Unlocking Her Boss's Heart

by Christy McKellen

  ‘Okay.’ He stood up and gathered his laptop and charger together before making for the door. ‘Thanks, Cara. I’ll get my stuff together and call you from the train.’

  Turning back, he saw she was standing stiffly with her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed.

  Pausing for a moment, he wondered whether he was asking too much of her, but quickly dismissed it. She’d chosen to stay and she knew what she was getting herself into.

  They were in it together now.

  * * *

  To his relief, Cara successfully held the fort back in London whilst he was away, routinely emailing him sections of completed work to be used in the business proposal that he wrote in the evenings in time to make the deadline. She seemed to have a real flair for picking out relevant information and had made an excellent job of copying his language style.

  She also saved his hide by sending flowers and a card in his name to his mother for her birthday, which he was ashamed to discover he’d forgotten all about in his panic about losing the client.

  Damaging the precarious cordiality that he and his mother had tentatively built up after working through their differences over the past few years would have been just as bad, and he was immensely grateful to Cara for her forethought and care.

  She really was excellent at her job.

  In fact, after receiving compliments from clients about how responsive and professional she’d been when they’d contacted her with enquiries and complications to be dealt with, he was beginning to realise that he’d actually been very fortunate to secure her services. He felt sure, if she wanted to, she could walk into a job with a much better salary with her eyes shut.

  Which made him wonder again why she hadn’t.

  Whatever the reason, the idea of losing her excellent skill base now made him uneasy. Even though he’d been certain he’d want to let her go at the end of the trial month, he was now beginning to think that that would be a huge mistake.

  He had some serious thinking to do.

  If he was honest, he reflected on Thursday evening, sitting alone in the hotel’s busy restaurant, having time and space away from Cara and the house had been a relief. He’d been glad of the opportunity to get his head together after their confrontation. She was the first person, outside his close circle of friends, that he’d talked to in any detail about what had happened to Jemima and it had changed the atmosphere between them. To Cara’s credit, she hadn’t trotted out platitudes to try and make him feel better and he was grateful to her for that, but he felt a little awkward about how much of himself he’d exposed.

  Conversely, though, it also felt as though a weight that he’d not noticed carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. Not just because he’d finally told Cara about Jem—which he’d begun to feel weirdly seedy about, as if he was keeping a dirty secret from her—but also because it had got to the point where he’d become irrationally superstitious about clearing out the room, as though all his memories of Jemima would be wiped away if he touched it. Which, of course, they hadn’t been—she was still firmly embedded there in his head and his heart. So, even though he’d been angry and upset with Cara at the time, in retrospect, it had been a healthy thing for that decision to be wrenched out of his hands.

  It felt as though he’d taken a step further into the light.

  Cara was out when he arrived back at Friday lunchtime, still buzzed with elation from keeping the client, so he went to unpack his bags upstairs, return a few phone calls and take a shower before coming back down.

  Walking into the kitchen, he spotted her standing by the sink with her back to him, washing a mug. He stopped to watch her for a moment, smiling as he realised she was singing softly to herself, her slim hips swaying in time to the rhythm of the song. She had a beautiful voice, lyrical and sweet, and a strange, intense warmth wound through him as he stood there listening to her. It had been a long time since anyone had sung in this house and there was something so pure and uplifting about it a shiver ran down his spine, inexplicably chased by a deep pull of longing.

  Though not for Cara, surely? But for a time when his life had fewer sharp edges. A simpler time. A happier one.

  Shaking himself out of this unsettling observation, he moved quickly into the room so she wouldn’t think he’d been standing there spying on her.

  ‘Hi, Cara.’

  She jumped and gasped, spinning round to face him, her hand pressed to her chest. She looked fresh and well rested, but there was a wary expression in her eyes.

  ‘Max! I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘I was upstairs, taking a shower and returning some urgent calls. I got back about an hour ago.’

  She nodded, her professional face quickly restored. ‘How was Manchester?’

  ‘Good. We got them back on board. How have things been here?’

  ‘That’s great! Things have been fine here. It’s certainly been very quiet without you.’

  By ‘quiet’ he suspected she actually meant less fraught with angry outbursts.

  There was an uncomfortable silence while she fussed about with the tea towel, hooking it carefully over the handle of the cooker door and smoothing it until it lay perfectly straight.

  Tearing his eyes away from the rather disconcerting sight of her stroking her hands slowly up and down the offending article, he walked over to where the kettle sat on the work surface and flicked it on to boil. He was unsettled to find that things still felt awkward between them when they were face to face—not that he should be surprised that they were. Their last non-work conversation had been a pretty heavy one, after all.

  Evidently he needed to make more of an effort to be friendly now if he was going to be in with a chance of persuading her to stay after the month’s trial was up.

