“I don’t know. I...”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea, why don’t you come and take a look at the studio. I can show you what I’ve been working on and a few of my old sketches. You can help me choose which one to donate.” He looks at me expectantly.
“What?” A few days ago he was telling me he couldn’t bear to see me again. Now here he is, sitting on my table, a sexy smile playing at his lips. I know I should prefer cocky Niall to the broken one I glimpsed before—and I do—but I still can’t work out what has caused such a transformation. “I don’t know if I have time.”
He leans forward until his face is inches from mine, so close I can feel his breath warming my cheek. “Make time,” he whispers, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to shiver. He hasn’t lost any of his potency in the few weeks I haven’t seen him.
I think about all the things I still have to do: visits to the hotel where we’re holding the gala, meetings with musicians and organising the printing. I’ll barely have a spare minute to myself in the next two weeks.
Damn it, I’ll make time. Of course I will. “Okay.”
I can only describe his resulting grin as “shit-eating”. I try to ignore the effect it has on me. Try to forget the last time we were in a studio together, when he pushed me back on a table and wrapped my legs around his hips. Repressing those memories is easier said than done.
I’m almost relieved when he pushes himself off the table, and walks over to the door to grab a box of supplies. I catch myself following him with wide eyes, watching the way the seat of his jeans tightens as he bends down, willing his t-shirt to rise up enough so I can get a look at his skin.
“I thought we’d study some Klimt,” he shouts, his voice almost absorbed by the cardboard. It’s enough for me to pull myself together and remember where we are.
“They’ll love the colours,” I say. “Not sure the boys will like the hairstyles, though.”
Twenty minutes later the kids arrive. At first, their attention is taken up by Niall’s sudden reappearance, their responses ranging from delighted to muted, depending on their age and perceived level of coolness. Cameron gives him a nod, which is pretty much the Oscar of cool-kid recognition, and I’m reminded of something I’ve wanted to ask him since last week.
“Cameron,” I say when I reach his desk. “Can I ask you a favour?”
With a dramatic flourish, he raises a single eyebrow and winks with the other eye. “You only have to say the word.”
“Not that kind of favour, Cameron,” I sigh. “You live on Allegra’s estate, right?”
He immediately looks suspicious. “Yeah.”
“Do you think you could keep an eye on her? Let me know if anything happens, or if you see anything strange going on.”
“You want me to spy on her?”
“No,” I reply, although that’s exactly what I want him to do. “I only want you to look after her and tell me if you see any men going into her mum’s flat.”
He narrows his eyes. “Why should I do that?”
“Because you owe me?” I suggest. “Because I’m worried about her and want to know she’s okay?”
He rubs his chin with his thumb and forefinger, as if he’s considering my request. “What’s in it for me?”
“Oh I don’t know, maybe the knowledge you’re doing something nice for somebody? Or if you prefer, you can think of it as payback for me sitting with you for hours in a London nick when I could have been at a dinner party.”
“Oh la-di-dah. I’m so sorry I ruined your night, your majesty.”
“You’re forgiven. Or you will be if you do this for me.”
He gives an exaggerated sigh. “All right, all right. I’ll be your spy if you insist. Can I call you Miss Moneypenny?”
I try not to laugh. “No.”
A mock-pout. “Drive an Aston Martin?”
“Don’t even think about it.” I start to walk away.
“Can I shag loads of women and have a speedboat chase?” he calls after me. This time I choose to ignore him, but it’s almost impossible to hide my smile. Cameron may be a cheeky little git, yet I can’t help liking him.
When class ends, the kids pile out noisily, shouting and pushing in an effort to be the first out of the door. Cameron sends me an exaggerated wink, and Allegra runs over and throws her arms around my waist. “Did you hear?” she asks breathlessly. “I’m going to stay at my mum’s this weekend. She says I’ll be living with her soon.” She looks up at me, her face glowing and her eyes bright. I feel the slightest twinge of shame at the way I cajoled Cameron into spying on them.