Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

Lachlan followed Lucy over to her office – much bigger than the visitors’ cubicles, with a small table in the middle where they would be able to work a little easier. ‘I’m sorry about Anneka,’ she said, as he laid his laptop bag on the table. ‘She’s young but very keen. I hope you managed to get some work done, too.’

He glanced around her room, taking in the view of Edinburgh, the old sandstone city a contrast to the sleek lines of her office, with its modern glass-and-steel furniture. There were photographs everywhere – framed ones on her desk, snapshots pinned to her board, and some affixed to the walls that separated her office from the ones beside her. He looked more closely at them. Some showed Lucy standing with some other girls and an older man – her family, maybe – while others had her grinning in cities and tourist sites across the world. Some he recognised – Machu Picchu, the Taj Mahal, Sydney Harbour Bridge – while others he couldn’t place at all.

‘Do you travel a lot?’ he asked, still taking the photographs in. She looked so different in them – out of her sharp suits, with her hair flowing in the breeze. There was a easiness to her that he hadn’t seen whenever they’d met. She was relaxed and clearly enjoying herself.

‘Sometimes,’ she said, pulling a water bottle and two glasses from the table on the side. ‘Not as much as I’d like any more. It was easier when I was training – I had more time and I could get student discounts too. Nowadays getting away takes a bit more planning.’

He picked up a photograph of her standing at the top of a tall building, Manhattan laid out in a chequerboard pattern behind her. ‘The Top of the Rock,’ he murmured, still looking at it.

‘That’s right. I preferred it to the Empire State Building. It felt less touristy, which I know sounds stupid since it’s a tourist attraction and all. But it had this buzz to it that I liked.’

‘I prefer it too,’ he agreed, smiling at her. A thousand questions came into his mind – about what she’d seen, where she’d eaten. It was strange to imagine her in his city, maybe haunting the same locations he did. They could have passed each other in the street and he wouldn’t have known. ‘What’s your favourite place to visit?’ he asked her, wanting to know more.

‘I loved New York, of course,’ she said. ‘But Sydney was great, too. And then there’s all the European cities – full of history and culture. Lisbon’s gorgeous, and Barcelona is full of life.’

‘How about Paris?’ he asked her. ‘Do you like it there?’

Her cheeks flushed. ‘Would you believe I’ve never been? I always mean to, but it hasn’t happened. It’s so close that I always think I’ll go there next time, but then something else crops up.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘You’re going to tell me you’ve been there, aren’t you, and put me to shame?’ She passed him a glass of water, their fingers touching as he took it. A tiny pulse of electricity – static from the floor – passed between them.

She looked as shocked as he felt.

‘It’s one of my favourite places,’ he admitted, smiling at the red on her cheeks. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t been. Has your boyfriend never taken you?’

‘What boyfriend?’

As soon as the last syllable escaped her lips a look of horror came over her face. She glanced at him for a moment, then looked away almost immediately. But it was long enough for him to see the truth in her eyes.

She’d been lying about having a boyfriend.

There was silence in the room, apart from her soft breathing and the thrum of his pulse in his ears. He lifted the glass to his lips, moistening them, as he tried to find the right thing to say. But there was nothing that he could think of to end the awkward moment, to take that look from her face.

Nothing apart from changing the subject completely, that was.

‘Shall we talk about tomorrow’s meeting?’ he asked her. ‘I know we don’t have much time, and I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.’

Her shoulders relaxed, the faintest of smiles crossing her lips. ‘Yes, let’s do that,’ she said, gesturing for him to sit down at the table. ‘I’ll just get the files out and we can make a start.’

Lucy rarely drank on a week night, and almost never more than one glass, and yet that evening she found herself pouring out a second, filling the generous goblet two-thirds of the way. She twisted the lid back on and put the bottle back in the fridge – which was where it would stay for another day – and then sat down on the sofa, lifting the glass to her lips.

As she swallowed the cool Sauvignon, she closed her eyes, savouring the crisp bouquet. Even though it was chilled, the alcohol immediately warmed her stomach, relaxing her in a way she hadn’t felt for days.

What a bloody mess, and it was all of her own making. Though Lachlan hadn’t mentioned her boyfriend – or lack of one – at all for the rest of the day, a couple of times she’d caught him looking at her, a question in his eyes. He didn’t have to verbalise it either, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Why the hell had she lied about something so stupid?

It was a question she kept asking herself, too. She’d just made herself look completely foolish in front of a client, and though he’d been kind enough to change the subject, he couldn’t help but think less of her for that.

That hurt, because his opinion of her mattered.

It was only eight o’clock, although it seemed much later, maybe it was the exhaustion kicking in. She’d be on better form tomorrow. She’d put this awful day behind her, along with her imaginary boyfriend and any stupid attraction she felt towards him whenever he walked into the room.

She had another chance to prove how good a professional she was. And this time, she wouldn’t ruin it.

Taking another mouthful of wine, she pulled her laptop towards her. The screen automatically flickered to life.

She moved the cursor until it was flickering over her inbox, but then diverted it to her internet explorer, bringing up the search box. Her fingers hovered above the keys, hesitating at what she was planning to do. Because it was wrong and it was unprofessional and it proved she was losing the battle.

She drained her wine glass. What the hell, she’d be professional tomorrow.

Before she could think about it twice, she typed Lachlan’s name into the little grey box, then pressed enter with her finger. Almost immediately the screen filled with results, and a line of little square images appeared, depicting Lachlan in different poses. In some he was alone, in others with a partner. She ignored them, clicking on the first article instead. It immediately took her to Business Buzz, a financial news website with an irreverent edge.