‘I don’t give a damn about being professional,’ Lachlan told her. ‘We’re more than that, aren’t we?’
Were they? There was that tightness again.
She tried to smile, and it looked genuine, in spite of the tears. ‘Yeah, I guess we are.’
‘Remember what we talked about in Paris?’ he said gently. ‘I just want you to be honest with me. Always.’
She took in another ragged breath. ‘I am.’
‘Good. And I’m so sorry about your father. Are you going to be okay?’
She gave a watery laugh. ‘I will be once I’ve gone to the bathrooms and sorted out my make-up,’ she said. ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. It was a shock and I hated it, but it’s just the way it is. He’s only going to get worse, not better.’
Where had he heard that before? Lachlan scratched his jaw, then nodded at her. ‘Okay, go wash your face, get your make-up on, and I’ll talk to you soon.’
She looked straight into the camera. ‘I will. Thank you, Lachlan.’
‘You’re welcome. And Lucy?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Even when you have eyes like a panda, you still look beautiful.’
21
I understand a fury in your words
– Othello
It was ten o’clock that night when she finally made it home. She was still wearing the suit she’d put on that morning, wheeling her small carry-on case behind her. Searching through her bag, she found her key and slid it into the lock, pushing the door open to walk inside.
Home sweet home. And it really did smell sweet. Elena had been – she could tell by the way everything looked neat and tidy, and the floral smell of the cleaning fluids she used. Lucy wheeled her suitcase in, then turned to close the door, but before she could the familiar flash of orange fur slid past her.
She tried to reach for the cat, but she was too quick, heading straight for the kitchen. Kicking the door closed, Lucy decided to worry about the intruder later. Maybe she’d even let her stay for a while, curl up on her lap. Goodness knew, a little bit of warmth and contact might do them both some good.
S
he slid off her shoes and placed them carefully in the hall closet, then shrugged off her jacket and hung it on a padded hanger, next to her other coats – some of them still in their dry-cleaning wrappers. As she turned to walk into the kitchen, she saw the huge bouquet of flowers in a large glass vase on the table. Reaching out to touch the petals, she saw a white card nestled in the bouquet.
The cat slinked around her legs, her silky-soft fur caressing her ankles, as Lucy opened up the card. Unfolding it, she saw a simple print-out stuck to the inside.
Thinking of you. Lachlan x
She traced the printed words with her finger, then looked back at the flowers. White calla lilies were mixed with the palest of pink roses, weaved in among blush orchids and a spray of heather. She breathed them in for a moment, then smiled a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in forever.
He was her client, and for a few days he’d been her lover, too. And right now, he was being a friend, and that touched her more deeply than she could say.
She grabbed her phone and walked into the living room, the cat following at her heels. When she sat down, the tabby jumped onto the sofa, then curled against her leg.
The call connected in less than twenty seconds. When he answered, his deep voice echoing down the line, her smile widened.
‘Lachlan,’ she said, reaching out to stroke the cat beside her. ‘It’s Lucy, I just called to thank you for the flowers.’
‘What are you doing right now?’ Lachlan leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his ankles on the desk. Outside his office window, the New York sky was beginning to darken, the early-evening sun slipping her anchor and sliding down towards the tops of the tall buildings.
‘Is this a personal or a professional call?’ Lucy asked. Her voice sounded like a laugh.
It had been a couple of weeks since she’d called to thank him for the bouquet of flowers, and somehow they’d drifted into the habit of talking in the evenings before she went to bed.