Guilty Love (Completed)

Chapter Six

As the next weeks passed and summer deepened into richness, the gardens full of roses, lavender and the hum of bees, trees in full, green leaf, Linzi's sense of uneasiness deepend, too. Since the afternoon when Ritchie seemed to become curious about her and asked all those questions, their relationship had changed in an indefinable way. He began calling her Linzi, instead of Mrs York, and told her offhandedly, "You might as well call me Ritchie, by the way." That had shaken her. When she first began working for him, he'd taken care to let her know that he liked a formal boss-secretary relationship, and that had suited her, as well. It still did.

Working every day with a man was an intimate business, you spent hours together, often alone, you couldn't help getting to know each other well, and there were obvious risks in that. Especially if your marriage was unstable and you were lonely or unhappy. She had been relieved that Ritchie was so distant. It seemed to her unwise to drop that formality, but she didn't quite like to argue over it. That might make it seem to important. So she let him call her Linzi, but when she spoke to him she usually still called him Mr Calhoun, pretending not to notice the dry look he gave her every time she did so.

He was very busy with a project on which he'd been working for weeks. A new road was to be built to bypass a small town half and hour's drive from Leeds. There were other construction companies competing for the contract but Ritchie felt sure he had the edge on them because it was sort of job his firm had often handled in the past and he already had a lot of the machinery required, and a very good workforce, so he could keep his estimate low without taking the risk of cutting dangerous corners on the price of materials. If his firm was awarded the contract it would fit in very usefully with other work they had to complete during that period. It would mean, in fact, that he wouldn't have to lay off any of the casual workers he hired for specific jobs, and Ritchie Calhoun was the sort of employer who liked to be able to offer his employees job stability.

He might be a tough boss who insisted things were done his way, but he was popular with his men. He got his hands dirty too, he thought nothing of working side by side with them, drinking in the pub with them, and knew all their first names. He could do any job on site and had forgotten more about building than most of them had yet learned. They thought he was a great guy and would work themselves to a standstill for him. Linzi had learnt to respect him too, which was another reason why she didn't want to change jobs, if she could help it..

July was very hot, nobody wanted to work much, everyone wore as little as possible, and had deep tans, dogs lay about, panting, beaches were crammed with people. Linzi had to work, though. She managed to get time off to go swimming in the local pool some days, but she had to work late every evening for a week, and Barty bitterly resented it. On the Friday evening, Ritchie finally finished the long presentation he had been dictating to her for hours, which she keyed in to the computer while he walked about behind her talking. He came to a halt behind her, massaging the back of his neck.

"God, I'm tired! That's it, Linzi. You might as well get off home. You can print that out on Monday morning." Then he looked at the clock. "Is it that late? And you haven't had a bite to eat since lunch time? Why didn't you say something? We could have had sandwiches brought in." 'Never mind, I'll cook myself something when I get home." She had been sitting in one position for so long that when she got up, cramp knotted her leg muscles and she staggered slightly. "Are you OK?" Ritchie put an arm round her and for a second, she leaned on him and was suddenly aware of his strenght, it was like leaning on a rock. She felt intolerably weary at that instant, she wanted to pull all her weight on him, cling, like ivy. She hadn't been able to lean on anyone else for so long. She had to be the strong one in her marriage ever since Barty's accident. Oh, she'd told herself she didn't need to lean, she could stand alone, could cope with whatever life threw at her, and no doubt she had this strange yearning only because she was exhausted and at the end of her tether.

It didn't mean any more than that, yet she was stricken, shamed by her fleeting weakness. Face burning, she stumbled away from him. "Sorry.... I'm fine," she lied and was conscious of his sardonic, watchful gaze. "You don't look it. You're as white as ghost. I've never seen you look so frail. I could kick myself for working you so hard, it was damned thoughtless of me. I'm sorry, Linzi. Why don't we go somewhere and have dinner, a bottle of wine to put some colour back in your face?"

"No!"

she broke out wildly, and saw his brows rise at her tone. She bit her lip. "I....thanks, but I must go home."

"What are you scared of, Linzi?" he drily asked. "That I'll make a pass at you? I won't, I assure you. I don't make passes at married women. That isn't my style. You'll be quite safe with me." She couldn't even meet his eyes, "No, of course not, that isn't....I just have to get home," she stammered. "My husband will be worried about me." He didn't argue any more, just followed her out to the car park and watched her climb into her red Ford Sierra. "I'll be working out of office on Monday morning, don't forget," he told her before she drove away, and she nodded. "Have a restful weekend," he added.

When she got home, Barty was out. He didn't get back until midnight and by then Linzi was asleep. She had tried to stay awake but her body was too weary. She woke up when Barty fell over something in the living room of their small flat. The crash, followed by swearing, shocked her awake. She sat up just as the bedroom door opened and the light blazed on, blinding her.

**My idea of this story change in a last minutes.. So, I just type in whatever idea that came bargingg in my mind.. Enjoyy.. Until the next chapter..