Chapter 9 Alex
“APOLOGIES IF I’M INTERRUPTING,” I said, pushing the glass door of the secure office open with my elbow, my hands taken up by two takeaway coffee cups I’d just purchased from the café on thirty-five.
Nancy looked up in surprise, then her mouth curved into a smile.
“Not at all, come in.” Her cinnamon coils were free and shining from that sweet-smelling product she used, and she was wearing her Wednesday outfit: black heels, black wide-leg trousers, and a cream satin blouse.
Conservatively understated and all business.
“I thought I’d apologise with a coffee after we left you out of lunch.”
“Thanks, but no apologies are necessary.” She rose and took the cup I held out. “The last thing I want to do is gatecrash your ‘old boys’ club.”
“Nonsense, you’d have livened it up. David was imagining some Friedman hellscape again, and I know you would have put him in his place.” Economics wouldn’t have been my first choice of conversation, but it was an easy in with Nancy.
“I’ve gotta say, I’m a bit shocked you agree with me.” Her smile turned wry. “If Warnanomics caught on, we’d end up living in some Blade Runner dystopia.”
“That’s the film with Harrison Ford, right?”
“Yes…but I was thinking more Ryan Gosling in 2049.”
“I’ve not seen the remake.” But I would if she liked it.
“It’s a sequel.” She gave me a playful look, propping a hand on her hip. “Have you watched a movie from this century?”
She was flirting with me again and completely oblivious to it. It was fascinating and so very satisfying. “There’s nothing wrong with the classics, you know.”
“Of course not,” she said drolly. “Just the bigotry and terrible graphics.”
“Touché, Ms Cooper.”
“I guess I could lend you the DVD if you want to watch it.”
Now that was touching, but I’d learned saccharine responses made her uncomfortable. “DVD? Now who’s the stuffy traditionalist?”
Her smile grew into a wide grin. “Touché back, Lord Toverton.”
I held her gaze. “I told you to call me Alex.”
“Okay, Alex.”
It may have taken thirteen working days, which was longer than most of my relationships, but with persistence, Nancy had started to open up.
I never knew this wooing lark could be so rewarding.
Each tiny progress—a little smile, a joke exchanged, a new fact about her revealed—felt like peeling back petals and finding more vibrant colours underneath.
She brought the small opening on the lid to her lips and closed her eyes as she sipped. I watched with relish as a heavenly expression crossed her face. Her eyelashes fluttered open, and her gaze met mine. “Did you get me a double-shot, oat, hazelnut latte?”
I grinned. “I hope I got it right.”
“Yes…but how did you—”
“It’s the order you give to Evelyn when she comes around on Fridays,” I said, feeling mighty proud of myself.
Nancy hesitated, staring at me, and I felt something shift between us. She looked down at the cup. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.” When she looked up, her expression was shuttered. “Did David come back with you?”
“He bumped into another director from Goldfields at the restaurant, so I left him to it.”
She nodded, her eyes no longer on mine and rotated the cup as if she wasn’t sure she should have another sip.
I mentally flicked back through the Tatler blog on wooing I’d been following to the letter: chat often, make her laugh, present your best self in appearance and attitude, and surprise her with a thoughtful gesture.
This was the last step before asking her out, and it had fallen completely flat.
“Well, thanks for getting this,” she said finally. “I’d better get on.”
I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. Maybe this was too much too soon? But it’s only a three-pound cup of coffee. What’s the big deal? I turned for the door, resigned to yet another failure with this perplexing woman, but as I grasped the handle, Nancy’s hand pressed over mine.
“I really do appreciate it,” she whispered.
I met her coy expression, a little smile at the edges of her mouth, and her eyes soft—big, brown, and shimmering gold.
“Wait till you reach twenty-eight, then you’ll really appreciate it,” I said sagely.
Nancy laughed and released my hand, but as she took a step back, her heel caught on the ridges of the carpet. She yelped, losing her balance, and launched her cup into the air. Before I was aware of what I was doing, I’d clasped an arm around her waist and pulled her to my chest.
The double-shot, oat, hazelnut latte upended over us mid-air, the warm brown liquid covering the front of my bespoke Richard James jacket…
and Nancy’s cream blouse. Her breasts pressed against my ribs, and the pattern of a lacy plunge bra became visible.
She stared at me like a deer in headlights, her body trembling through the thin satin, her mouth slightly ajar, so close I could feel her hitched breath brush over my lips.
She held my gaze, not moving away, not moving at all.
All I had to do was lean my head forward just a little and—
“You both okay?” David asked.
My head shot around, my arm still clasping Nancy. “Absolutely, just a coffee spill. Thankfully, it wasn’t hot.”
“I’m sooo sorry about your suit,” she said.
I turned back to find her mortified expression at the state of my clothes rather than her own.
Fuck the suit! Keeping her wet blouse hidden by my body, I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“I’m sure Evelyn has something more flattering you can borrow, but this will do for now. ” I glanced down, then quickly away.
Nancy followed my gaze and saw her cleavage on full display where the fabric had sagged low. A blush sprouted over her cheeks, and she clasped the jacket around her front. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
“My pleasure.” I coughed, clearing the dryness from my throat, and tucked my hands in my pockets, turning to bypass David’s assessing gaze as I strode out the office, a grin growing across my face.