  The thought of going back to being alone in this house certainly wasn’t a comforting one any more. If he was honest, it had been heartening to know that Cara would be here when he got back. Now that the black hole of Jemima’s room had been destroyed and he’d fully opened the door to Cara, the loneliness he’d previously managed to keep at bay had walked right in.

  Turning to face her again, he leant back against the counter and crossed his arms.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about the quality of the work you’ve been producing.’

  Her face seemed to pale and he realised he could have phrased that better. He’d never been good at letting his colleagues know when he was pleased with their work—or Jemima when he was proud of something she’d achieved, he realised with a stab of pain—but after Cara had given it to him straight about how it affected her, he was determined to get better at it.

  ‘What I mean is—I’m really impressed with the way you’ve handled the work here this week while I’ve been away,’ he amended.

  ‘Oh! Good. Thank you.’ The pride in her wobbly smile made his breath catch.

  He nodded and gave a little cough to release the peculiar tension in his throat, turning back to the counter to grab a mug for his drink and give them both a moment to regroup. There was a brightly coloured card propped up next to the mug tree and he picked it up as a distraction while he waited for the kettle to finish boiling and glanced at what was written inside.

  ‘You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,’ he said, turning to face her again, feeling an unsettling mixture of surprise and dismay at her not mentioning something as important as that to him.

  Colour rushed to her cheeks. ‘Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to leave that lying around.’ She walked over and took the card from his hand, leaning against the worktop next to him and enveloping him in her familiar floral scent. She tapped the corner of the card gently against her palm and he watched, hypnotised by the action. ‘It was on Wednesday. As you were away I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.’ She looked up at him from under her lash
es. ‘Don’t worry—I didn’t have a wild house party here while you were away, only a couple of friends over for dinner and we made sure to tidy up afterwards.’

  Fighting a strange disquiet, he flapped a dismissive hand at her. ‘Cara, it’s okay for you to keep some of your things in the communal areas and have friends over for your birthday, for God’s sake. I don’t expect the place to be pristine the whole time.’

  ‘Still. I meant to put this up in my room with the others.’

  Despite their pact to be more open with each other, it was evidently going to take a lot more time and effort to get her to relax around him.

  Maybe he should present her with some kind of peace offering. In fact, thinking about it, her birthday could provide the perfect excuse.

  He’d seen her reading an article about a new play in a magazine one lunchtime last week, and when he picked it up later he noticed she’d put a ring around the box office number, as if to remind herself to book tickets.

  After dispatching her back to the office with a list of clients to chase up about invoices, he called the theatre, only to find the play had sold out weeks ago. Not prepared to be defeated that easily, he placed a call to his friend James, who was a long-time benefactor of the theatre.

  ‘Hey, man, how are things?’ his friend asked as soon as he picked up.

  ‘Great. Business is booming. How about you?’

  ‘Life’s good. Penny’s pregnant again,’ James said with pleasure in his voice.

  Max ignored the twinge of pain in his chest. ‘That’s great. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks. Let’s just hope this one’s going to give us less trouble arriving into the world.’

  ‘You’re certainly owed an easy birth after the last time.’

  ‘You could say that. Anyway, what can I do for you, my friend?’

  ‘I wanted to get hold of tickets for that new play at the Apollo Theatre for tonight’s performance. It’s my PA’s birthday and I wanted to treat her, but it’s sold out. Can you help me with that?’

  ‘Your PA, huh?’ There was a twist of wryness in James’s voice that shot a prickle straight up his spine.

  ‘Yeah. My PA,’ he repeated with added terseness born of discomfort.

  His friend chuckled. ‘No problem. I’ll call and get them to put some tickets aside for you for the VIP box. I saw it last week—it’s great—but it starts early, at five, so you’ll need to get a move on.’ There was a loaded pause. ‘It’s good to hear you’re getting out again.’

  Max bristled again. ‘I go out.’

  ‘But not with women. Not since Jemima passed away.’

  He sighed, beginning to wish he hadn’t called now. ‘It’s not a date. She’s my PA.’

  James chuckled again. ‘Well, she’s lucky to have you for an employer. These tickets are like gold dust.’

  ‘Thanks, I owe you one,’ Max said, fighting hard to keep the growl out of his voice. To his annoyance, he felt rattled by what his friend was insinuating. It wasn’t stepping over the line to do something like this for Cara, was it?

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ James said.

  Max wasn’t sure for a moment whether he’d voiced his concerns out loud and James was answering that question or whether he was just talking about paying him back the favour.

  ‘Thanks, James, I’ve got to go,’ he muttered, wanting to end the call so he could walk around and loosen off this weird tension in his chest.

  ‘No worries.’

  Max put the phone down, wondering again whether this gesture was a step too far.

  No. She’d worked hard for him, under some testing circumstances and he wanted her to know that he appreciated it. If he wanted to retain her services—and he was pretty sure now that he did—he was going to have to make sure she knew how much she was valued here so she didn’t go looking for another job.

