beautiful, amazing, sexy, passionate, incredible. You never long for him to tell you’re competent, do you?
‘No redecorating,’ said Phin firmly. ‘If you make it all stylish it’ll look and seem false, and that would do our image more harm than good. Summer can come and keep me on the straight and narrow in the interview, but I’m not changing the house. If you want readers to see what my home is like, we can show them. It’s not as if I live in squalor.’
My only hope was that Phin might leave us after lunch, but, no, he insisted on walking back with us. So I never had one moment alone with Jonathan. I had to say goodbye to him in the lift as Phin and I got out on the floor below.
And that was my big date that I’d looked forward to so much. A complete waste of make-up. Jonathan hadn’t even commented on my cardigan.
Phin looked nervously around the office when we got back. ‘She’s gone—phew!’ He wiped his brow in mock relief. ‘Thanks again for earlier, Summer. It’s good to know you can lie when you need to! If Jewel comes in again, I’m not here, OK?’
I was too cross about Jonathan to be tactful. I was even beginning to feel some sympathy for Jewel. At least she had the gumption to go for what she wanted. Jonathan evidently found her feistiness appealing. Perhaps I should have tried smashing a few plates.
‘If you don’t want to see her again, you should tell her yourself…tiger,’ I said sharply, and Phin winced.
‘I’ll try,’ he said. ‘But Jewel isn’t someone who listens to what she doesn’t want to hear. Still, I’m going away in a few days,’ he remembered cheerfully. ‘She’ll soon lose interest if I’m not around.’
Chapter Four
HE LEFT for Peru a week later. ‘How long will you be away?’ I asked him.
‘We should be able to wrap it up in twelve days.’ Phin looked up from the computer screen with a grin. ‘Why? Do you think you’ll miss me after all?’
‘No,’ I said crushingly. ‘I just need to know when to arrange a date with Glitz.’
But the funny thing was that I did miss him a bit. I realised I’d got used to him being in the office, managing to seem both lazy and energetic at the same time, and without him everything seemed strangely flat.
I told myself that I enjoyed the peace and quiet, and that it was a relief to be able to get on with some work without being teased or constantly interrupted by frivolous questions or made to stop and eat doughnuts—OK, I didn’t mind that bit so much. I had a whole week without Phin juggling with my stapler and my sticky note dispenser, or messing around with the layout of my desk, which I know quite well he only did to annoy.
He was always picking things up and then putting them down in the wrong place, or at an odd angle, and he seemed to derive endless amusement from watching me straighten them. Sometimes I’d try and ignore it, but it was like trying to ignore an itch. After a while my hand would creep out to rearrange whatever it was he had dislodged, at which point Phin would shout, ‘Aha! I knew you couldn’t do it!’
I mean, what kind of boss carries on like that? It was deeply unprofessional, as I was always pointing out, but that only made Phin laugh harder.
So all in all I was looking forward to having the office to myself for a few days, but the moment he’d gone I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.
That first morning on my own I went down to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. I’d got out of the habit of buying myself a doughnut, I realised. Phin always bought them now, and I’d forgotten that I wouldn’t have anything to have with my coffee. It wouldn’t kill me, but the lack of sugar just added to my grouchiness as I carried my mug back to my desk.
Khalid from the postroom was just on his way out of my office. ‘I’ve left the mail on your desk,’ he told me. ‘You’ve got a Special Delivery, too.’
I’d ordered a scanner the day before. The supplies department must have moved quickly for once, I thought, but as I set down my mug I saw a small confectionery box sitting in front of my keyboard. ‘Summer Curtis, Monday’ was scribbled on the top. Not a scanner, then.
Puzzled, I opened it up. Inside, sitting on a paper napkin, was a doughnut.
There was a business card, too. I pulled it out. It had Phin’s name and contact details on one side. On the other he had scrawled, ‘I didn’t want to think of you without your sugar fix. P x’
My throat felt ridiculously tight. Nobody had ever done anything as thoughtful for me before.
Of course it didn’t mean anything, I was quick to remind myself. It was just part of Phin’s pathological need to make everyone like him. His charm was relentless.
