Babies in Waiting (16 page)

‘Adam,’ she replied, and went to shake his hand.

He was at least six foot three. Louise herself was tall, five nine, but she found herself looking up into his bright blue eyes. Despite the wintry weather, he was tanned (that would be the sailing, she thought), and his thick and curly black hair was going grey in that splendid silvery way that only seems to happen to men. He was undeniably gorgeous.

This is ridiculous, she thought. I’m here for a job interview, and I’m staring at this man like he’s the hero of a romantic novel. Was she doomed to be attracted to men she worked with? This was becoming a habit. She stood up straight, took a deep breath and put on her most formal tone. ‘Mr Harper. Shall we go back to the shop so I can show you my CV?’

He smiled (Oh no, Louise thought. He has a dimple. That’s just not fair. Be professional. Be professional. Don’t
be intimidated by him. Imagine him naked. No! Definitely not! Under no circumstances imagine him naked! Oh, he’d be lovely naked. Did the tan go all the way down?). ‘ . . . vinyl and wide fabric banners for exhibitions and displays, for indoor and outdoor.’

Oh God, he was talking business and she was thinking saucy thoughts. He’d turned back towards the Land Rover and was walking. She followed him, arranging her face into an attentive expression.

He drove fast, but well, and within a few minutes they were out in the countryside. He chatted about the scope of the business. Outdoor display work was new to her: she’d focused on large-volume publications, but she soon realised they spoke much the same language. He needed someone who could keep an eye on scheduling and budgeting, make sure the necessary materials were in place for upcoming jobs and listen to the staff when they had problems. All of this she could do.

Ten minutes more and they turned off the main road on to a small avenue fringed with tall trees. The road curved to the left, and then she spotted a sign beside a big pair of iron gates: Harper Graphics. Adam turned in and drove up the well-kept driveway. He pulled up outside a lovely, low, stone farmhouse, and jumped out of the driver’s seat. He came round to open Louise’s door.

She had unbuttoned her coat in the warmth of the car, and, as she stepped down from the high seat of the Land Rover, her back was arched. Adam, facing her for the first time, saw the small but unmistakable bump. She saw him
arch an eyebrow, then he turned away and motioned to her to follow him. They didn’t go into the house, but walked round it. Behind the house was a courtyard. Two vans with the Harper Graphics logo were parked outside the large sliding door of the barn. They went in, and the noise of the large printing presses was deafening. There were three or four guys on the floor, and they raised a hand in greeting to Adam as they walked through. They crossed the floor and went up a flight of stairs to an upper level. There was a glass-fronted office suite, and Adam opened the door for her to go in. Thankfully, once they were inside with the door closed, the noise was largely muted.

In the outer office, there was a tall, leggy blonde of about twenty-two, typing at great speed on her PC. ‘Hi there!’ she said brightly. Her accent told Louise this was the Aussie girl who had answered the phone when she rang.

‘Anita, this is Louise Holmes,’ Adam said.

‘Hi, Louise!’ said Anita with Australian enthusiasm, and leapt up to shake Louise’s hand vigorously.

‘I’m hoping Louise will get us out of this fix and look after the business while I’m away,’ Adam said.

‘Fantastic!’ Anita said, and she seemed so genuinely thrilled that Louise did believe it truly would be fantastic.

So far so good, Louise thought. Adam Harper seemed to be keen to have her. She didn’t think for a moment that he was a pushover, but he did seem to think she would be doing him a favour. He didn’t need to know how
desperately she wanted this to work out. She decided to play it cool, but professionally, and try not to give anything away.

They left Anita and walked through to Adam’s office. His desk was piled high with paper. Louise was sure he was one of those people who could put his hand on any piece of paper at a moment’s notice and knew exactly what was going on in the chaos, but it wasn’t the way she liked to run things.

He asked her to sit down and offered her a drink. ‘Just water, please,’ she said, and he stepped back into the outer office to get it. She opened her briefcase and took out her neatly bound CV and laid it on the desk in front of her. Adam came back in and handed her a glass of iced water.

‘So when is it due?’ he asked quietly. Her hand shook uncontrollably, and a large splash of water landed on the front page of her CV. Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she wiped her hand over it, but the ink instantly ran and smeared.

