Canada Square (Love in London #3) by Carrie Elks Read Free Book Online

course he's already on the phone, and find a three-inch space on his cluttered desk to put it down.
    Turning to me, Callum covers the mouthpiece with his hand. “What's that?”
    “It's a monkey.” My voice is as tart as a lemon.
    He rolls his eyes. “I don't drink coffee before nine.”
    Stupid, ungrateful bastard of a boss. “You're welcome.”
    Three vertical furrows form between his brows as he stares at me. “Are we having the same conversation here?”
    I sigh. There doesn't seem to be any way for the two of us to be civil with each other. Which is fine for him, because he's in charge, but for me it's a few steps away from queuing up at the unemployment office. Or at my tutor's door.
    “I don't know. Is it the conversation where I buy my boss a coffee and he's grateful I've spent my hard-earned wages on him?” I want to take back my sarcastic words as soon as I say them, but it's too late. He hangs up on his call without saying goodbye. Someone, somewhere in the world, is talking down an empty telephone line. I know how they feel.
    Callum rubs his eyes, and I can see the skin around them wrinkling. There are shadows beneath them, blue-black as bruises. “Thank you for buying me a coffee, Amy. It was kind of you to think of me.”
    He brings his gaze around and any sharp retort dies on my lips. He really does look tired. I feel regret for walking in and immediately having a go at him when he's obviously not sleeping well.
    “You're welcome.” I say again, but this time my voice is small. Picking up his cup, I turn to leave his office. “I'll get rid of this.”
    “You may as well leave it.” He reaches across the desk and covers my hand with his. His palm is warm and big and completely envelopes mine. I stare for a minute—at the taut tendons and the pale skin—and wonder what it would feel like if he just slid his fingers between mine. “A bit of caffeine would do me good, anyway. I didn't sleep well last night.”
    No kidding, I want to say, but I swallow it down. He's made an effort to actually be civil to me; the least I can do is try to be the same. “Tomorrow I'll wait until nine to get our drinks.”
    He smiles and my stomach does that stupid lurch again. He’s both annoying and horribly attractive. It's in the way his lips curl and his eyes crinkle as if he knows everything I'm thinking. “Thank you.”
    When I pull out my leather swivel seat, I'm feeling hopeful again. As if I might have a chance to make a difference before he decides to call up Diana in HR and have me shipped out.
    I have no idea why I'm always so rude to Callum whenever I see him. My mouth opens up and insults fly out. I don't behave like this around anybody else—and I certainly shouldn't with my boss
    As soon as I log into the network, a message pops up on my screen.
    Simpson, C: Good morning, camper. Half an hour down, another seven and a half to go. Is it lunchtime yet?
    I smile at his words. It’s reassuring to know I'm not alone in the building, and that I've managed to make at least one friend.
    Cartwright, A: And even better, there's only 31.5 hours until the weekend.
    Simpson, C: Way to put a downer on things, Essex girl. Are you trying to kill my mojo?
    I smirk.
    Cartwright, A: Your mojo? Try having a boss who doesn't drink coffee before nine. Plus he’s the most miserable git in the building. Then you can complain about your mojo.
    Simpson, C: He can't be that bad. Caro says he's a fox.
    Cartwright, A: A fox? As in eats out of the dustbin and shits in your front garden? Yeah, maybe...
    “Have you got a moment or are you too busy talking to your boyfriend?” Callum's thick voice emanates from just behind my shoulder. Immediately I press control-alt-delete, but even as my fingers make the movements I know I'm too late. My face flushes red, and it takes all my courage to make me turn around to look at him.
    “We were just having a joke,” I reply, wanly.
    “So I see.” There isn't a hint of amusement there.