Busy Woman Seeks Wife (26 page)

O
n the whole he’s managing to keep up, thought Alex to herself as she saw Frankie around the office, chatting with people.
He did have a natural ability to do that, engaging people and talking about their favorite subject—themselves. When she could
lift her nose from her desk, she’d seen him a couple of times approach people and within minutes he’d have them laughing and
chatting back animatedly. That was a valuable gift.

It was Frankie’s new look that alarmed her most. When he’d arrived through the doors on that first morning, she’d done a double
take. He really had taken the clothes thing seriously, playing the part as he should. Gone were the baggy T-shirts and jeans,
the loose resting-actor look. Here was a tall and, she had to admit, good-looking man in Todd’s pink striped shirt. Just right
for the part of conscientious academic. But on Frankie, whose frame was so much leaner than Todd’s, it looked comfortable
and casual, so different from its owner. On the following morning he had appeared in a polo shirt, and she found herself rather
pathetically looking at the muscles on his tanned arms until she’d caught him staring with a quizzical expression and she’d
looked quickly away. Everywhere else too he was playing the role with almost alarming conviction. At one point she’d whispered,
“How’s it going?” outside the lift, and he’d looked her in the eye as if he hardly knew her and replied very politely that
he was very much enjoying being with the company. She’d looked at him questioningly and the slight rise of his eyebrow had
been almost imperceptible.

It was becoming increasingly clear though that the idea of sabotage was a stupid one. The past couple of days had passed without
any glitches Alex could see, and she’d clearly been deluding herself. Any recent cock-ups and mistakes must all have been
hers because when she was concentrating on the job things weren’t going wrong. She didn’t really want to explore why looking
efficient in front of Frankie was important, but, she thought irritably as the running-order meeting for the launch was about
to start, it was pointless him being here anyway.

Her mobile bleeped with low battery and she cast about for her phone charger on her desk, lifting papers and moving boxes.
Where had it gone? She pushed aside her notes on the meeting with Donatella and the choreographers she’d had yesterday, but
it wasn’t there either. She started to pull open her drawers to look for it. Yes, the meeting had gone well. For all her demands
the woman was obviously a pro. She’d arrived in a gingham bodice and a black puffball skirt and sashayed across the floor
towards Alex’s desk. Frankie’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head. Weren’t men predictable? Well, if he found that sort
of in-your-face slavish dedication to fashion attractive that was his lookout. But more important, where the hell was her
charger?

A
t eleven o’clock, everyone was in the meeting room with the exception of Alex. After a moment, Frankie made an excuse and
slipped out. He found her on her hands and knees under her desk.

“I can’t find the charger for my phone,” she muttered. “I’m expecting a call on it from Donatella with an update of some of
the issues raised yesterday. Oh, sod it!”

“Alex, everybody’s waiting for you. Can’t you look for that later? Maybe someone else has the same charger.”

“What?” Alex emerged, her hair sticking up and her eyes wild. “I thought it was at eleven.”

“It’s five past now. Come on. Hurry up. I’ll come in after you.”

Alex threw an uncomprehending look at the wall. “But my clock! It says ten to. It’s slow. Someone’s changed it this morning.
They must have.”

Frankie shoved the pile of papers neatly piled up at the end of her desk into her arms. “Never mind that now. Go!”

The meeting went well—considering. But there was a distinctly cold atmosphere when Frankie reentered the room and slipped
into his place after Alex. She seemed nervous, although he wondered if the others realized. She was trying hard to cover it
up but he was sitting close enough to notice that she had her left hand clenched, as she had the other day at the park when
he’d told her the bad news about the Bean’s spending. He noticed her swallow hard a couple of times, and he gently pushed
a glass of water towards her. She barely glanced at him but picked up the water straightaway to moisten her lips.

