Read Online Take My Breath Away by Martin Edwards - Free Book Online

the transition from the door to the principal living quarters. There was no getting away from the ex. His pretensions were all around.
    Phil was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. He caught sight of a single glass on the top rack. She jumped as she heard him come into the room.
    ‘I wasn’t expecting them to let you out so soon.’
    ‘I’m fine.’
    She offered her cheek and he kissed it, dutiful as a middle-aged husband. Her skin was cold and her breath smelled. Unlike most of her colleagues at work, she didn’t much care for nose candy. She was at least old-fashioned enough for drink to be her vice. In their early days as a couple, they’d often got pissed together. They both loved Chablis; it had been a kind of bond.
    ‘Aren’t you supposed to be out with that client all evening?’
    She pulled away from him, averting her face. She was a little unsteady on her feet. ‘He cancelled at the last minute. The bastard.’
    Unaccountably, he felt a spurt of sympathy. This particular client was supposed to be trying to keep the lid on an internal fraud, but Nic was sure Phil and he were having a fling. He hadn’t checked the fridge to see if they were low on strawberries and cream, but there had been a good many late night sessions in the past month. If the time spent was justified, the whole of the client’s accounts team must have been in on the scam.
    He moved to her side again and put his hand on her shoulders. Through the silk top, he could feel the tension in her. ‘You okay?’
    Silly question. Her eyes were puffy and her mascara had run. ‘Of course I’m okay,’ she said. ‘Just tired, that’s all..’
    ‘Uh-huh.’ He gave her shoulder a squeeze, wondered how long it would take before she began to pick a fight.
    She turned to face him and he had his answer. ‘Mel called. Seems the Press are taking an interest in youagain because you saw Dylan getting his throat cut.
De mortuis
and all that, but maybe every cloud has a silver lining. You could be hot again if you seize your chance right now.’
    ‘Meaning?’
    ‘Meaning, when are you going to start work on that second book?’
    ‘And what should I write about?’
    ‘Hey, you’re supposed to be the one with the vivid imagination. You can think of something. It doesn’t matter what.’
    ‘It matters to me.’
    ‘Oh, for Chrissake! It’s four years plus since you sold
Crippen
. Three since it came out. No wonder Huckerbys have threatened you with the sack.’
    He shrugged. She was right. His publishers were losing patience. They’d chafed for a long time. He’d made them enough money to earn kid glove treatment for the first year or two, but lately they’d been muttering about breach of contract. So what? He couldn’t write to order.
    ‘Don’t tell me you’re still waiting for your Muse!’
    ‘Fine,’ he said, aiming to be infuriatingly amiable. ‘I won’t mention it.’
    Even on the occasions – not so rare now as in the early days – when she looked untidy, there was no hiding her beauty. Rich chestnut hair, cheekbones to die for. Behind her head was a row of spice jars on a fitted shelf; she had been known to hurl them in a drunken temper. He didn’t need to ask her why she kept all the jars when she never bothered with anything more exotic than bayleaf and thyme. Apart from their value as projectiles, they were integral to the ambience, another of the ex’s nice little touches.
    ‘I’m making a coffee,’ he said. ‘Want one?’
    Her cheeks were flushed. ‘Right now, what I want is to get on with my work. One of us has to make a stab at earning a living.’
    He switched on the filter machine while she disappeared to her work station. The ex had created a mezzanine level with room for two vast computer desks as well as a spare bedroom. It was reached by the staircase made of aluminium and stainless steel cables which arced through the air like the shiny skeleton of a prehistoric creature unknown to science. Phil loved it;