Chapter Eighteen
‘Was this the kind of thing you had in mind?’
I tore my eyes from the intricate pen and ink drawing in my hands.
Even though he’d only had a couple of photographs to go on, Rhys had managed to perfectly capture the lines of the house and had even included small details, like the bird’s nest in the tree beside the front door and the trailing wisteria that spilled from the garden wall onto the driveway.
The Dexters, the couple who’d lived in the house for over thirty years, were going to love it.
‘You’ve absolutely nailed it,’ I said, looking up at him with admiration.
‘Great. I’m glad you like it.’
I still wasn’t certain if inserting a business element into our friendship was wise, but it clearly didn’t seem to worry him.
‘I’ll transfer the money to your bank account this afternoon. But I still don’t think you’re charging me enough.’
Rhys half perched on the corner of my desk. ‘Are you sure you’re good at this negotiating stuff, because I’m pretty certain you’re not supposed to persuade me to ask for more money.’
‘I just want to keep this professional.’ I softened my words with a smile. ‘That way I can call on you to do more of these without feeling guilty.’
‘There’s no need for you to feel guilty, Ellie. Not about anything.’
I swallowed uncomfortably, uncertain if we were still talking about commissioning him as an artist, or something else altogether.
I’d been thrown off-kilter ever since he’d walked into my office that morning, carrying two cups of coffee and a bag of pastries.
I’d been midway through what was turning out to be a very tricky conversation with a new client, who wanted every single clause of a boilerplate tenancy agreement explained to them ‘as though I was five years old’.
Frankly, it would have been easier getting a classroom of primary school children to understand it than the man on the end of the line.
I mouthed a silent ‘Sorry’ to Rhys, followed by a less easy to lip-read ‘This might take a while.’
He mimed, ‘That’s okay. Take your time.’ At least I think that’s what he said. Staring at his lips had a way of making me lose focus, and I needed all my concentration on the call.
Setting the takeout cup and the pastries in front of me, Rhys had taken himself off to the opposite side of my office with his coffee, settled onto the client sofa, and begun leafing through one of the glossy magazines fanned out on the table beside him.
Half of my brain was engaged with soothing the nervous new landlord on the phone, but there were more than enough cells left to appreciate just how good Rhys looked that morning.
He was wearing a pale chambray shirt with the cuffs rolled up, and casual trousers teamed with boots that looked worn enough to be comfortable. It was a good look on him.
The sunlight filtering through the stained-glass window above him brought out midnight blue highlights in his dark hair. It would have made for a stunning photograph, but if Rhys caught me secretly snapping one, I wouldn’t blame him for taking out a restraining order.
When my new client had asked every last question known to man, I was finally able to end the call.
Rhys set aside the magazine and gave me a smile that made my stomach flip.
‘You’re really very good at this, aren’t you?’ he asked.
‘Don’t let one half of a phone call fool you. I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes since setting up in business.’
‘I don’t fool easily,’ Rhys said. ‘And as for mistakes, well, everyone makes them. It’s how you move on, it’s the things they teach us, that’s what’s important.’
‘Well, I think I’m very much a work in progress,’ I said, willing myself to keep this light and breezy, which was becoming increasingly hard with those green eyes studying me the way they were doing right now.
And how is that, exactly? Old Ellie popped up to ask. Just out of interest.
As though he likes what he sees?
It wasn’t hard to imagine her shaking her head in disbelief. It was troubling to realise that former me was starting to sound increasingly like my mother in her critiques, as though a vacancy had opened up and she’d slipped right into the role.
A ringtone that wasn’t mine interrupted the moment, which perhaps was no bad thing. Rhys pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced down at the screen. Whatever he saw there brought his brows closer together and made frown lines appear on his normally unmarked forehead.
‘It’s fine if you need to take that,’ I assured him.
He shook his head and silenced the ringing. ‘It’s not important,’ he said and some feminine instinct that was buried deep inside my psyche told me that the caller had been Annalise. I knew it with a certainty that defied all reason. Perhaps I was becoming more like Mel than I realised.
‘But I do have to go,’ he said. ‘I’ve a meeting I need to attend in about an hour.’
‘With the people you were with at the bar the other night?’ I’ve no idea why I assumed that, or why I thought it was any of my business.
‘Yes,’ Rhys said. He got to his feet, and I came out from behind my desk which I was beginning to think I’d been using as a safety barrier – not to keep him away, but more to keep me from getting inappropriately close.
