She was still smiling when she climbed out of bed and padded across the carpeted floor to her en suite bathroom. She could see herself in the large mirror opposite, her hair sticking out in strange directions, her face pale apart from the red spot on her cheek where she’d been resting on the pillow. And her pink and blue fleecy pyjamas, covered with images of sleeping sheep – a joke present from Cesca. She had a thing for cheesy nightwear.
It was only a white lie, wasn’t it? He needed a distraction and she gave him one, even if he
r pyjamas were still fully fastened on her body, rather than in heap on her carpet.
The biggest problem was, she was getting distracted too.
22
Young men’s love then lies not truly in
their hearts, but in their eyes
– Romeo and Juliet
‘What?’ Grant frowned, shaking his head as he looked at Lachlan. ‘Are you serious? I’ve only just finished rearranging all your meetings after Miami, and now you want me to do it all over again? You’re crazy.’
Lachlan’s smile was wry. He couldn’t blame Grant for looking at him the way he was. Because yes, he was definitely crazy, but he couldn’t help it. He was like an addict, desperate for his next fix. And as much as he enjoyed his phone calls with Lucy, the need to see her in person was consuming him.
‘It’s only one day’s worth of meetings you need to change,’ Lachlan told him, trying to ignore the way Grant was shaking his head. ‘Just clear my diary for Friday. I’ll fly out in the morning, and I’ll be back by Sunday night. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.’
He’d never seen Grant pout before, but damn if he wasn’t pushing his lips out and frowning. It would have been funny if Lachlan wasn’t serious about this. Grant gave a loud sigh, then clicked on his laptop. ‘All right, I’ll rearrange your Friday meetings but you need to start giving me more notice, okay? I’m trying to run a business here.’
‘My business,’ Lachlan reminded him.
Grant looked up from his laptop, taking a deep breath of air. ‘You’re right. Sorry, man. It’s your call, of course it is.’ He tapped his fingers on the keyboard, glancing back at the screen. ‘I can get you on the first flight to London, then straight on a connection to Edinburgh. You should be there by Friday evening.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘You gonna tell me what this is all about?’ Grant asked. ‘Is it something to do with your inheritance?’
‘Something like that.’
Lachlan wasn’t ready to tell him the truth, no matter how close they were. What was there to tell, anyway? That he’d had sex with this woman a couple of times, and now he was calling her every night like a lovesick teenager, with no idea of how she felt about him? Grant would think he was even crazier than he already did.
‘Okay, it’s all booked,’ Grant said. ‘And I’ve changed the meeting times to next week. You’re all set.’
‘Thank you.’
Grant glanced at him warily. ‘You’re the boss. If you want to fly halfway around the world for some reason you’re not telling me, then it’s your call.’ He pressed his lips together for a moment, as though trying to find the right words. ‘But as your friend, and not your assistant, I have to tell you you’re scaring the crap out of me. I’m worried about you, man.’
Lucy opened her refrigerator, feeling the breeze of cold air wash over her as she stared blankly at the contents. Salad, ready meals and two bottles of white wine were lining the shelves, but nothing took her fancy at all. She pushed it shut, running a hand over her tied-back hair, then walked back to the sofa and picked up her laptop, placing it on her crossed legs.
She was in a funk, plain and simple. Maybe it was the fact it was a Friday night and she had nothing to do. She’d come home, jumped in the shower, then tied her wet hair back, dressing herself in a pair of old pyjamas. And now it was eight o’clock, there was nothing on the television, and all she had to entertain her was work.
She really knew how to live it up, didn’t she?
Twenty minutes later she was neck deep in writing up a deposition when her phone buzzed next to her. The sound almost made her jump out of her skin. A big smile broke out across her face when she saw who the caller was.
‘Hi, Lachlan, you’re early. It must be the middle of the afternoon there.’ Not that she was complaining. In the past two weeks their phone calls had been the bright spot to her day. The one thing she looked forward to when she came home from work.
‘Nope, it’s definitely evening.’
She frowned, looking at her watch again. ‘It’s half past eight here, which makes it half past three where you are.’ She heard the sound of a horn – though she couldn’t quite place whether it was coming down the phone line or from outside her window. She moved her laptop onto the coffee table in front of her, straightening up her notes. A telephone call with Lachlan was worth ignoring her work for.
‘It’s half past eight here, too.’
‘You’re not in New York?’ The strangest sensation came over her. ‘Where are you?’ But she knew the answer already. She got up from the sofa and looked out of the large Georgian window to the street outside. It had been raining earlier, and though it was dry now, the puddles remained, the orange glow from the street lamps making them look strangely ethereal. But it wasn’t the beauty of the light that drew her eye, it was the man standing at the front door to her townhouse, a small suitcase next to him, and a large takeout bag in his hand.