Distraction

Chapter Fourteen

On Monday morning, she'd snuck into work with trepidation in her bones. Would Robbie still be mad at her, or would he apologise? Libby quietly opened the door, but he never looked up from his paper. Fine. It'd be easier to stop fancying him if he hated her.

But she didn't want him to hate her. She needed a friend, someone to talk to. Zoe had been bugger all use. Once Libby had recovered, Zoe found the whole episode hilarious, and Grace's just desserts for being a jealous cow-bag girl-friend.

'I see you played hard to get on Saturday,' he said, briefly looking up.

She stared at her feet, guilt burning her cheeks. How did he know?

'You're getting quite a reputation.'

'Oh, piss off. It's got nothing to do with you.'

His head jerked up, but Libby grabbed for the tack room key on her way out. In her rush, her fingers fumbled and the key clattered to the floor. She crouched down, fully aware Robbie was already on his feet.

'Libby-'

'What? Are you going to yell at me again for trying to help?' She faced up to him, her anger rising. 'I'm sorry if I interfered, but obviously something was wrong and after everything... I know you're my boss, but after everything that's happened recently, I thought it'd be okay to ask because I sort of thought we were friends. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.'

'Have you finished?' he snapped.

'No,' she said. 'If you ever speak to me like that again, I really will piss off and I won't come back.'

His face held no clue to his feelings, but as she turned to flee, he stopped her, gently grasping her wrist. She refused to face him, too scared she'd cry.

'Libby, wait,' he said. 'I'm sorry about Saturday. It's no excuse, but it was a really bad day.'

The room shifted as relief flooded over her. He didn’t hate her. Oh thank god. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the warmth of his body behind her, the citrusy bergamot in his aftershave, but she glanced down at the hand holding her wrist.

Those fingers… those were the fingers she’d seen slipping inside her, the fingers that had brought her to the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. They were fake memories, but she swayed backwards, his shirt touching her back. Had she imagined it, was it another hallucination, or had his thumb really brushed her arm?

'Please don't piss off,' he said, his mouth so close his breath tickled her ear.

Was she still hallucinating? Surely this couldn't be happening. She turned to him, frowning from under her fringe. His face was six inches from hers and his eyes gazed down. She had to be dreaming. With her heart thumping, Libby tipped her head up. Four inches of air stood between them and a kiss. Why wasn't he backing off? The gap shrank. Three inches.

'I should never have given you the job,' he murmured.

Unable to stop herself, Libby kissed him. Or had he kissed her? She didn't know, but when her lips met his, frozen for a second, it was definitely his hand holding her face. Slowly, their lips moved and as the kiss grew, she clutched his shirt, hoping to stay upright.

'Stop it!' yelled a girl's voice.

Oh god, no. Libby pinned herself back against the kitchen units, getting as far from Robbie as possible. He'd stepped away, staring wide-eyed towards the living room where his two daughters were grappling with a pink fairy wand.

'Dora, get off it's mine.'

Libby sagged with relief. They hadn't been caught, but now what? Robbie turned and slowly, the movement almost imperceptible, he shook his head.