it. He had to. Because this was too important to mess up.
‘OK, I’d better get changed and head off.’ Zack was still in the sweatshirt and jeans he’d worn to take Elmo for his walk. He indicated the folders on the desk. ‘There’s plenty in here for you to be getting on with. Any problems, give me a call. If my phone’s switched off, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Right, fine. Oh you naughty boy, don’t do that!’
If only she could have been talking about him. But it was Elmo, scrabbling madly, probably having spotted a spider and getting himself caught up in a tangle of electrical leads under the desk. Launching herself across the top of the desk in the nick of time, Ellie managed to grab the printer before it crashed to the ground.
‘Well held. Here, let me.’ Reaching past her to pull it back to safety, Zack’s hand accidentally brushed her arm. A zingggg of adrenaline jolted through his veins. OK, this was ridiculous; it was like being fourteen again. ‘There, all done. Elmo, you stay out of trouble now.’ Raising the dog to eye level, he said, ‘Behave yourself, OK? Ellie’s going to take you for another walk later.’
He’d said the w-word. Elmo did one of his exaggerated double takes and let out a yip of excitement.
‘No, no, calm down, we’ve just been out.’ Zack wondered if Ellie secretly thought he was mad, talking to Elmo the way he did. ‘Right, see you later. Be good.’
Ellie had started opening the post. She looked up and said cheerfully, ‘We’ll try.’
Even the shape of her mouth was irresistible; when she formed the word try, it created the most perfect pout. And now she was smiling again, but still without anything approaching that kind of interest.
Letting himself out of the office, Zack said casually, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
God, this not-flirting and just-being-friends business was going to be bloody hard.
Chapter 19
What was going on? Tony had no idea, but he knew he needed to find out. Over the past fortnight he must have sent Martha a dozen emails. All he’d had in return was a single brief message on the first day. In it, she had apologized and said their encounter had been a huge mistake. They mustn’t meet again, she was sorry if she’d led him on, and could he please respect her privacy and not attempt to contact her in any way.
That was it, that was all. Since then, each subsequent email had gone unanswered. Directory inquiries had declined to give out Martha’s phone number. Tony, stuck in Hollywood filming an unexciting part in a completely dire movie, had been counting down the days. But in a desperate rather than a hopeful way, because flying over to London to find out what was going on was one thing, but actually persuading Martha to change her mind about him was quite another.
Anyway, he was back now. Another day, another taxi. And no way was he capable of respecting her wish for privacy. As they pulled into Lanacre Road, Tony’s chest tightened in anticipation. He didn’t even know if she was in the house, but the need to see her again was overwhelming.
The taxi driver said, ‘Where d’you want me to stop?’
‘Further along. It’s the house with the yellow door, up on the left.’ As the taxi slowed, Tony said, ‘Pull over behind that blue van.’
The next moment the yellow door opened and Disapproving Eunice came out. Followed by Martha.
‘Oh God, don’t stop.’
‘Eh? But you said—’
‘Don’t stop!’ Tony shrank back from the window and hissed, ‘Keep going.’ Jesus, talk about bad timing. What did Eunice do, live there? From the depths of the cab he glimpsed Martha’s profile as she turned to lock the door behind them. The taxi trundled on to the end of the road and stopped at the junction.
‘Where to now, then?’
‘Um…’ Peering out of the back of the cab, Tony saw that the two women were heading off in the opposite direction. ‘Turn around and wait. See if they get into that car.’
‘And then what?’ The cab driver twisted in his seat to look at him. ‘You want me to follow them? Hey, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for someone to say that and actually mean it!’ Chuckling, he expertly spun the steering wheel and swung the cab around. ‘You’re Tony Weston, right?’