‘I’ve thought about how you can repay me for saving your life at the wedding,’ he told her.
‘Wh-what?’
‘The other day – you said you owed me. Now I’m collecting.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’ve readThe Field of the Cloth of Goldand I want to discuss it with you.’
Millie glanced down at her report with the title in large letters on the front page, and then back up at Pav in confusion. ‘You want to talk to me about a book? Now? At eleven o’clock at night?’
‘Yes.’ Pav’s chin tilted at a stubborn angle and for a moment Millie pictured a beautiful little boy with dark hair and deep, dark brown eyes adopting the same stance, a boy used to getting his way and not willing to give up until he did.
‘Why?’
‘Love, please just let me in. Talk to me – we’ll only talk about the book, I promise – then I’ll go away.’
Millie was still stuck on the endearment at the start of the sentence. She felt it roll over her like a warm breeze. For some reason she stepped back and pulled the door open.
*****
‘But it doesn’t have to make sense,’ Pav argued through a smile. ‘I think this guy is just fucking with us. He’s a bus driver having a laugh at the snobby literary world for shits and giggles.’
Millie’s eyes flashed.
‘That’s crazy! Therehasto be a point. It’s a historical reference.’
Pav’s smile grew wider. He’d been there for over an hour now. For the first twenty minutes Millie had been reticent in the extreme. It was only when they started discussing the book and he started deliberately baiting her that she started coming out of her shell. At this stage Pav doubted she even realised how she was reacting. It was like seeing a robot slowly animate into a living creature – and a fascinating, beautiful, intelligent, funny creature at that.
Her house was huge, and he’d yet to see any sign of any other occupants. It was decorated in surprisingly warm colours and had a homey feel despite the fact it was tidy to the point of being disturbing. The throw cushions on the sofa looked like they had been aligned with a ruler.
‘Ah, yes,’ Pav muttered. ‘Let’s refer back to the report, shall we.’
He snatched the paper from Millie’s side and flicked through to the third page. She made a lunge for it, with the very satisfying result that her body pressed against his as he held the pages away from her.
That small, tentative smile was back on her face and he sucked in a sharp breath. Before he’d seen her smile he’d known she was attractive in a cold, clinical, abstract sort of a way. Well-put-together was the most fitting phrase that sprang to mind. But when she smiled she became one of the most stunning women he’d ever seen in his life.
‘Now, now, Dr Morrison. Just let me get to the relevant paragraph. I believe you said –’
‘Don’t call me that.’ Millie was no longer smiling and she withdrew back to her side of the sofa. Even worse, he lost the eye contact he’d been enjoying for the last half hour at least, as she looked down at her feet and tucked her hair (over the course of the hour her hair had worked its way out of its confines and settled over her shoulders and down her back) behind her ears.
‘Hey,’ Pav said softly, lowering the report back down into his lap and leaning towards her to try to catch her eyes again. ‘What’s up?’
‘I just …’ She trailed off and he noticed her hands clench into small fists again. The sight of her knuckles turning white and the tight set of her mouth made his chest clench. ‘Look, don’t worry about it. I’m being silly.’
‘Don’t call you what?’ Pav asked, his head tilting to the side, and Millie sighed.
‘Dr Morrison,’ she whispered. ‘Everyone calls me Dr Morrison. It’s like they …’ She made a visible effort to unclench her hands and rubbed them both down her legs. ‘It’s like they want to keep me at a distance. Like they don’t want to interact with me in any sort of meaningful way. And I’m so …’ She shook her head and moved forward to stand. Just as she was rising from the sofa, Pav caught her hand.
‘Okay, Millie,’ he said, tugging her back down to the sofa so that she was right next to him. Her wide eyes met his for a moment before she quickly looked away. ‘No more Dr Morrison, all right?’
Of its own volition, the hand that wasn’t holding hers on the sofa moved up to touch a lock of her hair that was hanging by her cheek. It was so soft, like satin. He breathed in and the scent of her shampoo and some sort of complicated perfume filled his senses. ‘You have such gorgeous hair,’ he muttered.
‘D-don’t be ridiculous,’ she stuttered as his face moved closer, just a few millimetres from the side of her head. ‘I … I … It’s mousy.’
Pav felt like he was drugged. He literally couldn’t help himself as he closed the small gap and kissed her silky hair before taking a deep breath in.
‘It’s golden chestnut,’ he told her as his lips moved to the shell of her ear and she sucked in a shocked breath.
