Page 32 of All Yours

She forced herself to remove her hand and smile. ‘All fine,’ she said. ‘But I’m going to head off.’

‘Wait,’ he said, ‘you’ve got some spaghetti sauce.’

He cupped her chin with his hand and lifted her face. His eyes were the colour of cognac, a golden brown with the blackest lashes. Her breath caught. Fox focused on her cheek, using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe away whatever he could see, and when his eyes returned to hers, she watched them darken in response. Every cell in her body was waiting. He was going to kiss her, and she wanted it – more than anything. All lunch sitting opposite him, she’d watched his forearms, the hair on them, the colour of the skin. The manliness of his strong wrists and hands. And she wanted them on her.

The door swung open and they sprang apart as Amber walked through. She paused mid-step and eyed them warily, on the opposite side of the shadowy cloakroom.

‘You guys okay?’ Amber asked tentatively.

‘I was just . . .’ Fox said, pointing his thumb towards the gents’ bathroom.

‘I’m just off,’ Robyn stammered, pulling her coat on tighter.

Amber cocked an eyebrow and smiled as she sauntered on past. ‘See you at yoga, Robyn,’ she said as she opened the bathroom door.

‘See you on Monday, Red,’ Fox said as she turned away.

‘Sure thing,’ Robyn said, and she couldn’t help adding, ‘Boss.’

Damn it, she needed distractions if she was going to keep her hands off him. That man was like a magnet.

Chapter Sixteen

Fox

It was still dark when Fox slipped quietly into the pool on Monday morning and his breath clouded lightly in front of his face. He submerged himself completely, then stood and shook the water droplets from his hair, before starting his first length.

It took a few laps before he found his stroke. An easy crawl, working his entire body – as calming as it was energising. He took a breath every fourth stroke, efficient and regular, settling into a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. His mind wandered as his body repeated the same actions.

He mentally ran through his to-do list, reshuffling a few priorities, and thought about timings to get to George’s first parent–teacher appointment that afternoon. He kept his mind deliberately off Robyn.

Instead, he found himself thinking of Meg, and how she’d never liked to swim. She was scared of the water. Even at the beach, she’d just paddle. On their honeymoon in the Seychelles, she’d still only immersed her feet in the Indian Ocean, while he’d swum and lounged in the warm waters at every given opportunity. He’d teased her about it, but she wouldn’t join him. What would she think now of this house, with its pool? It was strange to think of her being in this house. It felt like a very long time ago that she’d sat beside him on their sofa and rested her hand on his thigh, or put cold feet on him in their bed. Something he’d always moaned about. Maybe this house was more of a fresh start than he’d realised, because it was his and the boys – not Meg’s. That thought triggered so much. It troubled him because it meant he was moving on, which excited him but also made him feel guilty that he was alive and she wasn’t.

He tumble-turned at the end of the pool and headed the other way, trying to also change the direction of his thoughts. Sometimes it felt good to think about Meg. He would suddenly remember the first time he saw her at the design agency, the way that she tripped on the step as she came into the room and he saw the sweetest blush creep out of her collar. Or the way she used to wink at him across a crowded room at parties. Sometimes it was painful. He’d recall times when he could have told her he loved her, or that she was beautiful. But he hadn’t always done it, for whatever reason. Maybe he’d thought he had his whole life to tell her.

But the last few weeks, every single thought he had of her had been accompanied with a pang of guilt. He had the hots for another woman. Something about Robyn’s body did things to him that he’d forgotten about. He felt awake for the first time in ages. In fact, he felt like he’d just woken from a five-year sleep with a massive boner. The feelings were confusing to say the least and maybe that was why Meg was more on his mind than normal. He found himself trying to talk to her, to tell her he was sorry, but what for? The fact that his cock was out of control? And anyway, he couldn’t even begin to imagine her response if he told her he was attracted to another woman. How could he? It was impossible. But he knew what she would expect of him, the same that he expected of himself: to put the boys first. That much was simple. And that’s what he would do. He turned again and thrashed down the pool one last time, before heaving himself out over the side and towelling himself off, his body steaming lightly in the morning mist. His breath was deep and fast but he felt good.

The light in the pool house flicked on and he hurried across the patio to avoid being seen. He had to send Robyn her morning message and remind her he’d pick the boys up from school as he was going in for parents’ evening.

He sat on a chair that made him feel like a giant in a classroom with hand-drawn fireworks all over the walls. His knees were almost under his chin as he surveyed the work laid out in front of him. George’s first letters were big and bold, his drawings colourful, but quite often off the edge of the paper. Fox smiled when he saw a yellow curly dog, obviously Dingbat, with a ball in his mouth.

Ms Dwyer shifted on the chair beside him and consulted her notes.

‘So, you can see, he’s getting stuck in with his tasks. He’s always keen to start something new,’ the young teacher said. ‘He’s settled in well and has made a good little group of friends.’

Fox exhaled slowly. This was exactly what he needed to hear.

‘In fact, I’ve never seen him on his own in the playground.’ Fox smiled with relief. He’d been so worried about George starting school. His baby, the thumb sucker.

‘But I’ve got a few concerns about his attention.’ Ms Dwyer clasped her hands in front of her, making stern eye contact. Fox froze.

‘Like I said, he always wants to start new projects, but he loses interest very quickly and so some things tend to end up unfinished.’

Fox chewed his cheek and looked at the pictures she pointed at on the desk. A half-drawn house, half of George’s name and a pile of matchsticks, and he honestly didn’t even know what it was meant to be.

‘Isn’t that normal? He’s only four.’ It wasn’t like he’d graduated in project management yet, after all.

‘It can be a sign of other issues,’ Mrs Dwyer said, tilting her head. ‘ADHD, for example.’