‘My youngest niece Ivy is a delight. But her mom would say she has the most disgusting bedroom on earth. We all know a kid like that. We probably allwerea kid like that. That’s why people would love it. It’s relatable, about real people and – unlike your modelling show – it would make viewers laugh. I’m telling you, it’s a winner.’
‘Hmm. I mean, I like it too. But the production company has little in the way of a track record.’
‘So they’re new,’ he shrugs. ‘You can get a more experienced firm to godfather them. We all needed someone to take a chance on us at some point in our lives, don’t you think?’
I get a sudden warm waft of his aftershave and something snags behind my ribcage.
‘Well, either way, you’ve already outlined the objections toOur Girl In Milanto the rest of the team. I’m not sure I’ll be able to put the cat back in the bag now.’
He flattens his mouth. ‘Sorry.’
‘Ah, you did your job,’ I’m forced to concede, deflecting the apology. ‘It’s up to Krishna to decide now.’
‘Well, let me know if I can be of any assistance.’
‘Oh, you’ve donequiteenough, thanks very much,’ I say, only half kidding. He smiles anyway. ‘So how did you swing a transfer from the US office? Who’s doingyourjob while you’re here?’
‘That is a sore point.’
‘Oh?’
‘Since Susan Fleming became group CEO a couple of years ago, she made a big deal about how MotionMax+ is a global company and teams ought to share talent and experience. So I approached her and she was all for it. Some of my fellow senior execs, however, didn’t see things that way. To them, this is just a satellite office.’
‘What a cheek,’ I say, even though it’s obviously true. Still, we are the biggest outside the US.
‘Couple of people made no secret of thinking that I’d left them in the shit.’
I remember that conversation I’d had about him before he arrived.He had his fans but it wasn’t a universally held opinion . . .
‘It was like they thought I was here to have some long vacation,’ he says.
I snort. ‘Have they seen the average spring temperatures in this part of the world? None of us tend to do much sunbathing in Salford at this time of year.’
Now he laughs too. I’m so busy looking at the way his face illuminates that I totally fail to notice that he’s topping up my paper cup until it’s too late. As I shift my bodyweight forward, oblivious, I manage to spill about three-quarters of it, most of which lands on Zach’s trousers.
‘Shit.’
I grab the closest thing to a cloth that I can find, which happens to be my linen scarf, and I automatically start to mop it up. Then I realise what I’m doing and that I’m touching his leg. I freeze. We are suddenly very close. The warm curve of his thigh is still against mine. I can feel his eyes on me, almost before I look up, a fact confirmed when I do so and they drop unexpectedly to my mouth.
It strikes me that all I’d need to do is lean forward an inch, maybe two, and it would be an invitation for him to kiss me. I could brush those lips, taste the wine on his tongue. A flood of liquid desire spreads through my body. I can’t work out if it’s simply some trick or refraction of moonlight, but it feels as though we’re already drawing closer towards one another. Time seems to stand still. And then—
Ping.
I clear my throat, pull back and register the vehicle drawing into the car park.
‘Looks like that’s your ride,’ he says, his voice slightly hoarse.
‘Yes. Sorry about your . . . trousers.’
The faintest smile. ‘No problem.’
We both get to our feet.
‘Don’t forget your tennis balls.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘You arewaytoo pleased with those. You must have a very boring life.’
