‘I hate it.’
‘Right now, I hate it too.’
He kissed her again, yanking the fleecy material over her shoulder to release some of her flesh.
Then the front door slammed and Hayley jumped like a startled kangaroo.
She clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘It’s Dean and Angel.’ She pulled the zipper back up.
‘What do you want me to do? Go? Hide? It’s your call,’ he told her.
‘Hide?’ She couldn’t stop herself from smirking.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, a small laugh escaping. ‘What would happen in theGilmore Girls?’
‘There would be hiding, definitely, and lots of talking about random stuff that only highlights the fact that you’re here and we’ve had coffee and…’ There was no hiding the number of cups on the table. Hiding wasn’t an option. She widened her eyes. ‘You have to make this about the Globe. Yes! That’s it! You’ve come here to ask Dean something about the Globe that couldn’t wait.’
‘Like what?’ Oliver asked, tucking his shirt in.
‘I don’t know! I’m not the owner of a consumer electronics company.’ She thought for a second, almost able to hear the footfalls on the stairs. ‘It overheats!’
‘What? I can’t say that!’
The door to the lounge area swung open and Angel and Dean entered the room. Hayley leapt forward, pulling Angel into an over-the-top embrace, coddling her head to her bosom. ‘Did you have a lovely time? Was Vernon’s food a-ma-zing?’
‘Hey,’ Oliver greeted, waving a hand.
Angel struggled from her embrace and eyed Oliver with suspicion.
‘Mr Drummond… what are you doing here? I mean… is there something I can help you with?’ Dean started, putting a plastic container on the dining-room table behind him. ‘Oh no… it’s the Globe, isn’t it?’
Hayley nodded her head up and down, eyes on stalks, willing Oliver to agree.
‘Rabbit Nation works fine. I’ve been playing that all the way there and all the way back,’ Angel remarked.
Hayley nodded all the more vigorously, then shot Dean an innocent look, toying with the zipper on her onesie.
‘Yes, I’m afraid it’s the Globe,’ Oliver cleared his throat. ‘I think we have an overheating issue.’
27
DEAN WALKER’S APARTMENT, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
Her brother was still looking at the product like it might explode in his hands as Oliver talked to him about something he’d found out on the electronics grapevine to do with one of the components they had used. Hayley felt bad for making Oliver lie and for getting Dean hot under the collar about the apparent failure of his baby. But the alternative was to try and explain what the billionaire was doing in the apartment with her. The two men were huddled over the Globe on the breakfast bar, Dean talking and swiping and Oliver looking back to her every now and then for a get-out.
‘Did you know, Vernon’s meatball recipe has been in his family for six generations,’ Angel said, appearing at Hayley’s elbow, a bowl of ice cream in her hands.
‘I didn’t know that,’ she replied, her eyes still on Oliver.
‘I know there’s nothing wrong with the Globe,’ Angel said, digging her spoon into the dessert and pushing the food into her mouth.
Hayley turned to Angel. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘There are shortbread biscuits on the coffee table,’ Angel said through a mouthful.
Hayley looked to the table. The half-empty coffee pot, the glass of water, the biscuits. Did the scene have incrimination written all over it?
‘He’s Uncle Dean’s boss. What was I supposed to give him when he turned up here? Leftover pizza?’
