Helping Sarah

Chapter 3

Michael

Bollocks!

"You do?"

Sitting very still, I stared at the woman beside me, but before my mind and my mouth could confer or agree upon an answer, the reply had already passed my lips. "Yes."

I swallowed down the groan that followed hard on its heels, that one word enough to make me want to bang my head against James' desk. Not my desk. Not my office. Not my firm. And certainly not me Sarah had come there to see.

Abruptly standing, I walked back around the desk so she couldn't see the panic that was without a doubt grazing my face. It wasn't just that one-word reply that sat on my chest like a boulder. The complete stupidity I now found myself immersed in had started a few minutes ago with my statement about me helping James.

Those words neither had been conferred about or agreed upon, and those too had been spoken before my mind could object. I still haven't the faintest idea what made me say it.

The only excuse I can think of is that in the woman sitting opposite me I must have seen a solution to the problem that had been plaguing me for the last four months; if I could no longer work at Capra Games, what was I to do with all my time?

Only, at no point in my search for a new project had I planned for this, posing as a private detective, to be it.

Both Lisa, my PA, and I had figured that at some point I would find a hobby that could hold my interest and keep my mind from continuously veering back to all the projects, developments and ideas the new bosses at Capra Games insisted I still be kept appraised off. Just in case I chose to disregard my doctor's dire warnings.

So far, golf, bird watching, and knitting had all failed to do so for long.

The problem with this new job I'd now acquired was that I wasn't James' partner. I didn't help my friend with his cases. I wasn't anything close to a private detective.

Writing a code or programming an app, I can do pretty much blindfolded, but I haven't the faintest idea how to go about investigating anything.

The only reason I was even in James' office was because of Bridgette's surprise visit outside my house this morning. Otherwise, James and Alistair would have come to me in Cambridge for our lunch. Instead, I had fled to them in London.

I sat in the chair behind the desk and glanced at Sarah through the hair falling over my forehead. My breathing was ragged, but it wasn't the panic that was causing it. At least, not panic at this new job. Sarah's problem was already turning over in my mind, almost making it buzz at once again having something to wrangle with instead of only thinking about the coffee I couldn't drink and the work I couldn't do.

No, it was the lie that made my palms slick and squeezed at my lungs until only shallow breaths were possible.

"Thank you," Sarah said, and then smiled at me with such relief it almost vindicated my new employment and my lie.

Almost.

Such relief that not helping her was no longer an option.

That smile and the look in those dark, clear eyes of hers made my heart thump in a way that usually only happened when a code worked flawlessly, and the beats easily drowned out the objections my conscience was struggling to make me heed. It made me smile back.

Why would I listen to my conscience when those dark eyes were looking at me as if Sarah wanted to throw her arms around me and hold on tight?

An experience, by the way, I could wholeheartedly agree to. I had barely been able to take my eyes off her from the moment I had lowered the newspaper I'd used to pass the time while I waited for James and Alistair.