Frankie was supposed to be gauging the reactions of the other people around the table. He’d felt sure that whoever was responsible
for Alex’s troubles would give themselves away at this meeting by some subtle clue in their body language. He glanced around
as Alex spoke, hoping to catch someone out, but saw nothing unusual. He glanced at each face one by one. All were turned towards
Alex, all were listening attentively. But once Alex started describing what she had in store for the launch, he found himself
being mesmerized by her passionate descriptions and had to keep remembering not to stare at her. Even though much of what
she was explaining went over his head, time and time again he felt his gaze returning to her face—and eventually staying put.
Frankie frowned. He wasn’t even really concentrating on what she was saying anymore. He was just watching the way her body
moved when she talked, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when it flopped forward over her cheekbones.

He sat up straighter in his chair, shocked at the way his thoughts had drifted. This hadn’t been part of the plan at all.
She wasn’t even his type. He normally went for the petite, bubbly sort, intense and flighty. The emotionally demanding. And
they were ten a penny in the theater. He had to force his attention back to what she was saying.

He found himself willing her to succeed, to blow their socks off, and he realized as he watched her that she was actually
giving a pretty good performance. As she drew their attention to one item on the running order after another, he smiled to
himself. Gradually, she seemed to be winning her audience over. She seemed in perfect control, and she clearly loved what
she was doing. If only the Bean could see her like this.

In the end, Gavin grudgingly nodded before jumping to his feet. It was some tribute to Alex that he’d stayed put this long.
“Yes, yes. Well, that all seems fine. But it’s got to be more than fine, as we all know. It’s got to be perfect. More than
perfect. So—well—keep on the case, Alex. No foul-ups. If it ends up looking as good as it sounds then maybe… Well, just
stay on the case, all right? And I want a constant update from now until kickoff. Understand?” He bolted off into the open-plan
area, leaving the others to clear away. Everyone else stopped by to ask Alex for clarification on one point or another, or
to congratulate her on how well it had gone. With Camilla standing just behind her, Alex looked more comfortable than he’d
seen her in days. Maybe everything was covered now.

Frankie stayed at a safe distance for the rest of the day and, after he had seen her go past him to the door with a stack
of files clutched against her chest, wishing him a good weekend, he started to tidy away the papers from his desk too. The
recycling bin was almost full, so he lifted it to shake down the loose sheets on top before adding his contribution. It was
then he heard something heavy drop to the bottom of the bin. Someone had probably knocked a stapler in there by mistake. He
reached down inside but his fingers encountered a wire. Pulling it out carefully he realized he was holding a phone charger.
And it couldn’t have gotten there by accident. He looked around cautiously, then pulled it free and slipped it into his backpack.
Alex would be pleased to see that.

Frankie’s steps slowed as he got closer to Alex’s door. Maybe he should have called. Would she think it was odd for him to
just turn up like this? Well, if she did, he’d just hand over the charger and go straight away. Todd might even be there.
He rang the bell.

She was alone, thank goodness, and her hair was wet from the shower. She seemed pleased enough to see him, but she was certainly
delighted to get her charger back. She immediately plugged her phone in and checked for messages, spoke to Bettina Gordino’s
agent and made some notes in her folder. Then offered him a drink. It felt strange to be waited on in this flat, but it seemed
like another lifetime when he’d been here with the Bean, tidying, preparing meals. But now, alone together in the flat, they
could stop the office charade and it felt like a liberation. Alex seemed to feel the same. She looked relaxed when she returned
from the kitchen with two glasses on a tray and a chilled bottle of Sancerre, plus some peanuts that Frankie was pretty sure
he’d put in the cupboard a few weeks ago. She passed him a large glass of wine, then sat on the sofa, her long brown legs
tucked under her, and looked up at him. “Well, don’t just stand there. Make yourself at home.”

Frankie smiled and sat down opposite her. “Cheers. It went well today, I thought. Your presentation.”

Alex seemed to reflect for a moment, then a shy smile crossed her face. “It did, didn’t it? I really thought Gavin was going
to bawl me out in front of everyone, but the printouts looked so efficient, it really started things off well—in spite of
me turning up late. So tell me, where did you find my charger? I looked everywhere for it.”

