Contents

Copyright

Dedication

About Disaster in Love

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Dear Reader

About the Author

Also by Liz Bower

Disaster in Love 

 Copyright © 2017 Liz Bower

All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, except by agreement with the vendor of the book. If you would like to share this book with another person, please use the proper avenues. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The author uses British English spelling and grammar.

First Edition: August 2017

ASIN: B073V6X2SK

This work is registered with the UK Copyright Service: Registration No: 284715259

Edits & Proofreading by Flat Earth Editing

Cover Design by Sweet 'n Spicy designs

For C. Thank you.

About Disaster in Love

Kimberly Hardwick has always taken the bitter with the sweet. As she white-knuckles her way through her disastrous first-ever flight, she figures that if she's going to die, at least the last face she sees will be the handsome hunk in the neighbouring seat.

Dark-haired “Beck”, with eyes as rich and deep as her favourite baking chocolate, holds her hand until they're safely on the ground…and then holds her through a night that dreams are made of. But in the morning, she wakes up alone, more convinced than ever that the only dreams worth investing in are her own.

But that takes money, and the only way to earn enough to start her own cake company is to work a dry, bland agency temping job. One in an accounting firm where her new boss, Kyle Robinson, isn't the only unpleasant surprise waiting for her.

Even though Kyle's eyes follow her everywhere, he's all business…until Kimberly discovers a discrepancy in the books. Leaving her wondering if Kyle is a man she can trust, or if she's set herself up for a heartbreaking fall.

Warning: Contains a strong woman with a vulnerable heart, a tough man with a tender touch, decadent brownies, and even more decadent sex. Preheated oven not necessary…the contents are already hot!

Chapter One

Statistically, I was more likely to die in a car crash. I knew because I'd researched it when I decided to take my first flight. In fact, I was more likely to die of food poisoning than the plane crashing. Just my luck, it would be the food on the plane that killed me. The same research told me take-off and landing were the most dangerous and likely times for a crash to happen. And it was that little nugget of information that had my stomach churning like it was on the high-speed setting of my Magimix. Had me grasping the boarding pass between my shaky fingers, holding onto it like a life preserver, the ink smudging from my sweaty palms.

The quiet of the airport left me too much time to focus on what a terrible idea this had been. Manchester airport was closer to my home in Marsdon, but I'd thought the chaos of a busy airport would make me panic more. Except standing there in Leeds Bradford airport, all I wanted was to disappear into the imagined crowds at Manchester. Lose myself in the bustle of a busier airport. 

I turned away from the half-empty lounge to look out of the window. Stared at the gigantic metal death trap that would carry me across the ocean to Malta. Hopefully. Tried to ignore my ghostly reflection. My dark hair blurring into the black of the night. The crimson shirt I had thought would give my creamy skin a touch of colour conjured up images of blood instead. And not for the first time, I tried to remember why I had decided this would be a good idea.

“All passengers for flight FR2249 to Malta, please proceed to Gate 10. This is the final boarding call for flight FR2249 to Malta.”

At my flight announcement, I joined the rest of the stragglers in line to board. A young boy, hand clasped in his mother's, swung their arms to and fro. At least one of us was excited about boarding the plane. My brother's words of warning against doing this resonated in my head, and I questioned the sanity of my actions. Too late now.

I shuffled forward in line, dragging my carry-on suitcase behind me. When I reached the departure gate, a member of the cabin crew greeted me with far too much enthusiasm. Her blonde hair scraped back into a bun, skin flawless beneath the layers of make-up. Blue eyes framed by thick black eyelashes were all catlike with smoky grey eye shadow blended to perfection. I'd watched videos online, but I still hadn't been able to achieve that look.

“Can I have your boarding pass and passport please?”

I handed the documents over, and she gave me a sympathetic smile at the tremor in my hand.

“Welcome aboard, Ms Hardwick.” She glanced at my passport, open at the photo page, then scanned the boarding pass and handed them back. “Enjoy your flight.”

I tried to smile but as my nerves climbed past take-off level, it came out more like a grimace. How could anyone enjoy flying? It was beyond me. Crammed into a too-small seat, stuck with hundreds of strangers for hours. The human equivalent of a sardine can with the danger of landing always looming. And if worst came to worst, the best you could hope for was a quick death.

I closed my eyes and blew out a deep breath. Not the time to think about what was statistically unlikely to happen. I opened my eyes and traipsed down the corridor that led to the waiting aircraft.

After stowing my hand luggage in the overhead bin, I scrambled past the empty seats and dropped into the one beside the window. Fastened the seat belt around my waist. Tight. A quick rummage through the magazines in the seat pocket in front of me and I found the safety procedures card. Craned my neck to peer over the back of my seat. Found the nearest exit then twisted to face forward again, my gaze sweeping back along the aisle.

Stopped at the sight filling the gap between the end of my row of seats and the one in front. A sliver of lightly tanned skin above the waistband of a pair of dark blue jeans. His flat stomach hinted at the outline of toned abs before disappearing beneath a plain black T-shirt. Curling out from under the neckline of the T-shirt were a few stray black hairs. Above the long column of his neck, an angular jaw peppered with black stubble. Plump lips the colour of the icing I used to make roses—that looked like they'd taste just as sweet. Mmm, that was a sight for distraction.

I had been hoping the two seats in my row would stay empty, or at least the one next to me, but that view had me changing my mind. Maybe sitting next to Mr Sexy would distract me from disastrous thoughts about take-off.

However, knowing my luck—and as he was stowing his luggage above the row of seats in front of me—he wouldn't be sitting next to me. Perhaps that was for the best, though. If I was going to fall to pieces during take-off, the last person I wanted as an audience was a guy dreams were made of. Not like I was about to win him over with my immense flirting skills—which were lacking at the best of times, to say the least. I'd probably just embarrass myself with my nervous ramblings anyway.

My gaze returned to those plump lips that had pulled up on one side, and my cheeks flushed at being caught blatantly staring. I raised my gaze to his, and sank into eyes the colour of the chocolate ganache I loved to make—deep brown, rich, and shiny.

“Hi,” he said before his lips twitched up into a full smile. His voice, low and husky, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Hi.” His gaze released mine as he returned his attention to the overhead compartment. A final glance at that flash of bare skin showed ab muscles contracted into a well-defined six-pack. With a smile on my face, I turned back to peer out the window. If the flight ended in disaster, at least my last view would be one to remember.

An audible thump shook the plane, and I pressed my nose against the window to check what was happening. It was just the last of the luggage being loaded, but as the empty trailer drove off, my nerves kicked in again. It was dark beyond the window, but the light from the airport was bright enough to make out the man walking towards the front of the plane, his fluorescent jacket glowing.

The momentary distraction of Mr Sexy faded as I realised we were almost ready to take off. The fluttering in my stomach ratcheted up another level, and I wrapped my fingers around the cold plastic armrests.

Soft skin brushed across mine, drawing my attention back inside the cabin. I glanced over to see Mr Sexy take the seat next to me. His skin was hot and the hair on his arm tickled mine. But he seemed oblivious to the accidental touch that sent a shiver up my spine. He was probably used to being ogled by women on a daily basis. Was probably already taken by some model-worthy looking woman who didn't fall apart at the thought of getting on a plane.

And then the safety video started, drawing my attention away from him. The cabin crew demoed how to fasten the lifejacket. Showed off the torch and whistle. A high-pitched giggle escaped from my mouth before I clamped a hand over it. A mental image of me floating on the sea lying on a wooden door flitted through my head. Except I had no Jack to share it with or to try and save me. I was pretty sure there'd be no wooden doors to use as a lifeboat either. It would just be me, bobbing around in the frigid sea with a pathetic tiny torch and a useless whistle.

The plane jerked and a weird noise escaped my lips—half groan, half cough.

“You all right there?”

I tightened my grip on the armrests and gave a curt nod in reply. But I wasn't all right. Far from it. As the plane taxied away from the airport, the urge to grab the airsickness bag from the seat in front of me grew. Oh, please don't throw up. That would be so embarrassing. People managed to do this every day. Thousands and thousands of passengers flew all over the world without throwing up. I could do this. More likely to die in a car crash, I reminded myself. Or from the airline food, which my stomach definitely wasn't interested in. I never got this nervous when travelling in a car. Then again, I wasn't made to watch a safety video that reminded me of all the ways I might die when I got into a car.

The runway loomed ahead and off to the side, lit up bright against the dark night. I searched the view, trying to find something to distract myself with. 

The plane turned, and I focused on the flashing light at the end of the wing as the runway disappeared from sight. Counted each separate flash of the light as we waited. The plane began to move, the engines roaring to life so much louder than I expected that I jumped. But then the wing bounced up and down—looking so flimsy, my hands became too sweaty to hold on to the armrest. Could a wing snap?

As I wiped my palms along my thighs, I tried to ignore the thundering beat of my heart. As the plane picked up speed, the force pushed me back into my seat. But I kept my eyes fixed on the flashing light at the end of the wing and kept counting.

As the front of the plane lifted, I noticed movement out of the bottom of my eye. My gaze swept along the wing and my hands instinctively lifted to wrap back around the armrests. Except my hand landed on soft skin, fingernails digging into flesh and drawing a gasp from him.

Part of the wing flapped up and down like a jack-in-the-box lid that had got stuck and could only open part way.

“Is—” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat before trying again. “Is that supposed to happen?” It came out high and squeaky and sounding nothing like I normally did.

His chest pressed against my shoulder as he leaned over to see what I was looking at. His warm breath blew across my ear and I sank back against him as if pressing against something solid would make everything all right. Make it disappear.

“No. That is definitely not supposed to happen.”

Chapter Two

A draught of cold air wafted across my nape as he sat back in his seat. Goosebumps erupted across my neck, and I shivered at the loss of comfort the connection had brought as I opened my eyes. The panel of the wing was still flapping up and down as the nose of the plane lifted higher. I glanced over my shoulder. He had already unfastened his seat belt, arm outstretched, reaching for the call button. But a member of the cabin crew was hurrying down the aisle towards us.

“Sir, please. I need you to take your seat and fasten your seat belt for take-off.”

He waited until she was almost at our seat before explaining. I turned away to peer out of the window again and my stomach somersaulted—trying to escape back to the safety of the airport—as we left the ground. The panel lifted even higher before once more dropping back down. It rose again, but this time it didn't stop. As the plane climbed, the panel kept rising until I could see beneath it into the bowels of the wing. It balanced almost upright for a second or two before it wavered then ripped clean away from where it had been attached.

Hands on either side of the window, I pressed my nose to the cool plastic as it disappeared from my sight behind the plane. “Oh my God, we're all going to die,” I whispered before covering my mouth with trembling fists. Black spots danced before my eyes, so I squeezed them shut. All I could hear were my shallow breaths panting out from between my splayed hands. 

But he must have heard me. Cool fingers pried mine from where they clutched at my face. He curled them firmly around my palm, then gently squeezed as he said, “We'll be fine.”

His voice was low. He spoke slowly, drawing the words out. The delivery of them reminding me of the police officer breaking the news of my parents' death to me. His words wrapped around me, trying to offer comfort, but in the end were meaningless. He didn't know if we would be fine, didn't know if we'd even survive. Just like the hollow words of the police officer. I would never see my parents again. The message was the same: something terrible had happened, and I had no control over it.

Emotions I couldn't stop from welling up tried to escape, so I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Clamping my teeth together, trapping the sob inside. 

The air hostess strode back down the aisle towards us, a pilot behind her. Why weren't they more concerned? Half the wing was practically missing. Why was I the only one panicking? And who the hell was flying the plane if the pilot was back there with us?

The pilot leaned over us to get a better view out of the window. Salt-and-pepper hair, eyes narrowed, making little lines fan out around them. But other than that, his face gave nothing away. He straightened and ushered the air hostess back up the aisle.

As they left, the worried murmurs of the other passengers grew louder. They stretched up in their seats, trying to see what was going on. A man in the row of seats behind me piped up.

“It's just a panel off the wing. I've flown across the Atlantic with that happening before. It's not a problem; she's just making a fuss over nothing.”

Arsehole. What did he know? Surely you needed a full wing to fly—otherwise why design it that way in the first place? I turned my back to the other passengers, not wanting to see their questioning looks aimed my way, and glanced back out at the gaping black hole that had been left behind. Through the window, I could make out a bunch of blue wires exposed from the missing panel. 

“I knew this was a stupid idea. Should have stayed at home instead.” Closing my eyes, I sank back against the seat. Fingers tightened around my hand again and I looked over to see those rich brown eyes trained on me, shining with intensity. They had little flecks of gold in them like when I added gold leaf sprinkles into my ganache.

“I'm Beck, by the way.”

I almost laughed at how surreal that moment was. How utterly British it was. To introduce yourself to your neighbour before you both plummeted to your death. Couldn't possibly die next to a stranger. When I didn't answer, he tilted his head towards me and the overhead spotlight lit up the side of his face. Highlighted a silvery line that ran down his cheek. A faded scar maybe?

“Kimberly,” I said, remembering my manners at last. “Kimberly Hardwick. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you but—” 

The plane lurched; the left side of the plane—the side I was sitting on—dropped. Before I could stop it, a scream tore from my throat and my nails dug into his hand. But as suddenly as it had dropped, the plane levelled out again. 

I pressed my nose against the window, my breath fogging it up. “Oh, my God. What's happening now?”

A trail of white—smoke?—something snaked out from beneath the wing. The plane banked again and I could see the sprawl of the city lights of Leeds ahead in the distance.

Beck's chin landed on my shoulder as he peered out the window. The stubble along his jaw scratched against my cheek. His thumb traced over my hand back and forth in an arc I assumed was supposed to be calming. 

“Shh. It's okay, they're dumping fuel in preparation to land.” Tugging on my arm, he leaned back in his seat trying to drag me away from the window. I went willingly. Rested my head against the cushion and stared up at him.

“How do you know that? And how can you be so calm?” Our entwined hands rested against his thigh and his thumb traced across my wrist.

“I fly a lot. And I'm no stranger to high-risk situations.”

Well, that was…intriguing. “Really? Are you a paratrooper or something?” I licked my lips and he looked away from me. The muscle in his cheek twitched like he was stopping himself from confessing some deep, dark secret.

He glanced out of the window and said, “Or something.”

Huh. Vague much? But then he had every right to be. If we weren't in this situation, we would probably have spent the duration of the flight ignoring each other. Polite chitchat as we manoeuvred around sharing the same cramped space for so long. I was saved from trying to come up with a reply by the crackle of the announcement system.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. There is no need to panic, but there is a slight issue with the wing. Purely as a safety precaution, we will be returning to Leeds Bradford airport. Again, there is no need to worry. We'll be circling for a little while as we dump some fuel before we make what I expect to be a swift and easy landing. Unfortunately, not at your destination airport as planned. I'll speak to you again once we land, but for now, please remain seated with your seat belt securely fastened.” 

The Tannoy crackled again followed by a brief moment of silence before the murmur of the passengers' voices started up. That was good. Wasn't it? Although the pilot was hardly going to admit he thought we might crash, was he?

“Hey, are you okay? You've gone as pale as the moon outside.” 

“It's…my parents were…in an accident and it reminded me of them being hurt.” What was I saying? I didn't talk about what happened to my parents to anyone except my brother.

His fingers slipped from my hand and slid across my back. Arm wrapped around me, he pulled me closer until my head rested on his shoulder. Nose just inches from his neck, the scent of his spicy cologne invaded my senses. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. He smelt like safety. And the faint trace of ginger lingering on his skin reminded me of the gingerbread loaf my gran used to love to bake. 

Slow, even breaths as I tried to empty my mind of any thoughts other than counting each inhale and exhale. My ears popped as the plane descended, but I ignored that to concentrate on matching my breaths to the slow rhythm of Beck's.

Finally, we dropped quickly. A whirring noise made me jump, but Beck pulled me closer. With a thud, I assumed we'd landed and the force of it pushed me against Beck's chest.

The plane taxied for what felt like forever before it jerked to a stop. As a few cheers erupted from the seats behind me, I lifted my head and gave Beck a lopsided smile. Because—back on the safety of the ground—I thought I may have overreacted a tad. I slid back over into my seat and his arm dropped away. “I'm sorry.” 

“It's okay. We're okay.”

And we were. But up there, when it had been happening, I'd honestly thought we were all going to die. Since losing my parents, it was like I was hyper-aware of my own mortality and that…I'd thought that was the end.

As first times on a plane went, it could definitely have been better.

Chapter Three

An hour after we took off, I was back in the airport lounge. Alone. I had shuffled down the aisle behind Beck and the other passengers, but somewhere between the plane and the lounge, I had lost him. Not that I'd expected him to stay with me. But as I took a seat on the hard plastic chair, I kind of wished he was there.

The moment the panel ripped off kept replaying in slow motion through my mind. I couldn't remember ever being so scared or believing that I was going to die. 

And thoughts of death brought back memories of my mum and dad…stepdad. No. Dad. He'd always been my dad; he'd raised me as his own. Even if I had found a birth certificate that said otherwise. And again, I wondered if they had ever planned on telling me the truth. 

But once I'd found my birth certificate buried in my mum's office files, the questions kept coming. Who was my biological dad? Why had I never met him? Or had I but just didn't know? Did he know about me? Those questions were why I was sitting in the airport waiting to see if I'd be on another flight to Malta any time soon. 

“Here, I thought you could use a little something.”

At the sound of Beck's voice, I looked up as he held out a takeaway coffee cup. He glanced around the lounge over his shoulder before he squatted in front of me.

“There's a shot of brandy in it to help with the shock.”

His serious look disappeared as he gave me a full, cheeky smile. The one he'd given me when he'd caught me eyeing him up on the plane. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago already. His lips parted, revealing white teeth that glinted under the overhead lights. And he had the sexiest dimples on either side of his mouth. I needed something, all right. 

Taking the offered cup, I gave him an answering smile. “Thanks. Where did you even get it from?” There was nothing in the lounge apart from rows of blue plastic chairs fastened to the floor, a vending machine in the corner that sold snacks, and another selling books. Along with lots of unhappy looking passengers slumped in the chairs scattered around the lounge. Luggage littered the aisles.

A pang of guilt hit me. Had I made too much of a fuss? All these people had plans. Plans that didn't involve spending the night in the airport.

“I have my ways.” He laughed and gave me a wink.

I shook my head. I bet he did. That grin alone was probably enough to get him most things he wanted. With a fluid grace, he stood then sprawled himself across the chair next to me. Thigh pressed against mine. One arm slung around the back of my seat as he glanced around at the rest of the passengers. The warmth of his arm burned through the thin cotton of my shirt. Made the skin along my neck tingle at the heat of it.

Was he this friendly with everyone? Clearly he had no issue with personal space—judging by the fact that he was all up in mine. Not that I was complaining. Not in the slightest. The spicy scent of his cologne wrapped around me, and my shoulders lowered as I sank back against the hard chair and Beck's equally hard arm.

“So…what's waiting in Malta for you?”

My shoulders tensed again at the thought of explaining my convoluted reasons for flying to Malta. Oh, nothing much. Just found my birth certificate that showed my dad was actually my stepdad. Thought I'd fly to Malta to track down my biological father who didn't know I was going. Or possibly that I even existed. 

Aaaand when I put it like that I sounded a little crazy even to myself. Instead, I shook my head and a long piece of my black fringe fell loose from my ponytail.

“Okay. Must be more exciting than me flying out to see my parents for a week.” 

My stomach did a little flip at his words. Wished that was my reason for going. That I knew I'd be welcomed with open arms to spend a week relaxing with my parents. But that could never happen, and I had no idea what I would find if I ever got to Malta.

“Excitement is overrated,” I said, turning to smile at him to take the sting out of my words. I took a sip of the brandy-laced coffee and grimaced. It was hot and strong. Hard liquor and I weren't friends. “Thanks for this. And again, I'm sorry I freaked out on you on the plane.” 

“It's okay. Everyone's scared of something. A lot of people are scared of flying. Makes more sense than being scared of the sea. Well, not so much the sea but the shoreline.”

Twisting around in my seat to place the paper cup on the floor, I glanced up to see he was serious. No way was a man like him scared of the shore. He had to be at least six foot if our half a foot in height difference was anything to go by. And with those muscles I didn't think he'd have any trouble looking after himself. He didn't look like he spent hours in the gym, but he had enough definition to suggest he wasn't a stranger to one.

I had to be dreaming because this guy was gorgeous…and sweet. Sharing his fears to ease mine. “How can you be scared of the shoreline?”

His lip twitched up to flash one of those dimples at me. “Like I said, everyone's scared of something. It's stupid, irrational. But when I was a kid, my parents took me on holiday to Spain. I loved the sea and was playing around near the beach, jumping the waves when I fell over. Another wave hit before I could climb to my feet, and it was like I didn't know which way was up. It didn't help that I swallowed a mouthful of sea either. My dad dragged me out onto the beach as I coughed up a lung, and my mum had to clean up my leg where I'd scraped it on shells or pebbles.” He shrugged. “I told you it was stupid because I'm fine out in open water.”

His gaze swept the room before returning to mine. “So, are you going to share some embarrassing childhood story to make me feel better?”

Smiling, I shook my head. “I think my near hysteria on the plane was embarrassment enough for one day.”

He let out a chuckle. “You weren't that bad.” 

He eyed my hands folded together in my lap before looking over my crossed legs. My whole body warmed under his scrutiny and maybe that kind of excitement wasn't overrated. Or maybe they had dumped part of my sanity along with the fuel on the plane. Because I didn't do…whatever we were doing. Didn't flirt with men I barely knew—if that's what this was. But as his tongue snuck out and licked across his bottom lip, the image of my tongue following that same path—biting that lip—ran through my mind. I shook my head, trying to stop the direction my thoughts were heading. 

I might not have wanted to share an embarrassing story, but I did have something else I could share. Leaning down to reach into my handbag on the floor, I grabbed the Tupperware box from inside. I'd packed a sandwich and snacks in case I got hungry on the flight to avoid having to eat the airline food. Removed the lid and pulled out the tinfoil-wrapped brownies I'd baked. Peeling back the tinfoil, I offered one to Beck.

“Oh, those smell delicious. I'm starving.” 

I smiled at his enthusiasm. That kind of reaction to my baking was another reason I loved it so much. It was more than making a treat or something to fill your stomach. My cakes could cheer people up after a bad day. Invoke childhood memories of baking with family or celebrations of happy times.

Beck wrapped his long fingers around the piece on top and lifted it towards his mouth. Moaned around the bite he took. A moan that had me preening, head tilting towards him as I ran the silky length of my ponytail through my hand.

“Oh God, that tastes divine. Almost a shame to eat it when it looks like a piece of art. You have to tell me where you bought these from.”

Those words brought a satisfied smile to my face. I may have got slightly carried away decorating them with white chocolate finely drizzled over the top in a criss-cross pattern. Milk, white, and dark chilli-infused chocolate grated curls along the edges, but it had been fun. “Sorry, but you can't buy them. I made them.” Beck's eyebrows rose as his lips wrapped around the brownie to take another bite. His tongue darted out to catch a crumb, and I had to stop my tongue from mirroring his movement.

“Seriously, you made these?” I nodded. “Okay, you need to be selling them because they are the best brownies I've ever tasted.”

I was sure he was exaggerating but still, his words made me sit a little taller and had my chin lifting. He popped the rest of it into his mouth and licked his fingers clean.

“Can I have another?”

I offered the package out to him. “Of course.” As he took a bite, he eyed me speculatively.

“So, no boyfriend waiting at home or in Malta for you then?”

My gaze flicked to his, then quickly away. No way was a guy that looked like him interested in me. Not that it mattered if he was. We were stuck in the middle of an airport surrounded by dozens of people. And hopefully getting back on a plane soon before I lost my nerve and headed home instead. But then I'd never find out who my biological dad was. 

“No. No boyfriend waiting anywhere for me.” I snuck a quick glance at his left hand resting on his thigh, but his fingers were bare. “What about you? I mean girlfriend. No girlfriend?”

His lips slowly lifted into that cheeky grin I liked far too much already as he shook his head.

“No, no boyfriend waiting for me. Or girlfriend for that matter.”

My cheeks probably matched the colour of my crimson shirt, but I was saved from embarrassing myself further when a woman dressed in the blue airline uniform stopped in front of us. 

“Hi. Ooh, those look delicious. Sorry, I'm letting everyone know that we can't get another plane here tonight, so the flight's been cancelled. If you report to our customer service desk out in the main building, they can help you reclaim your luggage and get you booked on another flight tomorrow. And if you need accommodation for the night, they'll explain how you can claim the cost back.”

I groaned and she gave me a rueful smile.

“I know. We're sorry, but there's nothing else we can do.” 

She wandered off to speak to the other passengers, and I checked my watch. Great, it was almost midnight. By the time I found my luggage and sorted out a new flight, it would be ridiculously early in the morning. And it would take at least an hour for me to get home depending on how long I'd have to wait for a taxi at that time of the morning.

“Have you got luggage checked in?”

Beck's question stopped my petulant musings. “Yeah. Have you?”

He held out his arm. “Yes. Let's go track it down and sort out another flight.”

I stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment before I grasped hold of it. Gently, he pulled me to my feet. 

This was quickly becoming one of the most bizarre nights of my life. But I grabbed my bag and followed him out of the lounge anyway.

Chapter Four

The conveyor belt started up with a clunk. As I watched the black belt snake its way between the waiting clumps of passengers, I tried to work out what I should do. We had both been booked onto another flight at 6 a.m. the following day—no, it was the same day, only five and half hours to wait. If I went home, that would be two hours travelling. But I had to be back an hour before the flight was due, which would leave me two and a half hours at home. Which was pointless. No way would I sleep for any of that time. Even though tiredness had seeped into my bones, I doubted I'd get my brain to switch off.

Trying to get a room at the airport hotel was an indulgence I couldn't afford for a five-and-a-half-hour wait. I might as well crash in the lounge as I suspected a few others would.

“That was a big sigh. Everything okay?” 

I hadn't realised I'd voiced my internal musings. Beck stepped forward as the first suitcase finally appeared on the conveyor belt.

“Yeah. Just trying to decide if I should go home or crash somewhere in the departure lounge, that's all.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. Stared without uttering a word for a long moment. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, I let my attention wander over to the luggage making its way around.

“I have a room in the hotel if you want somewhere with a little more comfort.” He glanced back at me again. “Totally above board offer. Just somewhere to sleep. I'll even let you take the bed,” he added as his lips quirked up.

“How do you have a hotel room?” I didn't care how he had a room. Just wanted to avoid answering his question for the moment. Because it was tempting. Oh, so tempting. And not only for the prospect of a bed for the night instead of a row of hard chairs surrounded by the noise of the airport and other passengers. 

“I booked it online on the off chance that there wouldn't be another flight tonight as soon as I got off the plane.”

Smart man. The idea had never crossed my mind. His searching eyes met mine, and I knew he was waiting for an answer. Instead, I pointed to a black suitcase with a pink strap around it. “That's my suitcase.”

I stepped forward but Beck lifted it off the belt like it was empty and deposited it at my feet. He turned back to the belt as I raised the handle then slid it back into place over and over. What should I do? Spend the night sharing a hotel room with an almost stranger—admittedly one I was attracted to—who was kind of caring and generous, if not a little secretive. Could he be trusted? More to the point, could I?

But I could already hear my credit card groaning at having to pay for my own room. I'd almost maxed it out for the plane ticket. Even if I could claim it back, I wasn't sure I could afford to pay for it in the first place. And—as much as I hated to admit it—the idea of not being alone for the night was tempting. The almost crash, the uncertainty of what waited for me if I ever got to Malta, the prospect of getting on a plane again in a few hours' time…

Beck dragged a small, grey, hard-shelled case off the belt and looked at me expectantly. I gave him a little nod. Sod it. I always did what I thought I should do. The right thing. For once, I was going to do what I wanted to do. Even if it made no sense. I didn't know much about Beck, but he'd been nothing but kind to me. Protective even. 

And I didn't want to spend the following few hours worrying about being on a plane again. It wasn't as though I was expecting anything to happen. But if I got to spend that time being distracted by the sight of Beck's sculpted arms and jean-clad arse…well, it was better than the alternative.

“Okay then. Let's go.”

I followed Beck back into the main airport area and outside. Across the car park bathed in an orange glow from the street lamps. Through the revolving doors into the brightly lit hotel reception where he stopped at the check-in desk and graced the receptionist with a dimpled smile. The one that probably got him whatever he wanted and made my stomach clench. Among other things.

What was I doing? What was Beck doing? I was sure he could sweet talk any woman he wanted into sharing his room for the night. Probably wouldn't need the sweet talk. Hell, they'd fall over themselves to share less than his room. So why was he trying to convince me just to share his room?

Beck bent his knees to get a look at the name badge pinned to the receptionist's chest.

“Hi, Wendy. I have a room booked but my…friend.” He waved in my general direction and I gave the receptionist a smile. Friend? Wendy threw me a sceptical look that said she didn't believe we were friends either.

“I'm sorry sir, but we're fully booked. A flight was cancelled, and we don't have enough rooms to accommodate everyone. I can give you the phone numbers for the hotels nearby. They may have some availability still.”

Beck kept right on smiling at her. “Thank you, but it's fine. The room is booked in my name, but I was hoping you could add my friend's name to the booking.”

Wendy glanced between us and I offered her a shrug. I had no idea what Beck was up to.

“Of course. I'll just need to see some ID and the room number.”

Rummaging through my handbag until I found my passport, I slid it across the desk towards her. When I heard the sound of fingers tapping on keys I turned to Beck. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

He took a step back from the desk, pulling me along with him. “You didn't look entirely sure about sharing a room. This way, it's not difficult to trace where you'll be spending the next few hours. I thought it might put your mind at rest. If I was up to no good, I wouldn't make it easy for the police to find you, would I? And you should text someone. Let them know where you're staying and who with.” 

I stared at him, not sure if I should be reassured or more worried. What kind of person came up with a plan like that? I twisted my lips from side to side, trying to find a response. “Maybe you're just trying to lull me into a false sense of security.”

I wasn't sure what Beck's response would be, but I didn't expect him to laugh. A deep rumble of a laugh that made my toes curl. My question from earlier came back to me. “Are you a paratrooper?” His answer played in a loop as he grinned at me. Or something. Or something. Holy fondant icing. What if he was a criminal?

“It's entirely up to you, Kimberly. You don't have to share, but you can trust me. I swear.”

My gaze wandered over his face. The serious look back in place again. Deep, rich brown eyes that held mine easily. Half smile on his lips. He looked totally relaxed. As though he didn't care either way. And he was trying to do me a favour at the same time as making me comfortable. His face wasn't hard to read and I found myself wanting to trust him. Even though that made no sense because I didn't know enough about him to trust him. I did know he'd done nothing to give me a reason not to.

But I'd trusted my mum and she'd kept a huge fucking secret from me. I knew—or at least hoped—she'd concealed it from me for a good reason. To protect me, hopefully. Except I was twenty-seven, not seven. I could handle whatever the reality might have been. 

But she'd left me with a future where I would never know why she had kept it from me. If my biological dad hadn't wanted me, I could have dealt with that. Yes, it would've hurt, but at least I'd have known. Instead, I was left with endless questions. Did my biological dad even know I existed? Did Vinnie know he was my stepdad? Had my brother known all along, even though he said he didn't have a clue?

So yeah, trust wasn't high up on my to-do list right then. But it was a goddamned room Beck was offering. And I was way overthinking it. My gaze slid across towards the airport building. Imagined those rows of hard plastic chairs. Annoyed with myself for being so indecisive, I glanced back at Beck. He held my passport out to me, his other hand wrapped around the handle of his suitcase.

It was just a room. Not even for a full night. We were in a hotel on the outskirts of Leeds. There would be a phone in the room. I had my mobile. What was the worst that could happen?

It wasn't like he was pushing for me to stay. He was being a gentleman. And I was being stupid. I took my passport and shoved it back into my handbag. 

Giving him a smile as I lifted my head I said, “Lead the way.”

Chapter Five

The light flashed green and Beck slipped the key card out of the lock, ushering me into the room. It was tiny and dominated by a double bed. The only bed.

I wheeled my suitcase across the room, casting a quick glance towards the bed as I brushed past it. Under the window, there was a small leather chair that had been mostly hidden from the doorway. Oh, but it looked inviting. Two fluffy pillows stacked against the pale wooden headboard. A simple white duvet with a blue-and-grey striped runner wrapped around the bottom.

“I'll take the chair.” 

No way was I taking Beck's bed; he had paid for the room, so it was his. I turned to tell him that and my leg hit the corner of the desk. Shit. I rubbed a hand down my thigh, which put my head level with Beck's stomach as I bent over slightly. The hotel was a general budget one, so I hadn't been expecting it to be the Ritz, but God, it was small. Stuck between the desk and the bed, there was no avoiding Beck. The scent of his spicy cologne wrapped around me…and something else. Something I was beginning to realise was pure Beck.

He grinned at me before lounging back on the mattress. Arms stretched out behind him to prop himself up on his hands, biceps popping out beneath the short sleeves. The position stretched his T-shirt tight across his chest and wasn't helping my coordination in the slightest.

Looking anywhere but at his chest, I took in the grey-and-blue striped curtains, the blue carpet. Crossed over to the window, pulling the net curtain aside to a view of the hotel car park. I let it fall back into place across the window and leaned my bum against the windowsill. “I'm not taking your bed. You've already let me crash here. I'm not going to let you give up your bed too. I'll be fine in the chair for a couple of hours' rest.”

Beck snorted as he pushed himself up off the bed. “Not happening, Kimberly. I've slept in worse places than a chair. The bed's yours. Now, do you want to use the bathroom first, or can I get a shower?”

I wondered what kind of awful places he had slept in and why. If he was a criminal, I didn't think he was a very good one. Nothing about him screamed money. Or danger. Maybe he was in the army. The flying, high-risk situations, sleeping in crappy places. Wondering was pointless because I didn't think Beck was going to share that information. And we'd both be leaving in a couple of hours, never to see each other again.

Pushing off the wall, I walked over and stopped a few inches in front of him. “No, you can go first. I'm good. But I mean it, thank you for letting me stay here.” Stretching up onto my tiptoes to reach his cheek, I brushed my lips against his stubbled skin. The soft hairs tickled my lips, and they still tingled after I pulled away.

As I dropped back down onto my feet, his eyes widened and I gave him a self-conscious smile. Had I gone too far? But then he lifted a hand and traced a thumb across my cheek. The urge to lick his thumb was overwhelming, so I trapped the tip of my tongue between my teeth. He leaned in as he traced along my jaw and I held my breath. He was going to kiss me. My stomach clenched in anticipation as he dropped his hand but then took a step backwards, putting space between us. Of course he wasn't going to kiss me. His gaze bored into mine and I broke eye contact. Fool.

The zip of his case was loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“I won't be long, then the bathroom's all yours.”

At the click of the bathroom door closing, I exhaled the breath I'd been holding. Way to make things awkward, Kimberly. I sank onto the edge of the bed. His suitcase was laid open on the floor. Half empty. A couple of T-shirts poked out of the top and a button-down shirt. The man travelled light. 