But still I found myself—annoyingly—thinking about him, about where he was and what he was doing, and when I picked up the phone and heard his voice my heart gave the most ridiculous lurch.
‘Just thought I’d check in,’ said Phin. ‘I hardly know what to do with myself. I’m so used to you telling me what to do and where to be all day. I’ve got used to being organised. Are you missing me yet?’
‘No,’ I lied, because I knew he’d be disappointed if I didn’t. ‘But thank you for the doughnut. How on earth did you organise it?’
‘Oh, that was easy. I had a word with Lucia—who, by the way, smiled at me the other day, so you’re not the only favourite now—and I asked her to send you a selection, so that you get something different every day I’m away. I think we’re in a doughnut rut.’
‘I like my rut,’ I said, but I might as well have spared my breath. Phin was determined that I would try something different.
Sure enough, the next day an apricot Danish arrived at half past ten, and even though I was determined not to like it as much as a doughnut, I had to admit that it was delicious.
The next day brought an almond croissant, and the one after that an apple strudel, and then an éclair. Pastries I’d never seen before appeared on my desk, and I found myself starting to glance at the clock after ten and wondering what I’d have with my coffee that day. I’d try and guess what would be in the box—vanilla turnover? Pain au chocolat?—but I never got it right.
Inevitably word got round about my special deliveries. I wasn’t the only one who was guessing. I heard afterwards they were even taking bets on it in Finance.
‘I wish my boss would send me pastries,’ my friend Helen grumbled. ‘You’d think in Food Technology it would be a perk of the job. You are lucky. Phin’s so lovely, isn’t he?’
I heard that a lot, and although I always said that he was a nightmare to work for, the truth was that I was finding it hard to remember just how irritating he was. When he walked into the office the following Tuesday, my heart jumped into my throat and for one panicky moment I actually forgot how to breathe.
He strolled in, looking brown and fit, his eyes bluer than ever, and instantly the air was charged with a kind of electricity. Suddenly I was sharply aware of everything: of colour of my nails flickering over the keyboard—Cherry Ripe, if you’re interested—of the computer’s hum, of the feel of the glasses on my nose, the light outside the window. It was as if the whole office had snapped into high definition.
‘Good morning,’ I said, and Phin peered at me in surprise.
‘Good God, what was that?’
‘What was what?’ I asked, thrown.
‘No, no…it’s OK. For a moment there I thought I saw a smile.’
‘I’ve smiled before,’ I protested.
‘Not like that. It was worth coming home for!’ Phin came to sit on the edge of my desk and picked up the stapler. ‘I’m not going to ask if you missed me because you’ll just look at me over your glasses and say no.’
‘I would have said a bit—until you started fiddling,’ I said, removing the stapler from his grasp and setting it back into its place. ‘But now I’ve remembered how irritating you are.’
Deliberately, Phin reached out and pushed the stapler out of alignment with one finger. ‘Irritating? Me?’
‘Stop it,’ I said, slapping his hand away. I straightened the stapler once more. ‘Haven’t you got some other trip to go on? I’m sure they must need you in Ulan Bator or Timbuktu or somewhere.’
‘Nope. Next time you’re coming with me.’ He had started on the scissors now, snapping them at me as he talked. ‘So, what’s the news here?’
‘We’ve set up your Glitz interview for Thursday,’ I told him. ‘The interviewer is called Imelda Ross, and she’s bringing a photographer with her. They’ll be at your house at ten, so can you please make sure you’re ready for them?’
‘That’s an appointment, not news,’ he said. ‘What’s the gossip? Has Lex run off with a lap dancer? Has Kevin been caught siphoning funds to some offshore bank account?’ Kevin was our Chief Financial Officer and famously prudent.
‘Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. Everyone’s been doing what they always do.’
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. Jonathan was looking much more relaxed these days. I had shared a lift with him a few days earlier, and instead of being stiff and awkward he had smiled and chatted about the spell of fine weather.
