Steph liked that he was still grateful for people’s efforts when he probably didn’t have to be.
“Good morning.” Jon sidled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Good morning to you too, but unlike yesterday I do hold you responsible for my fatigue today because you didn’t even say ‘just once more’ you just kept starting again.”
“Is that a complaint?” He kissed the back of her neck, bringing the skin to life in a succession of goose bumps and shudders.
“Not as such, but I think you have to accept responsibility for your actions, Mr Brooker.”
He laughed as he spun her around to face him. “I am happy to accept responsibility for mine, but what about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Looking all hot and sexy. You’re the one that makes me do these things.” His hands were already making their way to her waist where he began to untuck the white vest she had put on with striped pyjama bottoms.
His computer pinged making her laugh as he looked across at it.
“You do whatever it is you’re doing and I will make tea.”
Jon was still working on his laptop when Steph gave him a cup of tea and went to shower before returning dressed in a blue, floral, knee length tea dress and a pair of blue wedged sandals.
“What time are we due at your dad’s?”
“Two o’clock.”
He looked at the clock on his screen. “Okay, just let me send this email and then I will get showered and dressed and we’ll go. What should I wear?”
“Whatever you want. My dad is a modern kind of man so jeans and a t-shirt, whatever you want will be fine,” she said reassuringly.
“Okay. That’s me done then.” He closed his laptop. Getting to his feet he kissed her gently on the lips. “Under no circumstances should you follow me into the shower because we will be late if you do.”
“Then I will wait here.”
“Shame.” He smirked as he disappeared into the bedroom, alone.
“Is thereanything I should know about your family? Anything I shouldn’t say?” asked Jon as they were about halfway to her childhood home.
“No, not that I can think of, but I did think that it may not be a good idea to tell him you’re the CEO of Brookers or that you’re my company’s big, new contract or that you have a wife stashed somewhere.” Steph was at serious risk of rambling.
“Agreed, although you and I need to discuss my wife at some point I think,” said Jon seriously.
“I’m not thrilled about her existence, Jon, but that is most disrespectful, ‘that whole discuss my wife’ thing. Although I suppose shagging me all weekend isn’t exactly what most people consider to be respectful to her.”
“Stephanie, will you please stop talking. Especially about my wife,” he snapped.
“Sorry,” she said sincerely and thought that if she was going to be a successful mistress she would need to stop thinking about Mrs Brooker and apparently stop talking about her too.
“Let’s talk, later, okay?” he asked more gently now.
“Continue with our negotiations?”
“Yes, if you like,” he said as he left the dual carriageway and headed into the heavily populated residential area where her home was.
“Down here on the left,in front of the black car,” she told him as Jon pulled in across the driveway of the fairly standard 1930’s semi-detached house in a typically middle-class looking street.
Steph let herself in through the front door, followed by Jon and called, “Hello.”
Her dad, a man in his late fifties, with a full head of cropped brown hair and big brown eyes appeared before them and hugged her tightly.
