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Down London Road - Young Samantha (читать бесплатно книги без сокращений txt) 📗

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I shrugged at the questions in his eyes.

As for Joss, she could not be stopped. ‘We all let Jo keep her phone on her in case Cole needs her, so cut her a little slack if you see her checking it obsessively. She’s a little overprotective. She’s a really good sister.’

Would you stop pimping me out! I threw an accusatory look at Ellie, whose eyes grew round with confusion. ‘I blame you,’ I told her.

Ellie sighed, the confusion melting from her gaze as understanding dawned. ‘Would it help if I trained her better?’

‘It would help if you hit the RESET button on her.’

‘Hey,’ Joss protested.

Ellie shook her head vehemently. ‘No, I like the new Jocelyn.’

‘Well, I’m lost.’ Cam’s gaze bounced back and forth between us.

Yeah, if only you’d stay lost. ‘Never mind.’ I shook my head and looked at Joss. ‘What are you doing here tonight anyway?’

Joss smiled wickedly. ‘Just checking in.’

I couldn’t help the irritation that settled into my eyes and Ellie choked on her laughter. ‘I think it’s time we checked out.’ She took hold of a reluctant Joss and tugged on her arm.

‘Fine,’ Joss muttered, her calculating gaze shifting between me and Cam. ‘Jo, tell Cam about Cole’s comic books.’

I groaned inwardly. ‘Goodnight, Joss. ’Night, Els.’

Ellie waved and ushered Joss out of the bar.

Even though the conversation around us was a wordless babble of noise above the music, silence reigned within the bubble containing me and Cam behind the bar. No noise could penetrate the thick tension between us.

Finally Cam took a step towards me. For the first time since I’d met him (and it was weird to realize that I’d met him only twice, since it seemed like we’d known each other a lot longer), Cam looked uncomfortable. ‘So … Cole’s your wee brother, then?’

Screw you. I stared at him blankly, trying to decide what I should say. Finally, I came to the conclusion that it would be better if Cam and I remained at a distance. No matter how much Joss wanted him to see me in a different light, I didn’t want him to. He’d jumped to his conclusions like everyone else, and frankly I didn’t want to be on friendly terms with someone who had taken to tearing me down, and that was before he had got to know me. I sighed and strode past him. ‘I’m going on my break.’

Cam didn’t answer me.

And for the rest of the night he endured my cold-shoulder treatment in tight-lipped silence.

Down London Road - _3.jpg

6

As I had been on every Wednesday that had come before it, I was shattered the next day. My Tuesday shift at Club 39 followed by my Wednesday day shift at Meikle & Young was the worst part of my week. I shared the job as personal assistant to Mr Meikle with another girl called Lucy. I had never met Lucy, but we left little messages all the time to let each other know what had been done and what still needed to be done, so I felt like I knew her. She always put smiley faces at the end of any request so it didn’t come off as a demand. I thought that was nice and often wondered if Mr Meikle was pleasant to the girl with the smiley faces. I hoped so.

He certainly wasn’t pleasant to me.

That morning I’d almost managed to get everything right. With three hours to go in the workday, I had been sitting franking mail that was to go out that night, trying to get Cam’s stupid, arrogant voice out of my head, when Mr Meikle came out of his office and obnoxiously waved a letter in my face.

As I gazed up at him from my seat I wondered for a second if his problem with me had something to do with my height. I was a good three inches taller than he was, and he always looked rather nonplussed when we were standing together, and smug whenever I was sitting and he was standing over me. ‘Sir?’ I asked, my eyes crossing as I tried to make out what the bloody hell he was dangling before me.

‘I was about to sign the letter you were sending out to this client, Joanne, when I discovered two errors.’ His face was red with frustration as he pulled the paper back to shove two fingers in my face. ‘Two.’

I blanched. Damn my lack of sleep. ‘Sorry, Mr Meikle, I’ll fix that right away.’

He harrumphed and slapped the letter on my desk. ‘It had better be perfect. Lucy can always manage it, for goodness’ sake.’ He strode back to his office and then snapped around, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. ‘I thought I had two appointments this afternoon, Joanne?’

I had worked for Mr Meikle for almost two years now, so it was long past the appropriate time to correct him on my name. He’d called me Joanne instead of Johanna since the beginning, despite the fact that he was the one who handed me my wage slip every month. The wage slip that clearly said ‘Miss Johanna Walker’ on it. Numpty.

‘Yes, sir.’ In fact one of his appointments was with Malcolm. ‘You have Mr Hendry in fifteen minutes and a four o’clock appointment with Mrs Drummond.’

Without another word he slammed back inside his office. I stared at his door and then at the letter he’d slapped on my desk. Turning it over, I noted he’d circled the two errors in red pen. I’d missed the apostrophe in ‘Meikle & Young’s’ and had missed the colon after ‘telephone number’. ‘Pedantic twit,’ I muttered, pushing my chair back to the desk. It took me only seconds to find the file on the computer, fix the errors and print the corrected version off. I left it with him without a word and closed his office door behind me.

The firm rented its space on the first floor of one of the old Georgian buildings on Melville Street. The street was quintessential Edinburgh – picture-perfect period properties with their black wrought-iron fencing and shiny big doors. Mr Young’s office and reception area were in the front of the converted flat, and two other accountants’ offices were across the hall from Mr Meikle’s. Meikle’s reception area had a large window that looked down over the street. So did his office. It was a pity his personality didn’t match the refined elegance of the firm’s residence.

When Malcolm walked in, I hurriedly clicked the solitaire game off my screen so he couldn’t see I was mucking around, and I beamed at him, pleased to see him. This was where I’d met him.

After breaking up with Steven, I’d dated a few duds. Then several months later, Malcolm had walked into Meikle’s office for a consultation. While he waited for Meikle to call him in to his office for his appointment Malcolm charmed the pants off me with his self-deprecating humour and great smile. He’d asked for my number, and the rest, as they say, was history.

‘Hi, baby.’ Malcolm grinned at me, and I watched him with pleasure as he approached my desk. He wore another beautiful grey suit from Savile Row, his face cleanly shaven, his skin tanned even in winter. Such a distinguished, classy man, and he’s mine, I thought appreciatively.

And he came bearing gifts.

He held out a coffee cup and a brown bag. ‘Latte with chocolate sprinkles and a white chocolate chip cookie.’ His warm lips brushed mine slowly, gently, seductively. I was disappointed when he pulled back, but he’d brought my favourite coffee and cookie, so I wasn’t complaining. In fact, my insides melted. ‘Thought you might need the pick-me-up. You work too hard.’

‘Thank you.’ I bestowed my most grateful smile on him. ‘I really needed this.’

‘Thank me later.’ He winked at me and I made a face, unable to stop the laughter bubbling up at his boyish grin.

Shaking my head, I waved him towards the seats. ‘I better let Mr Meikle know you’re here.’

A few seconds later, Meikle came out to greet Malcolm and they disappeared inside his office. I sat back with a contented sigh to enjoy my latte and cookie.

I smiled down at the cup and slid a glance towards the office door.

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