When the shower started, I opened my own suitcase to find my toiletry bag and a change of clothes. The shower was still running as I zipped my suitcase back up and sat on the edge of the bed. My gaze strayed to the closed bathroom door. I imagined Beck under the spray of water. Droplets of liquid running down his bare, muscled chest. Snaking their way down the raised ridges of his stomach and lower. I swallowed at the thought of all that tanned, wet skin, and jumped off the bed.

Did I want Beck's first sight as he left the bathroom to be me drooling at the thought of him taking a shower? Get a grip, woman. Pulling the net curtain aside so I could stare out of the window again, I let out a soft sigh. What I really wanted to do was curl up and forget about everything. Suddenly, the day's events caught up with me. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass. A wave of weariness washed over me as though even standing was too much effort. The anxious hours at home before setting off to the airport—as usual, I had been ready far too early, which had left me with too much time to worry about what I was doing. The waiting around in the airport. Then when I was on the plane thinking I was going to die. And finally, that in a few hours, I'd have to get back on a plane again.

“Bathroom's all yours.”

I jumped at Beck's words. “Thanks, a—” I said as I turned away from the window. The rest of the words died on my tongue at the sight of Beck, still damp from the shower, with only a white towel wrapped low around his waist. Hip bones jutting out. A trail of dark hairs led from the towel up to his belly button. The faint outline of his abs below the hard ridge of his pecs that flexed as he adjusted the towel.

A tattoo covered his heart in the shape of an infinity symbol with what looked like a date beneath it, but it was hard to tell from a distance. I licked my suddenly dry lips. Only when he pulled a T-shirt over his head did my feet finally move. Grabbing my toiletry bag from the bed on my way, I headed for the bathroom. With a final glance in Beck's direction, I closed the door and slumped back against it. Jesus. Pull yourself together. It wasn't like he was the first man I'd seen wearing only a towel. Maybe the first I'd seen that looked that good wearing only a towel.

When my heart finally slowed to a normal pace and my mind stopped racing, I pushed myself off the door. Switched on the shower and grabbed my shower gel from the bag. A quick glance in the mirror had me wincing at my reflection. Hair in disarray, I tied it back up into a ponytail and out of the way of the spray. There wasn't much I could do about the dark smudges under my eyes, though.

I shed my clothes and stepped under the warm flow of water. Let out a sigh as it washed away what had been a long-ass day. I lingered under the spray until the last soap bubble disappeared—longer than normal. Sure, it was more to avoid seeing the temptation that was Beck again than about anything else. When the water began to cool and my skin started to wrinkle, I finally climbed out. 

In hindsight, I should have brought my change of clothes with me into the bathroom. The towel I wrapped around me barely hit mid-thigh and was only just big enough to stay fastened around my chest. Dithering until I annoyed myself, I yanked open the bathroom door. It covered me, and I was sure Beck had seen women dressed in much less. But my worrying had been a waste of time. Beck was sprawled out on the bed on top of the covers, lips parted slightly. He looked less serious asleep—younger. The T-shirt he'd put on had ridden up to reveal his abs, and I licked my lips at the thought of tracing those soft lines with my tongue. 

A pair of grey slacks hugged his hips and left little to the imagination. Feet bare. My teeth sank into my bottom lip at the sight of him. Goosebumps spread down my arms as the cooler air of the room penetrated my daze. He mumbled something, and I hurried over to where I'd set my pyjamas out, suddenly aware I still wore only a towel.

I shimmied into them whilst clutching the ends of it around me. Once done, I hung the damp towel over the radiator and glanced between the chair and the bed. Spending the next couple of hours scrunched up in the small chair wasn't appealing. Curling up under the duvet next to Beck, on the other hand, was. Before I could overthink and talk myself out of it, I lifted the cover and slid underneath. Beck didn't even stir.

I lay on my side facing him and took the opportunity to study him unobserved. With his eyes closed, I noticed how long his dark eyelashes were as they fanned out across his cheek. Long nose that had a bump just below his eyebrows, I wondered if he'd broken it at some point. Full lips the colour of the red icing I used to make love hearts for the occasional wedding cake order. But they weren't smooth like the icing. Little cracks lined them vertically, but they looked just as soft and sweet as the icing. His chin was covered with dark stubble and my fingers itched to touch its softness again. He rolled over to face me, his deep brown eyes half-open. 

“Hey.”

I smiled because he was cute when he was half-awake. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Nah. Just resting my eyes.” He didn't say anything more, just stared intently at me. I shyly dropped my gaze from his, which meant it landed on his half-bare chest where the T-shirt had twisted up around his side as he'd rolled over. 

“Will your parents be worried when you don't show up in Malta?” I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes at my own question. He was a grown man. And had probably told them the flight had been rescheduled. Wow. Who knew the sight of his nipple would have me spouting any old crap that entered my head? Seriously, get a grip, Kimberly.

“I phoned them earlier to let them know what happened. What about you? Anybody you need to contact in Malta to let them know what's happening?”

I shook my head. “Nobody knows I'm going to Malta.” Beck sat up at my confession, T-shirt falling back into place and covering up all that bare skin. Good, maybe I'd stop telling him things best left unsaid.

“What? Nobody at all? Why not?”

“Well, my brother knows I'm going but not my flight details. He didn't want me to go. Thinks I'm wasting my time on a wild goose chase.” 

Beck leaned back against the pillows, hands clasped behind his head, pulling the T-shirt tight across his chest and up to reveal a strip of skin above the low-slung waistband of his slacks.

“Chasing what?”

“Huh?”

“Your brother thinks you're on a wild goose chase.”

Lifting my gaze to his, my brain tuned back into the conversation. “Oh, yeah. I er, found my birth certificate. And Vinnie—who I'd ways believed to be my dad—wasn't named on it.” 

Beck let out a gasp at that revelation. He dropped one of his hands from behind his head and grabbed hold of mine.

“So I managed to track down the man named as my father on the birth certificate to Malta. And against my brother's advice, here I am. Flying out to Malta to hopefully find my biological dad.”

“That must have been an awful way to find something like that out. What did your parents say about it?”

At his question, I closed my eyes against the sting behind them. I couldn't tell him about my parents. Couldn't believe how much I'd already shared with him. That was so unlike me. Even my brother had to drag information out of me most of the time.

“We…we haven't discussed it.”

He dropped his other arm from behind his head and wrapped it around me. Pulled me tightly against his chest and dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

“I'm so sorry.”

We both fell silent after that. Me lost in my memories and wondering why I'd decided to unload on Beck. Bet he was so glad he'd asked.

Eventually, Beck let out a soft snore. The late hour catching up with him, and me too as I fought back a yawn. 

I stopped thinking and instead listened to his deep, rhythmic breaths.

Chapter Six

I must have fallen asleep because I woke to the scent of warm skin, my head nuzzled between Beck's head and shoulder. His leg was thrown over mine, the duvet between us, pinning me to the bed. Carefully I rolled back towards my pillow as far as I could, trying not to wake him. I glanced over to find him staring at me, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

“Hey.”

“Hi. What time is it?”

He rolled his head towards the bedside table and reached out to grab his mobile. The screen lit up, the glow of it lighting up his face.

“We have nearly two and a half hours until check-in,” he replied, as he rolled back to face me.

I'd been asleep for less than an hour. Beck was staring again, and I tried to hold still under the intensity of that look. It was dark in the room, even though the curtains had been left open. The faint glow cast from the street lights gave the space an orange hue and was enough for me to make out his features. “Sorry. I know I said I'd take the chair. Guess I fell asleep.” He shrugged. 

“It's okay.”

I tugged at the duvet that still separated us, expecting him to move his leg, but instead he leaned in closer.

“Is it okay if I tell you that I want to kiss you so much it's all I can think about right now?”

Slowly I nodded and focused on his lips. I swallowed, unable to look him in the eye as I said, “It would…be okay if you did kiss me.” It would be so much more than okay. I didn't think I'd ever see Beck again. Didn't know much about him. But I did know I'd regret missing the chance to kiss him. Regret the things you did, not the things you didn't, right? But I couldn't imagine ever regretting kissing Beck.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded again as I finally glanced back up at him. Slowly, he leaned down towards me as though giving me time to change my mind, but the hard press of his thigh over my leg let me know I wasn't going anywhere. His warm breath fanned over my cheek and my eyes were drawn to his lips. Watched the tip of his tongue trace along his bottom lip, leaving it glistening.

It was like time stopped as we locked gazes. His eyes shone and looked almost black in the dim light. My whole body heated under that intense look, and the air around us seemed to shift—became charged like a force field surrounding us from the real world. The anticipation of the kiss stretched between us and was the most sexual activity I'd had in…way too long. 

His lips brushed mine. A whisper of a touch and my eyelids fluttered shut. Those lips were as soft as they looked and beneath them; mine parted on a soft sigh. He licked across my bottom lip and sent a jolt of pleasure down my spine, leaving my head tingling. Our tongues tangled together, and I never wanted the moment to end. 

But then he pulled away…leaving me wanting more. So much more. If this was my one chance to kiss him, to be with him, I wanted more than an all too fleeting touch of our lips.

Our eyes met as we dragged in much-needed breaths, and I lost myself in those rich eyes. Lost myself in the moment, the tidal wave of emotions that kiss had whipped up. Anchored by Beck. But also more than a little scared that I wanted nothing more than to be kissed that way every day. By Beck. Like I was the most important thing—the only thing that mattered. Which was crazy. Yet fit perfectly with every other bizarre aspect of the day.

Pushing the duvet out of my way, I clutched my other hand around his T-shirt to pull him back. He smiled, but I didn't care. I flicked my tongue over the seam of his lips and they parted. He groaned—or it might have been me—as his tongue slid over mine. I released my grip on his T-shirt to slide my hand around his hip. Fingertips tracing the outline of the muscles across his back. Our tongues danced around each other until his hand cradled my jaw and tipped my head up. The other gently brushing my hair away from my face. It was that soft, almost tender touch that did me in.

I surrendered, allowing him to control the kiss. Let the heat of the emotions he was stirring up inside of me consume me. God, it had been far too long since I'd been kissed and never like that. His tongue retreated, licking over the outline of my lips. He pressed open-mouthed kisses along my cheek as his lips made their way to my neck. He licked the skin below my ear drawing a shudder that was half ticklish, half lust.

I pressed myself closer, his chest firm against my own. Then he sucked against my skin and I wasn't sure if I wanted him to leave a mark or not. A reminder of our night—or early morning—together. But then his lips were back on mine and I didn't care about anything else. Couldn't think of anything except the touch of his warm lips against me.

It must have been only moments that we kissed, but it felt like hours. Beck pulled away, his breaths fast and shallow, lips shining in the darkened room and slightly swollen. Eyes hooded. That was a look I wasn't about to forget anytime soon.

And if we only had one night together, I wanted more than a kiss to remember it by. One night to escape what had become my new reality. To be…not me. Instead of overthinking the moment, to go with it instead. Not worry about right or wrong but do what I wanted. And I really wanted Beck. There in his arms, all the other shit going on in my life melted away. Leaving behind this feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be.

I trailed my hand down his back until I reached the hem of his T-shirt. Warm, soft skin. Hard muscles beneath. Slid my fingers across his hip and up the ridges of his stomach until they found his nipple, already stiff. Beck groaned and our eyes met. 

“I don't expect anything more.” His voice low and rough bringing doubts with it.

My hand froze, head tilting away from him. Did he not want to do more than kiss? His arm tightened around my waist, fingers pressing into my back.

“Don't get me wrong; I want to.”

His lips lifted on one side. That was all I needed to know. And I was done with talking. I lightly scraped a fingernail across his nipple. Stretched up to meet his lips with mine. Nipped at his bottom lip before our tongues tangled.

He rose up to straddle my legs, pushing the duvet off me and into a heap at the bottom of the bed. My hands dropped to the hem of his T-shirt. There were too many clothes still between us, even with the duvet out of the way. Dragging my mouth from his, I lifted the shirt to reveal a hard, toned chest. He pulled it over his head and threw it onto the floor. I traced the outline of the tattoo over his heart but when he tensed, I wrapped my hands around his jaw and captured his lips again. His hands slipped beneath my pyjama top and we parted long enough to discard it. Hand splayed across my back, he pulled me tightly against his chest. Skin to skin. Hands running gently up and down my back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path. I don't know what I'd expected from what was basically a one-night stand, but it wasn't that. Gentle caresses that felt loving. Tender touches making me think stupid things like I didn't want this to be the only night we had together.

He made quick work of discarding the rest of our clothes. Rolled to the edge of the bed and came back with a condom in his hand. Lips searching out mine again, not wanting to be separated for even a moment. When our skin pressed together from chest to toe, snaps of pleasure raced across my skin, a burst of light beneath my closed eyelids. Heat suffused every inch of me—my body lighting up like the finale of a fireworks display on bonfire night. 

He trailed kisses down my neck, biting gently into my shoulder. I arched my back off the mattress and his lips sought out my nipple. Sucking tenderly before grazing his teeth across the hardened tip. Thumb seeking out my clit as he slipped a finger inside me. Gently stroked.

I trailed my fingers down his chest. Lower. And lower, until I wrapped them around his cock and dragged a moan from him. Skin so silky soft yet so hard beneath. I ran a finger across the tip, spreading the liquid already beading there. Traced the vein that ran along the length of it. Wrapped my fingers around the base and with a firm grip slid my hand up.

“Oh, fuck.”

I loved the way the words were torn from him. Loved knowing I'd affected him that much. 

Tearing foil stopped my movements and I released my hold on him as he slid the condom on. Positioned himself then sank slowly down inside me. I threw my head back with a moan. Oh, God. My hips lifted to meet his thrust for thrust. I dropped my hands to his chest, fingers curling into the firm muscles. 

There was no rush to his movements. Like we had all the time in the world when in reality, we only had a few more hours together. My stomach clenched at the thought of him walking out of my life in such a short space of time. Was it possible to miss someone you didn't even know?

His hand slid up my arm, fingertips trailing across my shoulder until his hand curled around the back of my neck. Urging me up until our lips met. His other arm wrapped around my shoulders so I was surrounded by him. No room for thoughts to invade. Just the touch of skin against skin, the smell of our warm bodies entwined together. 

His tongue thrust inside my mouth in rhythm with his hips. He stilled on top of me, my hands curling around his biceps. “Close. So close, I can't…”

His thrusts became erratic as my orgasm exploded and I clenched around him. Eyes squeezed shut so tight, pinpricks of white danced behind my eyelids. Warmth flooded through my veins as every muscle relaxed.

Another thrust and a groan escaped him as he stilled above me and pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair. 

A lazy smile lifted the corners of his lips as he rolled to the side and slipped an arm around my waist to tuck me up against his chest. Damp lips warm against my forehead as he brushed a kiss across it. 

We lay in silence waiting for our breaths to slow. Sweat-slicked skin cooling. His fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of my back, making me shudder. I wanted to stay there—in his arms—forever.

But then he pulled away and headed for the bathroom. Sauntered towards the bed and slid back in beside me, pulling the covers over us and wrapping his arms around me. Fingers brushing lazily over my skin as we lay together in contented silence.

“We should try to get some more sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Sleep was the last thing I wanted to do, but I murmured my agreement. Resting my head against his shoulder, I breathed in the spicy scent of his skin. Matched my breathing to his slow breaths. Closed my eyes when his arm tightened around my waist. Our legs tangled together and my chest ached. I hadn't realised how much I missed having someone to snuggle up with. Someone to kiss. Someone who made me feel.

Maybe not just anyone…but Beck. 

I didn't know if it was because of the aborted flight, or that we'd made love, or the fact that I might never see him again, but something about him had me wanting to open up to him. To share things I normally wouldn't. Do things I normally wouldn't.

The scent of Beck filled my nostrils. His arms wrapped around me and held me close.

More content in his arms than I had been in a long time, I snuggled closer and drifted off.

Chapter Seven

The loud ringtone of my mobile startled me awake and I groped around on the bedside table. Still groggy, it took me a moment to silence the alarm as I sat up. The bathroom door was ajar, and light spilled into the room through the gap to reveal the absence of Beck's suitcase. The room beyond the open door was empty. I brushed a hand over the cold duvet on his side of the bed. Disappointment washed over me, which was ridiculous. One night together and I'd expected him to escort me back to the airport. Hoped he might figuratively—if not literally—hold my hand during take-off.

I rolled over to place my mobile back on the table and bit my lip at the white business card laid on the top. A small smile lifted my lips as I plucked it off the wooden surface. A little bubble of hope tried to rise up inside me. Maybe he'd gone to grab some coffees. But as I read his scrawled note, my smile disappeared.

Sorry, but I won't make the flight. Work called. Don't worry, you'll be fine. Beck.

I flicked the card over and in raised gold lettering, was a mobile number. Nothing else. 

International man of mystery. I laughed as I flipped the card back over. He'd been going to Malta to visit his parents. International maybe, but not so much with the mystery. But he'd left me his number, hadn't he? The note didn't say to call him, though it implied that. Or maybe that was the only paper he had to leave a note on. And it was a business card. It didn't exactly say, “I enjoyed our night and want a repeat performance.”

I flopped against the pillows with a deep sigh. Flicked the card back over to read his scrawled message again. No mention of the previous night. I thought there had been a connection between us. That it had been more than just sex. Had hoped it might have been the start of…something, maybe.

I dropped the card on the table and threw the duvet off me. Had the previous night not meant anything to him? What if I'd imagined a connection between us? What if I was just one in a long line of other women he'd done this with? 

Glancing again at the card, I reread that last sentence. 

Don't worry, you'll be fine. 

But I shoved that bubble of hope back down as it tried to float free again. He'd left his business card. And didn't that make me feel special?

But I could call him once I returned from Malta. Maybe. 

Then again, if the previous night had meant as much to Beck as it had to me, why had he left without waking me? Left without more than a quickly scrawled message?

It had been years, but I could just about remember the start of my relationship with Jack. Even in the beginning—when the sex had still been good—it hadn't made me feel the way I had felt in Beck's arms. Had never felt…complete. Like Beck was a magnet that had rearranged the pieces of my heart until they all fit in the right place. Until I felt something instead of numb. Felt alive again.

There was nothing I could do about it; I had a plane to catch. So I climbed out of bed thinking of our too-short time spent together in the room. But I had the option to call him. It didn't have to be just one night.

Nearly an hour after leaving the hotel a sense of déjà vu hit me as I wandered down the tunnel to board a different plane. I stopped to lean against the flimsy wall. Swallowed hard as my stomach tried to escape back to the safety of the hotel room, and I was thankful I'd skipped breakfast. Pressed my clammy forehead against the cool plastic wall. Don't worry, you'll be fine. I repeated Beck's words over and over in my head as though if I said them enough times, they'd come true.

And statistically, the odds of something happening on this flight were low. But the old adage of bad things coming in threes popped into my head. Sliding a sweaty palm up the wall, I lifted my head and pushed myself upright. That was just superstitious nonsense. Nothing would happen. Except I'd end up in Malta—hopefully with some answers to the hundreds of questions I had.

Settling into another window seat, I fastened the belt around my waist. Pulled it as tight as it would go around my lap. My seat was further forward in the plane than the last time, but I could still see the wing. I looked it over and then let out a snort. Like I knew what I was looking for. But it looked intact, no gaping hole spewing wires, so that was a bonus. 

A passenger walked past in the aisle and I glanced up. Of course it wasn't Beck. He'd told me he'd wouldn't be on the flight, but it didn't stop me from checking every single passenger that walked by. Until an elderly gentleman slowly lowered himself into the seat next to the aisle. Propped a wooden walking stick between the gap in the empty seats between us. He paid no attention to me so I stared out of the window, fingers clutching at the armrests. 

And then we were moving. Runway up ahead. 

You'll be fine. You'll be fine. 

As the plane picked up speed so did my heartbeat, and I forced myself to breathe. Nothing flapped on the wing. Everything looked fine. And then the plane lifted. The rows of cars and houses below slowly receding until they looked like toy Lego pieces on a mat.

The view disappeared, obscured by huge fluffy white clouds; it was like being in a cocoon of cotton wool. A smile tugged at my lips—I'd done it. The seat belt sign went off, and I flexed my stiff fingers from their death grip. 

I was on my way to Malta.

***

I had planned to eat at my dad's restaurant the night after I arrived in Malta, but I was already a day late arriving. And once I was there, I didn't want to put it off any longer, hoping that it would get rid of the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. And my skin was too sensitive; the drag of my clothes over it made me scratch until I gave up and headed for the tiny bathroom in the hotel.

The room might be small and plain with blank white walls, but the view more than made up for that. I was so high up in the hotel, I could see the coastline. Not that I'd spent much time admiring it. 

I switched the shower off and wrapped the fluffy white towel around my chest. Padded back out towards the bed and my open suitcase. I'd laid out all my outfits to try and decide what I should wear, but there wasn't much advice on what to wear to meet your dad for the first time when he might not know you exist. 

I twisted my hair up into a bun and decided it didn't really matter what I wore. My stomach flipped at the sight of the birth certificate. I dragged on a pair of jeans and a purple floaty shirt. Folded the birth certificate in half and slipped it into my handbag. Shoving my feet into my Skechers, I shook out my hands. Wandered over to the window and leaned my forehead against the cool glass. 

How would I even do this? “Hi, Dad, I'm the daughter you didn't know about.”

No, don't call him Dad. 

“Hi, do you remember my mum, Tracy? Pretty sure you slept with her.”

God, no. I couldn't say that.

Okay, maybe I wouldn't say anything to him. Just have some lunch and see if he was working. If I saw him, then inspiration of what I should say might come to me. And if it didn't, then I could go back another day once I had come up with something.

I grabbed the key card and headed for the lift.

As I hurried along the streets towards the restaurant, I thought about how long it had taken me to find him. The months I'd spent searching for him online from the little information I had found on my birth certificate. I'd spent hours on social media trying to track him down. But if he had a Facebook account, or Twitter, or anything else, I hadn't found it. 

The only other information I had besides his name was his profession: Flying Officer. Lost count of the number of visits and hours I'd spent at the library in Marsdon scouring old newspapers and RAF publications looking for any mention of him.

I'd totally lucked out when the local newspaper had run a feature on his retirement from the air force and his return to Malta—not to serve that time. Victor and his wife were opening a restaurant on the island. A long-held dream they'd had, apparently, it reported. 

I may have squealed when I found the article, which had earned me a dirty look from the librarian and a shushing. After which I had hurried home to use the Internet to carry on my research in the privacy of my home where I could make as much noise as I liked. 

A quick search of the restaurants in Malta—there weren't that many—turned up Saint George's. So called after the rock and shoals out at sea located not far from the restaurant. A family-run establishment by husband and wife duo, Mr and Mrs Hardacre. 

As I stood in front of Saint George's, I wondered if they didn't open during the day. The place was deserted. Metal patio chairs and tables were set out, but none of the parasols were open and they were all empty. 

I weaved my way through the tables towards the entrance, but the only thing waiting for me was a sign taped to the window: Closed until further notice for family bereavement. 

I don't know how long I'd stood there, staring at that sign, wondering who had died. Wondering how I could find out. Until an elderly gentleman came and stood beside me.

“Terrible thing,” he said, nodding at the sign.

Murmuring my agreement, I considered asking him for details but before I could frame a question, he carried on.

“Out of the blue it was. One minute he's prepping for dinner service, the next minute he's keeled over on the floor, clutching his arm.”

He. He. My brain kept throwing that one word at me. My head swam. If the restaurant was closed, then he had to be talking about my biological dad. Light-headed, I dropped into one of the metal patio chairs before my knees gave way. The man shook his head as he stared at the sign.

“His poor wife didn't know what to do. Couldn't stay here after. You know, run the restaurant without him. She's been back in England since the funeral. Not sure what she'll do with this place.”

When I didn't answer, he glanced my way, eyes widening.

“Here, are you all right?”

Nodding, I gave him a weak smile. “Too much sun, I think.” It wasn't even that hot, but thankfully he took the excuse. And eventually left me sitting alone outside the restaurant. I'd sat there staring at the sign until my mind and heart stopped racing. 

Until I realised that I was too late. I would never meet my biological father.

Chapter Eight

A week after I had left for the original flight, I was back home. The grey overcast sky seemed fitting for my return, a sharp contrast to the blue skies of Malta earlier that day. Malta had been a complete bust. I'd found out I was too late. He had died six weeks before I got to Malta from a heart attack. Six weeks. 

It was only late afternoon, but I was exhausted. Kicking the front door closed behind me, I dropped my suitcase onto the hardwood floor, the sound of it echoing off the walls loudly in the quiet house. Leaning heavily against it, I closed my eyes against the all-too-familiar scratchy feeling in them ever since I'd set sight on that sign pinned to the restaurant window.

Flattening my palms against the wood beneath them, I opened my eyes to banish the memories of that day. 

But back home, surrounded by reminders of my parents—their wedding photo hanging above the hall table, my mum's collection of porcelain cats on the shelf—I felt…lost. 

Searching for my biological dad had given me a sense of purpose. Something to focus on other than the loss and grief. With nothing to distract me from the emptiness of my life, I felt like one of those boats moored up in the harbour in Malta. Being tossed around by the waves with no clear direction where I was heading anymore. Cast adrift without the anchor of my family.

After the longest week of my life, I had nothing to show except unanswered questions and heartache for the loss of another dad, even though I'd never known him. 

Maybe my brother had been right. Maybe I should have left it alone. Finding out Vinnie wasn't my biological father didn't change that for twenty-six years of my life, he'd raised me as though I was. Had loved me like I was his own. Had always been there when I needed him. Until he couldn't be there. 

Both my parents taken away from me too soon by an overturned lorry on the motorway. A freak accident. One I still remembered watching the coverage of on the BBC news. Overturned lorry laid across all three lanes of the motorway. Cars crumpled and piled up behind it. Not until the police showed up at my door later did I know one of the cars belonged to them.

Whenever I thought about Mum and Dad, my heart felt like it was being squeezed. I rubbed a palm across my chest as though it might ease the ache. But those thoughts weren't going to get me anywhere. So I pushed myself away from the door and the depressing thoughts to the back of my mind because at some point I had to move on with my life. My parents wouldn't want me hiding away only living half of a life. 

My suitcase bumped loudly over each step as I dragged it upstairs behind me. Once in my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes. The sage walls and silver bedspread comfortingly familiar after the sterile hotel room in Malta. 

Pulled the somewhat bent business card out of my trouser pocket. Ran a finger over the raised gold lettering. A smile tugged at the edges of my lips. Maybe not a complete bust after all. Not a total loss as memories of Beck and our night together played through my mind. 

I still couldn't believe that was me. I didn't do one-night stands. I'd blame it on the stress of trying to find my biological dad, the almost crash. That or the fact that Beck had a smoking hot body and I'd wanted him, pure and simple. Except it didn't have to be a one-night stand if I stopped being a wuss and called him.

Slipping the card back into my pocket, I headed for the bathroom, shedding my clothes on the way. It was time to get back to reality. Stepping under the warm spray, I let it relax the tight muscles along my neck from the stressful week. Unfortunately, reality would have to include an agency job because the few kids' birthday cakes I had orders for weren't going to pay the bills that month. And I couldn't keep coasting along like I had been.

Ten minutes later, I was curled up on the sofa in black yoga pants and a pink vest top. Hair piled up on top of my head in a messy bun. I pulled the blanket off the back of the cushion and got comfy as I wrapped it around my shoulders. Laptop open, I scrolled through my emails. No new orders had come in whilst I'd been away. The dream of running my own cake business full-time would have to remain a dream for a little longer. A soft sigh escaped my lips at that thought.

Most of my orders came through friends of friends and were cakes for kids' birthdays, but after I created a website it had landed me one wedding cake order. I needed more orders like that. 

The few orders I did get I could fit in around a “real job” which was a good thing because a “real job” meant money in the bank and food in the cupboards. But if I wanted to do it full-time, I needed to find more customers. A lot more customers. I just didn't know where to find them. Yet.

With a resigned sigh, I logged on to the agency's website. Scrolled through the listings of available jobs for that week.

A knock on the front door distracted me, and I quickly fired off an email asking the agency to forward my CV to any companies with vacancies they thought I would be suitable for, then closed my laptop.

Swinging the door open, I smiled when Jean appeared before me. My lovely—if not a little nosy—next door neighbour. She'd made friends with my mum as soon as we moved into the house when I was just a kid. And ever since my parents had died, Jean had kind of taken on the role of concerned grandmother.

“Kimberly, I saw the light on and was worried. I didn't know if you were back yet or not.”

I leaned my hip against the doorjamb. “Yes, I'm back. No need to worry.”

Jean folded her hands together in front of her. Head tilted to one side and furrows of concern lined her forehead. “How did it go, love?”

I rocked my head from side to side, top lip curling up in answer. Jean meant well, but I didn't want to rehash the whole story right then. And there wasn't anything she could do. “It's a long story. Why don't I bring a cake around this weekend and I can tell you all about it over a slice and a cup of tea?”

“That sounds lovely. Give us a chance to catch up properly. And you must be exhausted what with all that travelling. Penny's fine, though. I let her out this morning after feeding her.”

“Thanks for looking after her.”

“You're welcome. Right then, I'll leave you to it.”

“Bye, Jean.” I closed the door and locked it. She was right. I was exhausted. And a little sad that the highlight of my weekend would be cake and tea with my elderly neighbour. But I had no one to blame but myself. My friends were exactly where I'd left them when I moved out of my rented flat in Manchester after my parents died.

God, I missed my parents. And I was lonely. So lonely since I'd lost them and had shut everyone else out.

Wandering back into the living room, I was struck by the realisation that I wasn't just surrounded by reminders of my parents—the entire room was no different than when my parents had been the ones living there. 

My mum's paperback thriller was still under the coffee table, never to be finished. Photographs lined the windowsill that looked out over the backyard. I picked up one of my mum when she was about my age and had just met my dad. 

I'd inherited her pale complexion, but that was about it. She had fiery red hair to match her personality—she had to compensate for only being five foot two, she'd always said and that still made me smile. I guess I'd always assumed I took after my dad. After Vinnie. Had his almost-black hair and brown eyes, and at nearly half a foot taller than my mum, his height. My mum had been all curves whereas I was more long limbs and awkward feet. Even down to my too-long nose that I hated and my high cheekbones that made my cheeks look like a hamster storing food in them when I smiled. 

Except if Vinnie wasn't my real dad, I couldn't take after him in looks and build, could I? 

A knock on the front door startled me, and I wondered if Jean had forgotten to tell me something. But when I opened the door, it was Lucy on the doorstep. I tilted my head as I shook it. “Don't tell me Leo sent you.” She grinned at me and I found it hard to be angry at her.

“Of course he did. He's your brother, and he's worried about you.”

I let out a huff. “I'm twenty-seven and perfectly capable of looking after myself. I told him not to worry.”

“And you think that's gonna stop him worrying about you? Are you going to invite me in or leave me out here on the doorstep all day?”

“Sorry. Come in.” I swung the door open for her. And that's when I saw the overnight bag hanging from her shoulder. I liked Lucy and had been gutted when she had split up with my brother in their last year of high school. Although I thought it was a bit weird they'd stayed friends afterwards. But I'd known her for as long as I could remember.

“I take it from the bag, you're staying the night?”

“I thought we could have a girly night. Watch a chick flick, make some popcorn, drink a bottle of wine or three. And Tom's having a poker night so…” She shrugged which I took to mean she'd rather not be at home for that. 

And even weirder than Leo still being friends with Lucy was that he was also friends with her current boyfriend, Tom. 

The idea of still being friends with John…it would be odd being friends with someone who knew what I looked like naked, had slept with. Okay, not for a long time because we'd been together for almost five years, but the last year? We'd pretty much turned into flatmates with our non-existent sex life. The six months following our split, I'd wanted to be single and then my parents had died…

And Beck was the first guy I'd slept with since then. And he couldn't be more different from John.

“Kimberly?”

I'd totally spaced out and had no idea what Lucy had said. “Sorry. What?”

“You up for a girly night? I can go home if you'd prefer.”

I waved away her question. “Girly night sounds great.” It had been far too long since I'd had one of those.

The following morning, my head reminded me I was out of practice with girly nights. We'd polished off nearly two bottles of wine and ended up watching Bridget Jones's Diary on DVD. It had been fun, but I was regretting it a little. 

I rolled over onto my back staring at the ceiling as my stomach lurched in protest at the movement. 

And I'd told her about Beck. Well, not everything. I hadn't told her I'd slept with him. But she'd encouraged me to call him. I smiled at her enthusiasm and couldn't help but wonder what Beck was up to. Wondered if he'd sorted whatever had come up at work that meant he couldn't make the flight.

I wanted to call him, but every time I thought about doing it I kept thinking that it was only his business card he left. What if he'd just wanted to offer support to the poor girl who was scared of flying and her sob story of trying to find her biological father? What if it was only a pity message? Or worse—pity sex. 

I growled at my own infuriating thoughts. Beck had been sweet that night. And I was turning it into something it wasn't because I was scared if I rang him, he might not want to see me again. There was only one way to know for sure. 

I climbed out of bed to find the business card I thought I'd left it in my trouser pocket, but my trousers weren't in the bedroom. Hunted through my laundry hamper without finding them. Checked the bathroom floor but nope, not there either. I could have sworn I left them on the floor by my bed after having a shower when I got home. Making my way back into my room, I wondered if I'd put them in the suitcase. But when I checked, it was empty still. 

Clearly I needed coffee to wake up and figure out where I'd left them. I headed for the kitchen after pulling on yoga pants and a hoodie. Froze in the doorway at the sound of the washing machine finishing its spin cycle.

She wouldn't. 

But then I saw the bright pink Post-It note on the breakfast bar. 

K, put the washer on for you and gone to get breakfast supplies.

Be back soon, L

No, no, no, no. Why? Why would she do my washing? Christ, did anyone think I was capable of taking care of myself? 

I squatted down in front of the washer and pulled open the door. Dragged out the wet clothes until I found the trousers. Slipped my fingers into the back pocket and came back out with a mushy pile of white paper. I dropped it onto the breakfast bar, separating the clumps out. 

Pieces were smudged black with ink. The gold numbers faded, and all I could fit together were a zero and a seven. A three and an eight. That was it. Not even half of the number had survived. The pile of soggy paper blurred before my eyes, and I shoved my feet into the trainers at the back door as I yanked it open. 

Headed straight for the back lane without thinking about it. Because that was typical me. All hesitation and doubts, thoughts swinging one way then the other until it was too late.

I'd had so much time in Malta to call Beck. And yeah, I'd had my biological dad taking up most of my thoughts but still…five minutes to make a phone call or send a text. 

My feet crunched over the gravel of the lane as I avoided the potholes filled with rainwater. Climbed over the small wall that divided the back lane from the canal and parked my butt on the damp moss-covered stones. 

I'd decided to call Beck, and that wasn't an option anymore. 