  Cara was back at her desk, busily typing away on her laptop, when he walked into the room they used as an office. Leaning against the edge of her desk, he waited until she’d finished and turned to face him.

  ‘I’m nearly done here,’ she said, only holding eye contact for a moment before glancing back at her computer.

  ‘Great, because a friend of mine just called to say he has two spare tickets to that new play at the Apollo and I was thinking I could take you as a thank you for holding the fort so effectively whilst I’ve been away. And for missing your birthday.’

  She stared at him as if she thought she might have misheard. ‘I’m sorry?’

  He smiled at her baffled expression, feeling a kink of pleasure at her reaction. ‘We’ll need to leave in the next few minutes if we’re going to make it into town in time to catch the beginning.’ He stood up and she blinked in surprise.

  ‘You and me? Right now?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t have other plans, do you?’

  ‘Um, no.’

  He nodded. ‘Great.’

  Gesturing up and down her body, she frowned, looking a little flustered. ‘But I can’t go dressed like this.’

  He glanced at her jeans and T-shirt, trying not to let his eyes linger on the way they fitted her trim, slender body. ‘You’re going to have to change quickly then,’ he said, pulling his mobile out of his pocket and dialling the number for the taxi.

  * * *

  Cara chattered away in the cab all the way there about how the play had been given rave reviews after its preview performance and how people were already paying crazy money on auction websites for re-sold tickets to see it. Her enthusiasm was contagious and, stepping out of the car, he was surprised to find he was actually looking forward to seeing it.

  The theatre was a recently renovated grand art deco building slap-bang in the middle of Soho, a short stroll from the hectic retail circus of Oxford Street.

  It had been a while since he’d made it into town on a Friday night and even longer since he’d been to see any kind of live show. When he and Jemima had moved to London they’d been full of enthusiasm about how they’d be living in the heart of the action and would be able to go out every other night to see the most cutting-edge performances and mind-expanding lectures. They were going to become paragons of good taste and spectacularly cultured to boot.

  And then real life had taken over and they’d become increasingly buried under the weight of work stress and life tiredness as the years went by and had barely made it out to anything at all. It had been fine when they’d had each other for company, but he was aware that he needed to make more of an effort to get out and be sociable now he was on his own.

  Not that he’d been a total recluse since Jem had died; he’d been out with friends—Poppy being his most regular pub partner—but he’d done it in a cocoon of grief, always feeling slightly detached from what was going on around him.

  Doing this with Cara meant he was having to make an effort again. Which was a good thing. It felt healthy. Perhaps that was why he was feeling more upbeat than he had in a while—as if there was life beyond the narrow world he’d been living in for the past year and a half.

  After paying the taxi driver, they jogged straight to the box office for their tickets, then through the empty lobby to the auditorium to find their seats in the VIP box, the usher giving them a pointed look as she closed the doors firmly behind them. It seemed they’d only just made it. This theory was borne out by the dimming of the lights and the grand swish of the curtain opening just as they folded themselves into their seats.

  Max turned to find Cara with her mouth comically open and an expression that clearly said I can’t believe we’ve just casually nipped into the best seats in the house. He flashed her a quick smile, enjoying her pleasure and the sense of satisfaction at doing something good here, before settling back into his plush red velvet chair, his heart beating heavily in his chest.

 
A waft of her perfume hit his nose as she reached up to adjust her ponytail, which made his heart beat even harder—perhaps from the sudden sensory overload. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on bringing his breathing back to normal and focused on the action on stage, determined to put all other thoughts aside for the meantime and try to enjoy whatever this turned out to be.

  * * *

  Cara was immensely relieved when the play stood up to her enthusiastic anticipation. It would have been pretty embarrassing if it had been a real flop after all the fuss she’d made about it on the way there. Every time she heard Max chuckle at one of the jokes she experienced a warm flutter of pleasure in her stomach.

  Max bringing her here to the theatre had thrown her for a complete loop. Even though he’d finally let her into his head last weekend, she’d expected him to go back to being distant with her again once he came back from Manchester. But instead he’d surprised her by complimenting her, then not only getting tickets to the hottest play in London, but bringing her here himself as a reward for working hard.

  Dumbfounded was not the word.

  Not that she was complaining.

  Sneaking a glance at him, she thought she’d never seen him looking so relaxed. She could hardly believe he was the same man who had opened the door to her on the first day they’d met. He seemed larger now somehow, as if he’d straightened up and filled out in the time since she’d last seen him. That had to be all in her head, of course, but he certainly seemed more real now that she knew what drove his rage. In fact it was incredible how differently she felt now she knew what sort of horror he’d been through—losing someone he loved in such a senseless way.

  No wonder he was so angry at the world.