‘Actually, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to drop the sketch off in person this morning.’
For some reason he suddenly appeared a little less self-assured. There was a look of hesitancy on his face that I couldn’t remember seeing there before.
‘Those people are part of a design team I worked with on a huge campaign before I went freelance.’
I nodded, wondering where he was going with this.
‘Anyway, we did quite well, and the campaign has been shortlisted for this prestigious industry award.’
‘Oh, well done. Congratulations.’
His smile was like quicksilver, there one second and gone the next.
‘Anyway, there’s a big ceremony thing next week. Black tie, red carpet, that kind of thing.’
He paused and I nodded, unsure what I was meant to add here. I decided to play it safe. ‘Wow. Again, congratulations.’
‘Will you come with me?’
My lips parted, but nothing came out.
Yes, I’d love to was right there on my tongue, but for the life of me I couldn’t find the trigger to release it.
Rhys gave a disarming shrug. ‘I realise it might not be your kind of thing, and it’s perfectly okay if you don’t fancy it. It’ll probably be terribly dull, lots of stuffed shirts and endless clapping.’
‘I love stuffed shirts,’ I said, perfectly aware I was talking nonsense. ‘And I’m excellent at clapping.’
‘I could tell you had skills.’
His grin landed about a second before mine did.
‘Okay then. I’ll message you with the details.’
‘Great!’ I was already mentally rifling through my wardrobe and knowing a shopping trip was on the horizon.
We were about to take the next step on this curious journey we were on, moving us in a direction I hadn’t expected. Was it wise? Probably not. Was I going to do it anyway? Absolutely.
‘Well, if you want my opinion, the blue one makes your boobs look amazing, and your cleavage in the red one could take someone’s eye out.’
I turned away from my reflection in the changing room mirror and shook my head despairingly at my friend.
‘Could we possibly focus more on the dresses and less on how my breasts fit into them?’
Mel tutted, like a plumber confronted by some tricky pipework. ‘I dunno, Ellie. I mean they’re just kind of . . . there, in your face.’
‘Then we keep looking,’ I said, turning to my shopping companion and scooping up a handful of hair to give her easy access to the zip.
Mel obligingly released me from the red dress with a muttered, ‘I can’t help thinking you’re making a mistake here.’
‘It’s just not the impression I want to make.’
Mel nodded sagely. ‘So, just to clarify. You don’t want to look drop-dead gorgeous and sexy as hell on this date?’
I pulled a face. ‘Well, yes . . . but not in a “look at my chest” kind of way. And besides, it’s not a date.’
‘He’s going to a fancy awards ceremony, and he’s asked you to go with him?’
I nodded.
‘Then it’s a date.’
‘No, it’s not,’ I muttered, falling into step behind her. I’d spoken so low she wasn’t meant to have heard, but when she spun on her heel to face me, I knew she had.
‘Why are you scared of admitting that you like this guy?’
‘I’m not scared of anything.’ That was a blatant lie. You only had to see me cowering indoors any time lightning speared the skies to know that.
‘Okay, not scared then. But you certainly seem reluctant to acknowledge the attraction between the two of you.’
‘Because it only came about because of the lightning. It did something to us.’
For a woman who enjoyed walking in the twilight zone as much as Mel, the last thing I’d expected was to hear her scoff of laughter.
‘And that is scientifically proven, is it?’
I felt like a bug on a pin under her uncompromising stare.
‘We’re just not compatible in about a hundred different ways.’
‘Name them.’
‘What? All of them?’
Mel gave an easy shrug. ‘I’ve got all day.’
I blew out a long breath.
‘Well, for a start he’s very family orientated. His daughter means the absolute world to him.’
‘That just sounds like a great big tick in his favour rather than a negative,’ Mel said.
‘It is, or rather it would be if I was the kind of person who’d ever seen themselves as having a kid. But I’ve never been able to visualise myself wanting that kind of life.’
‘Maybe that’s because you’ve never met anyone until now that you could see yourself having a baby with.’
The intensity in Mel’s eyes burnt through my defences. That was her dream, not mine . . . wasn’t it?
‘And then there’s his work. He’s basically an artist. Or at least that’s what he’d love to be if he could make it pay the bills. Not that there’s anything wrong with that – don’t get me wrong – but the men I’ve always been attracted to were more high-flyer, high-achieving types.’