Hot Single Docs: Blinded By The Boss. Amy Andrews
for the brand-new child’s car seat when he opened the back door of his sleek dark blue car and waved Isaac inside. Perhaps the girls at work were right. Perhaps he did have a woman somewhere. A woman with a child. So much for Paula’s assertions that it couldn’t hurt to try to breach Edward’s reserve.
All the same, there was nothing wrong with taking a lift from him, and Charlotte couldn’t deny that this was a great deal nicer than the bus. Not having to continually grab at her bags to get them out of the way of someone else’s feet. Isaac safely strapped in behind her, with Stinky on his lap. Leather seats. The quiet strains of music floating at her from four different directions. She began to relax.
‘It would be more convenient for you to drive to work.’
As they passed Regent’s Park Edward’s customary forthrightness broke the silence.
‘Yeah. More expensive, too.’ She grinned at him. ‘Congestion charge, parking costs.’
He nodded. ‘I thought you were going to say you liked the bus.’
‘It’s not so bad. You meet a lot of interesting people on buses.’
‘So it’s a social experiment, then?’
Maybe for Edward. It was a matter of necessity for Charlotte. ‘You could call it that. We like it on the top deck, don’t we, Isaac?’
‘Yeah. You can see into people’s windows,’ Isaac piped up from the back seat.
‘Can you?’ Edward paused for thought. ‘What do you see?’
‘Christmas trees.’
‘In July?’
‘No, at Christmas.’ Isaac’s voice took on the tone of patient explanation that he sometimes used with adults. ‘We counted how many Christmas trees we could see on the way home.’
‘So you’re a mathematician. Is that why you’re called Isaac? After Isaac Newton?’
Isaac seemed to have succeeded where the combined talents of the Hunter Clinic had failed. That was definitely a joke, even if Isaac didn’t appear to understand it.
‘Who?’
Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘He’s five, Edward.’
He nodded. ‘So you’re keeping Newton for later.’ He made it sound like leaving the best chocolate in the box until last. He raised his voice, speaking to Isaac again. ‘So how many Christmas trees did you count?’
‘A million.’
‘Really? You live on the moon?’ Edward’s lips twitched and Isaac cackled with laughter. Although neither seemed to be quite on the same intellectual wavelength, they clearly shared the same sense of humour.
‘Noooo. Kentish Town.’
‘That explains it, then. Are you sure you didn’t count any of them twice?’
Isaac shrugged. ‘Maybe. It might have been a hundred.’
It seemed so natural to laugh with them. The obvious thing to do. ‘It was three hundred and forty-nine, wasn’t it, Isaac?’
‘That’s right. Three hundred and forty-nine.’
Edward nodded. ‘Impressive. That’s a prime number, you know.’
‘What’s a prime number?’
Edward shot a helpless glance at Charlotte and she shrugged. All of a sudden this quiet, reserved man had become almost talkative, and against her better judgement she actually wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.
‘It’s...um...it’s a very special number. There are lots of them. I dare say they’ll teach you about that at school.’
‘When?’
‘Er... Pretty soon, I imagine. Ask your teacher.’
‘Okay.’
Lucky escape. Charlotte mouthed the words at him and he raised one eyebrow, as if he’d been in complete control all along.
‘How many are there?’
She saw the line of Edward’s jaw stiffen as it became apparent that she had spoken too soon.
‘More than you can count. Even if you ride on the bus all day. The first prime number is two. Then five...’
By the time he’d worked his way up to twenty-nine and shown no signs of flagging Charlotte decided to step in. At this rate they could be driving to Birmingham and back before either Isaac went to sleep or Edward got to the point where he could no longer work out the next prime number in his head.
She turned in her seat to face Isaac. ‘Edward’s got to stop counting now, sweetie, because he’s driving and has to keep his eye on the road. I’ll explain all about prime numbers when we get home.’
‘Okay.’
* * *
It was nice having her in the car. She smelled good—like soap and roses. Rose soap, maybe. Edward ran through all the possibilities in his head and surprised himself with how delicious each of them was.
She didn’t just smell nice; she was nice. Whenever he saw her with the clinic’s clients she was always the same. Gentle, reassuring, and yet with a hint of fun about her. She made people smile. But Edward couldn’t help but think there was more. When he’d seen her at the bus stop the other day, huddled under her umbrella in the pouring rain, there had been a defeated slant to her shoulders that had made him want to stop, but his nerve had failed him. Getting involved with people wasn’t what Edward did.
‘You must like jazz?’ She was stretching her legs out in front of her. Smiling.
‘Very much,’ he said. ‘You?’
‘I don’t really know. I’ve not listened to much. I like this.’
‘Good.’ He could have left it at that. Would normally have left it at that. But against his better judgement he wanted to prolong the conversation. ‘Most people just automatically say they love jazz, irrespective of whether they’ve listened to any.’
She gave a little laughing nod, as if she knew just what he meant. ‘It’s one of those things that you’re meant to like, isn’t it? I mean if you admit to not knowing much about jazz, then it’s like owning up to being some kind of barbarian.’
‘I don’t think you’re a barbarian.’ He thought she was a damn sight more honest that most people.
He was rewarded with one of the smiles that she was so free with. This one seemed just for him. ‘That’s all right, then.’
Charlotte asked him to drop them in the High Street, but when Edward insisted on taking her all the way home she directed him to a quiet backstreet. Small houses—many of them shabby and unkempt. He parked outside a house with a neat front garden. The front door badly needed a paint job. Charlotte jumped out of the car, unbuckling Isaac’s seat belt while Edward took her shopping bags out of the boot.
‘Can I carry these in for you?’
‘No. No, that’s okay, thank you. Thanks for the lift.’ She picked the bags up with one hand and took Isaac’s hand with the other. ‘I’ll see you on Monday.’
‘Bye, Edward. Thank you...’
She shot a glance of approbation in her son’s direction and then turned away. Suddenly it seemed that she couldn’t get rid of him fast enough and a vague feeling of disappointment nudged at him.
‘Bye, Isaac. Nice to meet you...’
The boy twisted his head around as his mother marched him away, and gave him a grin, but Charlotte seemed caught up with her shopping bags. There was nothing to keep him so Edward got back into his car. As he turned in the road he noticed in his rearview mirror that the front gate was sticking and that she