Staring down into the murky water, I drifted off inside my head. A replay of my life. Where I spent so much time trying to decide what I should do that I ended up making a decision out of frustration. Like deciding to do A-levels in maths and computing because I was good at that shit, even if I didn't particularly enjoy it. But it would look good when I applied for jobs.

I grabbed a handful of stones from the path and threw one into the canal. Watched it sink out of sight and the water settle again before throwing another. 

My friends had all gone off to uni, seemingly confident in what they wanted to do, whereas I hadn't had a clue except I didn't want to go to university. Didn't see the point if I had no particular career in mind. Ended up in some crappy admin job until the firm had closed down. Struggled to get another job until I started temping through the agency. 

Making a job out of my love of baking hadn't even occurred to me until after my parents had died. And I still worried I'd end up hating baking if I made it into a job. That the joy I got out of creating something would disappear somehow. 

I threw the last stone into the canal and stood, brushing off my pants. But the thought of not being able to see Beck again was…depressing.

I might not be good at making decisions, but I hated having them taken from me.

Chapter Nine

The days following Lucy's visit were quiet. And made me realise that I was kind of hiding at home in Marsdon. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone out with friends in Manchester. I'd never been much of a partier, but I was kind of a hermit these days. 

But I spent all day Wednesday making a cake for a christening. An order had come in the day following my return from Malta. It was an easy request. A two-tier cake covered in white icing and decorated with blue and green bunting flags. On the top, three blue dice to spell out the name Sam. It was cute and fun to make. 

Then I'd seen a video clip online where a woman made flowerpots from cake and decorated the top into the shape of a cactus. Lost most of the following day trying to recreate them, but it had been enjoyable trying something new. Pushing myself to learn new skills. Although I doubted I would be getting any orders for anything like that anytime soon.

Fun until I missed an email from the agency about an interview, which was how I'd ended up being woken up by a phone interview I hadn't known about. I needed to spend more time in the real world. Totally winged the call, but I must have convinced them I was a fully functioning adult worth hiring. I didn't remember most of what I had said on the call, but there I was Monday morning the first day of a new job. For a law firm based in Marsdon. 

It had been a quiet commute compared to the cramped train rides into the centre of Manchester I was used to. Instead, a peaceful walk along the canal gazing across to the hills in the distance. Through the streets of terraced housing as I got closer to the town centre. Until I was standing outside an old imposing building. 

And I wasn't nervous in the slightest. Not at all. Totally ignored the slight shake to my fingers as I reached for the door handle. I'd never worked for a law firm before. They probably just needed someone to do the filing and photocopying. Dullsville. But having food in the cupboards was always a bonus. Even though the position was only for a couple of weeks to cover someone on sick leave, that much I remembered. 

I was greeted by a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a tailored blue suit that fit him like a second skin who introduced himself as Mr Benson.

“Ms Hardwick. I'm so glad you could start at such short notice. This way.”

He held out his arm and proceeded to show me to my desk where he dumped a pile of audio files that needed typing up and a list of clients who needed their court documents prepared. Prepared for what, I had no idea. He hurried off as soon as I sat down and left me to figure it out for myself. 

He'd already logged me on to the computer so I opened a Word document. I'd start on the audio files because that seemed relatively easy. 

Two hours later, I found out they weren't. It was frustrating having to keep stopping and rewinding the file because I couldn't type fast enough and the language was dry and confusing.

“How are you getting on? Nearly done?”

At Mr Benson's question, I looked up my eyebrows raised. He expected me to have finished all this already? “Er, not quite. The audio files are taking longer than I thought.” His eyes narrowed as he pretty much glared at me.

“But you can touch type, right?”

I couldn't help but squirm in my seat under his accusatory look. Especially as my CV did not say I could. I shook my head.

“But you've finished preparing the court documents, yes?” 

My cheeks burned at the tone of his voice, whole body flushing. It was like being back in high school when my Year Nine Geography teacher would ask me a question I didn't know the answer to. And then would tell me a student in Year Seven could answer it. Just once, I wished I'd had the nerve to tell him to go ask a Year Seven student instead. Of course I hadn't. “I haven't started on them yet. I was going to ask you how I should prepare them.”

His lips pressed together until they formed a thin white line.

“You do have experience in Family Law, don't you?”

Now why would he think that? “Erm…no?”

“Are you asking me or telling me you don't?”

Oh, I so wanted to be anywhere else right then. “I'm telling you I don't.” Then I threaded my fingers together in my lap, nails digging into the backs of my hands. Mr Benson threw his hands up in the air. 

“I knew it was too good to be true that we could get someone on such short notice. You're no good to me if you don't have Family Law experience.”

Wow, tell it like it is, don't spare my feelings or anything.

“I'm going to have to contact the agency and complain.”

Yeah and I'd bet he'd enjoy doing it too. “I'm sorry, Mr Benson, I don't know why they sent me for this job, but I'll be contacting them too.” All I got was a curt nod.

“We won't be paying for the hours you've done. You might as well go home.”

He swivelled on his heel and stalked off. Arsehole. It wasn't my fault, and he didn't have to be such a dick about it. I grabbed my handbag from under the desk and hurried out of the office. 

Just wait until I got home. Belinda at the agency was going to get an earful. Because that wasn't mortifying or anything. 

By the time I'd reached my house, I'd calmed down some. But I was still calling the agency to find out what the hell had happened.

But a half hour later—still on the sofa where I'd thrown myself when I got in—my mobile rang. Belinda.

“Kimberly, I'm so sorry. I've just got off the phone with Mr Benson.”

“What happened, Belinda? That was humiliating, and he was a complete ass about it.”

“It was our fault. I'm so sorry. Somehow the CVs got mixed up. The front page of yours went out with the page of someone else's that had the relevant experience for the job as far as I can tell from going through our records. The phone interview was a formality to see how you would deal with clients over the phone, but it wasn't you they should have called. I explained the mix-up to Mr Benson.”

The sound of my deep exhale echoed through the phone. Shame they couldn't have spotted the mix-up before I'd shown up. Although I guess it was partly my fault. Should have been prepared for the phone interview and maybe I would have realised. “It's okay.” Well, it wasn't, but there was nothing that could change what had happened.

“It's not okay. It should never have happened. But the good news is I have a job offer for you. It's for an accounting firm in Manchester.”

That sounded almost as bad as working at a law firm. Maybe it was time to put aside the dream of baking for a living and find a full-time office job again. Or a full-time job baking somewhere. But most places wanted someone with real experience. 

Or I could get a job at the bottom and work my way up. Except that was one of the main reasons I wanted my own business. I'd have artistic freedom. At least within the client's requirements. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as my thoughts went back and forth.

“Kimberly?”

Oops, Belinda was expecting some kind of response from me. “I'm not sure. Do they know I have no experience working for an accounting firm?”

“Yes, I spoke to them myself. They need someone with experience working with spreadsheets and basic maths skills. They only need someone for a month to clear a backlog left behind from two people leaving the team.”

Excel and maths I could do. Still, after the debacle earlier I was hesitant. “Why did they leave?”

“Who?”

“You said two people left, why?”

“Oh. Erm…” 

I could hear the shuffle of papers over the line. 

“One left the firm and the other was promoted. It's a good firm. Small, with only two senior accountants. Plus, they really need someone to start straight away.”

A small firm was good. The idea of working in a big corporate company made me shudder. The money I could definitely do with. Maybe it could be my last job. That would give me a month to figure out what I was going to do. “And what? They just need someone to do what?”

“Some basic number crunching, they said. Entering data into their systems which they'd show you how to use and then running some reports. Nothing too complicated.”

Okay, that sounded like something I could handle. “And they'd want me to start when?”

“Next week if possible for a month. I suggested you might be available on Monday. It's similar to the last job you had in Manchester. Just for an accountancy firm this time. You can do this, Kimberly.”

I still wasn't convinced. “And you're sure they're okay with someone who's never worked in an accounting firm before?”

“I know we don't normally send you to these kinds of firms, but Louise is still off sick. And I know now isn't a great time to ask you for a favour but this is a new firm to us, and I'd really like to be able to fill the position for them. I spoke to the man who you would report to, Tony. He seems really nice, and he's okay with you having no experience. Plus, it's in Manchester so the pay is more than what you would have got working in Marsdon.”

More pay was always a bonus. And Manchester would be a relatively short commute on the train. Belinda had never asked me for a favour before, and it was only a month. 

“Okay, fine. I'll start next Monday.”

Chapter Ten

And the following week had come around far too quickly. There I was Monday morning, nervous and undecided on what to wear as shown by the pile of discarded outfits littering my bed. Which was ridiculous. It was only a temping job for a month, if that. But after the last one…

It wasn't like I owned a lot of clothes I could wear to the office. The company I'd worked for full-time had been pretty casual. And when I'd started at the agency, I'd invested in some trousers and shirts that I could wear out of work too. Because spending the cash on a suit where I wasn't trying to impress the boss to keep me on full-time had seemed like a waste of money. 

Blowing the long pieces of fringe out of my eyes with a huff, I pulled on a pair of black trousers. Couldn't go wrong with those. I settled on my favourite forest-green blouse, high necked with sheer sleeves. One I normally wore on a night out paired with several silver bangles and a pair of wide-legged moss-green trousers which I didn't think I'd get away with wearing on the first day of a job.

A glance at the clock told me that would have to do or I'd be late. Grabbing my handbag on the way out, I headed to the train station.

A half hour train ride later, I arrived at Manchester Piccadilly station. A brisk five-minute walk and I was in front of Cooper Garson Limited's building. It wasn't obvious. A glass-fronted coffee shop, already filled with customers wanting their caffeine fix, with a narrow blue door to the side. A plaque with the firm's initials—C & G Ltd—was the only clue I was in the right place. I rang the buzzer, and the door lock clicked open. Pulling the strap of my handbag higher up my shoulder, I climbed the wooden stairs.

At the top of the staircase, the office opened out into a room on either side. Shiny wooden floors reflected the light of the many windows along the wall. All open plan apart from two sections that had been closed off to make private offices.

“Kimberly?”

I turned around to be greeted by a college-aged woman with long blonde hair.

“I'm Fiona from HR. If you follow me, I'll get you set up for the day.”

So I did, and the first morning passed the same as any other of my usual temping jobs did in a blur of faces and procedures. Being shown where the bathroom and fire exits were and a video on money laundering. I was hoping they'd give me a copy of it in case I ever needed help getting to sleep one night. 

Tony—my supervisor—showed me to my desk, and introduced me to Jaz, the guy sitting opposite me. Then left me with a pile of papers that needed entering into their systems.

Jaz moved along his desk until he could see me around the computer and gave me a smile I couldn't help but return. And he was cute. Skin the colour of burnt caramel and eyes so dark that they almost looked black. Hair cropped short to his head and a scattering of black stubble across his chin. 

“If you need help with anything, give me a shout.”

“Thanks. You may regret that offer.”

His laugh was a deep rumble. “No worries. I still remember my first day. Remember it more as a daze of new people and not knowing what the hell I was doing. Not sure the last bit's any different now.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up so far.”

It was early afternoon by the time I looked up from the pile of papers that didn't seem to be getting any smaller despite my best efforts.

“I'm going to do a coffee run. Can I get you something?” Jaz asked.

“God yes. I'd love a cappuccino. I might not make it through this lot otherwise. Thanks.”

“That's okay. It's your turn tomorrow,” he replied with a flash of a smile. I returned my attention back to the next set of numbers waiting for me.

“Jaz?” 

My hand stilled at the familiar voice.

“I was off on a coffee run. Can I get you one, Kyle?”

“Sure. A mocha, please. Then can we go through the Gallagher accounts?”

I recognised that voice. Had heard it in my dreams often enough whispering words into my ear as we lay together in bed. Slowly I lifted my head to see the spiky dark brown hair of the head bent over Jaz's desk. Jaz glanced my way then wagged a finger between us.

“Kimberly, have you met our account manager, Kyle Robinson? Kyle, Kimberly is our new temp. First day so don't scare her off.”

Kyle laughed and lifted his head from over the paperwork on Jaz's desk. Rich, brown eyes widened as they met mine, and the laugh died on his lips. Lips I had kissed. Lips that had tasted my skin. A voice I never thought I'd hear again. The man I thought I'd never see again but had wanted to. So much.

But there he was, just as gorgeous as I remembered. In a suit. A suit? Mr I'm-used-to-high-risk-situations was what? An accountant? That was definitely or something. When he'd said high-risk situations, I had visions of death-defying leaps out of aeroplanes, machine gun slung across his back. Maybe he had a different definition of high risk: gambling with money. Not quite what I had imagined him having to do when called away in the middle of the night for work. In fact, I couldn't imagine why he would be. An accounting emergency? Seemed unlikely.

And a little disappointing. Had I built him up in my head to be this exciting, lifesaving, action type of man? I mean he was still sexy as hell, but…an accountant? It didn't fit the image of the man I remembered from that night.

We stared at each other, the silence a gulf between us. 

Wait. Jaz had introduced him as Kyle. What happened to Beck? 

My eyes watered, and I tried to swallow around the tightness in my throat. Hurt washed over me swiftly followed by confusion. I coughed to try and clear my throat. “No. I don't believe I have met Kyle.” 

Beck. Beck I'd met. On an intimate level. But why would he lie about his name? Or his job? Imply it was more interesting than being an accountant when he'd probably never see me again? There was no reason to lie to me about who he was. 

The moment he introduced himself on the plane flashed through my mind. Why would he lie about his name then? To a stranger he thought he would never see again. Could easily have said he worked in an office. Not or something like he had which led me to believe…I don't know what, not a suit working nine to five in an office.

Kyle held out his hand across the desk towards me. I stared at those long, tapered fingers with their blunt nails. Fingers that had caressed me, nails that had scraped across my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Jaz glanced between us, a frown creasing his forehead. If I didn't want to face twenty questions from him later, I needed to pull myself together. 

Pasting my best effort of a smile onto my face I slipped my hand into his. Eyes closing at the contact as memories of that night played in slow motion, and the touch of his warm, calloused hand shot a jolt of awareness straight up my arm and tightened my chest.

I yanked my hand from his grasp. “A pleasure to meet you.” And then added with a touch of snark, “Kyle.”

At least he had the decency to drop his gaze. Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard then cleared his throat. “Likewise.” His eyes closed briefly before he busied himself with the papers on Jaz's desk again. “I hope you enjoy working here. If you need anything, Jaz should be able to help you.” He clapped a hand on Jaz's shoulder, turning his back to me. “Come to my office when you get back with the coffees.” 

And then he strode away without a backward glance. Like he hadn't just thrown a bomb into my life then walked off with no explanation before any of the debris could hit him. Left me to try and figure out where all the pieces were supposed to go.

“Erm. Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

No, I wasn't okay. Not really. But I wasn't about to try and explain to Jaz that the guy I'd slept with—couldn't stop thinking about even though I thought I'd never see again—had just turned up as my boss. Sort of. “Yeah, I'm fine. Bit of a headache, that's all,” I lied. Jaz didn't seem convinced, but I hoped he'd drop the subject.

“Okay. I thought you were going to drop a bombshell about our new boss.” He glanced over his shoulder before carrying on. “He's really…private. It's driving everyone in the office crazy trying to find out anything about him. Doesn't join us for office drinks when we occasionally go out. And Linda's made it her mission to find out about him by using her so-called womanly ways.”

He laughed as he shook his head. I had to repress a shudder at the idea of being one in a long line of women from the office that had slept with Beck. Kyle. Whatever the hell his name was. “New boss? So, he hasn't worked here that long then?”

Jaz shook his head. “He only started at the beginning of the month.”

As I tried to do the numbers in my head my eyebrows drew together. So Beck had probably started there right around the time we met. “Did he replace someone?” Jaz leaned in closer across the desk.

“That's the weird thing. The senior accountants make this big deal about not having loads of layers of management, yet Kyle started in this role that they created. We never had account managers before, and he's the only one we have now. I have no idea what he actually does except look through account files. Bob thinks he's secretly auditing us, but I don't think so. And Bob's a little overactive in the imagination department.”

I gave Jaz a weak smile. “Sorry I can't be more help in dishing the dirt on your boss.” If Jaz wanted to know what his boss looked like naked then I could help, but I couldn't even have told Jaz Beck's real name.

“Don't worry about it. Right, I'll go get those coffees.”

And didn't that feel shitty? What little I thought I knew about Beck hadn't even been the truth.

My fingers reached automatically for my necklace beneath my shirt. Fingertips tracing the smooth infinity symbol that wrapped around the diamond heart. Ever since my mum had given it to me for my eighteenth birthday I'd worn it every day. Tracing its shape had become a soothing habit. For the millionth time, I wished my mum was still alive. She always knew what to say to make me feel better. 

But for once, the feel of the infinity symbol beneath my fingers didn't offer comfort. Beck wasn't the only one who had lied to me. 

I dropped my hold on the necklace, wishing I could go back in time to when she had given it to me. Before I'd found out my mum had the ability to lie to me. Simpler times.

Instead, I was stuck there in the office knowing Beck was somewhere nearby.

Nearby and a liar.

Chapter Eleven

The rest of the afternoon dragged by until I practically ran down the stairs and out of the office at 5 p.m. As soon as I got home, I headed for the shower. Like I could wash the memories of the day away. It hadn't worked.

I pushed the plate with my half-eaten sandwich aside, not hungry enough to bother with it. Propped my elbows up on the breakfast bar in the kitchen and rested my chin on my hands. 

That day at the airport kept running through my head. Trying to find some clue that Beck—Kyle—had lied. Or a reason why he would have lied. But he'd introduced himself to me. He'd been the one to suggest sharing a room. The one who'd kissed me. And yeah, okay, I'd been the one to take it further…Wait, was that why? Lied because he'd wanted to get me into bed? 

Except that made no sense. When we met on the plane, he couldn't have been thinking that. Unless he'd planned on joining the mile-high club. No, he introduced himself when there was already a problem with the plane. 

Yet none of that made any difference whether his name was Beck or Kyle. Unless everything he'd said that day had been a lie. Oh, God. What if he had a girlfriend? A wife? That would be a fucking good reason to lie. The little of the sandwich I'd eaten sat heavy in my stomach, lurching as it tried to fight its way back up my throat.

“Stop it.” Why did I even care? Apart from not wanting to be the other woman. But I had checked. No sign of a wedding ring and our conversation came back to me. He'd joked about not having a boyfriend. Said he had no girlfriend. It was only meant to be one night together to escape the reality of my life. A life that wasn't quite working out as I'd planned. A memory to reminisce fondly over. A crazy moment that was supposed to slip quietly into my past. At least that was how it had started out. But it wouldn't do that with Kyle in the office every day.

Maybe I could call the agency and tell them I wouldn't be able to finish out the contract. They wouldn't be happy about it. 

Then again, why should I risk future contracts to avoid him? He was the one in the wrong. The one who had lied.

As though Penny could sense my frustration, she nudged her head against my calf. Her front paws stretched up my leg, her way of asking for a stroke. Running my hand over her ginger fur got me a contented purr. 

“I'm sorry. Not paying you enough attention, huh?” She nuzzled my hand in answer and I blew out a deep breath. 

Well, sitting there was getting nothing done except making me dizzy from my thoughts chasing themselves around. My gaze landed on the Styrofoam dummy cake bases on top of the fridge. I didn't have any orders, but I could decorate one to upload a photo to my website. Put my time to good use instead of sitting there stewing over Beck.

“Okay, Penny. What kind of cake do you want?” She stalked off, tail up high behind her and clearly not interested in cake.

I grabbed the fake cake tiers and some white rolled fondant icing. Rolled it out until it was an inch thick then draped it over the Styrofoam base. Smoothed it out as I twisted the turntable the base sat on. The smoothing tool glided over the surface until it looked like the iced-over puddles in the back lane, all shiny and slick. Added three drops of red dye to the leftover fondant to make some roses. Took my frustration out on the icing, kneading it a little too hard.

The fondant marbled with red streaks then slowly turned baby pink. I cut a tiny piece off and rolled it between my fingers and palm into a ball then shaped it into a teardrop to form the centre of the rose. Then inserted a toothpick into the bottom of it. Cut off another piece of fondant, shaping it until it resembled a petal, then attached it to the bud with a brush of water to hold it in place and curled back the edges. 

As it always did when I made flowers, my brain switched off. No circling thoughts, just lost in the art of creating something beautiful and intricate. The repetitiveness of the task soothing. And the finished article filled me with joy.

I let out a yawn and when I glanced at the kitchen clock realised I'd been at it for two hours. Stretching my arms above my head, my shoulders creaked. Time to call it a night. I cleaned up the kitchen, checked Penny had water, then climbed the stairs.

As I lay in bed, thoughts of Beck tried to creep back in, but I pushed them away. It was just a one-month job. I could deal with that. Probably would be able to avoid him for most of that time anyway. I curled up on my side, one arm wrapped around my pillow. I could totally do this, I told myself again as I drifted off.

The following morning, I woke before my alarm after a restless sleep. Dreams of being back on a plane again, sitting next to Beck, had had me tossing and turning. Beck holding my hand, telling me everything would be fine only to look up to find myself holding the hand of a stranger. Didn't need to be a genius to work out the meaning of those dreams. 

Those were bad enough, but then they'd morphed into something more sinister. Instead of returning to the airport, the plane had crashed. Blood poured from a gash on my head and no matter how hard I yanked on the seat belt, I couldn't free myself. And Beck, rather than helping, had stood in front of me and laughed. 

What was I supposed to make of that? An omen? A premonition? There were no such things as those though, were there? No logic in them for me to understand. It was just my overactive brain. It didn't mean anything.

Turning my attention back to the wardrobe, I settled on a black-and-green striped blouse paired with black trousers. And if I spent a little longer tying my hair up into a chignon and applied a little more make-up than normal…well, that had nothing to do with the fact that Beck would be at the office. Nothing at all.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Kimberly. You might believe it by the time you get to the office.” I stuck my tongue out at my reflection then headed out. If I was going to have to see Beck again, there was nothing wrong with making sure I looked professional. Or you know, attractive.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was too much to resist, so I popped into The Caffeine Cave next door to the office and got myself a cappuccino and a latte for Jaz. When I set the takeaway cup down on his desk, he gave me a grin.

“You can definitely stay.”

I settled in behind my desk and shot him an answering grin. “Good to know it only takes a cup of coffee to get into your good books.” He laughed and opened his mouth as if to reply before snapping it shut again.

“A word in my office, Kimberly. Now.”

My smile vanished at Beck's harsh tone, and I stared at Jaz as if he could save me. He nodded behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. I scrambled to my feet and hurried after Beck. 

Shit, what if he didn't want me around the office? Could he fire me? For what, though? Sleeping with him before I knew he'd be my boss? Fuck that shit. I'd sue his ass if he tried it. I hadn't done anything wrong. Beck opened his office door and waved me inside. 

“Take a seat.”

The click of the door shutting behind me made me jump and with a sense of foreboding, I traipsed across his office. 

The room was dominated by an old wooden desk which would have been less obvious if it had a sign hanging from it saying, Compensating for a small dick—except I knew that wasn't true. At either corner of the desk there was a grey, uncomfortable looking, low-backed chair, and I took a seat in the one on the left. The window was facing me, but all I could see was the office block across the street. 

Beck strolled around his desk and dropped into the leather chair across from me. Rested his arms across the top of the desk. Wearing a plain white shirt, the sleeves were rolled up to reveal muscled forearms. My gaze was drawn unconsciously to the play of his muscles as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across his wrist. Was he nervous? 

He ran a hand through the short strands of his hair. The action pulled his shirt tight across his wide chest. So tight, I could make out the outline of his nipple. The shadow of darker skin around it.

Tearing my eyes away from the sight, I stared at a spot on the wall behind him. Inappropriate to perv on your boss's nipples especially if you were already in trouble. 

And I hated that my body hadn't got the message from my brain. How could I still be attracted to him when I knew he'd lied to me?

Chapter Twelve

Beck cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him. Clasped his hands together on top of the desk as he leaned towards me. 

“C and G is a small company and we like our employees to get along. But we expect our employees to keep a…professional distance, shall we say.”

I tilted my head, eyebrows scrunching together to try and decipher exactly what he was implying. Did Beck think I was going to throw myself at him in the middle of the office? When I didn't answer, he carried on. 

“Jaz is a friendly guy…”

My mouth dropped open as his words trailed off. I'd only met Jaz the previous day. Did he think I was going to jump in bed with a colleague after knowing him for one day? “Are you kidding? I thought you brought me in here to fire me, and you're accusing me of being too friendly with Jaz?” Beck had the grace to drop his gaze.

“I wanted the situation to be clear.”

Biting back the retort I wanted to blurt out, I reminded myself I needed this job. But I had to say something. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You're all about being clear aren't you, Beck?” Shifting in his seat, he ran a hand across his stubbled chin. Unbidden, I recalled the feel of that stubble scraping across my skin. Shook my head to stop those unhelpful thoughts.

“Ah yes, I also wanted to speak to you about that.” 

Muscles rippled as his thumb traced across his wrist again. 

“Beck is a…more of a nickname, I guess. I don't use it in the office, though.”

Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned back in the chair. “Yeah, I kind of guessed that when you were introduced as Kyle Robinson.” He gave me a rueful smile, and I shook my head. 

I wasn't seeing the funny side of this situation. It was a perfect fucking disaster. Hot guy rescues me on a plane only to show up as my boss weeks later. Failing to see what was funny yet.

“Nobody here knows that name and I'd like to keep it that way. The man you met…let's just say I like to keep the work me, the man here, separate from the man I am outside of the office.”

Well, that made everything so much clearer. Not. But the more he said, the more pissed off I got, and I wasn't sure why. He didn't owe me anything. Hell, I'd never even expected to see him again after losing his business card. “Fine. Is that everything? That data's not going to input itself.” 

Eyes narrowed as he stared at me, I wondered if I'd gone too far. But he nodded his head.

“Yes. But Kimberly? I'm sorry. I won't make this situation any worse than it already is.” 

I paused halfway out of the chair. “It's okay. We won't be working together, so it's not like we have to speak to each other in the office every day. It'll be fine. I'm only here for a month's contract anyway.”

A pained expression flitted across his face before he hid it by stroking his hand across his cheek and mouth. When he didn't say anything more, I strode out of his office and pulled the door shut behind me. 

I glanced around the room, but nobody was paying me any attention. But it wasn't okay. And I didn't understand why I was so angry. I had no right to be, but his behaviour made me feel…betrayed somehow. He had lied to me, which made me feel cheap. Used, even. Which was ridiculous. I'd been the one to take things further.

I strolled back to my desk, reminding myself we hadn't made each other any promises after that night. But he was the one that had left his card. He was the one that had wanted to see me again or else, why did he leave his number? And yeah, okay, so I hadn't called him—

“Everything okay?” 

Rearranging my scowl into a smile for Jaz, I nodded. “Yes. A welcome to the office and this is how we do things chat. That's all.” His lips twisted to one side. “What?”

“Nothing. It's…Kyle doesn't normally get involved that way. He leaves that up to Tony seeing as he'll be the one supervising you.”

I guess it wasn't a normal situation for Kyle. Then again, what did I know? No way was I planning on sharing how well—or not—I knew Kyle. God, I didn't want anyone at the office to find out I'd slept with him. So I gave Jaz a nonchalant shrug, hoping he'd drop the subject.

Sliding behind my desk, I picked up a spreadsheet from the mountainous pile. Skimmed through it as I waited for my computer to start up. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jaz swivel around to face his computer and I let out the breath I'd been holding.

“Okay, then.” 

I didn't answer him. What else was there to say?

The rest of the morning dragged by in a haze of numbers and account details. So many that my eyes started to blur. Which is why I triple-checked the data before I turned to Jaz.

“Hey Jaz, can I show you something?”

Twisting away from his computer to look at me, he waggled his eyebrows at me. I couldn't help but chuckle at him, but then waved a spreadsheet at him. 

“Sure. What's up?” he asked, as he made his way around to my desk.

“It's the Lewis account. I've checked the figures three times, but something's not right.” Leaning over my shoulder so he could see the figures, I waited for him to look them over.

“Huh.” He dropped down into a crouch next to me and pulled the spreadsheet over in front of him. Ran a finger along the lines of figures for the account. Looking up at my screen he asked, “Is this their account?” 

I nodded and scooted over to the side so he could see the screen better. Of course, Beck had to wander over to Jaz's desk right then.

“Have you seen Jaz?”

In answer, I pointed down to my side. Beck leaned over to see Jaz right next to me on his knees. And yeah, after our 'chat' that morning I guess it could look bad.

Jaz leaned around my computer to look up at Beck. “Did you need me for something?”

Hands on his slim hips, Beck scowled in response. “I need to speak to you about the Gallagher account. Come to my office when you've finished…” He waved between me and Jaz. “Whatever it is you're doing.” 

As he turned on his heel, I rolled my eyes. “Go on. You better go.”

Jaz pushed himself upright as he tapped a finger against the spreadsheet. “It's not an account I've worked on, but something's not right. I'd speak to Tony if I were you. Maybe he can shed some light on it.”

“Thanks. I will.” By the time I'd finished speaking to Tony and got back to my desk, Jaz was pulling on his coat. 

“Do you want to get some lunch with me?”

God, yes. I needed out of the office. “Yes, please.” Grabbing my coat off the back of my chair, I followed him towards the stairs.

“I usually go to the coffee shop next door. Happy to go there?”

I'd quite happily go anywhere right then. “Sounds great.” 

And it was. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit me as soon as we entered The Caffeine Cave, and it was heavenly. To the side of the long wooden counter was a refrigerated display with freshly prepared sandwiches on one side and cakes and pastries on the other. My mouth watered at the sight and smells.

Once we collected our lunches, I followed Jaz down the stairs, the name of the shop making sense to me then. It was dimly lit, and the room was divided into small seating areas by all the exposed stone walls. We took a seat at one of the free tables, and it was…just like being in a cave.

“So, what did Tony say when you asked him about the account?”

Staring at the wall where an oddly shaped brick stuck out further than the rest, I tried to figure out what to say. Accusing your supervisor of being less than above board wasn't a great move on your first week in a new job. Jaz laughed and I returned my attention to him.

“He can be a bit of a pain in the arse, but he's a good guy. Did he give you a hard time?”

I shook my head as I tore open the paper bag containing my sandwich. “It was weird. I explained to him that as far as I could tell the amount the firm had paid us didn't match their invoice. But he didn't seem bothered.” Jaz nodded as he took a huge bite of his sandwich. “So I told him how they'd overpaid but then part of the payment seemed to have disappeared.” I shrugged because I knew I didn't know much about accounting but even I could work out when numbers didn't add up.

Jaz swallowed down half the can of Coke he'd ordered. “What did he say?”

I tore off the piece of ham that was hanging out of the bread and shredded it into smaller pieces. “That's when it gets weirder. He took the spreadsheet from me and said I shouldn't be working on that account. It was,” I made air quotes with my fingers, “a 'senior level' account. Whatever that means. But the way he said it, he might as well have patted me on the head and said it was too taxing for my little lady brain.” 

Jaz laughed and I raised my eyebrows at him. He waved at me. “Sorry. It was just the way you said it. I wouldn't take it personally. Like I said, he can be a pain sometimes, but he's good at his job.” He gave me a lazy shrug. “You've done your bit by reporting it. I'm sure it's just a mix-up and he'll take care of it.”

He was right. But I didn't like it. Plus, it was bugging the shit out of me that I couldn't figure out what was going on except the numbers didn't match. It was like a scab I just wanted to pick at. I wasn't good at letting things slide, even when I knew I should.

Instead, I took a bite of my sandwich before I could say anything else. As I chewed, Jaz gave me a look I couldn't work out. After I swallowed my food down too quickly, almost choking on it, I asked, “What?” He smirked at me which made me worry I wasn't going to like whatever he was about to say. 

“Must be the day for weird conversations.”

Don't ask, don't ask. “Why?” Of course I asked.

His smirk turned into a smile, those ridiculously pink lips stretched wide. “Kyle spoke to me about the account I'm working on.”

I didn't see anything weird in that. “And?”

“Then he not so subtly pointed out that he expected employees to keep a professional distance between themselves.”

Oh, Christ. The same words he'd used with me in our little chat. My cheeks burned, which didn't go unnoticed by Jaz. Was Beck trying to make working together as awkward as possible? 

Jaz laughed. Then the horrible thought crossed my mind that maybe Jaz thought I was interested in him, and that was the reason behind Beck's warning. Was this Jaz's subtle way of letting me know he wasn't interested? 

“Pretty certain that's Kyle's rule because it doesn't mention it in the employee handbook. Which makes me wonder…” He tilted his head, scrutinising my face.

Don't wonder Jaz. Just leave it alone, please. The heat in my cheeks spread down my neck under that look, and I wriggled in my seat. “Makes you wonder what?” Maybe I would take my own bloody advice one of these days.

“Makes me wonder if maybe Kyle would like less of a professional distance between the two of you because it sure sounded like he was warning me away from you.” 

Leaning back in his chair, he stared at me as I managed to choke on my own saliva. “Yeah, I doubt that.”

He waggled his eyebrows at me in response and then winked at me. “We'll see.”

Chapter Thirteen

The following two days were quiet in the office. If not a little like entering a parallel time zone as the hours dragged by. Another reason I wanted the cake business to take off. Why I started it in the first place. So I could spend my days doing something I loved instead of mindlessly entering data.

“I'll see you tomorrow. Probably.”

The excitement rolled off Jaz and was infectious as I returned his smile. “Hope you have a great night.”

“I plan to.”

He gave me a wicked smile and I shook my head as he left the office. Off on a hot date, to use his words. Whereas I was off home to spend the night with my cat. Some days I wondered how I managed to cope with the excitement.

As I waited for my computer to shut down I saw Beck heading my way and groaned internally. The man confused me. Had me alternating between being mad at him and wanting a repeat performance of our night together. 

“You finished for the day?”

I nodded as I tidied up my desk.

“I was speaking to Jaz earlier and he mentioned that you're starting up your own cake business.”

Great. Was this the chat where I got told that wasn't professional either? “I am. Is that a problem?”

He shook his head. “No. It works out quite well for me.”

Narrowing my eyes, I slid my gaze in his direction. “Why?”

He took a step closer, leaned his thigh against the edge of my desk. “It's my parents' wedding anniversary. They're coming over to the UK for a week and we're having a surprise party for them. I was hoping you might make a cake for them.”

To say I was inundated with orders was the understatement of the year. And an anniversary cake would be much more exciting to make than the simple birthday cakes I was used to. “What did you have in mind?”

Beck smiled at my question, showing off that dimple. And with only that smile, my mind hit the gutter. Supplied a montage of clips from that night we spent together. Heat bloomed in my cheeks at the memory.

“There's a nice little Italian restaurant around the corner. I thought we could discuss it over dinner.”

God help me, but I wanted to say yes. The man had me intrigued. A puzzle just asking for me to figure him out. But instead of saying yes, I couldn't help myself. “Wouldn't that go against us keeping a professional distance?” To my surprise, Beck laughed.