Frankie hesitated. “Actually, it was in the recycled-paper bin. I only found it by accident and I don’t think it walked there
by itself.”

“Who on earth could have put it there then?” She leaned forward, looking concerned. “And what would be the point?”

Frankie shrugged. “It seems petty, I agree. But now I’m convinced you are right. Added to everything else, Alex, it points
at someone with a monster grudge against you, who just wants to undermine you in any way they can, big or small.”

“This is just making me even more determined to get everything right, you know,” she replied, her eyes glinting. “I’m checking
every detail at least twice. You know, I really think I’ve taken care of everything. There’s only four days to go now, and
all the details are in place. Bettina’s apparel is being delivered from the factory first thing Monday and I’m going to bring
it home with me so I can keep an eye on it overnight. I got Camilla to run through the final details with the caterer today.
I’m living from lists, I know.” She laughed hollowly. “I’ve hardly stopped to eat in days—apart from standing up at the fridge,
but if I can just hold it together, I really think it’s going to be all right.” She took a long sip of her wine and sighed,
closing her eyes for a moment. She looked ready to drop. Frankie watched her face relax in the early evening light. What he
really felt like doing, he realized with a jolt, was taking her in his arms and telling her everything really
was
going to be all right. Should he? Shouldn’t he? She opened her eyes again and the moment passed.

Frankie looked down at his hands. “Have you still got any pasta? I haven’t eaten either.”

In the kitchen, Frankie looked through the cupboards while Alex leaned against the units and carried on chatting about work
as he put together some ingredients. Everything was pretty much as he had left it so Alex couldn’t have cooked a single meal
for herself since the Bean had moved out after they’d been rumbled, and it showed. She was looking thinner, and Frankie could
see the hollows of her collarbones clearly as she filled her glass with wine again. As he snapped down the switch on the kettle,
Alex seemed to rouse herself. “Here, let me do that. You shouldn’t be doing all the work. How much pasta do we need?” Frankie
let her take the packet from his hands.

“How hungry are you? I mean, if you do the lot, you can just add some pesto and put it in the fridge, then reheat it tomorrow
with some bacon or something,” he suggested.

“Right, I’ll do it all then.” She poured the boiling water from the kettle into the pan Frankie had gotten out and set it
on the stove, taking a little time to get the gas to ignite. Without waiting for it to come to boil again and without even
adding oil, she poured in the pasta, then jumped back when the water splashed up and burned her. “Ow! Shit, that hurt!”

Frankie turned on the cold tap. “Put your hand under here, quick.” He tried to take her hand but she pulled away.

“I’ll be all right!” she snapped. “I can do it myself.”

“Why do you do this?” Frankie demanded.

“Do what? What are you talking about?”

“Why do you push everyone away? I only wanted to help. I wanted… you hurt yourself. You’re tired. You’re not eating properly.
For God’s sake, can’t you just let me look after you? Just for tonight?”

Alex stared at him, and Frankie wondered for a moment if she was going to cry or shout or throw him out. But she did none
of those things. Quietly and gently, she held out her burned hand to him. He took it in both of his and examined it closely,
holding it up. The burn wasn’t serious but the skin was a little red. Frankie carefully raised her hand to his mouth and kissed
it softly, then waited, not daring to look at her. She didn’t pull away. He paused, then looked into her eyes and kissed it
again, grazing the skin with his lips and turning her hand over so he could kiss the inside of her wrist. He heard her sharp
intake of breath and gently he pulled her towards him. At first their lips just touched in a brief, tentative kiss, then he
buried his hands in her still-damp hair as the kiss deepened. She made a small noise in her throat and reached up to touch
his cheek. Almost instantly they were devouring each other, and her response was as passionate as his. They pulled apart,
both breathing hard, and stared in complicity until finally Alex reached past him and turned off the stove.