air is bitter and at eight o’clock, it’s already dark. When we pull up outside my building, I choose not to look at him, concentrating on pulling my coat in and my scarf up my neck. My actions say more than I’m cold. They say I’m distracting myself, maybe even trying to use my clothing as a protective shield from . . .
I don’t know what. Him? My uncontrollable and unreasonable attraction to everything he represents? I’m instinctively protecting my heart from being broken. Because the tiny vulnerable part of me is worried he’ll infiltrate my defences again.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I say, keeping it short and sweet and, most importantly, professional. It’s taking so much energy. ‘Thank you for taking me. And for dinner.’
‘Was it everything you hoped it would be?’ he asks, turning off Gloria’s engine.
I brave looking at him, sensing genuine curiosity. I could laugh. ‘And a whole lot more, but you know that, don’t you?’
He seems to drift into thought, his eyes falling to my lap. Something tells me he’s seeking my approval. Or acceptance. Can I give him that? ‘Coffee?’ he blurts out of the blue.
Coffee? Is that code for sex? Be wise, Eleanor. Be professional. ‘I think I’ll pass,’ I say, giving him a small smile when he starts nibbling his lip, his mind clearly whirling. Is he wondering how he can convince me? He can’t. I’m not making that mistake again. He’ll have to wait for Alexa. He can pick her up on his way home. ‘You should go,’ I add, worried he might find a way to sway me. I’m not at my strongest when Becker unleashes his charm on me. I take the handle of the door. ‘Thanks again.’
His hand is on my arm fast, and I’m inhaling quickly, searching for my grit. ‘Please,’ he murmurs quietly. My eyes lift, my shock obvious. Becker Hunt doesn’t say please. And I don’t do casual fucks. Especially with my boss.
Taking his hand from my arm, I drop it in his lap. ‘Mr Hunt, I believe you have a date tonight.’
His frown is quite cute, and then his phone rings, pulling our eyes to the centre console. I smile to myself, seeing Alexa lighting up the screen. ‘She means nothing to me,’ he says when it rings off.
‘Oh, I know,’ I assure him, taking the handle of the door again. ‘And I’m not interested in meaning nothing.’
His stunned eyes dart to mine. ‘I’ve no intention of making you feel like nothing.’
‘Your lack of intention doesn’t mean you won’t, Becker.’ I open the door and get out, leaning down to look him straight in the face. The poor man seems a little lost. ‘I know you well enough by now. Let’s keep it professional.’ I have to be the sensible one, since it’s obvious Becker can’t control his urges. A tiny part of me is quite satisfied. But a bigger part of me knows there’s nothing in it other than an urge. Tomorrow, Becker will have had his itch scratched, and I will be back in that place called shame and weakness. No. ‘It’s been a lovely day. Let’s make sure tomorrow is lovely, too.’
His phone starts ringing again – Alexa again – and I smile as I push the door closed, pulling my bag on to my shoulder, so proud of myself and my strength. But no sooner have I taken a step, Becker is in front of me, his phone held up. I blink at the illuminated screen as he accepts the call and takes his mobile to his ear, looking me straight in the eye. What is he doing?
‘Yeah, hi,’ he says, and is quiet for a few moments, no doubt listening to Alexa detail exactly what she has planned for him. I force myself not to wonder what that is. ‘Afraid not.’ Becker’s stare remains nailed to mine. ‘No, I can’t see you any more.’
I move back again, uncomfortable, not just by Becker’s closeness, but by what he’s doing. What is he doing? I don’t know, but I don’t like the feel of my heart’s increasing speed. I step to the side to pass him and get blocked. ‘Becker, go home,’ I say, getting worked up.
‘Yes, I’m with Eleanor,’ he says down the line, reaching for my arm to hold me in place. ‘Bye.’ He hangs up, and then silence falls. So what does he expect to happen now? That I’ll dive on him? Drag him upstairs? Thank him?