‘Hmm, that does make it messy. I think you’d better line up your accountant to talk to my solicitor. But by my calculations . . . ’ He crossed his fingers. Ella had been very thorough. ‘In the last three years you’ve filmed eight ten-week series. That’s eighty shows plus the regular breakfast show slots and of course today’s events. I believe, at today’s market rate . . . ’ he dredged up Ella’s notes and quoted her figures for studio hire. ‘And it takes a few days to film a show, so that’s an awful lot of studio time owing.’
And he had an awful lot of apologising to do. He owed Ella big time. But seeing Larry today and remembering how devastated he had been when he had to leave her behind, he had an idea of how he might make things up to her.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
With fierce concentration, Ella inked in Gurk’s worried little face. Worried because he was clinging to a drainpipe twelve feet up, under the beady, watchful eye of the pub cat. No, make it a friendly black Labrador who wanted to play with the strange-looking creature but the strange-looking creature saw him as a fearsome monster.
She sat back to admire the morning’s work and check the time. She ought to think about getting ready. Duty called this afternoon. It was her turn to work in the shop and she’d been tasked with opening up, along with a stern warning about not being late. She was hoping she could remember how to operate the till, which on her brief induction the other day had proved tricky.
Tapping the bunch of keys on her desk, she was telling herself she’d be fine and wouldn’t set off the alarm when her mobile buzzed into life, dancing along the table until she just caught it before it took a nosedive into the bin.
‘Hello.’
‘Hi Ella.’
‘Devon,’ she responded, letting the resignation show in her voice.
See, that’s what you got for answering the phone without looking at the screen. Her heart started doing the impression of a Catherine wheel. Stupid thing. She sighed; she was going to have to talk to him sooner or later but she wasn’t about to apologise for trying to help.
‘You’re mad at me.’
She rolled her eyes. No shit, Sherlock.
‘And I deserve it,’ he continued. ‘I owe you an apology. Are you at home? I’d really like to apologise properly. In person and I’ve got . . . got something for you.’
‘As long as it’s not bloody chocolates,’ she said, thinking of the last diplomatic mission to her house.
‘It’s much better than that. I think. Do you mind if I pop over now?’
‘Now, now?’ She looked down at herself in horror.
‘Yes.’
‘Give me ten minutes. I’m still in my PJs. I’ve been working all morning. But I haven’t got long because I’m working in the shop later.’
Ten minutes. Why hadn’t she said fifteen? She raced down the stairs, pulling her clothes off as she darted into the bathroom and leaping into the shower before it had time to warm up. Oooh, that was cold.
What was it he needed to say in person? She was suddenly all fingers and thumbs as she struggled still damp into fresh jeans, fluffed up her hair and pulled on a clean T-shirt. With five minutes to spare, she cleaned her teeth and slapped on a touch of moisturiser and several quick strokes of mascara. That would have to do. With a pause, still mindful of the ticking minutes, she stopped and took stock of herself in the mirror. Her hair had grown out of its usual sharply styled choppy layers, they were looser and softer, and she’d stopped applying the careful eyeliner and lipstick which had been her trademark for years. There didn’t seem much point these days. Not that she couldn’t be bothered, but it just wasn’t important any more. With a toss of her hair, she gave herself a cautious smile. She much preferred this new her.
Even though she was expecting it, the knock at the door made her jump. Trying to be casual, she took her time opening the door.
Devon stood there, empty handed and with a sheepish smile, but he made no move to come in.
Unease flickered in her stomach. Maybe he had just come to apologise and clear the air.
‘Hi.’ Nerves fluttered and her legs seemed to have suddenly lost their backbone.
‘Hi.’
Just the low timbre of the huskily spoken word made her mouth go dry.
They eyed each other and then Devon’s mouth began to curve in a slow smile. He stepped across the threshold and took her in his arms and without any further preamble kissed her. Kissed her socks off. Kissed her like there was no tomorrow. Kissed her breathless.
She clung on. Her legs gave up the last attempt to hold her upright but it didn’t matter because Devon held onto her, kissing her as if he were afraid to let go.
When he finally did let go, she stared at him, dazed. No one had ever made her feel quite so important to them. It felt rather wonderful.
‘I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?’
