by Ella Hayes
He shifted on his feet. ‘Your brother’s lucky you’re willing to go the extra mile for him.’
She was close, she could feel it. All he needed was one last nudge. ‘Actually...’ Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. ‘The observatory’s six miles from here.’
He lifted an eyebrow, a smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘Six miles? In that case, I’ll order us a car.’
* * *
Theo pressed the phone tightly against his ear as a police motorbike weaved through the nearby traffic with its siren blaring.
‘See if you can fix something for Wednesday and, if that works for Thorne, change my flights.’ He pictured his assistant’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Trude.’
Trude laughed. ‘I’ve no doubt your gratitude will be reflected in my imminent pay rise!’
A smile tugged at his lips. ‘If you can reschedule the meeting without ruffling Thorne’s feathers, I’ll consider it.’
‘Leave it with me.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’m dying to know why you’re postponing Jason Thorne—it must be something very important!’
He glanced at Mia then turned to watch the view unfolding through the window of the luxury saloon. Trude never stopped trying to prise him open but it wouldn’t work; he was a clam. ‘Let me know how you get on with Thorne, okay?’
‘Okay, Theo. Bye for now.’
He slipped his phone into his pocket. Disruptions usually annoyed him, but instead he was caught somewhere between admiration and bemusement. That Mia had gone out on a limb to help her brother resonated with him deeply. She was clearly the kind of person who couldn’t sit on the sidelines if she could do something to help, and he understood that impulse all too well. He felt the dark stirrings of a memory... His father... His older brother, Bram... Hard fists... Purple bruises... He’d learned at an early age the intolerable frustration of powerlessness.
Perhaps Mia’s fighting spirit on its own would have persuaded him to reschedule his afternoon appointments and head across London to meet Ash Boelens, but there’d been something else too: the way she’d looked at him; that glimmer of vulnerability woven through the steely threads of her determination. She’d had him from the start, and he wasn’t used to being had. He didn’t know what to make of it.
He turned to catch her eye, but she was gazing out of the window. Her shoulders were rigid, her chin lifted. Tenderness bloomed in his chest. She was only pretending to be confident...
‘I just want to help my brother.’
He sighed softly and studied the back of her head. Her light-brown hair was wound up chaotically, speared with a pointy thing, and there were strands hanging loose against the side of her smooth neck. He pictured her face—the clear, brown eyes, the constellation of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose, the perfect fullness of her lips.
He dropped his gaze. Her outfit was rather boho: black patent shoes, loose grey trousers, a battered military jacket. At the hotel he’d glimpsed a slogan on her black tee-shirt, but he didn’t know what it said because he hadn’t wanted to stare at her chest.
She turned suddenly, sensing him, perhaps. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to cancel your next meeting. I didn’t think things th—’
‘It’s okay. It can be fixed.’
She was fingering the strap of her bag and then her eyes widened. ‘At least the traffic’s not too bad.’
The driver braked suddenly and they pitched forward in perfect unison. She caught his eye, started to giggle and then he was chuckling too. He motioned through the window. ‘We’d have been quicker on bicycles.’
She pulled a face. ‘I’d never cycle in London—it’s far too dangerous!’
‘So many stationary cars! Very dangerous!’
She mock-scowled. ‘It is dangerous. They’re putting in cycle lanes but London’s a long way behind Amsterdam.’
She was right about that. She was obviously familiar with his city. He shifted in his seat. ‘So... I’m intrigued! You have a Dutch name but no trace of an accent...’
‘Ash and I grew up in London.’
‘Where’s your family from, originally?’ He checked himself. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, that is.’
‘My father’s family is from Texel.’
‘I have a beach house there...’ His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to share that, or the story about his childhood visit to the planetarium at Franeker, but there was something about her that drew him in, made words fall from his mouth. He’d have to be more careful.
‘We used to spend our summers there.’ Her smile was a little wistful. ‘It’s a lovely place.’
‘And your mother’s family—where are they from?’
‘England.’ She faltered. ‘Actually, I wonder if talking about my family is altogether appropriate.’ She pressed her lips together, blushed a little. ‘You’re about to go into a business meeting with my brother.’
He cursed silently. He hadn’t meant to make her feel uncomfortable. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I was only making conversation.’
She dropped her gaze to her hands, twisting the ring she wore on her thumb. Loose strands of hair grazed the soft hollows beneath her cheekbones. She was undeniably lovely. Looking at her face, seeing the way the light danced in her eyes when she was talking, was so much better than staring out of the window.
‘Can I ask you about yourself, then?’
She looked up and shot him a little smile. ‘What do you want to know...?’
‘I’m wondering what you do when you’re not running diplomatic errands.’
Her eyes clouded momentarily and then her expression settled. ‘I’m a writer.’
A muscle in his jaw twitched involuntarily. She didn’t seem to have the sharp elbows of a newshound, but he’d have to be careful—for Bram’s sake. He drew a steadying breath and managed an interested smile. ‘Of books? Or are you a journalist?’
‘I write magazine articles and features. Blog posts. A bit of copywriting.’ She smiled. ‘There’s no sign of a book yet...’