“I guess I deserve that. But seeing as we wouldn't be in the office, then I don't think it would count.”

My bank balance wouldn't complain at a new order. And it would look good on my new website. And who was I kidding? I wanted to have dinner with him. “Okay.”

“Great. I'll just pack up my things and then we can go.”

I watched as he walked back towards his office. My gaze dropped to his arse encased in grey suit trousers that perfectly showed off his round, firm cheeks. 

God help me.

The restaurant wasn't what I had been expecting. Tucked out of the way behind the main road in a cobbled courtyard, the place was tiny. As Beck opened the door and ushered me through it, the aroma of garlic and basil was mouth-watering. 

Inside, the restaurant was dimly lit by sconces that bathed the walls with a warm yellow glow. Adding to the intimate ambience, candles flickered on the eight small round tables that filled the room. Covered with pristine white tablecloths and cutlery that sparkled where they caught the candlelight.

“I have a table booked under the name Kyle.”

My head snapped around throwing a questioning look at him. Was he that sure I would say yes? He leaned in, lips so close to my ear his breath blew against the shell of it and made me shiver.

“I already had the table booked before I asked you to join me.”

“This way, sir.”

We followed the waiter to a corner table that looked out over the courtyard. He left us with a huge red leather-bound menu each after taking our drink order. I glanced around at the other tables that were occupied. By the way they were holding hands or leaning into each other, I assumed they were all couples. My lips pulled up into a smirk on one side as I focused on the menu in front of me.

“What?”

I peeked over the top of the menu. “It's kind of a romantic place for a dinner date alone. Or did your date bail on you at the last minute?” The thought of Beck having plans with some other woman for the evening had my humour fleeing.

“The owner is an old friend. We have a standing dinner on Thursday evenings.”

I was saved from having to answer when a tall, slim woman with glossy chestnut-coloured hair stopped at our table.

“Hi, Beck. Wasn't sure I'd see you tonight.”

My head whipped up to stare at Beck when the woman used his 'nickname.' When Beck said he didn't use it in the office, her calling him that made me wonder if it was just a name he gave out to women he slept with. Beck raised an eyebrow as his gaze wandered over my face.

“This is Sofia. The owner I mentioned and one of my oldest friends.” He smiled at her. “I even introduced her to her husband.” 

Sofia smiled at me but gave me a subtle once-over. “And I don't think he's going to let me forget it anytime soon.” She turned her attention back to Beck. “Do you want the special? It's my mum's recipe for polpette.” 

Beck closed the menu. “You know that's my favourite.” 

She gave him a knowing smile, and I reminded myself she was married. They probably weren't sleeping together. Not anymore at least. Suddenly food was the last thing I wanted.

“Do you know what you'd like?” Beck asked.

You. The thought popped into my head, and I clamped my lips together so I didn't admit it out loud. He was my boss, and I wasn't entirely sure I trusted him.

The special sounded like it might be okay, even if I didn't know what it was. “I'll have the same,” I replied, closing my menu. 

Sofia left and I straightened up in my chair. This was supposed to be a work meeting. I grabbed my handbag then pulled out my notebook. Flipped through the pages of cake ideas I'd doodled until I found a blank page. “So, when do you need the cake by?”

“My parents are coming back in a week's time, and we're organising the party for that weekend. It's a surprise, hopefully, if my sister can keep it quiet. She's not known for being able to keep things to herself.” Mmm, not something that was a problem for Beck, apparently. 

Then he laughed. Thinking back over my short time at the office I tried to remember if Beck ever laughed. He had that night, but in the office he was like another person. But then again, didn't we all wear masks? Revealing different sides of ourselves depending on who we were with. 

I preferred the Beck I got to see out of the office. So he used a different name outside of work, was that really so strange? A lot of people preferred to keep their work and personal life separate. 

Maybe I was reading too much into the name thing. He was planning a surprise anniversary party for his parents. Guys you shouldn't trust didn't do that kind of thing, did they? 

With a shake of my head, I tried to get my thoughts back on track. “Okay, let's start with the easy questions. What kind of cake do you want? Fruit? Chocolate cake?”

The look Beck gave me suggested the question wasn't as easy as I thought it would be.

“Perhaps I should have asked my sister…I know my dad likes fruit cake but Mum prefers chocolate. Could you do half and half?”

I twisted my lips from side to side, tapping my pen against the page. “Not really. I guess…I could do a different cake for each of them. A tier each.”

Beck grinned and with the glow of the candlelight casting a warm hue across his face, his eyes glinted, looking more green than brown. When they met mine, his grin slipped but neither of us said anything. The air around us seemed to shift, turning hot and thick. Trapped in his gaze, it was like being in our own little bubble. The restaurant and everyone around us receded. It was just the two of us.

“Here we go.” 

A white bowl came into my sight and the moment was lost. It was placed in front of me as a rich tomato-y aroma had my mouth watering. Turned out polpette were meatballs and they were delicious. 

We chatted more about the cake and the party as we ate. And I tried to remember the last time I'd been out to dinner but struggled to recall. 

When the bill came, I tried to pay. Technically, I was entertaining a new client but Beck refused, snatching the cheque out of my reach. 

And when he lifted my coat for me to slip into, my heart did a funny little squeeze. Memories of my dad doing the same thing for my mum had my eyes smarting. 

Blinking rapidly, I shoved those thoughts aside. This wasn't a date. We weren't together. Nor would we be when he was my boss.

Beck held the door open for me to leave the restaurant, and the chilly air nipped at my cheeks. It was the beginning of February but winter wasn't showing any signs of disappearing anytime soon. I shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets, my shoulders hunched up around my ears. Beck pulled a card out of his wallet and held it out to me.

“What's that?”

He smiled. “My contact details. It's got my email address on it. My personal one. In case you need to get in touch with me about the cake. I'm assuming you lost the other one I left at the hotel, seeing as you never called or texted. If you didn't lose it, please feel free not to shatter my illusions.”

Ah, did he really think I might not have called if I hadn't ended up losing the card? Well, if Lucy hadn't ended up putting it through the washer. I smiled as I took the card, slipping it into my handbag. Definitely wasn't letting this one out of my sight.

“My car is still at the office. I could give you a lift home.”

That was a tempting offer. At this time of night, the train would be filled with drunk, rowdy people. But Beck at my house? Then I'd have to invite him in because it was only polite after him giving me a lift home. Alone with Beck. Not the best idea. “Thanks, but I've already got my train ticket.”

“Okay.”

Neither of us made a move to leave. “I'll see you at the office tomorrow.” Beck nodded, his gaze dropping from my eyes but he didn't make a move. Rolling my bottom lip inwards I sank my teeth into it. The idea of kissing him again had it feeling more like summer with the heat rolling off me. “Thanks for dinner.”

Beck's lips lifted slightly at the edges. “My pleasure.”

Okay, one of us needed to leave or we would be standing there all night. Turn around and walk to the train station, Kimberly. My feet ignored my brain. 

Then Beck took a step closer. Lifted a hand to wrap those long fingers around the back of my neck. Warm soft lips brushed over mine. Too quickly, they were gone again and my skin stung as the cool air hit where his warm fingers had touched.

“Goodnight, Kimberly.” He turned on his heel and strode off towards the office.

“Goodnight.” 

And still, I didn't move as I watched him walk away and disappear into the dark of the night.

Chapter Fourteen

The following day I didn't see Beck around the office at all. Not gonna lie, I was more than a little disappointed. And may or may not have casually strolled by his office a few times.

Until I saw him enter the offices to be accosted by a woman whose outfit screamed I'm-so-professional-it-hurts. From her six-inch black stilettos that I would struggle to stand up in let alone sashay across the office the way she did. Tight grey pencil skirt that reached just below her knees—I'd tried one of those skirts on once, and even barefoot I'd struggled not to waddle like a penguin in it. Matching tailored jacket that flared at the bottom to rest against the base of her back, and drew attention to the curve of her arse. Blonde hair perfectly tied up in a fancy twist whereas my dark locks tried to escape from the moment I restrained them in a ponytail. Full pouty lips still slicked red this late in the afternoon. 

A quick glance at my takeout coffee cup confirmed the lid was stained pink and wore more of my lipstick than I did. And my boring black trousers and red fitted shirt didn't exactly shout that I belonged. But then I didn't want to belong there. 

A flash of red nails caught my attention as her hand landed on Beck's arm. Stroked up and down his bare forearm beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves. Five little red warning flags fluttering against his tanned skin warning other women away. 

My gaze caught Beck's and I dropped mine to my keyboard, fingers clenching. Because they looked good standing there together. That was the kind of woman I imagined Beck with. The kind of woman that was the exact opposite of me.

“Psst.” 

Jaz's head popped around the side of his computer. “You hissed at me.”

I nodded my chin in Beck's direction. “Who's that woman talking to—” I'd almost called him Beck.

Jaz looked behind him with zero subtlety. “That's Linda. She works in Audit and is dying to get promoted to head of department—only been chasing the position for the last year. I think she thinks Kyle will promote her.”

“Why?” 

Jaz let out a snort. “Because she thinks strutting around the office in her power suits makes her irresistible to men. Never mind that she's somewhat lacking in people skills.”

“Shh.” She was heading our way, hips swaying probably for Beck's benefit. Except he wasn't watching, already making his way to his office.

“Jaz, Kyle said you had the Gallagher account details?”

“I do. Have you met Kimberly? She's temping with us. Kimberly, this is Linda.”

“Nice to meet—”

“Can you email them to me?” 

All I got was a nod of her head before she stalked off, not bothering to wait for an answer from Jaz. “—you.” I finished which earned me a grin from Jaz. 

It was the same in most of the offices I'd worked at, so I gave him a shrug. There was always at least one person who couldn't be bothered getting to know the temp.

“Kimberly, I need you to make photocopies of these in triplicate. As soon as you can please.” Tony dumped a stack of papers on my desk and then wandered off. Could this afternoon get any more exciting?

After half an hour standing at the photocopier, I decided apparently it couldn't.

“Kirsty.”

Linda's voice carried across the office sounding like Kirsty was in trouble, whoever she was.

“Kirsty.” 

Closer this time and accompanied by the clicking of fingers. Leaving the photocopier running I looked up into the icy blue eyes of Linda glaring at me.

“Are you talking to me?” Those red stained lips pursed together. 

“Who did you think I was talking to?”

“I don't know. Not me, because my name's Kimberly.” She waved my words away with a flick of her hand like she was swatting away a fly.

“I need you to run down to the coffee shop and get two cappuccinos, one latte, an earl grey tea, and a macchiato.”

I stared at her blankly for a moment because when had my duties included being the office lackey?

“Kirsty, are you listening?”

Clearly she hadn't been. “It's Kimberly.” She let out a huff like remembering my name took too much effort then thrust a piece of paper in my face.

“Here, I wrote the order down. And try to be quick about it.” 

I glared at her retreating back but headed for the stairs. Ran down them—not because she told me to be quick—to get out of the office before I said something I'd regret. 

I shoved open the door to the coffee shop with a little too much force as the bell above it jangled wildly.

Laney popped up from behind the counter, her brown curls bouncing around her head.

“Hi, Kimberly. The usual?” 

See, even the coffee shop owner managed to remember my name. “God, please.” I thrust the list over the counter. “And these.” She took a step back and I rearranged the scowl on my face. “Sorry. Sometimes…no, scratch that—I hate working in an office.” Laney twisted her lips to the side as she grabbed a takeout cup. 

“You're preaching to the converted. Why do you think I spend every waking moment making a go of this place?” 

And she did. The coffee shop was always open before I got into work and after I left. If I really wanted the cake business to take off maybe it was time to put in more hours. 

The hiss of the coffee machine brought me out of my musings. “Can you do Jaz's usual too? And put them on the company account please.” Laney nodded as she finished up the first drink. 

“So, you and Jaz seem…close.” 

I waited for her to say something else, but as her cheeks pinked up, understanding dawned and I snorted out a laugh. “Not hardly. I think he's just taking pity on the new girl. He's a good laugh though.” 

“Yeah, that's Jaz, a laugh a minute. I didn't think you were his…type.”

Mmm. I didn't know Laney enough to ask what she meant but I'd definitely be asking Jaz what he'd done to piss her off. 

Laney slotted the drinks into cardboard holders, and I trudged back up to the office.

By the time five o'clock rolled around I was a little jealous that Jaz had plans for the weekend that were a thousand times more exciting than mine. The most excitement mine would involve was watching the cakes rise for Beck's parents' cake. 

I let out a loud sigh as I unlocked the front door. Since my parents' deaths the previous year—and then moving into their house—I'd lost touch with most of my old friends. The majority of them had given up calling to ask me to join them on nights out. But I knew if I called a couple of them, the invites would still be waiting. But with that would come the questions. How was I coping? How was the new place?

Knowing they meant well didn't stop the memories from hurting, though. Like my friends were all tied up with the grief and pain of losing my parents. If I didn't see them, I could try and ignore it all instead. So there I was, Friday night, all alone.

Saturday morning over a cup of coffee with the cakes in front of me ready to decorate, I realised Beck hadn't actually decided how he wanted them iced. Grabbing the card he'd given me, I stared at the email address as I slid it onto the breakfast bar in front of me. The cake had to be finished by the following weekend. If it was any other client, I wouldn't hesitate in contacting them.

Shoving my hair behind my ears, I glanced at my laptop then dragged it over in front of me. He didn't need to know this was the highlight of my weekend. Typing in his address and a quick message I pressed send before I could change my mind.

I slid the laptop away and took another sip of coffee as I stared at the cakes. When my laptop chimed, announcing a new message, I jumped. Dragging it back over, I saw Beck's reply. I opened his email. 

Why don't I come over, and I can show you some of the ideas my sister and I discussed? 

My pulse kicked up a gear at his unexpected response, and I smoothed my dressing gown down over my lap. Leaning back against the stool, I read the message again. 

Beck. There in my house. I rolled my eyes. What did I think was going to happen? He was going to discuss cake designs not lean me over the breakfast bar and—

Okay, those thoughts weren't helping. But I liked him. And not just all those hard muscles and soft skin. We didn't know each other that well, but I wanted to. Aside from the name thing and that he was my boss. But he wouldn't be my boss forever. And there was no harm in getting to know your boss, was there?

Knowing those thoughts would circle through my mind as long as I let them, I hit reply and sent him my address. His reply came as quickly as the last. 

Be there in about half an hour. 

“Shit. Half an hour?” I jumped down from the stool and ran upstairs to shower and get dressed. 

As I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee, there was a knock on the door. I smoothed my clammy palms down my pink blouse and took a deep breath. Usually, on a Saturday, I'd be in yoga pants and a vest top instead of office clothes. But Beck was a client. Totally the only reason I was trying to impress him.

Strolling from the kitchen, then through the living room, I paused as I reached the front door. Fingers clutched around the handle, I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. Blew it out and opened my eyes. Then swung the door open. 

Dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt beneath a black bomber jacket, Beck looked edible. His eyes darker than usual and obscured behind a pair of black-framed glasses that screamed sexy nerd.

“Hi.”

Tongue thick, I swallowed and heat bloomed across my cheeks. Words, Kimberly. You need to use words. “Come in. Hi.” Better words, I told myself as I stepped back to let him in. I closed the door and led him into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“That'd be great. Thanks.”

Pouring him a cup, I kept one eye on him as he removed his jacket. The movement made his shirt pull tight across his chest. Sleeves rolled up to show off corded forearms. I slid the cup across the breakfast bar to him, not trusting myself to actually pick it up.

“I was in the office when I got your email,” he said pointing to his shirt. Guess I hadn't been that subtle in my once-over of him. He sat down on the stool next to me and nodded at my open laptop. 

“Are those your cakes?”

I'd left it open on my website. “Yes, some of them.”

He pulled the laptop closer to him and scrolled through my work. “They're good.”

“Then why do I feel a but coming?” 

He laughed and clicked on the contact page. “No, really. They are.” 

I glanced up at him. “But?” 

“Honestly?”

I nodded. None of my friends would voluntarily talk about my cakes. Their eyes would glaze over when I got going on the subject. Unless I was offering them a slice to try. Then it would be their lips that were glazed over with icing.

Beck clicked back on the design page. “It shows that you're good at what you do, but it doesn't tell people anything about you.”

It told them I could make good cakes. What else did they need to know? “Why would people want to know about me? They want a cake, not to get to know me.”

Beck twisted on the stool, his thigh brushing against mine as he faced me. “Because why would people buy your cakes rather than, I don't know, go to their local bakery? You need to sell yourself to them.” 

I pursed my lips together. “Yeah, I don't think so. I can barely sell cakes to people, let alone sell myself.”

“Okay. Are you qualified?”

I shook my head. “I've taken a few courses, but nothing formal.”

He waved towards the laptop. “But you don't mention that. It's just window-shopping at the moment. You need something to get them from 'I like that cake' to 'I'm going to contact her and order that cake.' ” Wagging a finger back and forth between us he asked, “Do you do this for all your customers?”

“What? Get their requirements?” He nodded. “Yes, of course. How else would I know what to make?”

“Then put it on your website. Sell it to them. Email me for your personal design appointment now. I'll make your dream cake a reality.” 

I snorted then clapped a hand over my mouth. So attractive. Beck's forehead crinkled up.

“Well, you get the idea. Something along those lines. Give them a reason to get in touch.” When I didn't reply he shrugged. “I could help you. If you want me to?”

My heart thumped sluggishly. Probably trying to solidify itself from the puddle Beck's words had melted it into. He wanted to help me. I nodded, not sure I could trust the words that would come out of my mouth right then. 

Our fingers brushed as I clicked on to another website. The touch tingled all the way up my arm, and the urge to trail my fingers along his bare forearm made me curl my hand into a fist so I wouldn't. “Thanks. Let's start with your cake first, though. Easier for me.”

He smiled showing off those dimples. I wanted to dip my tongue into them. Turning my attention back to the laptop instead, I tried to concentrate on finding some ideas for his parents' cake.

We laughed and joked around with ideas until Beck's stomach grumbled loudly. Glancing over at the clock on the wall, I saw we'd been at it for an hour and a half and it was lunchtime already. “Do you want some lunch? I think I could manage to rustle up a sandwich with what I have in the cupboards.”

“That sounds good.”

I opened the fridge door, scanning the sparse offerings on the shelf. Add shopping to the to-do list. I grabbed a packet of ham, some cheese, and the jar of Branston Pickle then shut the door with my hip.

Beck was standing in the doorway looking through into the living room. As I grabbed the loaf from the bread bin, he joined me at the counter resting a hip against it. I got a whiff of his spicy scent, and it smelt more delicious than the sandwich I was preparing.

“It's not how I imagined where you lived.”

He'd imagined where I lived? I'd never given much thought about where he might live. But seeing him in his suit at the office, I'd plump for a modern, flash apartment in the centre of Manchester. A penthouse probably to match his flashy job title. All floor to ceiling windows and panoramic views. “Why? What did you imagine?”

He shrugged and I busied myself with slicing the cheese. “I don't know. A flat in the city centre maybe.”

I added a couple of slices of ham to the top of the cheese then laid another slice of bread on top of that. Cut them in half and braced myself for the conversation. “I used to live in the city. I grew up in Marsdon and left after college when I got a job in Manchester. This is my parents' house. Or was…I guess it's mine now.”

I handed him one of the plates and we sat back down at the breakfast bar. “Your parents…?”

My fingers clutched around my heart necklace not wanting to have this conversation. “They left the house to me and my brother. He's living in Australia at the moment. They died in a car accident over a year ago now.”

“I'm so sorry.”

I shrugged and he slipped his arm around my shoulders. “It wasn't your fault.” 

His fingers wrapped around my shoulder digging into the muscles along the base of my neck. If his touch was supposed to be relaxing, it was anything but. Heat spread out from where his fingers rubbed, radiating across my chest and tightening my nipples.

Neither of us spoke, with just the humming of the fridge and the tick of the clock in the background. And this was why I hated talking about it. Apart from the overwhelming loss it brought with it, and frustration, I never knew what I should say. And usually neither did the other person. 

Instead, I took a bite of my sandwich. Couldn't say anything then.

Chapter Fifteen

Beck's arm dropped from my shoulders, and I missed the comfort of his touch straight away. We finished our sandwiches in silence. Then Beck slid my laptop back in front of him and opened up a new browser window. His long fingers danced over the keys, reminding me of how they'd played my body and made it sing.

To distract myself, I collected the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Grabbed a bottle of water for each of us from the fridge then sat back down beside him. 

He angled the laptop towards me. The screen showed a website for a company I'd never heard of. Read the blurb on the page to find out they sold handmade jewellery and art. The story told of how the woman had started making pieces as gifts for friends' birthdays or special occasions. They had told their friends who told theirs, and that was when she started up the business. 

Bumping my shoulder against Beck's, I grinned. That was what I wanted to do. Just with cakes, not jewellery. When Beck saw my grin, he smiled back at me, dimples and all.

“See. It's a great story, isn't it? Makes you think, wow she must be good then if that many people buy her stuff.” I nodded. “That's what you need to do with your website. Convince people they should be buying from you.”

That sounded great in theory, but I didn't have that many referrals. Beck clicked on another page.

“Are you on Facebook? Twitter? Instagram, even?”

I shook my head. “No. Well, I have a Facebook account, but I don't really use it much.” Beck took a sip of water. My gaze glued to his lips as they wrapped around the bottle. Okay, get a grip. He's trying to help you and you're jealous of a bottle? Replacing the cap, he carried on. 

“You need to be. Alicia—my sister—has a huge following on Instagram. It's easy. You just upload pictures of all the cakes you make, and people will start to follow you. The more people who follow you, the more orders you'll get.”

He did make it sound so easy. Then he clicked on another page. 

“And she has a blog. She records herself making jewellery and then speeds it up into a five-minute video clip. Does little how-to bits so people can try a project themselves. You could do that too. Show people how to…” He waved one hand at me and shrugged.

“Make cakes,” I said with a smile.

“Well, yes.”

My smile slipped at the excitement clearly evident by the way his eyes sparkled. He was the first person who had ever shown a real interest in this. Who thought I could do it. That I needed a little help but could do this. I slid my hand over his where it rested on the breakfast bar. Slipped my fingers between his and gave them a squeeze. Throat thick and eyes stinging with gratitude, I think I fell a little bit in love with him right then. I swallowed to try and clear my heart from where it was lodged in my throat. “Thank you.”

Pulling his fingers from beneath mine so he could turn his hand over he twined our fingers together again. “You're welcome. I didn't really do anything, but you're welcome.”

He'd done more than he thought. Knowing he believed in me gave me the confidence to believe in myself. Trying to start this up all on my own since my parents had died was hard. Having someone to discuss it with, who showed a real interest…that meant everything to me.

He glanced at the clock and then released my hand. 

“I'd better get going. I've got a team br—” He coughed. “A meeting. I'm running late for a meeting.”

I stood up from my stool to show him out. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you from your plans. But thank you for this afternoon.”

He leaned over and our eyes met. Then he brushed his lips against my cheek and straightened. I was a little disappointed it was only my cheek.

“You're welcome. And I'm happy to help…anytime.”

And the way he said the last two words had me thinking about him helping me in an entirely different way. As I wondered if that was what he meant—or if it was just wishful thinking on my part—heat spread across my cheeks. 

But then he was striding towards the living room and I hurried after him. Opened the front door for him and watched as he climbed into a flashy looking blue BMW then drove off.

Quietly, I shut it and the house felt empty without him. Making my way back into the kitchen, the first thing I saw was the laptop still open on the jewellery website. I could record myself working on Beck's parents' cake. Then maybe I could start writing a blog. I smiled as I realised how excited that idea made me. To take control and do something to make my dream a reality. No time like the present; I grabbed the fondant and set to rolling it out.

The following day, I'd spent nearly two hours messing around with the recording that showed how to pipe decorative icing around the base of the cake and the board, but I'd finally managed to edit it into something I was happy with and uploaded it to my website. Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned back on the stool, quite proud of myself. I wondered what Beck would think of it if he ever watched it. 

The idea of writing “my story” of how I'd started all this didn't appeal as much. Maybe I could do that another day. As I stared at the blank Word document on my screen, an email alert flashed up. I read the name of the sender before it disappeared. Why would Beck be emailing me? Was there a problem with the cake order? 

Bringing the email back up I quickly read it and relaxed. Then did a little happy dance on my seat. He'd seen my blog post and loved it. I think I love him.

My eyes widened as my mind registered the thought. No way. We didn't even know each other that well. It was far too early to be thinking about the L-word. Shouldn't be thinking about it at all. I had thought it was only one night together. I wasn't ready for a relationship. Hell, I didn't even know if Beck was interested in one with me. Maybe he felt some misplaced sense of guilt for the way the situation had ended up and felt responsible as my boss.

Banishing that line of thought, I read the rest of his email instead. He'd been looking at my website to see if he could come up with any more ideas to help. I clapped a hand over my mouth as the goofiest smile I'd ever worn broke out. As if I needed to hide it even though I was alone. Why did that make me so ridiculously happy? That he'd been thinking about me after he left. Because he cared.

I dropped my hand from my mouth and read the line over again. “He cares.” 

Maybe I'd read the situation wrong. Whilst that night in the hotel brought back good memories, it had also been a distraction—a way to escape facing the new reality of my life for one night—I hadn't expected it to turn into anything more. What if he hadn't been doing the same thing? Maybe he'd been trying to start something between us?

That night, Beck hadn't pushed for more. Had left his card so I could contact him. And even then, he didn't have to ask me to make the cake for his parents, and he certainly didn't have to help me set up my new venture.

Reading the rest of the email, he said he wanted to take me somewhere that afternoon that would help me with the cake business. 

Penny head-butted my leg, drawing my eyes away from the screen. “Hey, Ginge. That sounds suspiciously like a date, don't you think?” Biting my lip, I tried to stop the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Because I might have a date.

With Beck.

Chapter Sixteen

With a smile still on my face, I replied to his email—including my mobile number—telling him I was intrigued. You know, playing it cool in case it wasn't actually a date. Drummed my fingers against the breakfast bar as I waited for his reply. Yet still jumped when my mobile vibrated against the countertop.

So, you're free this afternoon?

For Beck? I was definitely free. 

Yes. What did you have in mind?

Mobile in hand, I ran upstairs to my bedroom, more excited than I had been in a long time. Yes, starting the cake business was exciting, but this was different. It wasn't work-related.

Glancing out of the window, the sky was a pale blue without a cloud in sight. Maybe spring was going to put in an early appearance. I certainly had a spring in my step. And great, the prospect of a date with Beck had me spouting cheesy lines. Another text sounded and I turned away from the window to sit on the edge of the bed.

It's a surprise.

Mmm. I wasn't a big fan of surprises. If I didn't know where we were going, how was I going to decide what to wear? How would I get there? How would I prepare? 

How will I know where to meet you? 

Waiting for his reply, I wandered over to the wardrobe. Opened the doors and mentally catalogued my clothes from the tops hung on the left to the trousers on the right. My rainbow of clothes as they were all arranged by colour too.

The weather was still changeable at this time of year, and I huffed at having to make a decision when I didn't know where I was going. My mobile bleeped again. 

I can pick you up in an hour?

I read the text a second time as I tried to come up with a reply. In the end, I went with the truth regardless of what Beck might think. 

Okay. Can you give me a clue where we're going? I don't know what to wear! 

I added a smiley face emoticon at the end for good measure.

His reply was quick. 

Wear whatever you would for a day out shopping. Comfy shoes as you'll be walking around a bit.

Oh, God. He wasn't taking me shopping, was he? I hated shopping. Too many people. And snooty sales assistants who were never around when you needed them but in your face when you didn't.

Are we going shopping? 

That earned me an emoticon with tears of laughter.

No. Not shopping. See you soon.

I huffed at his reply and dropped my mobile onto the bed. Flopped back onto the mattress, arms and legs flung out like a starfish and stared at the ceiling. I had no idea where he might take me. But spending the afternoon with Beck sounded good. Unless…

“I fly a lot. And I'm no stranger to high-risk situations.” That's what he'd said on the plane. He couldn't have been talking about work. I didn't think anyone would class being an accountant as high risk or that it involved much flying. What if he wanted to do something ridiculous like skydiving or bungee jumping?

I laughed at that idea. Surely Beck would know I wouldn't be up for that. And if he didn't…well, I'd just watch him do it. Safely. From the ground.

Okay, I had to move otherwise I'd still be lying on the bed when Beck showed up. He'd said comfy shoes. I grabbed my blue Skechers. They were the comfiest trainers I had. A pair of blue jeans and a pink cashmere jumper that matched the laces in my trainers. Once dressed, I gave my reflection a once-over in the mirror.

“Not bad, Kimberly. Not bad,” I tied my hair up into a ponytail, and then decided a little make-up wouldn't hurt.

At the beep of a car horn, I glanced out of the window. A blue BMW was parked up outside my house with Beck casually leaning against the driver door. The sleeves of his black T-shirt stretched across his biceps. Sun glinting off the face of his bulky black watch. Long legs crossed at the ankles and clad in denim. He looked totally at ease whilst my stomach seemed to be the home for a herd of frolicking spring lambs. Too late to get changed now. Or back out.

After collecting my mobile from the bed, I headed downstairs. Grabbed my keys and handbag. Gave Penny a quick scratch behind her ear. “Be good. I won't be long.” Not that I knew if that was true. It didn't matter, she probably didn't have a clue what I was saying anyway.

As I opened the front door, Beck straightened from his car, gaze travelling over me.

“Hey.”

Pulling the door closed behind me, I gave him a smile. Waving my hand up and down my body I said, “I wasn't sure what to wear seeing as you won't tell me where we're going.”

He laughed. “You look beautiful. And you're dressed fine for where we're going.”

Not gonna lie, the beautiful comment helped and my smile may have turned a little smug, but I still wanted to know what he had planned. Once I had my seat belt fastened, he started the engine.

“I'm assuming you're not a huge fan of surprises.”

I rolled my head towards him. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

He laughed. “Don't worry. You'll enjoy it. I'm sure.”

Beck drove towards the motorway and I guessed we were heading into Manchester. When I saw signs for the Trafford Centre the horrible feeling we were going shopping returned. But it passed as we didn't head in the same direction. When Beck headed off the motorway, I still had no clue where we were going.

Then I saw a poster advertising The Bake It Show. I glanced over at Beck, his lips curled up—almost into a smile.

“Are you taking me there?”

He nodded and glanced my way before turning his attention back to the road. My heart gave a funny little squeeze, and I may have let out a tiny squeal as I clapped my hands. “Wait, won't you be bored?” At that, he did smile.

“Are you kidding? Do you know they give out free cake samples?”

Of course I did. I'd heard of the event but tickets were hard to get, and I wondered how Beck had managed to get some. I'd even tried to convince my friends to go with me one year because going to baking events had been mine and my mum's thing. Going alone to one, at least for the first time… 

One year, The Bake It Show had the winner from The Great British Bake Off and Mary Berry there. My legs bounced up and down at the thought of Mary Berry actually being there. Imagined meeting her. Wondered if she'd make one of her innuendos or if they were staged for the show.

Beck parked up and got out of the car. I sat staring through the windscreen at the gigantic Exhibition Centre. All gleaming windows and polished metal. A huge banner was strung above the entrance proudly announcing The Bake It Show. The car door swung open and Beck offered me his hand.

“Madam.”

Slipping my hand into his, I let him help me out of the car. In my haste to get out, I stumbled over my own feet and landed against his chest. My free hand wrapping around his waist to steady myself. I could feel the frantic thud of his heart against my chest. Or was that mine?

“You all right there?”

Nodding, I licked my lips as the thought he might kiss me crossed my mind. But then he stepped back. Still holding my hand, he led me inside.

It was noisier than I expected. The excited murmurs of hundreds of voices, the whirr of kitchen equipment, and the echoey voice of someone giving a presentation. Inside smelt like heaven—sugary sweet and freshly baked bread. It felt like we were Hansel and Gretel being led into temptation.

Beck handed over our tickets in exchange for a stamp on our hands. Wandering further inside, there were market stalls set out on either side of the hall and we strolled in between them, my hand back in Beck's. 

And he was right. Each stall offered samples of their wares. Pies, breads, cakes, brownies—every imaginable freshly baked produce. My mouth watered at the decadent smells and I took the offered piece of pork pie with a slice of hard-boiled egg in the centre. The pastry melted in my mouth in a burst of buttery delight. 

We kept wandering and sampling until we reached a sign directing us to the Sugar Craft Scene. The hall was lined with exhibitions that showed off their sugarcraft skills and I stopped in awe to watch a man pipe a butterfly into creation. It was magical to watch the creature emerge on the cake. All silver wings and delicate patterns. Beck dragged me away once he'd finished the butterfly.

“Come on. There's something I want to show you.”

I followed him out of the Sugar Craft Scene and into another room where there must have been hundreds of cakes on display. Wedding cakes, baby shower cakes, Halloween cakes, miniature cakes. A whole collection of edible art. But we didn't stop. 

Beck led me into the next room as I dragged my feet and stared at the array of cakes. I wanted to stop and examine each one. Find out how they put each element together as ideas raced through my head for projects I could create.

He stopped just inside the next room and slipped his arm around my waist. More cakes as far as I could see. Then I caught sight of the banner at the side of the room. Bake It Competition: Myths, Legends and Fairy Tales. And sure enough, as I glanced around the tables of cakes they were all themed. A Beauty and the Beast cake, Harry Potter, even one that had a dragon taking off from the top tier. Its scales gleamed under the overhead lights.

Overwhelmed by the sheer display of talent I leaned against Beck. His fingers tightened around my waist as he angled his head down towards me. Warm breath fanned across my ear and my heartbeat picked up for a whole different reason.

“I thought you could do this next year.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I turned my head towards him. My lips just inches from his cheek. Another sweet treat to tempt me. “Huh?” Being so close to him scattered my thoughts and was all the response I could manage. His gaze dropped to my parted lips. When he spoke his lips were a whisper touch against my skin.

“I thought you could enter next year. The winner gets a cash prize and free publicity.”

Tearing my eyes from his, I glanced at the cakes surrounding us. “They're amazing. I…I'd never win. I'm nowhere near as good as these entrants.”

Beck's hands on my hips urged me to face him until both his arms were wrapped around my waist and he could look me in the eye.

“Kimberly, your cakes are amazing too. You'd have just as much chance at winning as everyone else. The only way you definitely won't win is by not entering. And even if you didn't win next year, think of all the contacts you could make.”

I knew he was right. That I would say the same thing to someone in my position. But it was that much harder to believe when it was about me. Lifting my hand so I could cup his cheek, I traced along his cheekbone with my thumb. That he had so much belief in me made my chest ache. And I was pretty sure the lump in my throat was my heart trying to climb out of my body and offer itself to him. Swallowing hard, I tried to dislodge it. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I shrugged. Everything. “For bringing me here. For believing I'd have a shot at winning. For being…you.” His breath hitched on my last word and I almost regretted saying it out loud. 

