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Evenso, his gut twisted whenever he thought about holding back from her.Hewas planning to propose in exactly three weeks.Hopefullyby then,Francescawould have sorted out her office and cleared out anyway, making the whole thing a moot point.Hehad faith it would all work out in the end.
Thatbeing said, he was enjoying having somebody in the office with him, even if it was his super-fit ex.
Theyfell quickly into a comfortable routine.Bythe timeKrishcame in every morning,Francescawas already there.Onceor twice he wondered if she had actually gone home, but her clothes had changed, so…yes?Heknew that she was behind schedule with her edits, especially as her most up-to-date files had been on the stolen disks.
He’dalso gotten into the habit of bringing her a coffee (black, notStarbucks) and a sugar-free snack.Itwas no problem to pick up something for her when he ordered his own.Inreturn, she made him cups of tea and sometimes brought him an extra portion of the ridiculously healthy salads she made for lunch, usually involving chickpeas, quinoa, and kale.Theywere never enough to fill him up, but it was the thought that counted.
Today, they were each plugged into their separate editing stations, their backs to each other facing opposite walls.Hehad neglected hisPhotoshopwork while he finished the office set-up and now had a lot to catch up on.
Apair of oscillating fans blew cool air towards each of them.Thenews kept reporting that it was the hottestJulyon record.Justhis luck.Especiallyas it meantFrancescawas dressing for the season: tank tops revealing her subtly muscled arms and body-huggingdenim shorts that showed off her toned legs.
Heremembered when they were together, she used to jump up into his arms and wrap those legs around him.Today, her dark hair was scraped up into one of those sexy, messy buns.Duringone of their tea breaks, she’d mentioned that she saw a personal trainer onMondaymornings and then performed strength exercises that he set her throughout the week.Krishhad caught her doing squats while she waited for the kettle to boil.Hedidn’t want to acknowledge the immediate, physical reaction he’d had to her thrusting up and down.
Atap on his shoulder made him jump.Shestood behind him, holding out a mug, as though his imagination had somehow transformed into reality.
‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the mug from her and putting it on a coaster beside his keyboard.Heslipped his headphones off and swivelled around in his chair to face her. ‘Howare your edits coming along?’
‘Good.Justworking on aGreekweddingIshot eight weeks ago.Haveyou ever shot aGreekwedding?’
Hesaid he’d shot loads withConnor.ActuallyinGreece.
Shesipped at her tea cautiously and flinched at the heat.Sheput the mug down. ‘IfIever get married,Iwant aMoneyDance.Theywere looping strings of £50 notes around her neck.Probablyenough to pay for the whole day.Crazy.’Walkingto one of the fans, she pulled on the knob to stop it oscillating and leaned over so the air blew into her face. ‘What’reyou working on?’
Krishtried to ignore how sexy she looked with the wind gusting through wisps of her hair.Hecrossed his legs and picked up his mug. ‘TheGangsterWedding.’Shemoaned in response. ‘Haveyou heard from the data recovery guy yet?’
‘No,I’mgoing to call him later for an update.Startingto get nervous.I’msupposed to deliver a five-minute teaser reel to the couple in four weeks’ time.’Shestood and turned her back to the fan. ‘Idon’t wantChucklesto come after me with his shovel.’Shelaughed.
Krishcould hear the nervousness in her voice.Heshouldn’t have brought it up. ‘Sotell me, when did you get into weddings?Areyou still interested in making documentaries…?
‘Yes, of course, but unfortunately,Ineed money to eat.Itried working as a telesales operator for a while but…Ihated working in an office…and it didn’t really suit my skillset.’
‘Ican imagine.’Thethought ofFrancescacold-calling strangers all day amused him.Theconstant hang-ups, having to deliver the same spiel over and over, conversion targets.Helaughed and raised the mug to his lips.
Francescacrossed her arms. ‘Whatdoes that mean?’
‘Nothing!You’rejust so fiercely independent,Ican imagine that an office wouldn’t be your favourite.’Thelast place he could seeFrancescawas a corporate environment, unless she was the boss.Shelacked the patience and ability to bite her tongue that a good worker bee needed.
Sheunfolded her arms, pulled the oscillating switch on the fan, and returned to her chair. ‘You’renot wrong.’
Krishtipped his head to the side and regarded her. ‘Ithink you’re one of the most hard-working peopleIknow.I’mnot even sure you actually go home between whenIleave in the evening and come back in the morning.’
‘Ido,’ she said, her lips pushing to one side and her eyes to the other.Alie.
‘Iknew it!’
‘Itwas only once!Ijust have so much editing to do.Thatcouch is really hard, by the way.’Shecricked her neck.
‘Ididn’t buy it for sleeping on!It’snot healthy to work 24 hours a day.’Hesipped his tea.She’dmade it perfectly: not too milky, no sugar. ‘Youknow what you need?Ahobby.’
Shegave him an aggrieved look. ‘Ihave a hobby.Ihave a personal trainer, remember?’
‘That’snot a hobby.That’smore work.Imean something you do for fun.’
‘Ido plenty of things for fun.’
‘Like...?’Hethrummed his fingers on his desk like it would take her hours to come up with an answer.
‘Like…none of your business.Whatdo you do for fun?’