She took a deep, shaky breath. ‘Well, this is going well!’ she smiled. So much for cool and professional. She wanted to kick herself, and she felt a blush rising up from her collar.

Adam looked at her steadily. His expression gave nothing away. Then he said, ‘Don’t worry about the CV. I printed the one you emailed. I’ve seen it already.’ Then he left a long pause, and she knew he was waiting for her to answer the question.

‘Um, it’s due in September. Around the beginning of the month.’

‘Well, I’m due back mid-August, so that should work,’ he said calmly. Then he sat down at the desk, shuffled through the untidy stack of papers before him and pulled out her CV. He spent the next twenty minutes questioning her closely about various aspects of her experience. She was right. He wasn’t a pushover, and he’d paid careful attention to everything she’d written in the covering email and her CV. It turned out he was going to give her a proper interview after all.

She answered thoughtfully and concisely. She could see he had a finely honed bullshit detector, and that there was no point in trying to baffle him with numbers or statistics. He asked very direct questions without being aggressive, and he listened carefully to everything she said. After several weeks out of a corporate environment, she found the conversation quite a challenge, but she relished it.

After he’d worked through her CV to the end of her time at Barrett and Humphries, she steeled herself for the next question.

‘So why did you leave Barrett and Humphries?’ he asked.

‘Family commitments,’ she said, hoping her tone suggested she didn’t want to expand on this. ‘I needed to be based in or near London.’

‘Would this work for your . . . family commitment? Not too far away?’ Adam asked and then glanced up at her with his piercing blue eyes.

‘I would think so.’

‘It’s not a permanent position, I hope you understand
that. I mean, I feel bad that I’ll be booting you out just as you . . .’

‘Pop?’ she said mischievously.

‘Indeed. Pop. Now, it would suit me best if you lived in the house . . . firstly because if we’re working double shifts, it’s best to have a manager on the premises. Even if you’re asleep, you’d effectively be on call if something went wrong. And secondly, there’s . . . well, there’s Millicent.’

Louise was confused. Was she supposed to know who this was? ‘Millicent?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Is she an . . . aunt?’

He tried to look dignified. ‘Millicent is an elderly and slightly temperamental Siamese cat. She runs the house. She decides who sits where, who sleeps where and she always eats before I do. If I put her in a cattery when I’m away, she’ll break out and then hunt me down and hurt me. So I need someone who’ll put up with sharing a house with Millicent and being ruled by her. For my own safety, really.’

‘Wow. She sounds scary.’

‘You have no idea. I hope you’re not allergic to cats.’

‘No. I’ve never had one myself, but I rather like them.’

‘And your husband?’

‘My . . . what? Oh, God no. I mean . . . er . . . I don’t have a husband. Or a boyfriend. It’s just me.’

He nodded, looked down at his papers and tapped his pen a few times. It was the first time Louise had seen him looking disconcerted.

He changed the subject then and began to talk about the trip he would be taking. ‘Every year, there’s a series of Tall Ships Races around the world. It’s a way to get young people into sailing, and it’s an amazing adventure for them. A friend of mine needed someone to be a responsible crew member for a few months. I was going to say no, I mean, I’ve got a business to run, but then I thought, why the hell not? My kids are teenagers and don’t need me on a daily basis, Millicent will manage without me as long as someone gives her her Iams and stays off her cushion in the sun . . . so why shouldn’t I?’

‘Why shouldn’t you indeed? It sounds like the chance of a lifetime.’

‘I thought so. You know, nobody gets to their deathbeds and says, “I wish I’d printed more giant banners advertising university open days.”’ He gave her a crooked smile.

‘I imagine nobody does.’

He hesitated for a second. ‘Look, Louise, I tend to go with my gut instincts, and even though we’ve only just met, I think I could trust you to do a good job running this business. Edward’s recommendation means a lot, and I’ve seen nothing to make me change my mind.’

‘Even . . . ?’ she gestured at her belly.

‘If you’re healthy and you look after yourself, it shouldn’t make a difference to your ability to manage the business. I’m guessing you’re about sixteen weeks?’

‘Seventeen, but well guessed!’ she said, surprised.