Until he lowered his head. Brushed his lips softly over mine.

“You're welcome.”

The rest of the afternoon we spent wandering around cake-laden tables. Beck sampling pies and Artisan bread. The idea of entering my own cake next year had me excited and brimming with ideas. Thinking of all the showstopper designs I'd loved on The Great British Bake Off. The ones that had won and why. But the thought of actually doing it? That thought made my stomach churn and refuse any more samples even though they smelt delicious.

It was early evening by the time we left the Exhibition Centre. The sky an almost purple blue colour as the sun faded and the first stars tried to break their way out. Beck's arm slung casually around my shoulders as he carried the free tote bag I'd been given and had filled with business cards, flyers, and free swag. My favourite piece was a square fridge magnet with a picture of a cupcake and the words, Home is where the cake is kept. 

The drive home was quiet. Not an awkward silence. I was exhausted, crashing after being on a high all afternoon. And even though I hadn't met Mary Berry, it had still been one of the best days I'd had recently. 

The sound of the handbrake woke me and I opened my eyes to the sight of my street outside the passenger window. Beck sat, hands still on the steering wheel, staring out of the windscreen. Glancing behind him towards my front door I wondered if I should invite him in.

“Did you enjoy today?”

Returning my gaze to his I grinned. “I had the best time. Thank you.”

“Good.” One hand still on the steering wheel, he leaned over the centre console. I closed my eyes. Felt the heat of Beck. The familiar smell of him laced with sugar and happiness. Then his lips met mine. A soft brush of skin against skin and I sighed. His tongue traced along my lower lip and when they parted, he slipped his tongue between them. Flicked the tip against mine but just as quickly retreated. A final press of lips together before he leaned back in his seat. His hand returned to the steering wheel.

“I guess I'll see you in the office tomorrow.”

Carefree Beck of the afternoon had disappeared to be replaced by the Beck I knew from the office. But I couldn't blame him. Whatever was happening between us wouldn't make working together any easier.

Chapter Seventeen

The week following The Bake It Show, I spent every free minute working on the anniversary cake for Beck's parents. I wanted to create something he would be proud of and justify his belief in me.

When I ended up piping a layer of fondant on top of another, I knew it was finished and I was just putting off the inevitable. Of admitting it was finished. Of having to show Beck and the prospect that it might not be as good as he expected. 

He'd been cool around the office towards me that week, which hurt a little. Then again, I hardly wanted to flaunt what was happening between us. Whatever that might be.

Once the fondant had set, I moved the cake onto the breakfast bar and took a couple of photos. Sent them to Beck asking when he wanted to pick it up. When he replied asking me if I could deliver it to the party with him, I didn't know what to say. Was he inviting me to the party? Clients didn't normally request delivery. But then, Beck wasn't exactly my normal kind of client. 

***

Saturday evening—the night of the party—Beck pulled his BMW up outside the biggest hotel in Manchester I'd ever seen. It would look more at home on the pages of a fairy tale book than in the city centre. Once-red bricks faded to terracotta were lit up from old-fashioned wrought iron and glass lamps that hung around the entrance pillars. Turrets on either end of the building, their pointed roofs looming out of the dark sky, windows glowing brightly inside them. Dark blue flags fluttered from their poles fixed on either side of the entrance. 

I glanced down at my outfit of plain black trousers and a blue-and-gold striped shirt. Maybe I should have dressed up more, worn a dress even. But I was only the hired help—the caterer. Even if I had shown up with the guest of honours' son. I smoothed down my shirt and then grabbed my handbag from between my feet.

“You look gorgeous. Don't worry.”

Unfastening my seat belt, I glanced over at Beck. How did he do that? Know I was worried when I hadn't said a word. I didn't want to look gorgeous. I'd settle for looking like I belonged there. Why had I agreed to do this? Clients always picked their cakes up from my house—I didn't do personal deliveries. Because I was doing it for Beck, I reminded myself.

He was…I wasn't sure what he was. And wasn't that a great moment—as I sat outside the posh hotel waiting for Beck to escort me inside and meet his parents—for that realisation.

“Thanks.” He reached over the console between the seats and laced our fingers together, giving them a quick squeeze before releasing them.

“Come on. I'll help you get the cake out of the back, and then I'll park up somewhere.”

What? He was leaving me to go in there alone? “You're not coming in with me?” The lazy smile that made my stomach flip spread across his face and revealed his dimples. 

“You can wait in the reception area. I'll only be five minutes.”

Dropping my shoulders, I climbed out of the BMW. Beck opened the boot and lifted out the cake. I slammed the door shut and followed him inside. 

The reception area was bathed in a golden glow from the numerous chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. All of them ridiculously huge and ornate. My heels clicked across the black marble floor even though I tried to be quiet. Guests wandered around, some dressed in business suits and others obviously tourists with expensive looking cameras hanging from their necks. Beck slid the cake box onto a shiny wooden table surrounded by rich red velvet chairs.

As he straightened, he brushed his lips across my cheek. “I'll be right back.”

He strode back across the marble floor, fitting in perfectly with the expensive surroundings in his charcoal tailored suit. As my gaze wandered around the hotel, the thought that this was a “meet the parents” moment hit me. As those went, at an expensive hotel hosting their wedding anniversary party wasn't the ideal way. I didn't even know if that was what this was. How would Beck introduce me to them? The cake designer? A colleague? Before I could go into full-on panic mode, Beck was back and lifting up the cake box. 

“Come on. Let's go set this up before my parents arrive.” 

I followed him through the reception area, up a short set of stairs, to a carpeted lounge where I half expected a group of men to be playing cards and smoking cigars in tuxedos. Apart from the whole smoking-inside ban, of course.

Leaning his back against an ornately carved wooden door, he pushed it open to reveal a function room bedecked with balloons, streamers, and a banner strung along one wall that read, Happy Wedding Anniversary Eric and Barbara. I assumed they were Beck's parents as I realised he hadn't told me much of anything about them. Along another wall, tables bulged with cling-film-wrapped buffet food, and I followed Beck as he headed in that direction.

He slid the cake onto a stand in the middle of one of the tables and I opened the box, flattening it out so I could slide it out from beneath the cake. It looked amazing, even if I did say so myself. Two white heart-shaped cakes that interlocked. One chocolate, one fruit. Covered in ivory icing with ivory piping around the edges and a dot of silver in each swirl. I'd topped the piping with a thinner layer in a deep shade of red. Two roses in the same shade of garnet sat at the top and bottom of the hearts and a deep red ribbon tied around each cake finished in a bow at the point of the heart. Between the two roses on each cake I had piped in the same garnet colour the words, We Still Do. A silver love heart decorated the inside of the letter O with the year of their wedding piped within the love heart. 

“Wow. The pictures didn't do it justice, Kyle. It's beautiful.”

The use of Beck's real name outside of the office sounded odd. Turning at the compliment to be met by dark brown eyes that shone with warmth. Chin-length choppy brown hair and a smile that reminded me of Beck. She was shorter than my five foot seven but not by much, and she had to be Beck's sister. 

Oh, my God. It wasn't just meet the parents; it was meet the whole damn family.

“Kimberly, this is my brat of a sister Alicia. Alicia this is Kimberly. She made that beautiful cake.”

I raised my hand to shake hers but then I thought that seemed a little formal. So I went with an awkward kind of finger wave instead. Smooth, Kimberly. That's the way to impress his family. “Hi. I hope your parents will like it too.”

“Oh, they'll love it. It's perfect.”

“They're here,” someone shouted from across the room.

Beck and his sister started for the doors we'd entered the room through, but I stood rooted to the spot. Then a warm hand wrapped around mine as Beck tugged me along after him. The doors opened to a chorus of happy anniversaries from around the room. And there they were. Beck's parents. Not quite what I had expected.

His dad had the same dark hair, but it was liberally sprinkled with grey at the temples. The same long nose as Beck but his eyes were denim-washed blue. His mum was shorter and plump. Her hair neither quite white nor blonde. The same brown eyes as Beck and his sister. She smiled at Beck and Alicia, little lines fanning out from her eyes and around her mouth.

“You two really outdid yourselves this time. And I can't believe you managed to keep the party a secret.” She playfully slapped Alicia's arm with the back of her hand. “I thought we were coming to dinner.” Her eyes filled up and she dragged Beck into a hug followed by Alicia. 

“Mum, Dad, this is Kimberly that I've been telling you about. Kimberly, this is my mum Barbara and Eric, my dad.”

He'd told his parents about me? Warmth spread across my body and then Beck slung an arm around my shoulders pulling me against his side.

“Kimberly, it's lovely to meet you. We've heard so much about you.”

Then she pulled me into her arms, wrapping them around me in a proper hug. Arms tight around my back the way my mum used to hug me. Oh, how I'd missed those hugs from her. When my vision blurred, I closed my eyes. I refused to cry on Beck's mum the first time I met her. But like every other time I thought about my mum, the happy memories were tinged with grief. And confusion and hurt. And a myriad of other emotions. The longing to see her and my dad one more time. For a day or even an hour. Find out why she'd kept the truth from me. I wanted it to be for the best reasons but even then…it wasn't something she should have kept from me, and I was still struggling to understand why she'd done it.

And I really should've let go of Beck's mum, but she rubbed a comforting hand up and down my back. It had been too long since those hugs from my mum. Blinking my eyes clear, I pulled back and tried to give her a smile but my lips were trembling. “It's nice to meet you too.”

Then it was his dad's turn. Enveloped by his strong arms and the smell of his cologne. I sniffed and it reminded me of the Old Spice set I'd bought my dad one year for Christmas. He'd worn it every day after opening it. The first real Christmas present I bought him. Saved up for ages so I could buy both of them presents that year with my own money. He squeezed his arms around me before releasing me. And then Beck slipped his arm around my waist, smiling at me. 

“And she made the cake for you,” he said, waving towards the tables. His mum peered around me to see and her hands covered her mouth as she gasped. 

“You made that, Kimberly?”

I nodded, feeling ridiculously proud of myself.

“It's amazing…so beautiful. Your parents must be so proud of you.”

Her eyes were watery, and at the mention of my parents, mine were too. I knew they'd be proud of me—of what I had started with the cake business since their death.

Placing a hand on Beck's forearm, she smiled up at him. “We're so proud of Kyle. The things he must do and see—” 

“Mum.”

Beck cut her off before she could carry on. She was so sweet. I couldn't imagine the accounts and paperwork he saw every day were that exciting if they were anything like what I dealt with on a daily basis. But it was great she was so proud of him. And embarrassing Beck if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“Shouldn't you go mingle with the other guests?”

Patting his arm, she laughed. “I can take a hint. I'll leave you two alone.”

When they were out of earshot Beck said, “Sorry about them. They're huggers.” 

I waved away his words. “It's okay. They're really sweet and clearly love you. I can't believe they've been married thirty-eight years.”

“Yeah, I'm surprised they haven't killed each other yet. But there's still time.” He chuckled. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Sure.”

Threading our fingers together, he led me through the crowd of well-wishers. And I couldn't help but think how lucky he was to be surrounded by such a loving family.

Chapter Eighteen

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and drinks and way too much food. Beck introduced me to more of his family members. So many, there was little chance of me remembering all of their names. 

As the evening started to wind down, his mum and dad cut the cake to a red-carpet worthy flash of cameras. I found it hard to swallow as my throat constricted when they offered me the first slice. But then laughed as Beck decided to share it with me and took a huge bite of the slice, smearing icing across his top lip.

It was a bittersweet evening. Beck's family had welcomed me with open arms, which was lovely. Yet it only served to remind me how much I missed my own family. How I would never see my parents celebrate their thirty-eighth wedding anniversary, never throw them a surprise party. And my brother was halfway around the world, and I had no idea if he was ever coming back to England. He'd only planned to go for a month, to get away for a while. But a month had turned into three, and he'd fallen in love with the place. And the last time we Skyped, he'd said he was trying to get a work visa. He was the one person who understood how I felt after our parents…I missed his hugs. Missed talking to him; Skype just wasn't the same. Surrounded by so many people, I was surprised at just how lonely I felt.

Beck's arm slipped around my waist as his lips grazed my ear.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

I nodded as his nose brushed against my temple before he pressed a kiss against my forehead. Our fingers linked together as he led me across the room to say goodbye to his parents. They hugged both of us and thanked me again for the wonderful cake.

“And I hope we get to see you again before we leave,” his mum said as she eyed Beck pointedly. Beck smiled and kissed his mum's cheek in answer. “It's good to see you happy again, Kyle. It's been too long. I was worried you'd never find someone.”

She said the words quietly but as close as I was I couldn't help overhearing. Averting my eyes, I wondered what she meant. When was the last time he'd been happy? And what did she mean by find someone? Did she think we were together? Had Beck told her that? She stepped back from us both, but wrapped her fingers around my arm and gently squeezed it. 

“Thank you.” 

I wasn't sure if she was thanking me for the cake again or not, but then Beck tangled our fingers together, tugging me towards the door.

The drive home was quiet. Most of it I spent staring out the window. The city lights blurring together until they gave way to the darkness of the night on the quiet country roads.

Beck parked up outside my house and climbed out of the car. Made his way around the bonnet with purposeful strides until he reached my door and opened it for me. A smile crept across my face. Such a gentleman.

As he walked me to the front door, I fished through my handbag for the keys. His hands spanned my waist as I fitted the key into the lock. Chest pressed firmly against my back, the heat of his lips against my neck made goosebumps rise along my arms. Resting my head back against his shoulder, I didn't want the night to end.

My contract had been shortened and I only had the following week left of it. And who was I even kidding at this point? He might be my boss, but he was so much more than that to me right then. I didn't see him inviting any of his other colleagues to the party. Then again, I was the only one who had made the cake. 

Nobody at the office needed to know. It was only a week. As he turned me in his arms—lips seeking out mine—the fact that he was my boss didn't appear to bother Beck. 

I dragged my lips far enough from his so I could draw in a breath. Lips brushing his I whispered, “Do you want to come in?” 

His hands slid up to the small of my back and pressed my body flush against his. Firm chest hard against my breasts. Hard length pressed against my stomach revealing his answer without the need for words.

“Definitely,” he said as he rocked his hips against me. But then he stepped back taking the heat of his body with him. I moved to follow him, but his hands on my waist stopped me. With a laugh he said, “Let us in, Kimberly, before we give the neighbours even more of a show.”

God, no doubt Jean had been curtain twitching and I bet she'd give me the third degree the next time I saw her. I'd give her until Sunday morning at the latest before curiosity got the better of her.

Beck pressed his hands against me, urging me to turn around. I let us inside. Beck kicked the door shut behind him, took the keys from my hand, and locked it. Then his lips were back on mine, tongue parting them and slipping inside. Hands on my hips, he pushed me backwards towards the living room until the back of my legs hit the sofa. Broke the kiss as he bent down to wrap his fingers around my thighs and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he turned and lowered us both until I was straddling his lap. His lips found mine again as I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him in place.

I could feel the hardness of his cock even through our clothes as it pressed between my thighs. A muffled moan escaped him, and I ground down against him. Needing to feel him. Needing…more.

Fingers tugged at the hem of my shirt before they slipped inside. My stomach muscles clenched as he trailed his fingers across them and then upwards until they cupped my breasts. I dragged my hands down to his shoulders and around to his chest needing to feel skin on skin.

I slipped his jacket from his shoulders and then started on the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, one by one. Revealing the smooth skin across his collarbone. The smattering of dark hairs just below. Another button revealed his firm pecs, nipples already hard as my fingers brushed over them. Another button. Then another that revealed the outline of his abs.

Pulling my lips from his I took a deep breath. Trailed a finger over the ridges and bumps, my mouth watering as I imagined licking across that same path. I didn't need to imagine it—nothing was stopping me from doing just that. I shuffled back along his thighs to put some room between us as I slipped his shirt off and ran my hands across his chest. Then dropped to my knees on the floor between his legs.

My fingers went to the button of his trousers as I leaned in close enough to flick my tongue across the faint line of his abs. Button unfastened, I grasped the zipper whilst my other hand rubbed across the bulge his thin trousers did nothing to hide.

Beck let out a groan and I glanced up at him as his head dropped back against the cushion. His hips lifted as I lowered the zip parting the material and brushing my hand over the black cotton that was the only barrier between us.

Hooking a finger under the waistband, I dragged them down until his cock sprang free. Last time—in the hotel room—I hadn't had the time to savour him, but this time was different. There was no rush. No impending flight in a few hours.

Beck groaned. “You're killing me here, babe.”

Our gazes met and I smiled up at him before licking the length of his cock. Swirled my tongue around the tip, eliciting another groan from him before I wrapped my lips around him. Sucked him down to the root before pulling back up and swirling my tongue around the tip again. Tasted the first drop of pre-come as his cock swelled beneath my fingers. Swallowed him down again a few more times before Beck leaned forward to hook his hands under my arms and lift me off him.

“Too close,” he said as he urged me to my feet. His hands made quick work of removing my trousers and underwear, dropping them in a pile on the floor. Turning me around, he pulled me onto his lap until my back was flush against his chest.

Then it was my turn to be teased as he unfastened each button on my shirt with maddening slowness. Slipping the shirt off my shoulders, he took my bra straps with it. Unhooked the clasp and threw the bra on the floor.

I was naked on his lap and felt a little vulnerable. Until his lips caressed along my neck, one hand snaking around to tweak my nipple, the other parting my legs until they were resting on the outside of his.

Pinched my hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger, my back arching as his other hand dipped between my legs and a finger slipped inside me. Slid his finger slowly in and out then rubbed his thumb across my clit.

God, it was sensory overload and with my legs open so wide, a little dirty too, which I was surprised at how much I liked. Biting down gently on the sensitive skin between my shoulder and neck, he slid his hand across to my other nipple, twisting it between his thumb and index finger. His other hand was still stroking between my legs and as the room filled with my loud panting, I didn't think I could take much more.

“Beck…stop. You're gonna make me…”

Lifting me off him, he sat me on the cushion and stood. Removed his wallet from his back pocket and slid out a condom before toeing off his shoes and dropping his trousers and boxers to the floor. Then he straddled my thighs and dropped the condom beside us. Hands wrapped around my jaw, tilting my head back against the cushion before he slipped his tongue between my parted lips. Our tongues twisted and his hands slipped up into my hair cradling the back of my head.

Impatient, I grabbed the condom. Ripped it open and rolled it down his length. Running my hands up the soft skin of his back, I tilted my hips.

Beck rested his forearms either side of my head on the back of the cushion and lifted up until the head of his cock nudged at my opening. His fingers tightened around the back of my head as he thrust inside me, and a groan tore from me at the full feeling. He pulled back slowly until only the tip of him was inside of me, and I moved so I could wrap my legs around him. Squeezed until he thrust back inside.

The sound of our flesh meeting was loud in the quiet of the room. The only other sound, the squeak of the sofa with his every thrust. His lips captured mine again. Tongue thrusting in sync with his hips. I ran my hands down his back until I could grab his arse and squeeze his firm cheeks. 

Dragging my mouth from his, I drew in a ragged breath. “Shit. Ohh…I'm gonna…” My back arched, muscles tensing as I clenched around him. Eyes squeezed shut so tight, spots of white flashed behind my closed lids.

His thrusts became erratic. Then he threw his head back, spine stiffening as he groaned through his release. Burrowed his head between my neck and shoulder as his breaths panted across my skin and I wrapped my arms around him. That was as much energy as I could muster to move and we sat wrapped around each other until our breathing slowed.

Beck was the first to move. He disposed of the condom then lay across the sofa dragging me down with him. Cocooned in his arms, head resting against his chest, I dragged the blanket off the back of the sofa and over us.

We should have probably got up, but the soft beating of his heart beneath my ear was lulling me to sleep. Didn't want to move. Didn't want this moment to end.

***

I woke to strong arms around me, lifting me. It took me a moment to realise I was still in the living room and Beck was lifting me off the sofa. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” he replied with a crooked smile. 

“I can walk.” But he didn't reply. Just headed for the stairs. 

Laying me down on the bed, I had the feeling he was going to disappear on me. As he straightened, I grabbed hold of his wrist, tugging him back towards me. “Stay?”

A lazy smile made his dimples appear, and I couldn't quite believe that this gorgeous man was there in my bedroom. And I was asking him to spend the night. Although it wouldn't be the first night we spent together. This time was different, though. That night in the hotel was out of necessity. If he stayed, then it would be through choice. And I really wanted him to choose to stay.

He slipped beneath the covers and pulled them over both of us. Rolling onto my side to face him, I slid my arm around his waist. His arm slipped beneath my neck, and he drew me closer until I was lying half across him my head on his chest. 

Closing my eyes, I kissed the light covering of hair on his chest and drifted back off to sleep.

Chapter Nineteen

The following morning, I stretched as I woke. Muscles ached in places that hadn't for a long time, and I smiled as memories of the previous night played through my head. The smile disappeared as my hand slid across the empty cold sheets next to me. Glanced around the bedroom to find it empty, door closed. 

Lifting myself up onto my elbow, I checked the bedside table. Empty. No note that time. Nothing. Had he left without a word? Again?

Disappointment flooded me as I flopped back against the pillows. The night before…I'd thought it had been different. That maybe it was the start of something between us. Something more. The sting of tears had me closing my eyes. But they flew open again at the sound of the bedroom door opening. 

And there he was. My mouth watered at the sight. Bare chest. Black boxers stretched tight across his hips and doing a poor job of hiding what was beneath them. Long powerful legs striding towards me.

“Morning.” Bending over, he placed a cup on the table beside me before he leaned over to kiss me. Then he made his way around the bed to climb back under the covers. Reaching for the cup to hide my smile, I took a sip of the coffee. Then his arms were around me and coffee was the last thing on my mind as I put the cup down. The subtle scent of ginger combined with what I recognised as pure Beck replaced the aroma of coffee.

I turned in his arms, relaxing back against his chest. Could easily get used to waking up like that every morning, I thought as a soft sigh escaped me. 

We lay in a contented silence, wrapped up in each other. Until Beck shifted and eased me over onto my back. Rolled until he was on top of me, covering me with his whole body. Elbows by my shoulders, his hands cradled my head as he gazed down at me. Lowered his head until our lips met.

There was no rush to his movements. A lazy kiss that was no less intense for the slow pace. Dragging his lips from mine, he kissed his way down my neck and across to my collarbone. Sucked lightly on the skin before burying his head between my breasts. Licked a path between them then sucked one nipple between his lips before kissing his way across to the other.

I pushed my head back into the pillow at the torturously slow pace he set. Slipped my arms beneath his to run my hands down the length of his back. But then he moved. Slid his way down the bed, leaving kisses along my skin as he journeyed south. Scraped his teeth along my hip bone until his breath fanned across my clit. 

Then he looked up at me. We shared a smile, which seemed to be the permission he was seeking as he lowered his head. My hips thrust upwards when his tongue touched my clit. He swirled his tongue around me before sucking on the sensitive flesh, making my hips buck again. 

The tip of his finger circled my entrance before slipping inside me. Oh yeah, could definitely get used to waking up this way.

I was so close already and I twisted my fingers into his hair. Tugged gently to get him to stop.

He crawled back up my body, and I reached over to the bedside drawer to grab a condom. Once he was suited up, he covered me with his body again. With a lazy thrust of his hips, he filled me with his hard length.

“Oh, God. Faster.”

Beck laughed at my frustration but didn't speed up his thrusts. And I was fine with that, really. I didn't know if it was because it was early morning or not but this felt like more than the previous night. More like making love. No hurry to reach the end—just enjoying being wrapped up in each other.

Lifting my legs so I could wind them around Beck's thighs to bring us even closer together—it was like our own personal bubble. Just the two of us where no one and nothing else mattered.

His hips met mine with an increased speed until his movements became erratic.

“I'm so close, baby. Come with me.”

His lips caressed my ear as he whispered the words and sent a shiver through me. Head thrown back, neck muscles flexing, I got lost in the beautiful sight that was Beck as his orgasm rolled through him. The sight sent me over the edge, knowing that I could bring that look of pure pleasure to his face.

Fingertips digging into his back, I came around him as he gentled his thrusts before collapsing on top of me. He made to move but I pulled him closer. Wanting to stay connected for a moment longer. I brushed the short strands of damp hair back from his forehead then pulled his head down. As he rested his head on my shoulder, I wanted the moment to last forever. Beck's weight anchoring me to the bed. The sated, bone-melting bliss left me with no desire to move.

Of course, it had to as Beck headed for the bathroom to clean up. But then he climbed under the covers again and pulled me close. Dropped a kiss on the top of my head. We lay in a contented silence as I almost drifted off to sleep again. Beck's fingers toyed with a strand of my hair and he shifted beneath me restlessly.

“So…your contract's almost up, isn't it?”

Seriously, he wanted to talk about work? I nodded, my cheek brushing against the soft hairs on his chest. He let out a sigh that sounded full of…regret?

“I've made a mess of everything. It shouldn't have happened. Not like this.”

He regretted our night together? Our morning together? I tried to pull away from him to look into his eyes, but he tightened his hold on me. I was pretty sure I was already halfway in love with him, and he thought us sleeping together was a mistake? “We shouldn't have slept together? Is that what you're saying?”

“No. Yes. Fuck.” 

His fingers threaded through my hair holding my head against his chest.

“I'm your…boss. I should have waited, is what I'm trying to say. Badly, so it would seem.”

I propped myself up on my elbow so I could see his face. He looked so serious that he made me worried.

“My job…” His eyes shifted towards the ceiling as he blew out a breath. “There's a lot of travel involved. Time I have to spend away from home.” 

Those words made my brow furrow because I'd seen him at the office most days in my short time there. Our gazes met and he must have seen my confusion.

“I mean there will be soon. And that's just another reason why I should have waited. If anything happens…”

I didn't understand why that was a reason to wait. Seemed like all the more reason not to wait. But there'd been a point when I'd thought I'd never see him again. I had him back in my life, and if he wanted to wait then I could do that. “I don't understand, but I'll wait as long as you want. For as long as you need.” His fingers trailed up and down my back.

“I wish I could explain better. It's not that I want to wait, I just think it will be better for us, for you. Once you're not at the office it will be easier. And I only need a little time to…sort some things out. I know our situation is complicated, but I'm trying to make it simple. I just need a little time.”

My hand stilled over his chest where I'd been tracing lazy patterns through his hair. Eased myself up so I could see his face and the serious look was still in place. Eyes drawn tight. Was he worried I wouldn't wait for him? I didn't think our situation was that complicated. Yes, he would be my boss for a little while longer, but then it wouldn't be an issue. 

Sliding my hand up his neck, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I wrapped my fingers around his stubbled jaw and brushed my lips across his. Then sealed them over his again before he could utter another word.

Chapter Twenty

It was my last week at the office, and I hadn't seen Beck around. In fact, I hadn't seen him or heard from him since the weekend. Not that we'd made arrangements, but still. Sneaking a glance from behind my desk towards his closed office door I wondered if he was even in there. Friday was my last day. Only a day and a half left working there. It made me a little sad. I'd enjoyed my time in the office. Despite the boring work, I would miss seeing Jaz every day. Miss the guaranteed cash in my bank too.

But I couldn't help wondering if Beck had done a disappearing act on me again because of what had happened over the weekend. It was becoming a habit of his. Running out on me after we had sex. Okay, he hadn't really the last time, but I hadn't seen him since and I was worried. Mainly because I shouldn't be missing him this much after only seeing him five days ago. Should I?

And when he said he needed some time to sort things out, had he meant time away from me in order to do that? I should have asked, but at the time I just wanted him to know I would wait for him to do whatever he needed to do.

“Kimberly, can I have a moment with you? In my office.”

I jumped at the sound of Tony's voice from behind me. Shit, had I been caught doing nothing? Did it actually matter if I only had one day left? 

I traipsed along behind him to his office and then took a seat whilst he closed the door behind us. He strolled behind his desk, chair creaking as he lowered himself into it. Threading his fingers together, he rested his chin on them, his watery blue eyes staring into mine until I became uncomfortable and had to look away.

“Did you need me for something in particular?” Lifting his chin, he gave me a smile that set my teeth on edge. It was kind of predatory, and I repressed a shudder.

“Have you enjoyed your time here?”

Apart from when he came to dump more spreadsheets on my desk, we hadn't spoken much. I was scheduled to have an exit interview with HR on Friday, so I was a little surprised by his question. “Um, yes. Thank you. I've made some good friends here.” At my final words, his eyes narrowed.

“Friends?”

Crossing my legs, I clasped my hands around my knee. Beck's words of warning about professional distances sounded in my head from my first day in the office. “Yes. Jaz and I have become quite good friends.” 

“Only Jaz?” My brain decided that was a good moment to play a montage of images from the weekend. Beck peeling off his shirt. My hands running across the muscles and soft hair covering his chest. Our naked limbs tangled together as we lay on the bed. I shifted on the seat at the memories.

Was Beck a friend? Yes. But I'd definitely class him as something else. Something more. But I wasn't about to share that with my supervisor. “Pretty much, yeah. The rest of the people in the office are friendly, but I don't get on with them like I do with Jaz.” There. Not entirely a lie. He slowly nodded his head as if he was giving that great thought. 

“So…if I said there might be an opportunity to extend your contract here would that be of interest to you?”

Oh, wow. I hadn't been expecting that. I'd only slept with Beck again because I didn't think he was going to be my boss for much longer. And Beck had already said he wanted to wait until I was no longer working at the office. Would Tony care if he knew the truth about Beck and me? Would he still be offering me an extension?

I didn't want to be Beck's dirty office secret, though. But I liked working there. And I could definitely use the money. Then again, I wasn't sure what he was offering yet. “Erm…that would be of interest.”

Tony stood and paced in front of the window. He stopped and faced me. “I like you, Kimberly. You work hard and I think I can trust you. I can trust you, can't I?”

My gaze strayed to the raindrop-blurred window behind him. I was getting a weird vibe from him and honestly, was a little freaked out by his words. I nodded, not knowing what to say. Clearly that was the right answer as he sat back down and smiled at me.

“You'd be working on a new account, one I'm handling personally—trying to get them to sign with our firm. I'd need to be able to trust you to keep the work confidential. No sharing what you're working on with Jaz. Or anyone else in the office.”

My brows furrowed because that sounded a bit suspicious. And how was I not supposed to let Jaz see or know what I was working on? My desk was opposite his. “But what if Jaz sees what I'm working on? Am I supposed to lie to him?”

Tony let out a laugh that reminded me of Dr. Evil in Austin Powers—just without the finger against his lips.

“No. You won't be working on the account full-time. If he asks—or anyone else does—you can tell them about the other work you'll be doing at the same time.”

I nodded at his words. It was odd, and I wasn't entirely sure I was comfortable with the setup he was suggesting. I'd worked in offices before where different teams had to work on separate accounts. 

I'd watched The Good Wife, though. Where the law firm had teams working separately erecting Chinese walls to stop information being shared. Maybe this was similar.

It wasn't something I'd ever had to do. And it didn't seem right that Tony wanted to keep it confidential from everyone else. Why wouldn't he want others in the office to know about it? Was that normal?

But the extension of my contract meant guaranteed money in my hand. Money I could use to maybe pay someone to do a professional website for my cake business. Advertising. A little cushion of money in the bank so I could stop playing at having my own business and actually take the leap. Own it. Do it for real. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth at the thought of baking full-time for a living. Getting paid to do something I loved. I wanted that so much. 

Beck was hardly in the office these days, so it wouldn't be difficult to keep it on the down low. I felt bad keeping it a secret from Jaz, though. And staying on would mean keeping another secret from Jaz. And Beck.

Would it really matter if I told Jaz about Beck? He wouldn't judge me. I trusted him to keep it quiet. And technically, I was employed by the agency, not C and G. It was only for a couple of weeks more. A few more boring weeks in the office I could handle. 

“Can I count on you, Kimberly?”

Could he? Turning to look back towards the window, I tracked a raindrop as it made its way down the pane. Remembered the account documentation that hadn't seemed right. His explanation, which hadn't entirely convinced me. But if there was anything strange about the account I would be working on, I could always report it to Beck. Surely Tony didn't mean I had to keep it confidential from him. Beck was Tony's boss, so he must know about the new client.

“So, what do you say?” Tony's question brought me back to his office. As I stared at him, I wondered again what Beck would think. But I thought he'd be okay with it. He'd been nothing but supportive about me setting up my business, so he'd understand why I wanted to stay working here a bit longer.

“Yes. You can count on me.”

Tony rubbed his hands together, reminding me of a shady salesman. Shaking that feeling off, I gave him a smile instead. 

“Excellent. I'll get HR to draw up another contract for you. Report to me first thing on Monday, and I'll explain exactly what I need you to do.” He stood, so I did too.

“Thank you.”

He nodded at me, and I left his office a little dazed at the turn of events. As I made my way back to my desk, I saw Beck through his open door. When he saw me he headed in my direction.

“Kimberly, I was looking for you.”

At the sight of Beck, the tension I had been feeling since the weekend eased. 

A white shirt emphasised his tanned skin. A dark moss-green tie lightened his brown eyes and highlighted the gold flecks. His dimples gradually appeared as a smile crept over his face and I realised I was ogling him in the middle of the workplace. Okay, maybe keeping how I felt a secret for two more weeks would be harder than I thought.

“Can I speak to you in my office?”

I swallowed and nodded, not trusting what would come out of my mouth at that moment. Following him, my gaze dropped to the grey trousers that hugged his arse perfectly. Jesus, get a grip. You're at work.

Beck closed the door behind us. And before I had a chance to step towards his desk, he pushed me against the door, trapping me against it with his hard chest. He stared down into my eyes and my body flushed with the intensity of that look. Hands on either side of my shoulders, caging me in, his head lowered until his lips met mine. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to let his tongue inside. One of his hands trailed down my arm, across my hip, and then round to grab hold of my arse. 

Shit, we couldn't do this in his office. I pressed both of my hands against his chest until he reluctantly released my mouth. Tugging down the hem of my shirt, I straightened it back into place. “Not in the office.”

Beck let out a huff of a laugh. “It's your last day tomorrow. What's anyone going to say if they see us?” 

I stepped away from the door putting some space between Beck and me. “About that.” He shoved his hands into his pockets tilting his head towards me. “Tony has asked me to stay on for a little longer.”

Beck straightened, his shoulders tensing. How much was I supposed to tell him? Surely he knew about the new account Tony was trying to land?

“How much longer?”

I shrugged. “A couple of weeks or so?”

Beck ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

Okay. Not quite the reaction I was expecting. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course—” he dropped his hand from his hair and took a step back from me. “Of course it's not. It's just…I was looking forward to you not working here.”

“Err…thanks.”

“Sorry. That came out wrong. It's just I don't want…” He wouldn't meet my gaze before his lifted towards the ceiling. “I don't want you to be the source of office gossip. It's just easier if you aren't working here.”

Me being the source of office gossip didn't seem to bother him when he'd had me pressed against the door. My eyebrows drew together as I got the impression he was lying to me. 

“Did Tony say what you would be working on?”

“Not really. Just that I'd be working on some accounts as well.” 

