The Bedroom Assignment

‘Lovebirds and pair-bonders?’ he said in a still voice. ‘Are you telling me you’re secretly married, Discovery?’

A little laugh shook her.

‘No. Odder than that. Sorry, Jay, you’ve got a real weirdo on your hands this time. I’m a virgin.’

CHAPTER SIX

JAY stared at her. She did not look at him. Her eyes were fixed dreamily on the ceiling. She looked tired to death. But she did not look as if she was drunk. Or lying.

He said cautiously, ‘Is this a wind-up?’ Of course she could have gone mad. ‘You’re telling me you’re—er—untouched by human hand?’

Zoe’s tired eyes lit with a rueful smile. ‘Yup. That’s about the size of it.’

Jay saw the smile with relief. Well, at least she wasn’t completely barking yet. He thought about what she had said for several moments.

At last he said, ‘Why?’

She avoided his eyes. It did not take much to work out that she was embarrassed. Covering it well, but embarrassed all the same.

Another argument for her sanity, judged Jay. He thought fast. Undoubted sanity made her claim all the more odd.

She was gorgeous. She was funny. She was sensible. She could not be a virgin. Not in metropolitan London in the twenty-first century.

She saw his disbelief. Her eyes slid away from his. ‘I suppose I just—never got round to it.’

‘Ah.’ Curiouser and curiouser. ‘But actually I meant— why tell me?’

She flushed faintly. ‘Oh. Sorry. That.’ She considered. ‘You said, Want to tell me about it? People don’t usually say that to me,’ she said simply.

Jay stared. ‘What?’

‘I don’t have crises. My friends and family have lots. So I’m the one who listens.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Makes sense.’

It didn’t. It had to be a lot more complicated than that. But now was not the time to point it out. Not if he wanted her to carry on confiding.

Jay was astonished at how much he wanted her to confide in him.

She gave a rueful laugh. ‘You’re kind, aren’t you?’ She sounded surprised.

‘Is that so unbelievable?’ said Jay, wounded. Then, hurriedly, as she opened her mouth, ‘Don’t answer that.’

She smiled, more easily this time. ‘Well, you have to admit, you did warn me against—er—intimacy. You said it was a sacking offence.’

‘I didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to tell me things.’

‘Didn’t you?’ Her eyes were shadowed. ‘But that’s the start of intimacy, isn’t it? Telling someone something private. Something—special. Something you don’t want to tell the world.’

Was that she what she had done? Told him something she didn’t want to tell the world?

Yes, he thought. Suddenly he felt ten feet tall.

Aloud, he said, ‘When I warned you off, I’m afraid I was thinking of something a bit more basic. It included sending me overheated e-mails and trying to get my clothes off.’

‘Oh!’

He smiled at her, straight into her eyes, the way he always did to women who moved him. ‘As long as you keep your hands to yourself, you can tell me anything you want to.’

But she wasn’t noticing the penetrating smile. She was too busy picking over her own part in the conversation.

She shook her head ruefully. ‘It doesn’t begin to make sense. Why on earth would I start unloading on a man who pays my salary? It’s not only unprofessional, it’s a quick and easy way to talk myself out of a job.’

He realised, suddenly, that he had not been thinking of her as an employee for hours. Even before she had dropped her confiding bombshell. Certainly he would never have said, Want to tell me about it? to Barbara Lessiter. Or anyone else in the office, probably.

It started another idea running. Not a welcome one.

‘Do you want to talk yourself out of a job?’

‘Oh.’ Zoe looked astonished. ‘No, of course not. I like what I do. I like helping Abby and Molly and Tom. I like doing your research. I was even wondering if there might be a chance of a permanent job—’ She broke off, flushing deeper. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. Hell, I’m being stupid tonight.’