‘So, if you were nauseous, you’re probably past it. This is the easiest bit of pregnancy, and there’s a good team
here to give you back-up. You wouldn’t be alone. You can turn to Anita and the guys at any time, they all know the business backwards. My print-floor manager, Alan Shuster, is also a great guy. He’s not nearly as experienced as you are, but he can step up and take over if anything . . .’

This made her really uneasy. ‘I’m not a charity case, Adam. I am up to this job, I assure you,’ she said, and her voice was sharper than she meant it to be.

‘I wasn’t suggesting you were. If I didn’t think you were up to it, I wouldn’t be offering it to you. But I have to be practical. If you get pre-eclampsia, or the baby comes early, and I’m somewhere in the mid-Atlantic, to put it politely, I’m screwed. For both of our sakes, we need to know you’re properly supported.’

There really was nothing she could say to that. He was being utterly reasonable and more than generous.

‘Do I take it that you’re offering me the job?’ she asked.

‘If you’d consider accepting it. I know we need to talk about money . . .’

‘Mr Harper . . .’

‘Adam.’

‘Adam . . . if I’m living in your house, my major expense is covered. So, let me come to the table and say my needs are reasonably modest.’

He smiled. ‘Wow. I’ve never had someone try to talk me down in a salary negotiation before.’

‘I don’t want to feel that . . .’

‘I’m doing you a favour? I’m not. I’ll have access to email even when I’m at sea. I’ll be checking in regularly, and
we have monthly targets set for the business. If you’re not doing the job I expect you to do, I’ll know.’

After that, he took her to look at the house. It was a lovely old farmhouse with uneven flagstone floors and low ceilings. It was clear to Louise that he lived there alone: only one bedroom looked lived in, and while everything was comfortable and clean, the decor was functional and spare and very male. Millicent lay on a cushion on the window-seat in the living room and opened one azure eye. She gave Louise a witchy glare, but when Adam went over and scratched behind her ear, she stretched and arched, let out an eerie, humanoid Siamese meow and gazed up at him adoringly.

Business concluded, they had a cup of tea sitting at the big table in the farmhouse kitchen. They chatted about the printing business, and Adam told her a few funny stories about Edward in their college days. She felt very comfortable in his presence. It had turned into a most unexpected and wonderful day.

After what seemed like a few minutes, she glanced toward the window. It was pitch dark outside. ‘Good grief! What time is it?’

He looked at his watch. ‘Six o’clock, nearly.’

‘I really should be getting back. My brother will think I’ve been abducted.’

He stood up. ‘I’ll run you to the station.’

‘Are you sure? I can call a taxi . . .’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Now, suddenly, he was all business. ‘We’ll need to meet several times more before I go, and that’s
in a fortnight. Can you email me a list of free dates?’

She was well beyond playing hard to get at this point. ‘It would be easier to email you my not-free dates. I’m due to have lunch with my sister tomorrow. I could cancel that. Other than that, I’m yours. I mean . . . I’m available.’ She really should stop talking. Job interview rule 101: do not flirt clumsily with the man who is about to offer you a job and a home. Luckily, Adam seemed to have missed the double entendre.

‘That’s fantastic. I’ll get Anita to set up meetings with Alan and the work team, our major suppliers and our sales guy. She’ll try and get them into as few days as possible so as not to waste your time.’

‘That’s . . . great,’ she said, somehow a little deflated. She’d hoped to see more of him in the two weeks before he left on his travels.

As if he had read her mind, he said, ‘I’ll be running around like mad getting ready for the trip, but I hope we can spend some more time together . . . sorting out the details.’

‘Yes,’ Louise said. She didn’t really trust herself to say more.

He drove her to the station, and when she got on the train, she could still feel the warm pressure of his handshake. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. It must be a mad flush of pregnancy hormones, making her come over all unnecessary at the sight of a handsome man. It was a very good thing he’d be away when she was living there. She’d only embarrass herself.

She rang Simon from the train and told him the bare bones of her day, and by the time she got back to the flat, he’d cooked a delicious risotto and chilled a tiny half-bottle of champagne. ‘Have a sip, go on,’ he said. ‘It’s not every day you get a job and a home.’

‘It isn’t, you’re right,’ she said, and she savoured a few mouthfuls of the crisp, icy bubbles.