He pressed a finger to his temple. ‘What sort of features?’
‘A mixture.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘Popular culture, art, design, interiors...that kind of thing.’
Relief loosened his joints. The arts were a million miles from the gutter where the paparazzi and their cronies hung about. ‘So, what are you working on at the moment?’
She angled herself towards him on the seat, pulling one leg up under the other. ‘Have you heard of Dilly and Daisy?’
Her eyes were wide and full of light. It was hard not to get lost in them.
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Okay, well, the D&D brand is all about sustainable fashion; it’s how they made their name. But now they’re moving into homeware—so that’s furnishing fabrics, cushions, cookware...’
‘Wow!’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘I had no idea that’s what homeware was...’
Her eyes narrowed momentarily, and then she burst out laughing, rocking forward, hands over her mouth, and it was as if all the tiny tensions orbiting around them had suddenly vanished. Then he was laughing too, right from the bottom of his belly; he couldn’t remember laughing like that for the longest time.
When she’d finally gathered herself, her eyes were still glistening with smiles. She put her hand on his arm. ‘I can’t believe I was actually explaining homeware! I’m so sorry. It must be nerves...’
Her eyes held his through an endless moment, a moment he couldn’t shake himself out of, and then she seemed to notice that her hand was still resting on his arm and she pulled it away quickly, her cheeks colouring.
He looked down, felt his heart thumping. It had been a spontaneous gesture—a friendly touch, nothing more—but then it had turned into something else and he’d felt that cosmic pull, like planets drawing together. Dangerous!
Admiring Mia’s eyes and the way she smiled was one thing, but it had to stop there. He’d been sucked into the vortex before and he was never going there again.
She was tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. ‘Anyway, I’m doing a piece about them—how they started, their design influences, how they see things progressing... I interviewed them yesterday.’ She shrugged a little. ‘But I suppose you know how that goes. You must get mobbed by tech writers all the time.’
She had to be joking. Putting himself into the hands of a journalist was the last thing he’d ever do. ‘No. I don’t do interviews.’ He tried to keep his gaze level. ‘MolTec has a PR department; no one needs to talk to me.’
* * *
It was a relief to be out in the fresh air and sunshine. Accompanying Theo to Greenwich hadn’t exactly been part of her plan, but when he’d said, ‘I’ll order us a car,’ she hadn’t wanted to object. He had changed his plans for Ash, after all.
And the car had been nice and roomy, and the journey had been fun—at least up to the moment when she’d put her hand on his arm. She hadn’t meant anything by it but there’d been that long moment, something in his eyes that had made her senses swim. She’d felt disorientated, unsure of the signals she was sending out, unsure of the signals she was receiving. She’d been glad when the car had pulled up at the observatory entrance.
She slipped her sunglasses on and turned to watch him. He was busy surveying the London skyline, eyes fastened to the talking telescope. His face had been a picture when he’d spotted it, full of boyish delight.
No one needs to talk to me.
He seemed to be an intensely private person. She’d noticed a momentary glimmer of discomfort in his eyes when she’d told him she was a writer. He was a star in the business world. You had to be pretty fearless to survive in the world of tech. What could he possibly be scared of?
She felt her phone vibrating in her hand, saw Ash’s face on the splash screen. ‘Hey, you!’
‘Dare I ask...?’
‘We’re here, at the observatory.’ She grinned. ‘Theo’s got his eye to the telescope right now.’
‘I owe you big time!’
After Hal? He had to be kidding. ‘You don’t owe me anything. Where are you?’
‘Fifteen minutes away.’ He was happy; she could tell. ‘I’ve managed to book a meeting room inside the planetarium. They’re doing coffee for us, so just go in when you’re ready.’
‘Perfect timing! Theo’s just relinquished the telescope to a sobbing child...’ He was looking around, clearly trying to spot her. She raised a hand and, when he saw, he broke into a smile, started walking towards her with a long, easy stride.
Ash laughed. ‘Is he that tyrannous?’
‘I was joking—he isn’t tyrannous at all.’ A toddler with a spinning helium balloon ploughed into Theo’s legs. She watched him absorbing the impact, dropping to his haunches, laughing, talking to the tot, smiling away, pointing to the bobbing balloon. ‘He’s sharp as a tack, but he has a heart, otherwise he wouldn’t have come.’ She dropped her gaze, noticing a scuff mark on her shoe. ‘When you arrive, I’m going to disappear, okay?’
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course it is. It’s just that...’ Theo makes my head spin ‘...you don’t want me hanging around while you make your presentation. I’ll only heckle and make a terrible nuisance of myself.’
He chuckled. ‘We’ll catch up later, then?’
‘Yeah—just make sure you smash it out of the park, okay?’
CHAPTER TWO
Three weeks later...
MIA TOOK HER coffee onto the deck and settled herself into the old wicker chair. Cleuso leapt up and wedged himself into the non-existent space beside her. She tickled his throat, listening to his purr as she gazed across the canal.