I’d replayed the conversation endlessly, of course, and was hugging the hope that he might be warming to me again. Between that and Phin’s pastries I’d been happier than I’d been for ages—but I didn’t think that would be of much interest to Phin, even if I had been prepared to confess it, which I wasn’t.
‘According to the gossip mags, Jewel Stevens has got a new man,’ I offered instead.
‘Has she? Excellent! I was hoping she’d lost interest.’
‘She rang looking for you a couple of times, but I didn’t think you’d want to speak to her in Peru, so I said you were out of contact.’
‘Summer, you’re a treasure,’ he told me, putting down the scissors at last and digging around at his feet. ‘So, even though you haven’t missed me, you deserve a reward,’ he said as he produced a paper bag. ‘I’ve brought us something special to celebrate my return.’
The ‘something special’ turned out to be a cream doughnut each. ‘I didn’t feel we knew each other well enough to tackle one of these before,’ he said as I eyed it dubiously, wondering how on earth I was going to eat it elegantly.
‘I defy you to eat one of these without making a mess,’ Phin added, reading my expression without any difficulty.
I couldn’t, of course. I started off taking tiny nibbles, until he couldn’t bear it any more.
‘Get on with it, woman,’ he ordered. ‘Stop messing around at the edges. Take a good bite and enjoy it! That’s not a bad recipe for life, now I come to think of it,’ he said, watching as I sank my teeth obediently into the middle of the doughnut and cream spurted everywhere. ‘The doughnut approach to living well. I might write a book about it.’
‘Make sure you include a section on how to clean up all the mess,’ I said, dabbing at my mouth with my fingers, torn between embarrassment and laughter. I spotted a blob of cream on my skirt. ‘Ugh, I’ve got cream everywhere!’
‘The best things in life are messy,’ said Phin.
‘Not as far as I’m concerned,’ I said, as I carefully wiped the cream from my skirt. ‘But maybe I’ll make an exception for cream doughnuts. It was delicious!’
With a final lick of my fingers, I got to my feet. ‘I’d better get back to work,’ I said.
Phin got up, too. His smile had faded as he watched me eat the doughnut, and his expression was oddly unreadable for once. He was looking at me so intently that I hesitated.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘You’ve missed a bit,’ he said and, reaching out, he wiped a smear of cream from my cheek, just near my mouth. Then he offered me his finger to lick.
I stared at it, mesmerised by the vividness with which I could imagine my tongue against his finger. I could practically taste the sweetness of the cream, feel the contrast between its smoothness and the firmness of his skin, and a wave of heat pulsed up from my toes to my cheeks and simmered in my brain. For one awful moment I was afraid that the top of my head would actually blow off.
Horrified by how intimate the mere idea seemed, and about Phin—my boss!—of all people, I found myself taking a step back and shaking my head at the temptation.
Phin’s eyes never left my mouth as he licked the cream off himself.
‘Yum, yum,’ he said softly.
I know, it doesn’t sound very erotic, but my heart was thudding so loudly I was sure he must hear it. My pulse roared in my ears and I had a terrible feeling that I might literally be steaming. I had to get out of the room before Phin noticed.
I cleared my throat with an effort. ‘I…er…I should let you get on. Haven’t you got a meeting now?’
‘I have?’
‘Yes, in HR. You wanted me to set it up for you, to talk to Jane about staff development and the Cameroon trip. It’s in the diary.’ I could feel myself babbling as I backed away towards the door. ‘I’ll forward the e-mail to you…’
Somehow I made it back to my desk, and had to spend a few minutes just breathing very carefully.
I felt very odd, almost shaken. I had never thought about Phin that way before. I had never thought about Jonathan like that either, to be honest. I loved Jonathan, but he was safe. This wild pounding of my blood felt dark and rude and dangerous, and I didn’t like it.
I pulled myself together at last. A momentary aberration, I told myself. A huge fuss about nothing. I mean, we hadn’t even touched. A flick of Phin’s finger against my cheek. That was all that had happened. Nothing at all, in fact.
I was just…hot. Was this what a hot flush was like? I wondered wildly. If so, I wasn’t looking forward to the menopause at all.
