And as she sat there sunk within these thoughts she slipped off a bit and far away…. he was speaking….saying something but….she was crushed ….
….and now she wondered what he was saying
“What?” she looked up at him
“Are you all right?” he asked her
“Yes. Thank you….” she automatically said but he didn’t believe her
“So, your favor?” she asked and the coffee maker let out a burst of hot air that startled her. She let out a gasp
“Ah! It’s done!” he said, happily getting up
She watched him pour and then he brought the two cups and saucers over and placed them down on the table. He let her go first. So she added the fake creamer and then mixed it around with the spoon. She sipped it carefully. Scalding. Put it down.
Then she looked at him carefully from below her lashes to get a hint of his expression. What was this about? She wondered. And who was he talking to on the phone when he left the office? What was he talking about with the mystery books she had never heard of nor was there any listing of them on any internet search engine —as far as books were concerned anyway. That was what they had been looking up before the phone call ….that phone call— that interrupted ….well something ….that felt had begun —something between them as they sat there together in front of the monitor ….it was such a nice feeling
But also, she was beginning to wonder about the circumstances of Arthur Bishop’s sudden death. And what was that smell in the cellar?
“What are you thinking about?” he asked her suddenly ….he had been watching her sitting there. Some unlikely thing to say but he felt daring. As he asked this he observed her. She was so nervous. And the expressions thst moved across her face as she sat there he found so fascinating. But also ….her smell….there was some kind of sweetness to her body scent that had him quite distracted. What was that scent? It was not from a product; it was something of her own chemistry that filled his head to be near her.
It seemed such an impertinent question to ask her. The sudden personal question. He didn’t pretend with his eyes. He looked boldly into her. His eyes were poet’s eyes, fringed with shadowed lashes and like fields of grass. When they looked at her, they looked into her and the look was almost violating but he smiled
So why did she ….not say so?
Any other man ….
“I was thinking ….” she sipped the coffee
“I know what you were thinking,” he said this in a lower tone but again he smiled and then sighed. He sat back and shook his head to clear his mind, “I erm….wanted to ask you if it would be possible to ask you to stay—to—um….run the ….shop—I mean, I’d help you figure it all out ….erm and you would be paid. He had a manager up until recently —don’t know what happened to him but —see, I’m knee deep with sorting his website out…and my Aunt—Fiona—she’s talking about going to live with her daughter back home plus I have my real job that I need to get back to….”
Long pause.
With Faun’s mind spinning she quickly said,
“back home….” and then added as if in delay, “Aunt Fiona back home…. back home?”
And he did an odd wave behind him to somehow indicate this and at the same time repeated,
“back home.”
So she said,
“back home, back home….” as by saying this it let her mind go over some thoughts …. And it seemed she knew how to carry on a conversation. It’s not hard. Just say the expected thing—but why were his eyes saying one thing —having one conversation as his mouth was having another with her …. but his sensual mouth ….
“So like a job? You are—like, offering me a job?” she asked “because ….she’s going.”
“Well—yeah—I guess—and it would really help the family—the Bishops….”
“So what’s going to happen with the shop?” Faun lifted the coffee cup to her mouth and sipped, her eyes met his and this time it was her eyes asking other questions
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