Page 13 of Overnight Inheritance

She leafed through the pages. “You sure it wasn’t to intimidate me?”

One corner of his mouth pulled up, and he had to fight to keep the smile at bay. That had definitely been part of it, and she’d seen right through him. He wanted her to see how busy this job was, how complicated it was, so she could just agree to sell to him. But mainly, they needed to discuss how this shadowing would work, and this seemed to be the easiest way.

“I cleared this morning to help you settle in—”

“Except for the bunch of matching lawyers all in a row that you were going to exclude me from.”

“—except for the meeting with the lawyers this morning.” He spread the pages across the table. “This way you can see what your options are. You can choose which meetings you attend, and what hours will be most interesting to you.”

“If you’re doing all of this, then I will too.”

That was the response he’d been expecting, however, his load was heavy and she wouldn’t last the entire week if she tried to do everything. “If you burn out within a few days, you won’t get to see a proper scope of our work. It’d be better to choose the things that most interest you, and then we’ll work out what to do about the rest.”

Her chin tipped up. “Are you saying I couldn’t handle your schedule?”

“I’m not bragging about my hours. I’ve been trying to scale it back ever since Ashley died and haven’t got it to the level I’m comfortable with yet. Though I do leave at six o’clock each night now, which allows Alfie some consistency in his routine. Whenever possible, I get the nanny to bring him in for a visit during the day but, often, that’s difficult.”

“Admirable,” she said, her gaze not faltering. “But teachers are no strangers to a busy schedule.”

Was he missing something? There was no way a teacher would put in the hours he did. “Don’t you normally work nine till three? No need to be a hero and cram everything in just because you feel you have to—there’s no judgment.”

“Nine until three?” she said with a snort. “We dream of those hours. After the kids go home, teachers mark assessments, do lesson planning, answer emails from parents, attend in-service training, have meetings with the school administration or other key people, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Plus, that work also spills into the weekend and holidays, and now with easy access email and messaging platforms, families and senior management often expect us to be available twenty-four-seven.”

Their food—something called a wellness bowl for her and a simple pasta for him—arrived and he moved the pages into a stack to make room while Mae chatted with the waitress. From her flushed cheecks, it looked as though he’d touched a nerve about her teaching schedule. It must be something she had to explain a lot, and he was sorry he’d made her do it again.

Once the waitress left, he reached out and laid a hand on her arm. “I didn’t realize about your hours. I was seeing it from my own point of view and didn’t think to ask what hours you normally worked, which made my comments patronizing.”

Her warm gray eyes widened—from the apology...or the touch of his hand? He shouldn’t have done it, should remove his hand, would never normally dream of touching someone in a professional setting. Technically, she didn’t work for him, and he wasn’t carrying out any business with a representative from another company. No, it was much worse. She was a Rutherford, and he was potentially shooting himself in the foot by making things messy. Because things wereboundto get messy. And yet...neither of them had moved. Her skin was soft beneath his, warm, and the pulse at the base of her throat beat fast. What would it be like to kiss her? To feel all that vitality and life in his arms? Writhing beneath him?

The intensity of the image in his mind too much to bear, he pulled his hand back, looking down at his pasta. That was not a path he could allow his mind to take. There was too much at stake.

He cleared his throat and picked up his cutlery. “Just so we’re clear, my hours are eight till six. I used to work later, but I cut back when I became a single dad.”

“Noted,” she said and studiously picked up the printed pages containing his schedule, avoiding eye contact. “What’s this note on the lunchtime slots?”

“I’ve blocked out lunch with you each day.” His voice was tight, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. “That way, we’ll have a chance for you to ask questions or debrief after meetings.”

“I appreciate that.” She put the pages down and picked up her spoon, still not looking at him.

He shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth and tried his best to ignore that his body was hungrier for Mae than for food.

Five

Mae arrived for her second morning of shadowing Sebastian and stopped by Rosario’s desk.

“Morning,” she said and held out a cup.

Rosario reached for the cup. “Morning. What’s this?”

“A French vanilla cappuccino made with oat milk.” Mae had listened closely yesterday when Rosario had ordered a coffee and made a mental note. “Is it too early for it?”

“No,” she said with feeling and then took a sip and sighed. “It’s perfect timing.”

Mae smiled. For this week to go smoothly, Rosario was the key person, even if Sebastian probably thought it was him. Besides, she liked the other woman.

“Before you go in,” Rosario said, tilting her head to Sebastian’s office, “you should know that there’s...a situation unfolding.”

Mae instinctively looked across the space, but the closed door offered no clues. “Okay, thanks for the warning.”

---