After Hours.... Christy McKellen

       CHAPTER SIX

      MAX HAD NO idea where this strange possessiveness towards Cara had sprung from, but he hadn’t been about to let that awful woman, Amber, treat her with so little respect. She deserved more than that. Much more. And while she was working for him he was going to make sure she got it.

      Which meant he was now going to be escorting her to a wedding—the kind of event he’d sworn to avoid after Jemima died. The thought of being back in a church, watching a couple with their whole lives ahead of them begin their journey together, made his stomach clench with unease.

      One year—that was all he’d been allowed with his wife. One lousy year. It made him want to spit with rage at the world. Why her? Why them?

      Still, at least he didn’t know the happy couple and would be able to keep a low profile at the wedding, hiding his bitterness behind a bland smile. He didn’t need to engage. He’d just be there to support Cara; that was all.

      After the play finished they travelled home in silence, a stark contrast to their journey there, but he was glad of the quiet. Perversely, it felt as though he and Cara had grown closer during that short time, the confrontation and subsequent solidarity banding them together like teammates.

      Which of course they were, he reminded himself as he opened the front door to his house and ushered her inside, at least when it came to the business.

      Cara’s phone beeped as she shrugged off her coat and she plucked it out of her handbag and read the message, her smile dropping by degrees as she scanned the text.

      ‘Problem?’ he asked, an uncomfortable sense of foreboding pricking at the edge of his mind. It had taken him a long time to be able to answer the phone without feeling the crush of anxiety he’d been plagued with after the call telling him his wife had collapsed and had been rushed into hospital.

      He took a step closer to her, glad she was here to distract him from the lingering bad memories.

      Glancing up, she gave him a sheepish look. ‘It’s a text from Jack with the details of the wedding.’

      ‘Oh, right.’ He stepped back, relief flowing through him, but Cara didn’t appear to relax. Instead her grimace only deepened.

      ‘Um. Apparently it’s in Leicestershire. Which is a two and a half hour drive from here. So we’ll need to stay overnight.’ She wrinkled her nose, the apology clear on her face.

      Great. Just what had he let himself in for here?

      ‘No problem,’ he forced himself to say, holding back the irritation he felt at the news. It wasn’t Cara’s fault and he was the one who had pushed for this to happen.

      More fool him.

      ‘Really? You don’t mind?’ she asked, relief clear in her tone.

      ‘No, it’s fine,’ he lied, trying not to think about all the hours he’d have to spend away from his desk so he could make nice with a bunch of strangers.

      ‘Great, then I’ll book us a couple of rooms in the B&B that Jack suggested,’ she said, her smile returning.

      ‘You do that.’ He gave her a firm nod and hid a yawn behind his hand. ‘I’m heading off to bed,’ he said, feeling the stress of the week finally catching up with him. ‘See you in the morning, Cara. And Happy Birthday.’

      * * *

      Cara disappeared for most of the next day, apparently going to look at potential flats to rent, then retiring to bed early, citing exhaustion from the busy, but fruitless, day.

      After the tension of Friday night, Max was glad of the respite and spent most of his time working through the backlog of emails he’d accumulated after his week away.

      Sunday finally rolled around and he woke early, staring into the cool empty air next to him and experiencing the usual ache of hollowness in his chest, before pulling himself together and hoisting his carcass out of bed and straight into the shower.

      The wedding was at midday so at least he had a couple of hours to psych himself up before they had to head over to the Leicestershire estate where it was being held.

      The sun was out and glinting off the polished windows of the houses opposite when he pulled his curtains open, momentarily blinding him with its brightness. It was definitely a day for being outdoors.

      He’d barely breathed fresh air in the past week, only moving between office and hotel, and the thought of feeling the warm sun on his skin spurred him into action. He pulled on his running gear, something he’d not done for over a year and a half, and went for a long run, welcoming the numbing pain as he worked his lethargic muscles hard, followed by the rewarding rush of serotonin as it chased its way through his veins. After a while it felt as though he was flying along the pavement, the worries and stresses of the past week pushed to the very back of his mind by the punishing exercise.

      For the first time in a long while he felt as if he were truly awake.

      Cara appeared to be up and about when he limped back into his kitchen for a long drink of water, his senses perking up as he breathed in the comforting smell of the coffee she’d been drinking, threaded with the flowery scent of her perfume.

      Glancing up at the clock as he knocked back his second glass of water, he was shocked to see it was already nearly nine o’clock, which meant he really ought to get a move on if he was going to be ready to leave for the wedding on time.

      Turning back from loading his glass into the dishwasher, he was brought up short by the sight of Cara standing in the hallway just outside the kitchen door, watching him. She’d twisted her long hair up into some sort of complicated-looking hairstyle and her dark eyes sparkled with glittery make-up. The elegant silver strapless dress she wore fitted her body perfectly, moulding itself to her gentle curves and making her seem taller and—something else. More mature, perhaps? More sophisticated?

      Whatever it was, she looked completely and utterly beautiful.

      Realising he was standing there gawping at her like some crass teenage boy, he cleared his suddenly dry throat and dredged up a smile which he hoped didn’t look as lascivious as it felt.

      ‘Hey, you look like you’re dressed for a wedding,’ he said, cringing inside at how pathetic that sounded.

      She smiled. ‘And you don’t. I hope you’re not thinking of going like that because I’m pretty sure it didn’t say “sports casual” on the invitation.’ Her amused gaze raked up and down his body, her eyebrows rising at the sight of his sweat-soaked running gear.

      He returned her grin, finding it strangely difficult to keep it natural-looking. His whole face felt as if he’d had his head stuck in the freezer. What was wrong with him? A bit of sunshine and a fancy dress and his mind was in a spin.

      ‘I’d better go and take a shower; otherwise we’re going to be late,’ he said, already walking towards the door.

      ‘Could you do me a favour before you go?’ she asked, colour rising in her cheeks.

      ‘Er...sure. As long as it’s not going to cost me anything,’ he joked, coming to