The third time, he lifted his glass, as he had done in the garden, and from that night on, it became our signal: ‘I see you, I’m thinking about you. I’m ridiculously attracted to you, and utterly captivated by your smile.’
I spent another half an hour networking, then, as the crowd began to thin, I once again slipped out to the garden bench. It was fully dark now, and it was only instinct that told me Leo would follow.
When he appeared out of the shadows, once again taking a seat a respectable few inches away, it was me who slid close enough for our shoulders to touch, for it to seem natural when his hand slipped around mine. After a minute, he took off his jacket and carefully draped it across my shoulders, and I breathed in the scent of bergamot, my senses on fire.
When our voices were growing hoarse, our skin numb from the night chill, as the hotel staff cleared away the last of the night’s debris, I finally replied to the messages pinging through from Shay and Kieran, asking me where the hell I was, had I been kidnapped and did I want to get a nightcap with them in the bar before they headed up?
I sent the only reply that would have made them leave me alone:
Mary
I’m talking to a guy. Do Not Disturb!
When I slipped my phone back into my bag, Leo took a deep breath.
‘You don’t strike me as a woman who kisses random men at parties.’
I ducked my head, allowing my hair to fall over my face.
‘Not since snogging Jason Candy in year twelve.’ I grimaced. ‘Didn’t turn out well.’
‘Especially ones who are interviewing with your company in six days.’
I glanced up at this man who had listened to every word I’d said as if eager to know more, not merely trying to win me over.
The truth was, I’d not kissed any man, random or otherwise, in years. I’d had three too many glasses of champagne, and, for the first time in far too long, I was enjoying feeling reckless.
‘Ah, stuff it. It’s a party.’
I put my glass down, flung my arms around his neck, and as my heart pounded, electricity whizzing through my nervous system, I pressed my lips against his.
21
BECKETT
On Saturday afternoon, Beckett welcomed yet another care manager into his kitchen. He’d been offered an airport run that morning, and was feeling broke enough to risk sticking on a podcast about Frederick the Great and taking Gramps with him.
Following that two-hour debacle, this meeting had to go well.
Which it did, for the first half-hour. Jaden, the care manager, was clearly passionate about ensuring her service users got the best possible care.
‘Health and safety, turning up on time, having carers who know you, that’s all essential, but we don’t settle for being caring and competent.’
Beckett was listening.
‘Our aim is that the people we work with look forward to our carers coming. It’s one of the highlights of their week, day, whatever. I’m rigorous about only hiring and keeping staff who love their job and treat these precious men and women as if they were their own family. Our staff receive the level of respect we expect them to show the service users, and everyone’s happy. We’re a non-profit, so we can keep wages fair without working our team like pack mules.’
The reviews that Beckett had found online certainly backed up what she was saying. One man wrote that he’d pretended to be ill in the hope his wife’s carer kept coming even after his wife died.
‘Is it okay if I meet Marvin?’ Jaden asked once Beckett was itching to sign the contract. ‘I won’t do an assessment or anything this time, but I’d love to say hi.’
Beckett really wanted to say no. Later on, he wished he’d made up some excuse, pretended Gramps was in bed.
Unfortunately, the second Beckett walked into the living room, Gramps jolted awake.
‘What?’
Jaden came to stand beside Beckett, politely waiting to be introduced.