Beck strode across his office to his desk. “Okay.” He grabbed his mobile off the desk and his jacket off the back of his chair. “Okay. I have to go…I need to call…someone.”

He strode out of his office, leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened and staring after him at the empty doorway. Like a fool, I stood there for who knew how long. 

His confession from the weekend of wanting us to be together taunted me. Those words didn't feel very true at that moment. Hurt followed the embarrassment that those words might not have been true. But why would he lie?

Maybe the office hadn't been the best time or place to bring it up. I'd caught him off guard and would speak to him that evening. After all, this was Beck. I trusted him. Didn't I? Yes. It was difficult to trust, but I had no real reason not to. 

You trusted your mum and look what she kept from you. God, I hated that little voice in the back of my mind. Shut up. I do trust him.

The sounds of the office slowly filtered through Beck's open door, interrupting my internal argument. Giving myself a mental shake, I made my way back to my desk. Tried to put thoughts of Beck, and the look on his face as I broke the news, to one side. 

It was hard, though. Every so often, I'd catch myself drifting off. Staring into space and wondering who he'd had to call. Why he thought it would be easier if I didn't work there. We didn't have to work together, and I rarely saw him for more than a fleeting glance. It was only a couple of weeks longer. Then I'd glance around the office looking for him. But his door remained open for the rest of the day, and I didn't see him return.

As I sat staring at his open doorway for the millionth time, the sound of Jaz's laughter caught my attention. “What's so funny?” He was watching me as I swivelled my chair around to face him.

“You are.”

Clearly I wasn't in on the joke, and I frowned at him. “Why?”

“You're like a million miles away this afternoon. What's going on?”

What could I say? I'd love to confide in Jaz about Beck but…well, I wasn't even sure where we stood after he'd stormed off. And while I thought Jaz would keep it to himself if I did, the idea of anyone overhearing us or anyone else in the office knowing made me cringe. 

What did Jean always say? A secret is something you tell only one other person or something like that. If that was true, it would be around the office in no time.

Instead, I gave him a half-hearted shrug. “Tony offered me an extension to my contract.”

Jaz smiled, flashing his white teeth at me. “That's great news. We should celebrate.” His smile dropped as he stared at me. “It is good news, isn't it?”

Yes, it was. I needed to get a grip. “It is.”

“So, what's with all the staring into space then?”

Oh, you know, Beck doesn't want me here, stormed out of his office when I told him the good news. Nothing important. Obviously, I couldn't say that. “Just thinking about the future. You know, what to do about the cake business. That's all.”

“You're still going to do it, aren't you? Because I may have mentioned it to a few people.” He gave me a sheepish look. “Or to like everyone I know.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. “Yes, I'm still doing it. So, thank you. For mentioning it to everyone you know.”

“So, we should celebrate. Have you got any plans for the evening?”

Earlier in the day I would have said yes, I had plans. But I had no idea where Beck was or if he still planned on coming 'round to mine that evening. “I have now. Where are we going?” Because, screw Beck. After the way he'd acted, I wasn't so sure I wanted to wait around wondering if he'd show up or not.

A night out with Jaz sounded much more fun.

Chapter Twenty-One

Opening my eyes, I rolled over to check my alarm clock and let out a groan. Head throbbing as my stomach lurched. I was going to kill Jaz. Boy, could he knock back the booze. Except I was regretting getting hammered. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Didn't it always? But work with a hangover? Not such a good idea. Dragging myself from beneath the covers, I crawled towards the bathroom. 

A shower, two cups of strong coffee, and two paracetamol later, I felt almost human as I walked into the office. My eyes automatically slid towards Beck's office door. It was shut. I had no idea if he was in there or not.

As I slumped into my seat, Jaz smiled at me, looking far too cheery for the amount he had put away the previous night. 

“Feeling a little rough?”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I stuck my tongue out. He just laughed as I switched my computer on.

By mid-morning, I was almost back to normal thanks to more coffee and a bacon butty, compliments of Jaz. Which was a good job when Tony made his way over to my desk later.

“Kimberly, can you come to my office after lunch? I have something else I need you to work on. We can go through it together.”

“Of course.” He nodded at Jaz and headed for the stairs. Jaz watched Tony leave then turned to me.

“Do you want to get some lunch together at the coffee shop?”

“Definitely. I think I could eat a horse today and still be hungry.” Guess that's what happened when you drank too much and then had to work. Jaz laughed. 

“Okay, but I don't think you'll get one at the coffee shop.”

I gave him a shove as I followed him out of the office. 

It was quiet when we entered the coffee shop, but Laney appeared from the back at the sound of the bell over the door as I closed it behind me. She ran a hand over her brown curls when she saw us but only managed to make them stick out more.

“Hey, Laney.”

“Hi.”

I glanced Jaz's way when he didn't say anything, but he already had his head buried in the sandwich selection. Guess I wasn't the only one who was hungry. 

As we made our way back over towards Laney to pay for our lunch, I noticed a hint of pink along her cheekbones as Jaz handed over his money, his fingertips brushing across her palm. Her question about Jaz the last time I'd been in came back to mind, and I tilted my head, looking between them. Mmm…interesting. Maybe it was more than just the food that brought Jaz there for lunch. 

He wandered off to get us a table by the window as I dug out my purse from the depths of my handbag. When I looked back up, Laney had set out a plate of what I assumed were supposed to be beignets but just smelled greasy. She caught me eyeing the plate.

“Do you want to try one? They're sort of like doughnuts but have chocolate in the middle. I'm trying out some new lines, hoping they'll be more popular than some of the older ones that customers seem to be bored of.”

I really didn't want to, but the look on Laney's face had me reaching for a piece anyway. Grease dripped out of it as I picked one up, when I bit into it, expecting melted chocolate, the pastry was crusty, and there was a lump of hard chocolate in the middle. I grimaced. 

“That good, huh?”

The distraught look on her face had me feeling bad. “No. It's just…they're a little greasy. And the chocolate should ooze out of the middle like the jam would in a doughnut. Have you tried them?” 

She shook her head. “I don't eat desserts. A new supplier offered them to me to try and get me to start ordering from them.”

I wrinkled my nose up at that. “Well, if I were you, I wouldn't be buying from them.” She picked up the plate, turned around and dumped them in the rubbish bin. 

Maybe I could make it up to her by making a batch of them for her. I'd only made them once before after I'd been on holiday to France with my parents. We'd taken the ferry across and driven through northern France for a couple of weeks, staying in gîtes along the way. The beignets I'd made hadn't been as good as the French ones, but they were definitely better than those she'd just binned. 

“I'm sorry.” 

She waved my apology away. “Better to find out from you than another customer.”

After paying Laney, I joined Jaz at the table.

“You were a long time.”

I unwrapped my lunch trying not to smile. “We were talking about baking.”

“Oh.”

At that, I glanced up to see what I thought was disappointment on his face, but the look disappeared before I could be sure. But I couldn't resist. “Why? Did you think we were talking about you?” He sputtered around the bite of his sandwich. And I wasn't sure, but I thought he might be blushing as his cheeks darkened. It didn't seem very Jaz-like, though.

“No. Why would I think that?”

But I didn't miss the way his eyes darted towards Laney. “I don't know. Maybe you come here for more than just the food?” But Jaz shook his head.

“You know I love the food here.”

As I leaned over to take a bite of my own sandwich, his gaze darted over towards the counter again. I put my lunch down, not even trying to hide my smile that time. “Or maybe it's those looks you keep directing at Laney.” Jaz's food suddenly became fascinating as he turned all his attention to it.

“I don't know what you mean,” he mumbled.

Letting out a laugh, I picked up my sandwich again. I was pretty sure he did know what I meant. 

But if he liked Laney, why hadn't he said something to her? Jaz didn't seem the shy type when it came to going after something he wanted.

Back in the office, I carried the stack of papers back to my desk that Tony had given me and got to work. I'd still seen nothing of Beck and tried to push thoughts of him away. Clearly it wasn't working, and I must've still been hung-over because the paperwork Tony had given me made no sense.

The new account Tony had landed had already paid us, yet I couldn't work out what they'd paid us for. And it was way over the amount I'd seen on other accounts paid on a monthly basis. Putting it down to the hangover, I made a note to double-check the account on Monday. I must be missing something but it was already a quarter to five and I was more than ready to go home. Veg out on the sofa for the night. Eat junk food and binge watch re-runs of The Good Wife.

With a quick glance around the office, I pulled my mobile out of my bag. Checking it for the hundredth time that day. Still nothing. No texts. No messages. Not a word from Beck. I slipped it back into my handbag and tidied my desk up. Shuffled papers around to kill time until I could leave. As soon as the clock hit five o'clock, I was out of there.

Finally home, I collapsed onto the sofa with a groan and covered my eyes with my hand. It had been the longest day on record. Penny rubbed herself against my other hand before settling down next to me and purring loudly.

“At least you're glad to see me.”

My mobile bleeped with a message vibrating loudly against the coffee table. I grabbed it and earned myself a glare from Penny as I jostled her.

Have to work the weekend. Sorry. Speak soon. 

My eyes watered at the brief, unemotional text and I threw the phone onto the other end of the sofa. It might be true, but I suspected Beck was avoiding me. I just didn't know why. And right then, I couldn't muster up the energy to figure it out.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The weekend dragged by without another word from Beck despite having texted him. So I buried myself in the project of overhauling my website and made a head start on two cake orders I had lined up. And then I made a gingerbread loaf. Remembered how it was the first thing my grandma taught me to make, and it always brought back happy memories. Plus, it tasted delicious, even if I did say so myself.

But when Monday morning rolled around, my stomach rolled right along with it. Would Beck be at work? Even if he was, I couldn't say anything at the office. And left alone all weekend, I'd gone from confusion to hurt and ended up at flat-out pissed off.

If he had a problem, why didn't he come out with it, instead of avoiding me? Surely this couldn't be about my contract having been extended. There had to be more than that to it, didn't there?

As I walked into the office, I wouldn't have time to answer that because Tony was leaning over my desk. “Morning.”

He jumped and straightened up from my desk, looking startled. Maybe I'd overdone the enthusiastic greeting.

“I was just leaving you a note.”

I shrugged off my coat as I stopped behind my chair to hang it over the back of it. “A note?” Tony glanced over at Jaz, but he wasn't paying us any attention. 

“Yes. There was a…mix-up on the account you were working on last week.”

Rolling my chair out from beneath my desk so I could sit down I said, “Oh. Good.” Taking a step back from me his head tilted to the side.

“It's good there was a mix-up?”

Laughing nervously, I shook my head. “No. I meant…something didn't seem right when I was working on it on Friday. I meant good because I'd spotted it and intended to speak to you about it.” He looked over to Jaz as he rubbed his hands together.

“Well, I've saved you the trouble.” He tapped a finger against my desk. “My note explains it all, so I'll leave you to get on with it.”

Striding off towards his office, I watched him leave before dropping into my chair. Jaz poked his head around the side of his monitor then.

“Did you have a good weekend?”

I shrugged, not wanting to admit to Jaz that it had been pretty craptastic. “It was all right. I made some gingerbread loaf for you. What about you?” I grabbed the Tupperware box from my handbag and handed it over to him. He opened the lid and took a deep breath.

“Mmm, that smells delicious. Coffees are on me this morning to go with this. My weekend…”

He grinned and I held a palm up towards him. “That grin tells me everything I need to know. I don't need the details.” Laughing, he disappeared back behind his screen.

Waiting for my computer to log on, I read Tony's note. Then read it a second time because it didn't make any sense. The monitor flickered to life and I pulled up the account details. But there it was on the screen. Apparently one of the teams had spent ten hours working on the account. The money they'd paid the previous week had been returned and a new lower payment made. Except, when had someone had enough time to work on their account between Friday and Monday? Beck? I rolled my eyes. Why would he be doing the lowly work on an account? 

As I moved the cursor to close out of their account, my gaze landed on the bank account numbers. They didn't match. Surely, Tony must have noticed.

Clicking through to the banking page, I tapped my fingers on the desk, waiting for the details to load. And when they did, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the rows of numbers. The original payment came from a UK bank account, even I could tell that. The same one the new payment had been made from. But Tony had paid the original amount back to a different account. Maybe they'd opened new bank accounts? Over the space of the weekend? It would take longer than that with all the checks the bank would run to verify it, wouldn't it? The hairs on the back of my neck lifted as goosebumps rose on my skin. It seemed a little…dodgy.

I did a Google search on the IBAN number. The bank was registered in the Cayman Islands. Resting my head back against the chair, I stared at the ceiling tiles. Why would they have an account in the Cayman Islands? I clicked back on the client record. They were a small family-run antiques business that didn't make that much money. Certainly not big enough to make an offshore bank account necessary. Not for the first time, I had my doubts about Tony. Especially when he'd told me I wasn't supposed to speak to anyone about this account. But if I had doubts—suspicions—I knew I should report them. That much I remembered from watching the video on my first day before it sent me into a boredom-induced coma.

I glanced Jaz's way, but he was hidden behind his computer screen. Plus, you weren't supposed to report your suspicions to a colleague. And did I really want to involve him? My gaze wandered to Beck's office as I considered telling him instead. He was my boss after all. The door to his office was open.

Before I thought too much about it, I was on my feet and heading for his office. This was work-related. That was the only reason I was going to Beck. Nothing to do with the fact that I hadn't seen him for almost three days. If I had seen him I'd still be reporting it.

Through the open doorway I spotted Beck sitting behind his desk, hands behind his head, elbows splayed as he stared at the monitor beside him. He looked tired. Hair ruffled, tie loosened and pulled off centre. And still, my heart gave a little squeeze at the sight of him. Realised how much I'd missed him. How much I'd wanted the weekend to be a replay of the one where he'd stayed over after his parents' party. 

Rapping my knuckles against the door frame to get his attention, he glanced my way and smiled. That was a good sign, right?

“Hey. Come on in.”

I stepped into his office and closed the door behind me. Took a seat opposite him as I tried to work out what to say. Why hadn't he called? Was he pissed off that I was still at the office? That I was mad at him?

But none of that was work-related, so it would have to wait until I saw him again outside the office. If I saw him out of the office again. Beck's gaze wandered over my face. 

“Everything okay?”

I nodded then said, “No.” Beck's lips lifted at the edges at my mixed reply. Swiping my hands down my thighs, I reminded myself I had no reason to be nervous. This was Beck. Personal stuff aside, I knew we needed to discuss this. “I'm sure it is. I mean it's…Tony told me not to speak to anyone about the account I'm working on, but I'm sure he didn't mean you.”

Beck didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow at me. Maybe Tony had meant Beck too. Oh well, too late now. “I thought it was weird that he asked me that, but not unheard of. Anyway, on Friday I was working on their account and something didn't seem right. But when I got into work today, Tony left me a note saying he'd taken care of it. Except the bank accounts don't match, and I don't know when someone could have racked up ten hours' worth of work for them. It's just…something doesn't seem right, and I thought I should bring it up…”

My words trailed off as I ran out of explanation and the way Beck was looking at me so intensely. His jaw was tense and he wouldn't meet my gaze.

“Have you brought this up with Tony?”

“No,” I said as I shook my head. Straightening his keyboard, he glanced at the monitor beside him. Finally, he looked back my way.

“I'm sure it's nothing. This is the first account you've worked on. Perhaps Tony should have explained the process to you better. But I'll take a look at their records with us. Don't worry about it, just do what Tony told you to.”

Beck picked up his pen and jotted something down on the papers on his desk. That was it? He wasn't at all concerned? A quick pat on the head for me and basically saying I didn't know what I was doing?

I waited for him to say something else, but he remained focused on whatever he was writing. My mouth dropped open to say something but then shut again. He'd pretty much dismissed me. What else was there to say?

I pushed myself up out of the chair and stood staring at Beck for a moment, but his head never lifted from over his desk. Turning away from him, I headed for the door. As my hand closed around the handle I hesitated when he cleared his throat.

“Oh, and Kimberly?” 

I glanced over my shoulder at him.

“Best not to mention this little chat to Tony. Okay?”

Swallowing down the words I really wanted to hurl at him, I nodded instead. “Of course.”

Yanking the door open, I wondered if anyone in the office wasn't keeping something from someone else. The childish part of me wanted to slam the door behind me. Instead, I closed it quietly and headed back towards my desk.

Chapter Twenty-Three 

The rest of that day in the office, I kept replaying Beck's words. And got more and more pissed off with him. I'd done what anyone in my position should have done—if you thought something was suspicious, you reported it. 

So, maybe he didn't think it was suspicious behaviour. That didn't mean he had to act that way.

At five o'clock on the dot, I grabbed my coat off the back of my chair, slung my handbag over my shoulder, and shot Jaz a quick wave as I hurried past his desk. The journey home was spent toying with the idea of quitting or not. It was only supposed to have been a one-month contract anyway. I'd be no worse off.

Once home, I curled up on the sofa, laptop on my knee and logged into the agency's website. Maybe I could find another company to work for. That would solve Beck's problem of me being at the office. 

And right then, my problem too. Because seeing Beck again at the office was the last thing I wanted.

Scrolling through the current contract listings, I got distracted when my mobile buzzed, vibrating against the coffee table. Beck's name flashed across the screen, and I hesitated before grabbing the phone.

Hey. Still really busy at work but thought maybe we could do something this weekend? 

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I read the message again. No, “Sorry for disappearing on you.” No, “Sorry I was an arse at the office.” Nothing. I dropped the phone on the cushion next to me and thought about answering him later. Maybe.

Eventually, I did reply. Told him I wasn't sure of my plans for the weekend but I'd let him know. 

I hadn't heard from him since. And it was Friday already. Hadn't seen him in the office either. 

My plans for the weekend currently consisted of nothing. And I kind of regretted sending that text. I should have spoken to him and told him I wasn't happy. Instead, my texts were being ignored and I felt frustrated.

Wishing Jaz a happy weekend, I trudged out of the office. Friday night. Alone. The prospect was depressing. The thought of cooking for one even more so. 

As I crossed the street, there was a wooden sign pointing passers-by down towards the cobbled courtyard and the restaurant Beck had taken me to. They did takeout meals to reheat at home. That would solve one of my problems for the night.

So I headed down the alley that led to the courtyard, and through the open door of the restaurant. Even though it was only early the place was still busy. Joining the queue at the takeout counter I glanced around the few tables that were occupied.

Then did what would have been a comical double take if the blood hadn't rushed from my head so swiftly that a wave of dizziness had me grabbing hold of the nearest thing I could wrap my hands around. Which happened to be the chair of a diner who looked up at me eyebrows raised in question.

“S-sorry.” I managed to mumble out before staggering towards the door. Leaning against the wall I dragged in a deep breath. Then another.

Busy with work. Well, he'd certainly looked busy. With something. With someone. From the smile plastered across his face, it looked like anything but work.

Didn't help that she was gorgeous. Midnight dark hair in a pixie cut that I could never pull off. A piercing at the top of her ear had glinted when it caught the light. Dark eyes emphasised by black eye liner and the jut of her pointy chin gave her a don't-fuck-with-me vibe when she glanced in my direction.

Then her slender fingers had wrapped around his arm where it rested on the table. Their dark heads bent close together, candlelight casting shadows over their faces. It had looked intimate. And who the hell was she?

Once again, I found myself questioning the trust I had placed in Beck. How many times would I wonder the same thing? But the weekend we'd spent together…

You couldn't fake a connection like that, could you? It had been about more than just great sex. Beck had intimated it was. Or maybe it had only been that way for me.

“Kimberly?”

Lifting my head from where it rested against the wall, I stared straight into Beck's chocolate coloured eyes. They were tight, little lines creasing the edges with some emotion. Guilt? Worry? I wasn't sure. 

“Why didn't you come over when you saw me?”

That wasn't what I'd expected him to say, and my mind went blank. I'd expected an excuse, and I dropped my gaze from his. “I…er…didn't want to interrupt.” His hand grazed mine then twisted our fingers together.

“You wouldn't have been. She's a client. It's a business meeting. I would have introduced you if you'd stuck around long enough.”

Flicking my gaze back to his he looked sincere. “Sorry. You seemed busy and I…forgot my wallet at the office.” Oh, a total lie, but I felt stupid. My brain automatically going for the obvious conclusion.

“I'll call you tonight, okay?”

I nodded and he brushed a chaste kiss across my lips before disappearing back into the restaurant. Leaning my head back against the wall, I closed my eyes briefly. With a deep breath, I pushed myself off the wall and headed in the direction of home. 

With too much time and nothing to occupy myself with on the train, thoughts kept swirling through my head. How many times had I doubted Beck? Every time there was an innocent explanation. The more I thought about it the more the conclusion that it was my problem seemed like the answer. At some point, I had to trust him. Because if I didn't? What chance did our relationship stand?

The sprawl of the city blurred past me as I stared blindly out of the train window. When had I lost the ability to trust? With a sigh, the answer came easily enough. If my own mum could keep the truth from me…why wouldn't everyone else?

I leaned my forehead against the cold glass of the window, breath fogging up the patch in front of my mouth. In a weird way—if I took myself out of the equation—I could rationalise the reasons my mum might have done it. To stop me from being hurt. Stop me from knowing that maybe my biological dad didn't want me. There could be a million good reasons she never told me the truth. Including that my dad—Vinnie—had, for all intents and purposes, been my dad even if we didn't share DNA. So why rock the boat?

Even understanding all that, I kept circling back to the same point. Regardless, she should have told me, and it hurt that she hadn't.

“Next stop Marsdon. The train is now approaching Marsdon station.”

The announcement drew me out of my own thoughts, and I grabbed my handbag from between my feet. Made my way to the doors.

From the train station, it was only a short stroll along the canal side to home. The murky brown water hiding its own secrets. Someone had abandoned a shopping trolley, the handle still poking out above the surface.

Wound my way through the gap in the trees, the branches bare and lonely-looking. Down the pot-holed dirt back lane towards the four cottages at the end. My parents' house—mine now—was the last of the row. As I passed Jean's cottage I hoped she wasn't curtain twitching, not in the mood for idle chit chat.

I jumped at a blur of movement along the wall. Then let out a shaky laugh as Penny swished her tail at me as she strutted past me on top of the wall.

Letting myself inside the house, the quiet was overwhelming. I closed the door and slowly climbed the stairs. Standing in front of the closed bedroom door I wrapped my fingers around the handle. I hadn't stepped foot inside my parents' room since I'd got back from Malta. Only once before then, after they'd died, and Leo had been there. 

Twisting the knob, the door opened a few inches and I took a deep breath. Took a step inside and glanced around. My mum's hair products and make-up were still out on the dressing table where she'd left them. Pyjamas still folded neatly on the pillows. It looked like they could come home at any moment. Like they were still alive. My eyes stung at the thought, and I sank down onto the edge of their bed, stroking my hand across the duvet cover.

But they weren't coming home ever again. And maybe it was time I came to terms with that.

Because no matter why they had kept the truth from me, or what answers I tried to find, it wouldn't change reality—they were never coming back.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Leaving my parents' room to change into something more comfortable, I left their door open. I tied my hair back into a bun as I thought about calling my brother. Instead, I decided I'd just keep anything he might want in the garage and he could look through it next time he was back in England. We'd already sorted through Mum's office before the funeral to find the insurance policies and documents needed to inform everyone of their deaths, but neither of us had been ready to go through their personal belongings back then. I still wasn't sure I was ready.

Armed with a roll of bin bags, I wandered back into their room. Most of their belongings could go to the charity shop. Everything else would probably end up in the garage. I started with the chest of drawers as I thought their clothes would be the easiest things to deal with. Faced with the neatly folded garments inside, I was wrong as the faint smell of my mum's perfume still clung to them. A smell that invoked memories of hugs and laughter. Each item I placed in the bag made my eyes sting a little more, and it was so much harder than I'd thought it would be, even after all the time that had passed. Each piece of clothing was like saying goodbye over and over.

When I'd filled two bags, I took a deep breath and turned slowly in a circle. I still had the wardrobe, bedside tables, and my mum's dresser to go. Dresser first. Her good jewellery I put to one side to add to my own later. The other pieces that I didn't want I put aside to see if Jean might want them. A pile of photos from when my brother and I were kids stopped me short. We were playing on the beach. We'd gone to…Wales I think. Mum stood between us; Leo and I knelt proudly before the sand castles we had each built.

Tears pricked behind my eyes as memories of that day hit me. Getting ice cream cones on the beach and dripping them down ourselves. Strolling home sharing a bag of chips. God, I missed them both so much. Missed being able to pop 'round and see my brother.

For the hundredth time, I wondered if we would be better off selling the house so I could start somewhere new. It hadn't made sense to carry on paying rent on my flat in Manchester when my parents' house sat empty and mortgage-free. But I hoped that one day the memories within these walls would make me smile rather than bring me grief and remind me of my loss.

I put the photos with the pile of jewellery and carried on. It felt wrong to be going through their things, but I couldn't leave the room as a shrine to them forever. I needed closure of some sort. My biological father wasn't alive, and my mum couldn't explain why she'd kept the truth from me. It was time to try and put it all in the past because I couldn't change anything that happened. I needed to start living my life again. 

I pulled out a black notebook from the drawer and flicked through the pages. Skim reading a page before I flipped it shut when I realised it was my mum's diary. Reading that would be wrong. Putting it to one side, I twisted around on the stool surveying the disarray the room was in. Maybe I wasn't in the right frame of mind to do this. But then when would I ever be?

Turning to close the drawer my hand froze in mid-air when I saw a letter stuck up, half slipped down the back to the drawer underneath. Carefully I tugged it out.

The handwriting was unfamiliar, but that wasn't what caught my attention. It was the blue airmail sticker and postage stamp that did on the slightly age-yellowed envelope. A sand coloured building with a green doorway. But it was the word in red writing down the side that I couldn't tear my focus from.

One single word. 

Malta.

I dropped the envelope as though it was a hot baking tray scalding my fingers. It could be from anybody, I told myself. But there was only one person I knew who lived in Malta. It had to be from him. Victor. My biological dad.

Tracing a finger across my mum's name, the lines of the address, the letter felt like my own personal Pandora's box. If I read it? Well, I couldn't unread it. Yet knowing it was there…how could I not read it?

It might be about me. It might not. It could be Victor writing to say he wanted nothing to do with me. Holding the envelope in both hands, I stared at it as I debated what I should do. Whatever was inside was quite thick. Too thick for a simple rejection letter? I flipped it over and the flap of the envelope was tucked inside. All I'd have to do was slip the flap out and read it. 

Instead, I dropped the envelope back on the dressing table and paced over to the window. I knew I'd end up reading it. I just wasn't prepared for what it might reveal. But it couldn't be worse than the scenarios I was making up in my head though, surely? Was anything ever as bad as you built it up to be in your head?

Worst-case scenario? My biological dad didn't want me. What was I losing out on? I'd never known him. Would never know him. But I couldn't lose something I'd never had. Yeah, it might hurt, but I could live with that because I'd had Vinnie.

Wandering back over to the desk, I stared at the envelope one last time. Sat back down on the stool and picked it up. Slipped the flap out and pulled out several pieces of folded paper from inside. I opened them out flat on the top of the dresser and started to read the neat handwriting. Read it with disbelief. 

Halfway through the letter, I looked up to stare blankly at the wall in front of me. It was all a mix-up? The person who had written the letter joked about remembering the mix-up at the hospital with the names of the fathers on the birth certificate. How she couldn't believe her daughter—also called Kimberly—was turning twenty-one. How long ago was this letter sent? And I wasn't seeing the funny side of it. They had found the incorrect birth certificate and had wanted to contact my mum again to catch up with her. Somehow the hospital had switched the father's names for me and this other Kimberly? I didn't understand, so I carried on reading the rest of the letter hoping it would shed some light on the situation.

As I did, guilt and shame washed over me for ever doubting my mum. And my dad. My real dad—Vinnie. Victor wasn't my biological dad. He was the father of the other Kimberly the letter mentioned. 

But I was mortified at the thought that I could have turned up on this man's doorstep unannounced, proclaiming to be his daughter. The birth certificate I had found in my mum's office with Victor Hardacre's name on it—that had spurred me to go to Malta in the first place—had the wrong father's name on it. 

There had to be another birth certificate for me somewhere—the correct one stating that Vinnie was indeed my biological dad. I dropped the letter. If my real birth certificate was here, where was it? Not in mum's office. It had to be in here. With my brother's probably. 

I yanked open the rest of the drawers in the dresser, but they were filled with underwear. My gaze landed on the bedside table. It felt like an invasion of my mum's privacy going through it, but I had to find it. Hold the truth in my hands.

Dropping to my knees beside the bed, I pulled open the drawer. Inside I removed a small suede photo album off the top of the items cluttering the drawer. A scrapbook that when I flicked through it saw it contained memories of our family over the years but not what I was looking for. I dug around to the bottom of the drawer. Ticket stubs to shows and places we'd visited. Everything except what I was looking for. 

I rolled over until my arse hit the carpet and pulled my knees up to my chest. Where else would she keep it? The wardrobe doors were still open and there was a pile of shoe boxes in the bottom of it. I crawled my way over to it. Pulled the lid off the top one then threw the box to the floor when there was only a pair of shoes inside. Moved on to the next box, and then the next. I was beginning to think I was wasting my time, or you know, going crazy. 

I ripped the lid off another one with relief as I looked inside. Okay, I wasn't crazy because it was filled with papers. Tipped the contents out onto the carpet and spread them out but not finding what I was after. I picked up a brown A4 sized envelope and tipped the contents out of it. My mum and dad's marriage certificate. My brother's birth certificate. And then finally…my birth certificate. Father—Vinnie Hardwick.

Leaning against the wardrobe, I stared at those two words for a long time. Memories of my dad flitting through my mind. Him teaching me to ride my first bike. Cuddling me the first time I fell off it, then encouraging me to get back on. The look on his face when my first boyfriend showed up at the house. That one made me smile as I remembered Dad taking him off to one side to “have a word.”

Why had I believed so easily that Vinnie might not have been my dad? I thought of all the things I'd done since finding that incorrect birth certificate. Why hadn't I checked before flying halfway across Europe? Why had it never crossed my mind that it could be wrong and Vinnie's name should have been on it all along?

I didn't know the answers to those questions. But as I sat on the floor surrounded by papers and shoes, something a lot like acceptance rolled through me. 

Vinnie was my real dad. 

A warmth spread across my chest at that thought. My mum had never lied to me, never kept the truth from me.

I was Vinnie's daughter and he had loved me. And I'd been lucky enough to be loved unconditionally by both my parents for twenty-six years. They might not be here now, but nobody could take that from me.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The following week at work, I was feeling more like my old self. After speaking to my brother about my findings, my world was back on an even keel. Had even spoken to Beck on Friday night.

When he'd called—just like he said he would—after I'd seen him at the restaurant with that woman. 

But things were back on track with us. He'd apologised and told me again that Kath was just a client. They had met up to discuss the possibility of a new job coming up in the next few weeks so Beck might not be working at C and G much longer. It had never even crossed his mind to tell me about it because it was just work. 

And he wanted us to meet up at the weekend because he was missing me. Those words had a stupid grin across my face when he'd said them because I missed being with him too. And that, along with finding out about the mix-up on my birth certificate, made me realise that I needed to stop doubting the people around me.

Maybe now I would believe I could trust him. Trust myself. I hadn't realised how much thinking Vinnie wasn't my dad had made me doubt myself. Doubt my relationships.

“You're annoyingly happy today. Quit with the humming.”

Jaz's words stopped my humming as I glanced up at him. His usually happy face nowhere in sight and heavy stubble lined his jaw. “Everything okay?”

He nodded but disappeared back behind his screen. I thought he was lying but I didn't push him. I was sure he would tell me when he was ready. At least I hoped he would.

I focused back on the papers in front of me instead. An invoice for my “special” account. They'd racked up a lot of hours' worth of work, which seemed unlikely for such a small firm. Even more bizarrely, they'd paid it and then some. Almost double the amount due. That couldn't be right.

Pulling up the account details on my computer, I wanted to double-check it wasn't an error before I mentioned it to anyone else this time. Leaning back in my chair I rubbed my fingers across the heart on my necklace. Should I mention it to Tony? To Beck? But the last conversation I'd had with Beck about this client ran through my head and I decided against bringing it up. Things were good between us and I didn't want to rock the boat.

Instead, I found the client's phone number and decided to resolve it myself. That was what I was there for, after all. If it was indeed a simple mix-up I was sure I could fix it. I dialled the number and waited as I heard the ring tone. Once. Twice.

“Hello?”

It took me a moment to respond as I waited for them to announce the company name. Or their name. When they said nothing further I finally spoke. “Oh hello. My name is Kimberly and I'm calling on behalf of Cooper Garson Ltd.” Pausing, I realised I should have thought about what I was going to say. Before I could carry on though they spoke again.

“We're not interested in anything you have to sell.” 

Gripping the phone tighter, I coughed trying to cover my nervous laugh. “Sorry. I'm not trying to sell you anything. I wanted to speak to you about the invoice you paid our firm. Overpaid actually.”

“I think you've got the wrong number, love.” 

Glancing down at the number displayed on the phone, I read it and then checked it against the number on my monitor. It was the same number. “Is this Period Pieces?” 

A laugh echoed down the line. “No. I deal with a lot of relics, but not furniture. Only old people.”

His laugh sounded again but I didn't grasp the meaning of his words. “So, you don't have your accounts done through Cooper Garson? You haven't made a payment for £50,000?” There was silence on the other end of the phone. For so long that I checked the phone display in case he'd hung up on me. But no, he was still there.

“What did you say the company name was again, love?”

“Cooper Garson Ltd.”

“A-ha. Do you have the name of your supervisor?” 

There was an audible click as I swallowed. Shit. I'd wanted to deal with this on my own. Was he going to complain to Tony about me calling? “His name is Tony. Tony Rutherford.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about the payment, darling. Tony is dealing with it.”

Opening my mouth to ask what he meant, the line went dead. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the receiver then slowly replaced it. The conversation replayed through my head but it still didn't make any sense. Was the man going to tell Tony about our conversation? Should I? My gut was telling me there was something off about the situation. I just wasn't sure what right then.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Beck striding across the room towards his office. Maybe he would tell me I shouldn't have rung the client, but it was my job. If I was going to do it, I'd do it right.

Making my way over to Beck's office I pulled my shoulders back preparing to defend my actions. Tried to appear casual as I leaned against the door jamb of his office. “Hey. You got a sec?” Beck smiled at me, dimples popping out, and I relaxed a little.

“Sure. Take a seat.”

I closed the door behind me and sat, linking my fingers together in my lap. “Okay, so I wanted to speak to you about the Lewis account again.” Beck sighed then pursed his lips. Okay, not the best start.

“I thought I told you to do whatever Tony told you to.”

“I know. And I did. But there was an error with the payment they made so I called them to clear it up.”

“You called them?” Beck shot to his feet staring at me wide eyed.

“Err…yes.” That wasn't the bit I thought he'd have a problem with. 

“Jesus,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “What did you say to them?”

