Page 73 of Gold Diggers

‘Please Adam. No. I really, really don’t want to.’

He nodded, not wanting to push it. ‘Well, are you hungry? My chef doesn’t arrive for an hour or so, but if you want to take your chances with my cooking I make a mean pancake.’

‘Urr, Adam, the way I feel …’ She glanced at his eager expression and laughed. ‘You’re not going to let me say no, are you?’

‘No,’ he smiled.

Feeling a little better now, she followed him through to the kitchen, an impressive open-plan oak and granite design filled with shiny chrome appliances. As he opened the fridge, she could see, the firm muscles of his back through his thin white T-shirt and, blushing slightly, she forced herself to look away. Out of the window, the night sky was turning grey and gold and birds were beginning to sing in Hyde Park. She was glad dawn was breaking; it felt too intimate being in Adam’s apartment at night. He was too good looking, too damn sexy to feel comfortable with, remembering the last time they’d been together – alone at the beach party in Anguilla. She’d tried to deny the chemistry between them then. But here, alone, only yards from his bed …Oh God, Summer, stop thinking that way, she groaned to herself. She took a sip of water which was ice cold against her lips and looked out at the dawn sky again.

‘It’s going to be a gorgeous day,’ she said absently. ‘A heatwave, apparently. I really want to do something.’

Adam turned back from the stove. ‘What do you mean “do something”?’ he asked. There was a definite flirtation in his voice, and something filled the air between them.

‘Oh, you know, take advantage of the sunshine. Something where you can feel nature, like a paddle in the sea or flying a kite.’

Adam smiled again. ‘You make it sound good.’

‘The simple things often are.’

‘So, do you fancy doing something together?’ he asked.

She glanced away, feeling a flutter of illicit excitement and guilt. She thought of Karin, and tried to shake it away.

‘So?’ asked Adam, trying to catch her gaze.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said slowly.

He touched her lightly on the shoulder. ‘I think you need some fun after what you’ve just been through.’

She gave a little shrug. ‘I guess. So what did you have in mind?’

‘Wait and see,’ he smiled. ‘But we might have to drop by your flat for some jeans and sneakers.’

He’s only being friendly, thought Summer, he’s just looking after me. Nothing wrong with that, is there? Nothing wrong at all.

‘Okay, I’m all yours,’ she said.

33

Erin was annoyed. It was her first morning off since she’d been at Midas and she’d wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with Julian, eating croissants and making love. But Julian had left her flat at 7 a.m. to get to Bath for a mid-morning business meeting and Erin had her own appointment; she’d been summoned to see Ed Davies, her agent, who she had not seen or heard from since Christmas. It was the last thing Erin wanted to do on a fine spring morning.

Davies and Partners occupied a small mews house in a leafy, blossom-filled street in Bloomsbury. The reception was full of shiny pristine books, all lined up in display cases; fat bestsellers next to slick political biographies and fiercely clever literary authors she recognized from the Sunday Times lists. For a moment, Erin felt a rush of excitement she had not experienced since the first time she walked into the Midas Corporation building. But, as she walked up the stairs to the agent’s office, it was quickly replaced by a feeling of guilt and frustration that she hadn’t had time to do anything on her book since she’d been in London.

‘Erin. So good to see you again,’ said Ed Davies warmly, getting up from behind his big mahogany desk. The room was stuffed with books and manuscripts, reminding Erin of her tutor’s study at university. She shook his hand and took a seat opposite him.

‘I would have suggested lunch, but I know how busy you are with your new job and so on,’ he said with a knowing look.

‘Guilty as charged,’ smiled Erin.

‘Now, then,’ said Ed distractedly, turning round to his coffee machine. ‘Let’s talk about the book.’

Erin had a sudden flashback to school, feeling as if the headmaster was about to tell her off for something she had not done.

‘I assume you haven’t got any more for me to have a look at today?’ he said, taking a sip of espresso.

‘I don’t suppose you want to hear about how busy I’ve been?’ she said weakly. ‘I’ve just been snowed under.’

She felt herself blush: it was a half-truth. She had been busy with her crazy, ninety-hour working weeks, but she’d certainly found time for Julian; plenty of time. Since their first date in Dulwich Park they’d been out for dinner twice, to a late-night cinema preview, and rowing in Hyde Park. Plus writing a book seemed so much less urgent and important now she had bought Belvedere Road.