She couldn’t read him at all. His giant friend said something she didn’t catch that made Jack laugh and in that moment she was sure she could see the carefree boy he’d probably once been. Bet that hair flopped right over your eyes too and gave you a wickedly cute look , she thought.
‘We’ve got to go, Geoff. See you for a pint soon, eh?’ Jack said.
Geoff used his hand to mimic a phone. ‘It’s your turn to call,’ he said. ‘Nice meeting you, Kate. You’re welcome to come for a beer, too.’
Jack opened the front passenger door for Kate, and laughed at Geoff ‘s parting shot. Again, Kate didn’t catch it; she was too busy wondering whether any other men still did that opening the door thing. Dan reckoned opening doors these days for women was fraught with danger. The last time I did that for a female colleague, she snapped some waspish comment at me, he had moaned. The lines were clearly drawn between him and Kate: equal terms, equal partners in life. With Jack, however, his opening the door for her didn’t feel in any way smarmy and it certainly didn’t seem to her as though he was using it to reinforce his rank or his maleness. It’s simply good manners , she thought, and felt instantly feminine for being treated so courteously. An inner voice cut in and urged her to please pull her ragged thoughts together. It’s just the first day , she replied silently. I’ll be fine by tomorrow .
Hawksworth threw his jacket across his files in the back seat, got in and was down to business straightaway, reversing out of the parking spot. She inhaled a waft of a spicy citrus cologne she recognised and liked. It suited him. Dan didn’t wear cologne, nor did he wear good-looking sports coats. But let’s face it , she reasoned, Dan’s a software engineer . A damn good one too, and on a huge salary working as a consultant to some enormous American bank in the city. Dan had no reason to wear suits with sexy shoes, she thought, glancing down at the chunky chocolate suede shoesher boss was wearing. Dan’s uniform was jeans and his Doc Martens. He looked great in them, she admitted it, but it would be nice to see him in some chinos occasionally or, heaven forbid, some tailored trousers.
Jack was talking and she forced herself to pay attention, irritated with herself for being so flighty today of all days.
‘We’re seeing Michael Sheriff's wife in Lincoln — well, Louth actually. Should take us a couple of hours max.’
He rolled his sleeves up as they emerged out of the awkward single entrance-exit into Westminster and the watery sunlight of an icy February morning. ‘Freezing in here,’ he commented. ‘Let’s get some heat happening.’
She unwound her scarf as he turned up the heat on the car’s dial. It would be steamy and warm in the small car before she knew it.
Victoria Street was teeming with its usual horde of London cabs, now available in maroon, and even white — perhaps they double as wedding cars , she thought. An equally famous convoy of red London buses lumbered past. She noticed most were tourist buses, totally incompatible with Britain’s propensity for sudden downpours in any season. As expected, the open-air upper deck was crowded with Japanese sightseers. Why was that? Other nations happily sat on the lower deck but the Japanese always rushed upstairs, no matter how inclement the weather.
‘I’ll take the less obvious tourist route,’ Jack said, echoing her thoughts and swinging left past the Army & Navy Store to head towards Westminster Cathedral. ‘Any excuse to drive by one of my favourite buildings,’he added, as they glided past the imposing red and cream-coloured stone church that was the home of Catholicism in the UK. ‘I love this piazza, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Pity about the McDonald’s on the corner,’ Kate replied.
‘I’ve taught myself to block it out.’
‘Don’t you think it looks eastern?’ she asked.
‘I think it looks like crap,’ he
‘We’ve got to go, Geoff. See you for a pint soon, eh?’ Jack said.
Geoff used his hand to mimic a phone. ‘It’s your turn to call,’ he said. ‘Nice meeting you, Kate. You’re welcome to come for a beer, too.’
Jack opened the front passenger door for Kate, and laughed at Geoff ‘s parting shot. Again, Kate didn’t catch it; she was too busy wondering whether any other men still did that opening the door thing. Dan reckoned opening doors these days for women was fraught with danger. The last time I did that for a female colleague, she snapped some waspish comment at me, he had moaned. The lines were clearly drawn between him and Kate: equal terms, equal partners in life. With Jack, however, his opening the door for her didn’t feel in any way smarmy and it certainly didn’t seem to her as though he was using it to reinforce his rank or his maleness. It’s simply good manners , she thought, and felt instantly feminine for being treated so courteously. An inner voice cut in and urged her to please pull her ragged thoughts together. It’s just the first day , she replied silently. I’ll be fine by tomorrow .
Hawksworth threw his jacket across his files in the back seat, got in and was down to business straightaway, reversing out of the parking spot. She inhaled a waft of a spicy citrus cologne she recognised and liked. It suited him. Dan didn’t wear cologne, nor did he wear good-looking sports coats. But let’s face it , she reasoned, Dan’s a software engineer . A damn good one too, and on a huge salary working as a consultant to some enormous American bank in the city. Dan had no reason to wear suits with sexy shoes, she thought, glancing down at the chunky chocolate suede shoesher boss was wearing. Dan’s uniform was jeans and his Doc Martens. He looked great in them, she admitted it, but it would be nice to see him in some chinos occasionally or, heaven forbid, some tailored trousers.
Jack was talking and she forced herself to pay attention, irritated with herself for being so flighty today of all days.
‘We’re seeing Michael Sheriff's wife in Lincoln — well, Louth actually. Should take us a couple of hours max.’
He rolled his sleeves up as they emerged out of the awkward single entrance-exit into Westminster and the watery sunlight of an icy February morning. ‘Freezing in here,’ he commented. ‘Let’s get some heat happening.’
She unwound her scarf as he turned up the heat on the car’s dial. It would be steamy and warm in the small car before she knew it.
Victoria Street was teeming with its usual horde of London cabs, now available in maroon, and even white — perhaps they double as wedding cars , she thought. An equally famous convoy of red London buses lumbered past. She noticed most were tourist buses, totally incompatible with Britain’s propensity for sudden downpours in any season. As expected, the open-air upper deck was crowded with Japanese sightseers. Why was that? Other nations happily sat on the lower deck but the Japanese always rushed upstairs, no matter how inclement the weather.
‘I’ll take the less obvious tourist route,’ Jack said, echoing her thoughts and swinging left past the Army & Navy Store to head towards Westminster Cathedral. ‘Any excuse to drive by one of my favourite buildings,’he added, as they glided past the imposing red and cream-coloured stone church that was the home of Catholicism in the UK. ‘I love this piazza, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Pity about the McDonald’s on the corner,’ Kate replied.
‘I’ve taught myself to block it out.’
‘Don’t you think it looks eastern?’ she asked.
‘I think it looks like crap,’ he
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