“I explained they had overpaid. But they said they were dealing with Tony and then hung up on me.” Beck stopped pacing to stare at me from behind his desk.

“Did you give them your name?”

My brows knitted together at the unexpected question. Running the conversation over again in my head I nodded. “Yes. I gave them my first name and told them I worked here. Why? Does it matter?” He glared at me for a second before yanking open his desk drawer.

“Yes, it bloody matters. Why couldn't you leave it alone like I asked?”

Recoiling at the anger in his words I stared at him in shock. “I was doing my job,” I replied finally, my voice sounding timid because I didn't understand his reaction. Was what I had done really that bad? His shoulders sagged.

“I know.” He slipped his mobile in the trouser pocket of his suit then straightened. “Sorry. I know.” He stared at me for a moment. “And I'm trying to do mine.”

He strode past me and out of the office. Left me there alone to wonder what he meant by that.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I hadn't heard a word from Beck since the day he'd stormed out of his office. My extended contract was nearing its end, and quite frankly, I couldn't wait until it did. Except, I had to get through a client dinner that evening. The only saving grace was that it was unlikely Beck would be there. Tony had hinted it would be just him. And me. Which didn't reassure me in the slightest.

When he'd first mentioned it at the office, I had thought it was strange Tony would want me there. He'd been vague about his reason, but then he had said I could claim it as overtime…Did it really matter why? Plus, I'd get to try out the desserts at a flashy restaurant in Manchester that I could never afford to eat at otherwise. Maybe I could blog about it on my website. People were always posting pictures of food on social media.

I checked my reflection in the mirror and wondered for the hundredth time if I should have bought something new. Something a little dressier than my well-worn LBD. But to be honest, I didn't understand why Tony wanted me at this dinner anyway. I was only a temp. And one that wouldn't be working for the company much longer.

The mystery firm whose account I had been working on would be there, Tony said, and he wanted me to “schmooze them”—his words. I don't think he realised I couldn't schmooze—didn't know how to.

And then there was Beck. Who'd been acting strange ever since I'd seen him with that woman. The one he swore was a client, except they seemed to know each other too well. The look she'd given me had seemed off too. It wasn't the look of a client. More a predatory stay-away-from-him mama bear look. Which was weird.

Shaking out my hands, I blew out a breath. There was no reason to be this nervous. Except I hated professional dinners at fancy restaurants. Not that I'd been to a lot, but, you know. A horn blared from outside and a glance out of the bedroom window confirmed the taxi Tony had arranged was waiting for me. I grabbed my handbag and hurried down the stairs.

When it pulled up outside what looked like an office block I double-checked the address before I climbed out. Took the lift to the second floor. The doors slid open into a funky yet swish space. A steel-wrapped reception desk was straight ahead of me. Parquet floors gleamed under the overhead lights that reflected off the metal ceiling tiles. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed what looked like a balcony garden filled with potted plants and even a white picket fence.

The area behind the reception desk was crowded and noisy. Scanning the faces of the people around me, I jumped as a hand wrapped around my elbow and urged me back towards the lift.

“What are you doing here?”

The words were hissed into my ear, but I'd recognised Beck before he even spoke as his familiar scent wrapped around me. Yanking my arm from his grasp, I glared up at him. “Tony asked me to be here. I'm just doing as I'm told.” Beck scowled at me as I hurled his own words back at him. 

“You can't be here. Not tonight.”

Before I could think of a response to throw back at him his phone rang.

“Shit.” He retrieved it from his jacket pocket. Glancing at the screen he said, “Wait here. I have to take this. But then we need to talk.” 

And once again, he disappeared on me. Through the door and outside onto the balcony. I didn't know what Beck's issue was with me being at the restaurant, but I was there to do a job and leave as quickly as I could.

I threaded my way through the crowds until I spotted Tony in the corner. He smiled when he noticed me, and then Beck joined us. Except he didn't smile. If anything, he looked panicked before he pressed his lips together and glanced away. He leant down and spoke to Tony before he stalked off again. 

Okay. Definitely still acting weird and I didn't know why. And if I was honest, a little hurt. It was like he'd done a one-eighty since the night of his parents' anniversary party. And the morning after it. Maybe that had scared him. But he was the one who'd invited me. Who had brought up the conversation of us waiting. Implied we had a future together. 

“Kimberly,” Tony said as his gaze dropped to my chest. 

My eyes are up here, arsehole. “Tony.”

“We're waiting on the table and our client isn't here yet. Can I get you a drink?”

Our client? “Thanks. I'll have a small white wine.” Because asking for the whole bottle probably wasn't appropriate at a work dinner.

As he made his way to the bar, I scanned the throng of people around me searching for Beck. Instead, I found the face of the last person I'd been expecting to see. She grinned when she saw me staring and made her way over towards me. The woman I'd seen Beck with. His client. Tony handed me a glass of wine at the same moment she stopped beside me.

“Kyle had to make a phone call. He won't be long. Kimberly, have you met Kyle's wife, Sarah?”

The room receded to the point that all I could see was Tony. And her. Full red lips curled up, dark eyes twinkling beneath a midnight black strand of her fringe artfully draped across her forehead. The chatter and clinking of glasses replaced by the sound of my blood racing instead. Dizziness made me reach out to hold on to something. Someone's arm. I turned straight into Beck's—Kyle's—gaze. He reached out to steady me and I took a step back from him. 

Shaking my head, I said, “No. I don't think I've met his wife before.” 

Beck paled, his eyes flicking between me and his…wife? What the fuck? His hand dropped and there it was. Proof. Gold wedding band glinting under the overhead lights. How could I have missed that before? No. I shook my head. I hadn't. Not even a tell-tale sign of him having worn one recently had marked his finger. I remembered checking his hand at the airport when we first met.

“Kimberly, I—”

I swear to God, if he was going to say he could explain, I would slap him. “Excuse me.” Elbowing my way through the other customers got me a few sharp glances but I didn't care. My stomach was clawing its way up my throat and I needed to find the ladies room before it escaped.

I rushed down the hall from the reception desk to where I had seen them on my way in. Pushed through the outer door and straight into a cubicle, with just enough time to lock the door behind me, then leaned over the toilet as I heaved. Oh, God. I'd slept with a married man. Twice. My brow clammy with sweat, I heaved again and then sank to my knees on the cold hard tile floor. Reached over to flush the toilet and pressed the back of my other hand against my mouth, hoping I was done.

His fucking client. I leaned back against the cubicle door. Christ, was anything that came out of the man's mouth ever true? He'd lied about being married. Even after I'd seen them together, he'd lied about who she was.

I had to get out of there. No way was I in any state to talk to anyone, let alone try and schmooze a client. I didn't care. Tony could sack me if he wanted to. If I didn't beat him to it and resign.

My knee cracked as I kneeled up on the hard floor, then stumbled to my feet and out of the cubicle. Pulled the main door of the ladies' room open slightly to peer along the corridor. Thankfully, it was empty. I hurried down the hallway and back towards the lift. Jabbed the call button repeatedly because of course, that would make it come quicker.

As I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my damp forehead. Taxi. I needed a taxi. I ran around to the front of the office block and yanked open the door of the first taxi in the queue. Sliding into the back seat I pulled the door closed behind me a little harder than needed.

“Marsdon. Can you take me to Marsdon, please?” The driver glanced over his shoulder at me. 

“Are you all right, love?”

“I'm fine I just need to get home. As fast as you can.” He started the engine, and I twisted around in the seat to look out of the back window.

“What's the address?”

“Number four Sweetloves Lane. By the canal.”

“Oh, I know that area. My gran used to live not far from there.”

I tuned him out, so not in the mood for small talk. A figure appeared outside the front door of the restaurant and I slid down in the seat. I doubted it was Beck. Kyle. Whatever the hell name he was going by. I'm sure he was too busy with his wife. 

Then the taxi finally pulled away from the kerb and I closed my eyes. Trying to shut the whole night out as though it hadn't happened.

***

As the taxi pulled away from the house, I locked the front door behind me. Even slid the bolt across the top for good measure. Kicked off my shoes and trudged upstairs. Climbed under the duvet, not bothering to undress. 

On the way home, my mind had gone numb, only able to focus on getting the hell away from there. But curled up under the covers, I knew why Beck had told me I couldn't be there. Not when he was with his wife. 

Every moment spent with Beck was replayed in slow motion. The moment we met on the plane. I'd believed the explanation of his name but then again, I'd believed him when he said she was a client. The way he'd reacted when I told him I would be staying on at the office. 

Did he want me out of the way so I couldn't cross paths with his wife? The anniversary party. Surely his parents couldn't know he was married? They wouldn't have been so pleased to meet me if they did, would they? Had he lied to his parents too? His sister? Did anyone know Beck? Did he even know who he was with all the lies he'd told?

I groaned and rolled over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling that I could barely see in the darkened room. The hours we'd spent in my kitchen together. When I thought I was getting to know him. A tear escaped my eye, running down my cheek to soak into the pillow. Had those times been lies too? I thought he'd cared about me. God, I was such a fool.

He was busy lying to me whilst I was busy falling for him.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Pounding on the front door woke me from my half sleep. I glanced at my alarm clock. Only three hours since I'd left the restaurant. Three hours since everything I thought I knew turned out to be a lie. The pounding sounded again, and I curled up on my side, pulling the covers up tight around my neck. 

“Kimberly. Kimberly, I know you're in there.”

Beck. And by the sounds of it, he was right beneath my window. Great. The whole street could probably hear him. I gripped the covers tighter and held my breath. Hoping he'd go away. Back home to his wife.

“Kimberly. Please. I can explain everything. I know it looks bad, but I promise it's not how it seems.”

God, how clichéd was that line? I huffed out the breath I'd been holding. It was exactly how it looked. And I'd been stupid enough to believe he was different. That I could trust him. My eyes filled with tears and I squeezed them shut to stop them from falling. I refused to cry over him. 

“Goddammit, Kimberly. I can't tell you like this; just let me in.”

I didn't want to see him, let alone hear the lies he'd try to spin to worm his way out of this. 

“Okay. Okay, I'm leaving. But I'll be back. Every day until you let me explain. And if I have to do that at work, I will. Kimberly?” 

I kept my eyes shut and pulled the covers over my head. No way was I doing this at the office. There was nothing he could say that would make this better. Nothing he could say that would stop the ache in my chest he'd caused when he'd ripped my heart out.

I'd thought he cared about me. About helping me with my baking. With that offer of help, he'd slipped right into my heart. Made me believe the business could be a success. Made me believe in myself.

Believe in him. In us. 

A sob tore free from my throat and I buried my head into the pillow. Tears flowing freely then from behind my closed eyelids. I'd been so stupid. All the signs had been there and I'd ignored them. Didn't want to see the truth. Wanted to believe in Beck. That he felt the same way I did. That maybe he was falling in love with me too.

***

The following morning, I woke with a fuzzy head and scratchy eyes. The revelations of the night before hit me as I turned over to face the window. 

Tony casually introducing me to Beck's wife. The look on Beck's face. His wedding ring.

Nobody in the office had ever mentioned he was married. Did Jaz know? He hadn't mentioned it when he'd told me Linda was throwing herself at Beck to get promoted. 

Or did no one know? Except Tony. Did Beck only where the ring when he was out with his wife?

“Urghh.” I threw back the duvet, irritation heating my body. None of that mattered. He was married and he'd lied about it. That was all I needed to know.

It was only 6 a.m., but I wanted out of the dress I was still wearing and a shower. Then I'd ring work. No way was I going into the office. No amount of money in the bank was worth having to face Beck there.

After calling in sick to HR, I was at a loss for what to do. I wandered around the living room and into the kitchen aimlessly. The cake tins taunted me from above the fridge. I had an order for a birthday cake that I should start making. But just the idea of baking a cake, let alone decorating it, seemed too much like hard work. I sank onto one of the stools and propped my chin up on my hands. Except that reminded me of sitting in that exact spot next to Beck. 

If I'd just left it alone—had not tried to find what I'd believed to be my biological father like Leo had said—I'd never have met Beck. Wouldn't be sitting there wondering why he had lied.

His wife was beautiful. My heart squeezed uncomfortably at the thought. They'd seemed to be getting along just fine when I'd seen them together at the restaurant so Beck couldn't use the whole “my wife doesn't understand me” excuse.

Three sharp raps on the door dragged my thoughts from wandering any further down that path. My heart pounded in my chest as though it was trying to break free. What if it was Beck at the door? I stood and in my panic toppled the stool over. Cursing as I picked it up because if it was Beck he'd know I was inside. 

I let out a harsh laugh at myself. What was I going to do? Hide away in my house until he left me alone? Oh no. I'd done nothing wrong. What was I doing? I marched to the front door and yanked it open.

“I'm not interested in anything—” My hand waved around in the air until it finally connected with the doorjamb. Head swam as I held on tight and was overwhelmed by memories of another moment so similar to that one.

“Miss? Are you all right? Can we come in?” He didn't wait for an answer. He slid his badge back into his pocket as he brushed past me. The woman took hold of my arm, nudging me back inside so she could close the door.

Thoughts of my brother being hurt—or worse—kept my feet rooted to the spot. Memories of the two police officers on my doorstep, asking to come in, breaking the news…

Were they here with bad news about my brother? My heart pounded at the thought of him never coming home. Leo was all I had left.

“Come and sit down.”

At the touch of her hand on my back, I looked up into her sympathetic face. Then I took in her clothes. She wasn't wearing a police uniform. Neither of them was.

Confused, I let her lead me to the sofa and sank into the corner. I grabbed the cushion, wrapped my hands around it, clutched it to my chest as though it might protect me from whatever bombshell they were about to deliver. “What is it? What happened? Is my brother okay?” 

They exchanged a puzzled look before the man turned to face me. “I'm Detective Bancroft and this is Detective Abbot. You've been working at Cooper Garson, or more specifically, with a Mr Tony Rutherford, is that correct?”

I stared at him, my brows furrowing, mouth open. Then I closed it and glanced over at Detective Abbot. This was about work?

“Miss Hardwick?”

I nodded as I looked back at him. “Yes…yes, I'm a temp there. I've been there just over a month. Tony asked me to stay on after my initial contract to work with him on a special account. I don't understand…”

Another look passed between them and Detective Abbot nodded. I had no clue what silent conversation they were having.

“And this special account. Can you tell us about it?”

No. Tony had told me not to discuss it with anyone. But he meant in the office, didn't he? He couldn't expect me not to speak to the authorities, could he?

I stroked the fleecy underside of the cushion. I'd tried to talk to Beck about it and that had got me nowhere. But this was different. They were asking me this time. But I didn't think answering was optional. “Erm, I can tell you what I know, which isn't a lot.” 

And so I did. Detective Bancroft took notes as I spoke. As I told him about the secrecy, the unaccounted money, the bank account in the Cayman Islands. When I finished my tale, he stared at me long enough to make me uncomfortable. I squeezed the cushion tighter and tried not to squirm in my seat. That look made me feel guilty even though I'd done nothing wrong. Finally, he spoke.

“And you didn't find any of that strange? Didn't think there might be something underhanded going on?”

His questions had me dropping my feet to the floor and sitting up straight. Was he accusing me of something? Thought they could just barge into my house and…and interrogate me? “Of course I did.” His brows rose at my high-pitched retort.

“So you spoke to your supervisor about your suspicions?”

Oh crap. I was still mad as hell at Beck but I didn't want to get him into trouble. “No, um…I spoke to my boss instead. Beck. I mean Kyle. I spoke to Mr Robinson.”

Again, they exchanged a weird look and I got the feeling there was something else going on. Detective Bancroft scribbled something in his notebook before he looked up at me.

“And what did Mr Robinson say?”

I licked my dry lips and wondered how much I was going to have to tell them about Mr Robinson. “He—” I cleared my throat and started again. “He told me he would look into it. That he would deal with it.” God, I hoped he had. Hoped that I hadn't just thrown him to the wolves. But he had said he'd deal with it. 

Then again, he had acted weird when I told him. I clutched the cushion tighter as a horrible thought hit me. What if Beck already knew what Tony was doing?

What if Beck was involved?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Detective Bancroft flipped his notebook shut and glanced over at his partner as he leaned forward in his seat. I let out a sigh of relief, thinking this was over. I'd done my bit and they would leave me alone.

He nodded at his partner, giving her a knowing smile as she stood. Instead of leaving though, she came to sit next to me on the sofa.

“We're going to need you to pack a bag.” My gaze flicked between both of them and I sank my teeth into my bottom lip. A hysterical laugh was trying to escape my throat. Was this some weird joke that I didn't get? But she didn't smile. Her wide lips stayed pressed together. Blue eyes serious and intent as they bored into mine.

Releasing my lip, I said, “Why would I need a bag?” 

“When you applied for the job I assume you listed this address with the company. For your own safety, we've been asked to get you out of this house.” 

Eyes widening as my mouth dropped open, I couldn't stop the laugh that time. “My…what?” Resting her cool hand over mine, she patted it gently.

“It's just a…precaution.”

I shook off her hand. “What's just a precaution? Where are you trying to take me? What's going on?”

“Like I said, it's just a precaution, but we've been asked to move you somewhere safe. Somewhere no one from Cooper Garson will know where you are.”

I scratched my fingernails across the skin of my collarbone until it stung. As they brushed across my necklace I wrapped them around the heart pendant instead. Why didn't they want anyone from Cooper Garson to know where I was? Who would want to know where I was and why? 

“Am I in trouble? If I've done something wrong, I didn't mean to…or know that I had.”

“No, you haven't done anything against the law. This is purely as a precaution and for your safety.”

I wrapped my palm around the pendant until the sharp tip dug into it painfully. To keep me safe from whom? Beck? Tony? “To keep me safe from whom?” She gave me an exasperated smile like she was explaining something to a child.

“No one in particular. It's a general precaution, that's all. Best to keep you away from the office for now.”

Well, that would solve the issue of avoiding Beck. “I have a cat,” I blurted out. I shook my head because they wanted to hide me somewhere safe and I was thinking of Beck and Penny. It was all too much. I'd finally lost the plot. 

“Do you have a family member or a neighbour you could leave the cat with?” I nodded, thinking of Jean, and hoped she wouldn't mind cat-sitting again. “You can't give them details of where you are going.”

Pursing my lips, I resisted the urge to say I couldn't give them details if I didn't have any.

Later that day, they left me sitting on a lumpy brown sofa with my “guards.” Surrounded by beige walls and a once-cream carpet. They'd left me in the brown house of doom. And I was still no clearer on what the hell was happening. How long would I have to stay there in the house of doom? What was happening at the office? Had they spoken to Beck?

Propping my elbows on my knees, I rested my chin on my hands. Beck. I wondered if I'd ever see him again. Would he be arrested? Whenever I thought about him since that night, my heart tugged in separate directions. Most of it wanted to hate him after what he'd done. But there was still a treacherous part that clung to the Beck I'd thought he was. The Beck I'd made plans with in my head. Spending time with him. Getting to know his family. Weekends spent together with me baking or us in bed.

I let out a sigh and then jumped at the knock on the door. I looked up and one of my guards held out a palm towards me. With his other hand, he pressed a finger to his lips then motioned me towards the kitchen.

Doing as directed, I crept into the kitchen. Slid one of the chairs—beige with a little orange—out from under the dining table and sat down. Voices from behind the closed door of the kitchen filtered through from the living room. The muffled voice of one of the guards and someone else. Then silence. Clearly my guard had dispatched the visitor.

God, how long was I going to be held there? I was going stir crazy already. If they hadn't taken my phone I would have texted Jaz. I missed seeing his cheery face. Was he safe? Would he know what was going on?

The kitchen door opened and I glanced up, eyes ridiculously wide, as the last person I wanted to see sauntered in. He looked tired. Dark hair in disarray as though he'd been tugging at it. A plain black T-shirt stretched across his chest and faded jeans clung to his thighs. My body reacted to the sight of him and I hated myself for still wanting him. I clenched my hands into fists so I didn't do something stupid like reach out to him. 

He strode across the kitchen and stopped directly in front of me. Eyes drawn, mouth tight. If he was so unhappy to see me what was he doing here? And why was he here? Clearly my guards didn't think I needed to be protected from him.

I waited for him to say something, having no intention of being the first to speak. Instead, his hand slipped beneath his jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a leather wallet. Flipped it open and threw it onto the table in front of me. A picture of Beck looked back up at me and I threw him a questioning glance.

Hands on his hips he merely nodded his head towards it. Sliding my fingers along the tabletop until they reached the wallet I paused. Then lifted it up so I could read the writing next to the photo. Kyle Becker. Special Operations.

I dropped the ID back on the table. His name wasn't even Kyle Robinson. I blew out a laugh and shook my head. 

Becker. Beck. Special Operations? He was what? Undercover? So he was involved with whatever was going on just not how I'd thought. He was…working undercover at Cooper Garson? It didn't matter; he was still married.

Pushing the chair back to leave the kitchen, it squealed across the lino. Beck's palms slapped against the tabletop and I jumped at the noise.

“No. You're not going anywhere until you hear me out. Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get you here? Do you know how many more I had to pull to get them to let me see you?”

Straightening up from the table, he stared at me and I shrank back against the chair. Beck was the reason I was being held in this house? Running a hand through his hair he blew out a breath. His shoulders dropped as his hands rested on his hips again. The lines around his eyes disappeared as his face relaxed and reminded me of the day I met him on the plane. That day seemed so long ago after everything that had happened since. The way he had tried to reassure me when I panicked. The way I'd trusted him right from the start. I wasn't sure if that trust had been misplaced or not. I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

It wasn't like I could go anywhere, so I didn't have much choice but to hear him out. Dragging the chair opposite me out from under the table, he eyed me and I nodded. He dropped into the chair, resting his forearms across the table.

“I've never lied to you once, Kimberly.”

My eyebrows rose at that statement and I folded my arms across my chest. He was going to have to do better than that. I wasn't just going to accept his word. Too much had happened to the contrary. His lips curled up on one side making a dimple pop out. I dropped my gaze to his chin because those lips…

Images of them pressed against my skin, memories of them feathering kisses against my lips overwhelmed me. How could I be so attracted to him still? How could I still want him so much when I wasn't sure I could trust him? When I knew he was a married man, for Christ's sake.

“You don't believe me. Okay, I can understand that. I may not have always told you the entire truth but I've never lied to you. I always told you as much of the truth as I could.” 

He leaned back against the chair and raised a hand off the table. Pointing his index finger at me he said, “One. My name is Kyle Becker. Beck to my friends just like I told you. A kind of nickname my teammates gave me.”

I loosened my arms across my chest but didn't say a word. He held out his middle finger towards me.

“Two. I never said what my job was when you asked. When Jaz introduced me to you, I couldn't tell you the truth without blowing my cover. Believe me, I wanted to. But when you brought up the point that I was your boss, I told you I wasn't. That was the truth. I wasn't really ever your boss.”

Dropping his head back he looked towards the ceiling. My heart gave a painful squeeze at how vulnerable he suddenly looked sitting there. I unfolded my arms to stretch one out towards him, but then stopped myself. Whilst all of that might be true, it didn't change the fact that he was married. 

Lifting his head his gaze met mine. Eyes so dark they almost looked black as some emotion swirled in their depths.

“That's no excuse though. I should have…stayed away from you. Certainly shouldn't have started anything with you. I just couldn't…” Lifting his other hand to his chin he rubbed his fingers along his jaw scratching across the stubble that covered it. “…stay away.”

Glancing away from me he lifted another finger. “Three. I'm not married, which is why I never mentioned it.” 

A snort escaped me. “You might want to let your wife know that, then.” The bitterness in my voice was obvious, but I couldn't help it. The blood pounded through my ears as I recalled that night. Standing there and being introduced to Beck's wife. Did she know what he did behind her back? 

Beck smiled. Actually fucking smiled and I folded my arms across my chest. Glad one of us was amused by this.

“Sarah isn't my wife. Sarah isn't ever her name, it's Kath.” He let out a laugh as he shook his head. “She's married, just not to me. Kath is my partner. She's been working this case with me from the start. We're friends. Nothing more.” Beck dropped both hands into his lap and stared at me. His lips curved up into a kind of half-smile before he lowered his head to stare at his lap.

I opened my mouth to speak but then closed it again.

Head reeling from the information overload, I didn't know what to say.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Okay, time's up. We've got a shift change coming up, and you can't be here when that happens. No matter who you sweet-talked to get in here.”

That was guard number two. Holding open the door and barking the order at Beck, who looked like he was about to argue. And I wasn't sure if I wanted him to or not.

He must have thought better of arguing though as he slowly got to his feet. A curt nod in the direction of Mr Muscles, then he turned back to me.

“Think about what I've told you, Kimberly. I'll give you some time to think things through while I take care of some stuff, but then I'll be back. And we can talk. Okay?”

Staring up at him I nodded. Then watched him stride out of the room.

“You okay?”

My gaze flicked to Mr Muscles to check that he was in fact, speaking to me. His usual glare had been replaced with a look of almost concern. He was human after all then, I thought with a smirk. “Fine. Thanks.”

The door swung closed behind him and I slumped back against the chair. Beck wasn't married. And that was a lot of information he'd given me in a short space of time. But that was the piece that kept popping back into my head.

Beck wasn't married.

The relief of knowing that I hadn't slept with a married man was like a tidal wave. So, maybe he hadn't been a hundred percent honest with me. But like he'd said, he'd told me as much of the truth as he could. 

Glancing at the empty tabletop, the image of his ID flashed through my mind's eye. If he worked for the government, then what exactly was he doing working at Cooper Garson? The only thing I could think was that he was undercover there, but why? Sitting at the kitchen table trying to make sense of everything Beck had told me, the murmur of voices from my guards grew louder. The door swung open and the woman I never thought I'd see again walked in. 

“Mind if I join you?”

I shook my head as words escaped me. Not his wife, I reminded myself. Yet I still squirmed in my seat as she gracefully slipped into the chair Beck had vacated not ten minutes before. 

“Sorry about the other night,” she said, as she scrutinised me. 

Already uncomfortable in her presence, I wasn't sure how to reply so I just shrugged. And I didn't know why she was there. She smiled. 

“It must have been quite a shock to think that Beck was married.”

My lips twisted to one side. “Yeah, you could say that.” She laughed and my eyebrows lifted.

“Sorry,” she said, holding a palm out towards me. “It's just the idea of me being married to Beck. I love the man like a brother, but he drives me bat shit crazy. Is driving me crazy with how many times he's mentioned you lately.”

I bristled at her words. Was she jealous?

“Don't get me wrong. I'm glad he's found someone…I'd rather not have to hear about it every time I see him, that's all.” 

Beck talked about me? And with that thought, my shoulders dropped and I released the death grip my hands had on each other.

“It's been a long time since I've seen him this happy. He told you what happened…with his wife?”

What?

“I mean his widow. God, sorry that came out wrong. She died. Was killed and I'm sure Beck still blames himself for it.”

Once you're not at the office, it will be easier. I know our situation is complicated, but I'm trying to make it simple. The words Beck uttered and had me so confused over that morning when he talked about waiting made more sense. “How long ago?” Her gaze shifted to the ceiling. 

“Almost six years ago now. It was before he joined us. He was still a copper then. Some nut job wanting payback for Beck putting him away.” Her gaze dropped to my face. “Don't worry. It's different now. And he'd never let anything happen to you.”

Because he worked undercover? “What is he undercover to do?” Her head tilted tumbling a strand of her dark fringe over one eye.

“He didn't tell you?”

I shook my head. “We had…other things to discuss.”

“He's on the case you nearly blew for us.”

What did I do? I opened my mouth but she didn't give me a chance to say anything.

“Your supervisor, Tony,” she sneered his name, “is involved in a money-laundering scam. But we're not after him. We want the boss behind the operation. Tony's just a small fish. But thanks to your call to Period Pieces you spooked them. Almost blew the whole case. And scared the crap out of Beck.” She glanced around.

I did the same, taking in the beige walls and pine cupboards. God, this place was depressing. Remembering how Beck had reacted when I told him about the phone call I'd made, I took a pained breath and closed my eyes. How was I supposed to know an innocent phone call would cause him so much trouble? Had I blown the case for them? Is that what Beck was off sorting out?

“Why did you think you ended up here?”

Her question brought me back to the dingy kitchen and I opened my eyes. 

“We were meeting with them that evening at the restaurant. I thought Beck was going to have a heart attack when you showed up that night. Saved him having to get you out of there when you ran off though. Wasn't the best night.”

My eyes widened at that understatement. “Yeah. It was a real laugh a minute for me too.” 

She gave me a half-hearted shrug. “I guess not. But here we are. And here you'll stay until the case is closed. And here I'll stay until the next shift takes over.”

Oh, my God. I could be here for months. “How long will that take?”

She shrugged again. “Hopefully not much longer.”

“Am I going to have to go into witness protection?” She snorted and I was glad one of us could find the situation amusing because I sure as hell didn't.

“You've been watching too many TV dramas. As far as Tony is aware, you know nothing. Just a temp who phoned in sick and won't be going back. And the guy you spoke to knows even less about you. Doesn't even know what you look like after your disappearing act at the restaurant. And the guy behind it all—the one we're after—doesn't even know you exist. You'll be fine. This…” She twirled a hand around the room. “This is Beck being overprotective and calling in a few favours. I get it. This is scary for you, but we're here to look after you. But believe me, if you hurt Beck…”

She didn't need to finish off her sentence. The glare she aimed at me said it all. But she tapped a finger on the table, staring at me until I nodded. Message received. Loud and clear. Flattening her palms on the table, she pushed herself up from the chair and stalked out of the kitchen.

When the door closed behind her, I slumped in my chair. When had my life become such a fuck up? Leaning forward, I rested my forehead on the cool wood. Elbows by my ears I crossed my arms over my head. 

***

As I lay in bed that night, surrounded by the quiet and the dark, that question kept me awake. When had my life gone to shit? After my parents had died? No. It had been bad, but I'd been coping. 

The day I found that birth certificate. Everything had changed after I'd found it. I hadn't even doubted for a second that it might be wrong. Two seconds to read the father's name and I'd questioned everything Vinnie had ever been to me. 

Part of me wondered if I'd so easily believed Vinnie wasn't my biological dad just so I could find that man…So I would still have one parent alive. Even if I didn't know him. And how stupid was that? 

Had doubted my mum. God…if she'd still been alive when I'd found it. I shuddered at the thought. And Beck. That moment on the plane—when he'd comforted me even though he didn't know me—I'd trusted him. Yet doubted him as soon as I'd been introduced to him at the office as Kyle. Jumped straight to the conclusion he was “cheating” on me when I saw him at the restaurant. And when Kath was introduced as Beck's wife? Okay, that one most people would have questioned when said wife was standing right in front of them not disputing it.

Trust was such an important issue to me yet…I hadn't trusted my family. Beck. Myself. I didn't trust myself. Rolling onto my side, I thumped the pillow. “Ugh. God.”

Didn't trust what was before my own eyes could be true. And I didn't know why. Had I been that way before I found the birth certificate? No, I didn't think so. Definitely not before my parents had died. I closed my eyes as they prickled with unshed tears. I'd got myself into this mess, so I refused to cry.

And once I escaped this house, it was about time I got myself out of it.

Chapter Thirty

A week after the detectives had shown up at my door and swept me away from my real life, I was dropped off back home. It was weird being back there. And a little anticlimactic. They didn't leave me with any instructions—just dropped me back into my life and left me.

Standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by familiar belongings, I wasn't sure what to do. A knock on the front door gave me the short-term answer.

As I opened the door my pulse sped up at the thought it might be Beck. But when I saw Jean standing there—lips pressed together and her hands fluttering in front of her stomach—reality crashed back in. “Hey, Jean. How's Penny?”

She's fine. Haven't seen her since I fed her this morning. How are you?”

I gave her the best impression of a smile I could muster. “I'm good. Thanks for looking after her again.” She waved my thanks away.

“She's easy to look after. Are you…back for a while then?”

Back for good. Kath said the case was closed and they were wrapping up the loose ends. But I hadn't seen Beck once after his first visit, and I wondered just how much time he was going to give me to think it all over. “Yes. Won't be going away again for a while.” Her hands fluttered together again and I knew she wanted details. But I didn't want to—couldn't—talk about what had happened. “I'm kind of tired with all the travelling so I'm going to have a nap, but thanks for letting me know Penny's okay.”

“You're welcome, dear. Maybe we could catch up at the weekend?”

“Sure. I'll make you a cake.”

“That sounds lovely. Well, I'll leave you to it then.”

I closed the door and wondered if I could avoid her all weekend. Probably not. But I couldn't tell her the truth.

Walking back into the living room, I spotted my laptop under the coffee table. I had a connection to the outside world again. After making myself a coffee—in my non-beige kitchen—I settled on the sofa, laptop on my knee.

Christ, I had a lot of junk emails. The agency had sent me one regarding the end of my contract with Cooper Garson. No. Would not be filling out a questionnaire on my time spent with them.

I stopped scrolling through them as I saw one from The Caffeine Cave. Would have thought it was more junk mail except I recognised the name. Laney's coffee shop next door to Cooper Garson and the subject said Baking Proposal. Did she want me to make her a cake? How did she even get my email address?

As I read it I couldn't help but smile. Of course. I should have known. Jaz gave her my email. And I needed to contact him anyway, but now I needed to thank him too.

Laney didn't want to order a cake. She wanted to offer me her kitchen. Premises to work and sell cakes from as well as make some desserts for the cafe after the customers had loved the beignets I'd made for her. My gaze wandering from the screen, I could picture it. A real kitchen to work in. With more than a single small oven. Cakes displayed in the coffee shop. It would be more than just cakes. Muffins, brownies, anything I wanted to make that people would buy with a coffee. The image made me smile. I could do that. I wanted to do that.

Would it matter that the coffee shop was right next door to Cooper Garson? The idea of running into Tony again…my smile wavered and I returned my attention to the email instead. In theory, the idea sounded fantastic. But I'd have to pay rent to Laney. I barely made enough to cover my living expenses at the moment. No way could I afford rent. Brushing my fingers across the heart on my necklace, there had to be a way to make this work.

I carried my laptop into the kitchen and set it on the breakfast bar. Hunted through the cupboards—not even wanting to look in the fridge yet—hoping a solution would be easier to come up with after eating something. A tin of chicken soup lurked at the back of a cupboard and I heated it up. Set the steaming bowl next to my laptop as I skim read the rest of the unread emails. Disappointed that no new orders had arrived in my absence.

There was, however, a notification from the company that hosted my website. “Huh. Never had one of those before.” 

I opened the email and it informed me I had a comment awaiting my approval. Placing the spoon back into the bowl I clicked on the link to read the comment.

The picture of the cake I'd made for Beck's parents caught my attention first. And had me a little confused. But it became clear when I read the message. It was from Beck's parents. Well, his mum. A glowing review of the cake I had made for them. Nobody had ever left a review for my cakes before. And I couldn't stop the tears.

They weren't just because of the review. It hadn't escaped my notice that the last time I sat in this spot with my website open was with Beck. I missed him. So much. Knew I should text him or something but everything was such a jumbled-up mess I didn't know where to start. 