It was early—before six, her favourite time of day. The city was peaceful. All the small noises were delightfully random: the lollop of water against the side of the houseboat; the cry of a bird; the distant rattle of a window shutter. Once the day got underway the soundtrack of Amsterdam would change. The streets would fill with the dong, dong, dong of the trams and the rumble of suitcase wheels rolling along pavements. The babble of a hundred different languages would rise into the air, punctuated by the insistent dring-dring of bicycle bells. But in that moment, watching the early sun filtering through the mist on the water, Cleuso’s soft body warming her thigh, she felt as if the city was unfurling just for her, inviting her backstage.
She sipped her coffee, savouring the deep, rich taste of it, and then she smiled, just as she’d smiled every morning for the past three weeks. It was because she couldn’t drink this coffee without thinking of Theo...
He’d been standing in the meeting room at the planetarium, cup and saucer in his hand, surveying the curved walls lined with books. He’d lifted the cup to his lips, sipped and a shadow had crossed his face. She’d known why. The coffee was disappointing. They’d set their cups down at exactly the same time.
She’d caught his eye. ‘It’s not the best, is it?’
‘No.’ He’d held her gaze for a long second then turned away, tipping his head back so he could look at the skylight. ‘I always get my coffee beans from Koffiemeester’s on Van Baelerstraat. That’s good coffee.’
She’d turned away to hide her smile. She knew Koffiemeester’s. It was where she bought her coffee too, but something had stopped her saying it. For some reason she didn’t want him to know that she lived in Amsterdam. It seemed safer to let him believe that she was based in London...and it wasn’t entirely untrue. She stayed at the mews house frequently enough when she was covering events or interviewing designers in London. It would always be part of her—the family home—but after ‘Halgate’ she’d needed a fresh start and she’d always loved Amsterdam. Her grandparents had given her their houseboat. They preferred to stay in Texel all year round these days and they knew how much she’d always loved the barge.
She looked along the water towards the bridge. The trees beside the canal were pushing out leaves, and in the pots crammed onto the deck of the boat green tulip tips were nosing through the compost. Spring! The season of beginnings. She sipped her coffee again. Somewhere in the city, perhaps nearby, Theo might be drinking his coffee too. Perhaps he had a view of the trees and the canals. Perhaps he was thinking about her.
Cleuso twisted onto his back, stretching his limbs, spreading his toes. She touched her finger to the plump pads of one paw and felt his claws flex in a gentle warning. Beware!
Warning signs were everywhere. You just had to tune in to them. Like Hal saying, ‘We’re going to Paris this weekend... I’ve got tickets for the opera...’ ten minutes after Ash had told her he thought there was something amiss with the business accounts. Like Theo’s face turning ashen when she’d told him she was a writer. Why? She sighed. Hal’s actions had made her hyper-alert to any kind of shadiness but, still, something about Theo’s intent green eyes was tormenting her. She’d tried to put him out of her head, yet here she was again, thinking about him—the way he’d looked at her when they’d said goodbye.
She drained her cup, set it down on the deck. So, they were both coffee snobs—what of it? It didn’t mean there’d be other things they’d have in common. Besides, now that Ash was going to be working closely with MolTec, giving Theo a wide berth was absolutely the right thing to do. Her feelings for Hal had blinded her to things she should have questioned and nearly driven a wedge between her and Ash. She couldn’t go through that again, dividing her loyalties between her brother and a lover. She couldn’t protect Ash from the past but, after everything that had happened, falling for his new business associate would be utter madness.
Cleuso writhed suddenly and sprang from her lap. He stretched his hind legs then jumped onto the rail, teetering for a moment before springing upward onto the barge roof. He paused to wash his fac
e, then trotted off to the far end of the boat and disappeared from view. She gazed after him. It had been the right decision not to tell Theo that she lived in his city, yet somehow she couldn’t get him out of her head. The way his face had brightened when he’d spotted her at the observatory; the way he’d smiled as he started walking towards her. There’d been openness in his smile, a feeling of connection, as if the stars had already settled into a new alignment.
She pushed him out of her head. The first trams were moving, and she needed to get moving too. She had her Dilly and Daisy article to finish, a blog post to write for a sportswear client and after that there was the big charity event for the women’s refuge. All in all, there was more than enough to keep her mind off Theo Molenaar.
* * *
It was hard not to see traces of Mia in her brother. Their eyes were the same shape, although Ash’s were a clear blue, and Ash’s hair was a shade or two lighter than Mia’s. Theo wondered if Mia had inherited her brown eyes from her mother, and then he wondered why he was even thinking about that when he was supposed to be concentrating on what Ash was saying. He refocused.
‘We need to make sure that the software doesn’t become a prophet of doom.’ Ash was leaning forward, his eyes narrowing. ‘What I really want is for it to be used in a positive way, to demonstrate how small environmental changes can make a significant impact.’
Ash’s environmental-impact modelling software was still in development but Theo could see many potential applications. He’d been so impressed with Ash’s presentation at the planetarium that he’d jumped at the chance to get involved. Now it was a question of putting a strategy in place, providing Ash with the technical support he needed to put the prototype through its paces.