Why hadn't he called me? He said he'd be back to talk after my guards told him he had to leave. Was he busy finishing up the case? Or had he changed his mind? 

Ugh, I would call him. Right after I'd finished my lunch.

I jumped at the knock on the front door and dashed away the tears with the back of my hand. Jean was bad enough without me giving her any ammunition that there might be something wrong. As the knocking started again I hurried to answer it. 

Except it wasn't Jean that time but Beck. Hands shoved into his jeans pockets. Shoulders hunched up towards his ears beneath his black bomber jacket.

“Hey.”

I smiled because that was going to be my opening line. “Should you be here?” I asked as I glanced around. What I expected to see, I wasn't sure. Tony lurking in the bushes perhaps? His jaw clenched then his shoulders dropped.

“I don't know. You tell me.”

And my heart squeezed painfully at the emotion in those few words. “I meant because of work.”

“It's over. The case. And I don't care. I had to see you. I came as soon as I could.”

Swinging the door open wider I asked, “Do you want to come in?” He strode through the doorway and my gaze dropped to his arse. Couldn't help it. Turning away, I closed the door then followed him into the kitchen. Where he was leaning over my laptop. 

Turning to look over his shoulder at me he said, “She posted it, then.”

I nodded, not sure I trusted myself to say anything to that.

“Mum emailed it to me first to ask if I thought it was okay. If I thought you'd like it. I told her you'd love it.”

“I do.” I linked my fingers together to hide their shaking and to stop myself from reaching for him. “Do you want a drink?” Shaking his head, he slid onto one of the stools. Awkward. If I knew what he was here to say, that might help. Taking a deep breath to try and calm myself down, I sat next to him. 

“You said the case is closed? You're not undercover anymore?” So many other questions I wanted to ask but work ones seemed safer. Except what happened next? Did Beck even live in Manchester? Or up North? What about the next job that came along?

“Yes, it's closed as far as my team is concerned. It's up to the lawyers now. And I'm no longer undercover.” Twisting to face me his gaze met mine. “That's not why I'm here though. Did you think about everything I told you?”

Hadn't thought about much else since. “I did. And I think I owe you an apology.” Sliding his hand across the breakfast bar towards mine he shook his head. When our hands were only an inch apart he stopped and glanced down at them.

“You don't. Not at all. I wish…it would have been different if you'd never worked there, but I couldn't tell you everything.” His hand slid away from mine and he ran his thumb over the scar on his wrist. “There's still some paperwork to sort out and I have a briefing soon. There are some things I should explain to you though. I'm hoping you'll give me a second chance. Meet me for dinner tonight?”

I wasn't sure I was ready for the full truth. Wasn't sure I even needed it anymore. I knew enough. Beck was a good guy caught in a crappy situation. “Why don't you come here instead? I can cook for us and we can talk. In private.” That smile I'd missed put in an appearance, dimples and all.

“I'd like that.”

Rising gracefully from the stool, he leaned over to brush his lips against my cheek. I wanted to lean into him. Feel his arms around me. Wanted a real kiss. To taste him again. But he was already straightening up and moving towards the door.

“Until tonight. I'll be here around seven if that's okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

As I watched him walk away, I let out a sigh and leaned back against the breakfast bar. Because it did sound perfect. I wasn't sure it was him that needed the second chance. Either way, I was glad we weren't over.

Chapter Thirty-One

After Beck left, I spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out a way I could find enough money to take up Laney on her offer. Emailed her to let her know I loved the idea but would need to come up with a plan for the money issue.

And I had about a million texts from Jaz wanting to know where the hell I'd disappeared to. My cover story was supposed to be that I was ill, but I didn't want to lie to him. Instead, I arranged to meet him to fill him in on all the details. After I'd seen Beck again and found out how much I could tell him. Apparently, Jaz had a shit-ton of gossip to fill me in on too. I smiled at that, wondering if he would be able to top mine.

The rest of the day dragged by as I waited for seven o'clock to roll around. Shopping all done, I already had steaks marinating in the fridge and a bottle of red open. Primped to within an inch of my life, I left my hair down. Pulled on a soft blue cashmere jumper that clung to my breasts and hips. Paired it with a pair of faded jeans. I didn't want to get too dressed up, but I wanted to look good.

Seven o'clock on the dot, there was a knock on the front door. Purposefully slowing my strides, I went to answer it. Standing on the doorstep was the Beck I thought of as the real Beck. The one that reminded me of the guy I met on the plane. Blue jeans and a grey T-shirt stretched across his chest. In his hands, a cake box and a bottle of wine.

“Hey. Come in.”

“Hi.”

Stepping through the doorway, he paused to kiss my cheek before heading for the kitchen.

“Seeing as you're cooking, I thought the least I could do was bring dessert.”

Lifting the lid of the box he revealed a huge chocolate cake. My favourite. “Maybe we should skip dinner and start with dessert.” Beck laughed and lowered the lid.

“Good things come to those who wait.”

I had the feeling he wasn't just talking about dessert. “Have a seat. Dinner's almost ready; I just need to grill the steaks.”

I left him with the wine and glasses and grabbed the steaks from the fridge. Got the griddle pan hot and laid the steaks out on it. The kitchen was quiet, the sizzle of the meat hitting the pan loud and filling the air with the smell of charring meat. Collecting plates and cutlery, I set them on the breakfast bar where Beck sat quietly. Flipped the steaks over then prodded at them with the tongs. As I wondered what Beck was going to tell me over dinner, I thought about what I needed to say to him. Suddenly, the smell of the steaks had my stomach churning. Maybe we should have talked before eating.

Testing the steaks, I served them up and slid into the seat next to Beck. Took a large sip of the wine he'd poured for me.

Neither of us made an attempt to eat. Instead, I lined my cutlery up against the edge of the table mat. Took a deep breath and thought, sod it. “You said there were some things you needed to explain to me?” Might as well get it over with.

Beck ran his thumb across the scar on his wrist. I'd seen him do it a few times. Usually when he was nervous. 

“Where to start?”

Placing my hand over his, the motion of his thumb stopped. “Start wherever you want. Whatever you want to share with me. But you don't have to tell me anything. I understand why you did what you did. How you behaved.” He wrapped his fingers around my hand.

“I used to work for the GMP. The Manchester police force. I was an officer before I joined the team I'm with now. Seven years ago, I arrested a guy for armed robbery. He served some time but then was released.”

Work wasn't what I had expected him to talk about, but I relaxed enough to take a bite of the steak.

“I guess he wasn't mentally stable and he held a grudge against me. In those days, I worked shifts. One night, I finished late and got home to find the glass panel in the front door broken. Shards of glass littered the floor.”

His thumb rested over the scar again and I think I could guess why.

“I should have called it in. Called for backup. But I didn't. The lights were off as I entered the house and made my way to the living room. A single lamp illuminated him and my wife. All that training and I froze. He had her tied up to a chair. Gun aimed at her temple.” 

His head dropped, and I wanted to reach out to him. Comfort him somehow. Not that anything could bring comfort to those memories.

“There was nothing I could do. I know that now but at the time…he was waiting for me to get home to pull the trigger. To make sure I witnessed it. And when I did…when he…I lost it. We fought. I tried to get the gun from him. He tried to get away from me. I guess he thought I'd suffer more if I lived.

“We ended up in the hallway as he tried to escape out of the front door. I don't remember much after that. Except I shot him. Three times. When backup showed up I was still on the hallway floor.” 

I opened my mouth to say something, but then closed it. There were no words for me to say. I couldn't make that better. Or even understand what would drive someone to kill another man's wife in cold blood. I laid my hand on his back. He lifted his head at my touch.

“When you turned up at the office that first day…that feeling of not being in control came back. I couldn't tell you not to work there without good reason. And I couldn't give you a good reason. I didn't want you anywhere near the operation. But I had no way to explain it. Then when you started working with Tony…we'll track him down, though.”

I stared at him for a moment. “Does that…did you try and track me down after our night together?” Beck pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I was tempted to. But that would be unethical. And a little stalkerish. I left you my number assuming if you were interested in seeing me again you would call…But then I kind of lost it when you contacted Period Pieces…”

“Kath told me you were trying to protect me. I get it.” He swivelled on his stool to face me, knees bumping my thighs. Lifted his hands to cradle my jaw. 

“Do you?” he asked. “Because I didn't. All I could think about was what if they came after you? That I wouldn't be able to protect you.” He let out a harsh chuckle as his thumb traced along my jaw. “Kath told me I was overreacting. I didn't care. The thought of losing you…”

I leaned into his touch. Wrapped my hands around his wrists to hold him there. “But you didn't. You haven't. You won't.” Leaned forward so I could brush my lips over his. A gentle reminder that I was still there. That we were together. Safe. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me close. My head resting in the crook of his shoulder as we held onto each other. 

We toyed with our food in silence for a while until—half eaten—I pushed my plate away, giving up with the pretence of finishing it. Taking Beck's hand in mine, I headed for the sofa. Dragged him down onto the cushion next to me and leant against his chest as his arm curled around my shoulders. We remained like that for a long time—not talking, just taking comfort in being close to each other. 

Until curiosity got the better of me. “So, what happens now?” Beck scooched back on the sofa until he was almost lying down and took me with him.

“What do you mean?”

My fingers found the hem of his T-shirt and plucked at the stitching. “Between us. I mean, I don't even know if you live around here.”

“I have a crappy apartment in Manchester that I spend as little time at as I can.”

I laughed at that. The image far from the penthouse I had imagined him in. “Wait. If you live in Manchester, why did you fly from Leeds Bradford?”

“When I booked the flight, I already had a dinner meeting near Leeds the same day. It just seemed easier.” 

He shrugged, then his arm tightened across my back and my shoulders tensed in response.

“I spoke to my commander today. Told him I couldn't do this job any longer.” 

Pushing myself upright so I could look at him I said, “You quit?” His lips lifted on one side into an almost smile. 

“I tried. He doesn't want me to leave the team. But I told him I can't do this job and be with you.”

“You can't quit because of me. I'm not asking you to choose.”

“I know you're not. I know you wouldn't ask that of me. But my career has already cost me…too much. It's time for a change because I won't lose you. He asked me to think it over. There's a training position available that he wants me to take. So he wouldn't lose me completely. I'm not sure. I think maybe a clean break from it all would be better.” 

I lay my head back on his shoulder. The idea of Beck not having to go undercover again was appealing. If not selfish. Not gonna lie though, I'd rather he didn't have to do that. But it had to be his choice. And for the right reasons.

“You don't have to make a decision yet. Give it some time to think it over. And please don't quit for me.” His hand stroked across my back. 

“I'll think about it. I like you Kimberly—a lot. And I don't want to be away with work all the time. I want to be here, with you.” 

 A smile crept across my face. Pushing myself up so I could reach his lips I kissed him. “I want that too.” 

He looked far too serious still, and I wondered if there was more he had to say. Settling back against his chest I listened to the steady beat of his heart and waited.

“That night we met—at the hotel…I wasn't expecting to meet someone. To meet you. The last thing I wanted to do was rush off the next morning. But work called and I had to. That's why I left my number. Hoped…waited every day for a call or a text. But when you never did…”

My head lifted on his chest as he shrugged, and I stroked my fingers through the smattering of hairs across his abs. “I lost your business card. Well, a friend put it through the washing machine.” He shook his head and laughed.

“Then you showed up at the office. It was like a second chance. But then Jaz…”

Fingertips digging into the firm muscles of his stomach I said, “Is just a friend.” 

“I know that now. But at the time I wasn't sure you were interested in me. And then the complication of working together. I guess what I'm trying to say is that however complicated our situation may be, I want to try and make this work. To be together. I don't want you to walk out of my life again. That I…I'm falling in love with you.” 

When I pulled back to look into his eyes I paused to make sure he was really listening. “I know I've fallen in love with you, Beck. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

I lay there quietly letting those four words sink in with a huge grin on my face.

“What about you?”

I slipped my fingers further up his T-shirt. “What about me?”

“What are you going to do now that you're no longer working at Cooper Garson?” 

“It's funny you should mention that.” I explained the offer I had received as Beck continued to stroke my back, making me sleepy.

“Are you going to take her up on the offer?”

“If I can find the money for the first few months' rent then yes.” His hand stopped and rested against the small of my back. 

“Any ideas on how to get it?” 

“Not yet. But I'm going to try.”

Lying together on the sofa in an easy silence, I felt more settled than I had in a long time. Beck and I were going to give this another go. And hopefully, I'd find a way to get the money together to turn my passion for baking into a real business. 

When my eyes refused to stay open any longer I asked Beck, “Do you want to stay the night?”

“I'd love to.”

***

In the morning, I woke to Beck's lips on my neck. His chest plastered to my back and an arm slung across my hips. “Mmm. Morning.” His lips trailed kisses down to my shoulder. 

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Moving so he could roll me onto my back, he stared down at me for a moment before pressing his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back. Propped himself up on an elbow and gazed down at me. He looked far too serious for this time of the morning.

“I've been awake for a while. Thinking.”

Well, that didn't sound good, so I waited for him to carry on.

“How would you feel if I gave you the money to start up in business with the owner of the coffee shop?”

Okay, not the direction I had been expecting him to take. How would I feel? Like a charity case. I shook my head. “I'm not taking your money, Beck.” When he smiled, showing me those dimples, I frowned at him.

“I wouldn't be giving it to you. It would be an investment. A partnership.” Gazing into my eyes he shrugged. “I want us to be a partnership.” 

My first instinct was to refuse. But him wanting us to be a partnership made my heart melt. I wanted that too. Did I trust enough in myself, my ability—in us—to accept that? To try? 

It seemed to be the least I could do. Beck was willing to give up his cash, his job even, to make this work between us. Would it hurt to accept his money—to accept that sometimes you couldn't always achieve your dreams, your goals alone? That sometimes you had to accept help from others?

And if our roles were reversed? I'd want to help Beck out in a heartbeat. “An investment how? How would it work?” 

“The way I see it, you'd be the one putting in the work, the hours to create the cakes. You're the one with the ideas. I'd just be providing the capital. Then—eventually—when you start making a profit we'd share those profits. The money I put in to start it would eventually be paid back.”

Trust. That's what I wanted back. Trust in myself. In Beck.

I nodded. “Okay.”

And honestly, the smile alone that word got me was worth agreeing to his partnership.

Chapter Thirty-Two 

Three months later

As I hung my white jacket on the hook next to the door leading out of the kitchen, I grinned as I heard the tinkle of the bell above the coffee shop door. Took a last look around the kitchen, but it was spotless. All gleaming stainless-steel worktops and shiny white tiles on the walls. 

I pushed open the door into the coffee shop and there he was. With the secret smile he saved for me that showed off his dimples. My stomach did a little flip as he strode towards me. He twined our fingers together and brushed his lips against mine.

“Ready.”

I shook my head no but said, “Yes.” Beck laughed giving my hand a squeeze.

“You'll be fine.”

Laney wandered over and gave me a hug.

“Don't worry. This place will still be here when you get back.”

I hugged her tighter. Of course she was right, but I was going to miss The Caffeine Cave. Miss my kitchen, and the regulars who came in for my baked delights. My dream. Except it was my reality now. 

“Go. Enjoy yourself.” 

I let go of Laney and followed Beck out of the coffee shop. My stomach flipping again but not in a good way this time. 

***

Beck led us down the aisle, my hand gripping his so tightly I was probably cutting the circulation to his fingers off. As we reached our seats, he stopped and wrapped his arm around my waist.

“It'll be fine. I promise.”

A chaste kiss to my lips and then he pried his fingers free from mine. Clambering past the seats I dropped into the one by the window. Turning in time to see Beck stow our hand luggage. T-shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of tanned skin above the waistband of his jeans. Déjà vu washed over me, and I smiled. This time he wasn't a stranger seated next to me, though. And this time, I knew exactly what was waiting from me—us—when we landed in Malta. When, I reminded myself. Not if.

Our seats were further back in the plane than on our first flight together, but I could still see the wing as I peered out of the window. It was all there, which was a good start. No loose panels that I could see.

Glancing over the back of the seat, I found the nearest exit then pressed my shoulders against the seat blowing out a deep breath. I could totally do this. It wouldn't be as bad as last time when I'd done the flight alone.

Beck lowered himself into the seat next to me as I fastened my seat belt. Then he took hold of my hand. 

“You doing okay?”

“Yes.” But my hand still tightened around his. I'd be doing a lot more okay once we took off. Make that once we'd landed.

As we taxied down the runway, Beck slid an arm around my shoulders pulling me against him as much as he could with the armrest between us. His other hand still had hold of mine, and he slid our entwined hands up my thigh. His breath warmed my ear as he leaned in towards me. 

“You know, I could always try and distract you if you want.”

I laughed, and Beck's lips lifted into a smile against my skin, but I stopped his hand midway up my thigh. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don't think that's a good idea. Or that it would work in this situation.”

The plane lifted and my gaze slid towards the windows, shoulders tensing. But the wing looked fine. Well, bouncing a little more than I'd like but in one piece which was the main thing. And then we were climbing. The sprawl of the city laid out beneath us. Buzzing with life in the early afternoon light. Cars crawling along the motorway reminding me of the toy cars my brother would push around the city floor mat when we were kids. The sprawl of emerald fields giving way to the azure expanse of sea stretched out ahead as far as I could see. Until we were through the clouds and my shoulders finally dropped. Turning from the window, Beck was grinning at me.

“See. All good.”

Pouting at him I said, “You can say that once we've landed.” I released the stranglehold I had on his hand, and he lifted the armrest from between us. I loosened the seat belt so I had just enough room to scooch closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder.

The flight passed quicker than I expected. Quicker than my solo trip last time. Snuggled up with Beck, I listened to him tell me of all the places he wanted to show me on the trip. All the things his mum had planned for us—those he told me of with mock exasperation but secretly they were what I was looking forward to the most.

Nearly four hours and a smooth landing later, I was back in Malta. After collecting our luggage, we found Beck's dad waiting outside for us. He greeted Beck with a hug and a back slap before wrapping his arms around me. My eyes stung at the warmth of his hug. At the difference between this trip and my last one. Not knowing what I would find the last time I'd visited. Arriving alone at the airport instead of Beck's dad looking so happy we were there. He took my suitcase and as we stepped out of the building, I slipped my sunglasses on. Climbed into the back seat of the green Land Rover. Stared out of the tinted window as we drove through the streets heading for the coast. Passed Saint Julian's Bay where the sea was a brilliant blue against the coastline. Passed where I'd visited the restaurant in the hopes of finding what I had thought was my biological dad. So much had happened since the day I'd found what I had thought was my real birth certificate. 

Beck's parents lived in the north of the island in Saint Paul's Bay. An apartment that was all marble floors and white walls. As I walked through the doorway, I was enveloped in a floral-scented hug from Beck's mum.

“I'm so glad you're here. I have so much planned for us to do. We can go shopping and to the beach. Oh, and we have to go out to dinner by the harbour. And we can show you the palace and all the old buildings. They really are beautiful.”

“Okay, woman. Let her get inside before you start dragging her across the island.”

But I didn't mind. Not in the least. I was as excited to be there as she was to have me

“Oh, shush you. Come on Kimberly, I'll show you around the house.” 

Beck's mum grabbed my hand and led me down a corridor. I glanced over my shoulder and smiled back at Beck who watched us wander off.

She showed me to our room and left me to settle in. After a quick shower, I wandered out to find the others. As I passed one of the other open doors, I saw Alicia sitting on the bed staring her hands folded in her lap. I knocked on the doorjamb to get her attention. When she looked up, I noticed dark circles under her eyes and she seemed quieter than the last time I'd seen her somehow, and I wondered if it was more than just the long flight that was bothering her.

“Hi, Kimberly.”

“Hey, you okay?” She nodded but then I saw the tears fall. I rushed over to sit next to her on the bed and slipped my arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against my shoulder.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

I didn't know her well, but if I could help I would. “It's okay. Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head no, but then started talking.

“I just got dumped.” She pulled away from me and ran her hands beneath her eyes. 

“I'm so sorry.” 

She waved my words away. “That's not even why I'm upset. We'd only been together a couple of weeks. It's just…I want what you and Beck have. But my relationships never seem to work out that way. To be honest, I'm getting tired of even trying.”

Wow. I wasn't sure what to say to that except to offer tired clichés. “You'll find someone. When you least expect it. I know everyone says that, but it's true. When I stepped on that plane the first time to fly to Malta, meeting someone never even crossed my mind. And then there was Beck. It hasn't been the easiest of journeys to get here, but it was worth it.” 

Alicia stood, running a hand through her short hair.

“You're right. I know you're right. Ignore me. Come on before Mum hunts us down.”

I followed her out of the bedroom not entirely convinced, but if she didn't want to talk about it anymore I could understand that. 

I followed her through the living room. Beck had forgotten to mention that his parents lived in an apartment that had a stunning view of the bay. I wandered out onto the balcony to join him and enjoy that view. It wasn't huge, just enough space for a table and chairs. But as I rested my forearms against the cool metal railing the view was more than big enough. Fishing boats painted blue and yellow and green bobbed on the turquoise sea of the bay. And across the way, high-rise buildings and hotels littered the beach. I could smell the sea. That ozone-y fresh flavour and the occasional whiff of fish. 

When Beck's dad joined us with a stack of plates and cutlery in his hands, I left them both outside to find Beck's mum to see if I could help with dinner. She handed me a cold bottle of wine and glasses and shooed me out of the kitchen. Apparently making her son happy was more than she could ever ask from me.

I poured us each a glass of wine as we took a seat out on the balcony. Watched as the sea slowly darkened as the sun slipped towards the horizon. Beck's hand found mine beneath the table as his mum and Alicia came to join us.

The others cleared up after dinner, leaving Beck and me alone. I was drawn back to the view of the harbour as I leaned against the railing. Beck's arm slid around me to rest his hands on either side of my arms. Warm lips pressed against the skin of my neck above the vest top I had changed into. “It's so beautiful,” I said. His lips lifted up into a smile I could feel against my skin.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Turning away from the bay, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. He broke the kiss and leaned away from me, hand dropping from my waist and into his pocket. My eyes widened as the image of Beck down on one knee, ring held out, flitted through my mind. No, it was far too soon for that, wasn't it? Yet the idea didn't scare me as much as I thought it would.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket fingers curled around a black velvet pouch and drawn together at the top with a silver ribbon.

“Hold out your hand.”

I did as he untied the pouch and a silver bracelet slid out onto my open palm. Two flat curved pieces of silver connected by little hoops. A large hoop at the end that a bar fastened through. A charm hung from each hoop. One was a cupcake. I touched my fingertip to the plane charm and smiled. Surrounded by the beautiful scenery and Beck's welcoming parents, I thought back to Beck telling me his reasons for visiting Malta when we first met. How I'd wished that I'd known I'd be welcomed with open arms to spend a week relaxing with my parents. Yet here I was with Beck's parents welcoming me into their home as one of their family, and waiting for me this time. I'd had my family on the plane because that was Beck now. I still missed my parents, but learning to trust again meant I didn't have to be alone anymore.

I brushed my fingertips over the silver heart that was attached to the largest hoop and engraved with the date we met. I glanced up to meet his gaze. 

“Now you'll always have a piece of me with you. I love you.”

My eyes blurred and my chest felt so…full. Like my heart was trying to break free to get to Beck. “I love it. I love you. So much. More than I thought it was possible to love someone.”

He fastened the bracelet around my wrist. I lifted my hands to his jaw, watching as the charms swayed with the movement. Then wrapped my arms around his neck, my lips meeting his.

THE END

Dear Reader,

Thank you for taking the time to read Disaster in Love! I know your time is precious and I hope you enjoyed it. It would mean so much to me if you took a moment to write a review of Disaster in Love on sites like Amazon, Goodreads, Twitter, Facebook, and your blog or website. For a new author, reviews make all the difference in helping other readers find this book.

I loved writing Beck and Kimberly's story and can't wait to start on the next in the series. Up next is Beck's sister, Alicia, in Hot Disaster. 

Feel free to stop by my website, drop me an email, or find me on social media. If you'd like to see the inspiration behind all my books you can find it on my Pinterest boards.

Until next time, happy reading!

Liz

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Liz has lived in a lot of places including The Middle East and southern Spain. But her heart has always been in Lancashire where she is originally from in the UK. This picturesque county in the northwest of England is the inspiration for many of her books.

When not writing, Liz loves to curl up on the sofa with a cup of coffee and her Kindle. She also enjoys walking her dog (Barney) in the beautiful surrounding countryside—except when it's raining!

For more information and to stay updated about upcoming releases, please sign up for Liz's author newsletter here. Or join her Facebook group to read exclusive excerpts from upcoming releases in Liz's Legends.

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ALSO BY LIZ BOWER 

Obsession - A romantic suspense novel

There's a fine line between love and madness… Obsession 

Jo Waters finally has her life back on track. Since her boyfriend cheated on her romantic entanglements aren't on her priority list. That doesn't mean she can't look. Right? Especially when it comes to her sexy new colleague Dan.

But when Dan becomes the scapegoat for something he isn't responsible for, she ends up in a whole lot of trouble trying to defend him. When confronted by her boss about her uncharacteristic behaviour, Jo panics, and lies. Unfortunately, it's a lie that sets off an unstoppable chain of events including the need to find a man she can pass off as her boyfriend. And it is the most unlikely of men who her best friend offers as a solution—her brother, Marco. Which would be fine except Marco is annoying and far too full of himself, and has been the bane of her life since high school. 

But when her life gets thrown off track again it turns out that Marco is the least of her problems. Someone is making violent threats towards those close to her. And to make matters worse Jo's boss thinks she is the obvious suspect. 

As the threats become increasingly more disturbing and widespread, just how far will Jo have to go to protect the one she loves?

Keep reading for an excerpt.

CHAPTER ONE

There comes a time in every girl's life when she has to take a stand for what she believes in, for the man in her life. I truly believed that, so I couldn't sit there any longer listening to the lies spewing from Amy's mouth. 

Amy gave women a bad name, fluttering her eyelashes and flashing her cleavage to get what she wanted. Just like she was doing to our boss, Alex, right then.

“No,” I said. I stood so quickly my chair toppled over, ensuring I had everyone's attention. Thrusting a finger in Amy's direction, I carried on. “Just … no. Dan's only been here for a week, so you can't blame him for why the release date might be missed. You'll be blaming Toby next just because they started on the same day.” 

I grabbed the spreadsheets off the desk and thrust them in Alex's face. “Every single outstanding issue with this version of software is one that she is supposed to be testing. But she's been too busy flirting and flashing her cleavage at Dan this week to actually do any work. Instead, she's been strutting around the office in that belt she wears as an excuse for a skirt—”

“Enough,” Alex shouted.

I shrank back from where he was standing next to me. That was the first time I'd heard Alex shout or lose his air of control. 

He grabbed the spreadsheets from my hand. “I'll go through these and we will discuss”—he twirled a finger in the air—“this when everyone has calmed down.”

I turned to pick up my chair and sank into it. Before I could say anything else to make the situation worse, I pulled my lip beneath my top teeth. I leaned over the desk and let my fringe, along with the longer strands of hair that had fallen loose from my ponytail, fall forward over my face. The only sound in the room was the shuffle of papers before Alex spoke again.

“I don't think there's any point continuing with this meeting, so let's call it a day. I'd like an update from each of you on what you have outstanding and what you need to complete that before the deadline. After today, I think it might be best if you do that by email.”

Alex stalked off behind me and left the meeting room. I quickly gathered together the rest of my files and made my escape, back to the relative safety of my desk. Dumping the files into the tray, I sank into my chair and dropped my head to the desk, the fake wooden veneer cold against my forehead. What was I thinking? I banged my head softly against the desk.

It might be the right thing to do, to take a stand for what I believed in, but the middle of a meeting probably wasn't the best time to make that stand. Especially not over a man who wasn't even mine to defend. Wishing that he was mine had nothing to do with my actions. Absolutely nothing.

My computer dinged with an alert. I lifted my head and jabbed a finger against the mouse to wake the screen. 

A meeting request. From Alex. 

I didn't need to be Einstein to figure out what the meeting would be about.

I moved the mouse over the accept button. Did I have any other option? It said request, but I was pretty sure that declining would be unacceptable. I clicked and the request disappeared.

Along with my dreams of a promotion. 

My gaze flicked to the corner of the screen. Quarter to five. I closed my email and shut down the computer. If I left fifteen minutes early, it was unlikely to make things any worse for me. 

As I waited for my computer to shut down, I stood and saw Amy heading my way. My heartbeat picked up; that meeting was more than enough confrontation for one day, but I didn't think that would stop Amy. 

She looked me over as she came to a stop much too close for my liking, and I leaned back from her. Her mouth twisted into a sneer as though I smelled like something unpleasant she had trodden in.

“Yeah, you should leave. If you ever talk shit about me like that in front of Alex again, I swear I will make your life hell. You think you can swan around here like you're my boss?” 

She let out a snort as her gaze dropped to my chest. 

“Let's face it, you're only jealous. If you actually had cleavage to flash, you wouldn't be hiding it under that excuse for a shirt even my gran wouldn't be seen dead in.”

My face flushed because she was right. About me not having cleavage, anyway. Even if I had, I still wouldn't flash it around the way she did. 

Amy was everything I would never be. Long blonde hair with the perfected shampoo advertisement flick of it over her shoulder, legs that went on for miles and boobs men drooled over. She leaned in towards me.

“You walk around the office with your mousy brown hair scraped back in your uptight ponytail, thinking you're better than everyone else. Trying to suck everyone in with those baby blue eyes as though you're so bloody innocent. But if you think for one minute that you stand any chance with Dan, then you're seriously mistaken. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of my way.” 

She spun on her heel, blonde strands of hair whipping across my cheek as she stalked off to her desk. I slumped against the back of my chair and dragged in a deep breath. She was right. Again. Why would Dan be interested in me? I wasn't tall and curvy like Amy. It wasn't like I even had a sparkling personality to fall back on. Most of the time, I was either at a loss for words or rambled incoherently. And while I didn't believe Amy was a master of conversation or wit, at least she had other attributes which more than made up for that. 

I grabbed my handbag from the desk drawer, slung the strap over my shoulder, and then shoved my chair under the desk with a little more force than needed. My gaze flicked around the office as I slunk towards reception, hoping no one would notice me leaving. With a sigh of relief, I pulled open the door and left the office.

Not paying attention to the direction I was heading, I ended up wandering towards the high street. Too late I realised it was market day. Gartdale High Street on market day was as bad as shopping in Manchester when the Christmas markets were on. It didn't help that coachloads of tourists were shipped in for the day, lured by promises of the beautiful surrounding countryside and a bargain buy followed by a cream tea. I weaved through the throng of shoppers and veered off down a side street towards the river.

Normally I enjoyed the walk home this way, following the meandering riverside path. Enjoyed watching people feeding the ducks, the suits hurrying home from work and the joggers out in their neon running clothes. But not that day. 

As the sun glinted off the river, the gleeful shriek of the little boy feeding the ducks seemed to mock me. The frustrated huff of the suit I almost walked into reminded me of Alex's earlier irritation at my outburst. And I was pretty sure the joggers were actually aiming for me at that point as I tangled limbs with one of them. I just wanted to be at home, to shut out the rest of the world until reality thrust itself back in my face the next morning.

Climbing the hill towards the outskirts of the town centre, I left the river behind me, along with the houses with their balconies overlooking the sprawling lawns and the view of the river through the trees. I made my way through the maze of terraced houses with their concrete gardens and the view of the street decorated with empty crisp packets and cigarette butts instead.

Finally, I reached the end of the street and my house. It might've looked a little tired, might've been a little too close to the unsavoury end of Gartdale, but it was still home. And it was the best Gabi, and I could afford to rent when we had moved in together five years before, after she had finished university and I had scraped together enough money from the numerous crappy office jobs I'd had after leaving college. 

I hurried up the cracked steps that led to the front door as I hunted for the keys in my handbag. When I turned the key in the lock, the door swung open enough for me to be greeted by the sound of Gabi's raised voice.

“Just leave it alone, Marco.”

Great, Gabi's brother is here. I slammed the front door behind me to announce my arrival. The last thing I needed was to get in the middle of one of their arguments.

I sank into the soft brown leather sofa, propped my feet up on the wooden coffee table and rested my head against the back of the cushion as I closed my eyes. Images of Alex's face scrolled through my mind and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, trying to force them out. 

My ponytail was yanked painfully and my eyelids flew open to see Marco's face hovering over me upside down. “Don't start, Marco. I'm not in the mood,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. 

“You never are any more, Jo. But it's okay. I was leaving anyway. Don't miss me too much.” He threw a wink at me over his shoulder as he walked towards the door.

“Yeah, like that could ever happen,” I shouted at his retreating back.

“You should cut him some slack,” Gabi said.

“What? You mean like he does with me?” I rubbed my fingers over my temples, letting my eyes shut again. “Like you just did?”

“That's different. He's my brother and he … has some stupid ideas sometimes.”

“Do I even want to know?” I asked, looking over at Gabi. She shook her head. 

“No, probably not. What's up with you, anyway?”

I wasn't sure talking about it would resolve anything, but the constant swirl of my thoughts since leaving the office might stop. “I think I screwed up. I lost it in a meeting with my boss.”

Gabi perched on the cushion next to me. “Are we talking 'Claire from third year high school' kind of lost it?”

I grimaced at the memory. God, Amy was my new Claire. “Yeah, pretty much. Just without the hair pulling.”

“Please tell me this has nothing to do with your obsession over Dan.”

Gabi's direct gaze pinned me and I shrugged. “Amy was trying to blame him for why our deadline would be missed, but it has nothing to do with him. I couldn't just sit there and listen to Amy blatantly lie after spending her week flirting with him. Perhaps shouting and brandishing spreadsheets in Alex's face wasn't the best way to get my point across.”

“You think? Is this the same girl who spent days stressing over having to give a presentation to the boss she's just screamed at? You need to forget about Dan.”

I loved Gabi but sometimes … When she thought she was right, she had the habit of forgetting not everyone was as single-minded as her. I sat up straight and twisted to face Gabi to defend Dan. “He doesn't even know about what happened, so you can't blame him.”

“And you shouldn't be defending him.” 

I rolled my eyes at that but should have known better. Gabi had been telling me what I should do ever since we met on our first day in high school. I knew she meant well and was usually right. Not that I would tell her that, of course.

Gabi blew out a long breath. “Well, not like that, anyway. So what did Alex say?”

“Nothing. He scheduled a meeting for me with him first thing tomorrow.” I slumped back against the cushion. “I've never seen Alex lose his cool like that before. Shit, Gabi, what if I lose my job?” I dropped my chin to my chest. Tears stung behind my eyelids at the thought of losing the chance at my dream job when I'd only just applied for it. 

Gabi grasped hold of my hand and gently squeezed. “I'm sure you'll get off with a warning. They won't fire you over this.”

I nodded slowly, wishing I shared her optimism.