PLAYING DIRTY WITH THE HOT CEO

chapter 19

Heidi

“So,” Grandpa says once we’re all sitting with our drinks and a slice of the loaf, “you two are off to a castle for the weekend?”

“More like a large country house,” Titus replies. He takes a bite of his cake, murmurs his approval, and removes some crumbs from his lip. “It’s called Hawkerland Manor. The owner is a Kiwi, but his wife is English and from old money, I think.”

“What are you wearing, Heidi?” Grandma asks.

“I meant to ask you what the dress code was,” I say to Titus. “How smart do we need to be?”

“Alan mentioned a cocktail party this evening. Then tomorrow it’s an Agatha Christie-style murder-mystery evening. Sunday he mentioned taking us to a local pub. Plus some casual events in between—the hot-air balloon ride, and he promised me some fishing in the river. And they have an indoor pool, so bring your swimming costume.”

“I’ve got a little black dress for tonight,” I tell him. “Not sure about the murder mystery.”

“Apparently we’ll get character descriptions, and he said something about having costumes to help us out.”

“Sounds fun,” I say.

“You should wear that silver dress you wore to Lisa’s wedding,” Grandma says with a twinkle in her eye. “Without the jacket.”

I shoot her a warning glance, but she just grins.

“What’s this?” Titus asks. “I think I need to hear more about the silver dress.”

“It’s sort of 1930s but with shoestring straps and it’s a bit… ah… revealing.”

“You should definitely bring that,” he says. Grandpa laughs and Grandma giggles.

“If I do, I’ll definitely be wearing the jacket over the top,” I tell them.

“Spoilsport,” Titus says, and smiles.

“So you’re doing business with Acheron Pharmaceuticals?” Grandpa wants to know.

Titus nods. “I’ve been working with a colleague using Artificial Intelligence in IVF. Alan Woodridge from Acheron has offered to invest a significant amount of money in the research. His daughter apparently had infertility issues and had three unsuccessful rounds of treatment, and he’s keen to help others in the same situation.”

“How can AI help?”

“In the grading and selection of gametes, or reproductive cells—eggs in women, and sperm in men—and of embryos for transfer. Success is often based on an individual’s ability to select the right embryos, but AI takes the subjectivity out of the process. It can also help in the formatting of a treatment plan.”

As he speaks I can imagine him standing in front of an audience at a conference, delivering his talk. He switches into work mode, and he sounds authoritative and knowledgeable. And sexy, although that might be just me.

“Interesting,” Grandpa says. “What’s your opinion on using AI in art and literature?”

“Grandpa’s writing a book,” I explain.

Titus nods and stretches out his long legs, turning his coffee cup in his fingers. “Obviously it’s a hot topic at the moment, and a sensitive subject. People don’t like to think about computers being involved in the creative process. These fears have been around since the Industrial Revolution. But we’re a long way from the scenarios you see in science fiction, where computers take over the world. And even though AI is being used in some basic art, it’s done by programming in real artwork, so in that sense it’s not the same as creating from scratch. The human’s ability to put dreams on paper won’t be superseded for many years, in my opinion.”

“That’s a lovely way to put it,” Grandma says, and he smiles.

“What’s your book about?” he asks Grandpa.

“It’s a local history,” he replies. “I’ll show you some of my research if you’d like to see it.”

“Oh Gray, don’t bore the lad,” Grandma scolds.

But Titus replies, “I’d love to, I’ve been getting more into history since Heidi’s been showing me around,” and so the two of them get up and go into the house.

Grandma smiles at me. “Gramps loves him,” she says. “He doesn’t show his work to just anyone.”

“Titus is a nice lad,” I reply. “One of the good guys.”

Grandma meets my eyes, and her lips curve up.

“He also lives in New Zealand,” I remind her wryly.

“But he’s here to discuss the possibility of staying here for two years, isn’t he?”

“He’s here to try to convince Alan Woodridge from Acheron that he can run the project from New Zealand.”

“Sounds like this Alan really wants him to stay though. Cocktail parties and murder mystery evenings and balloon rides? They’re pulling out all the stops.”

“Titus is pretty single-minded. I can’t imagine him being talked into anything he didn’t want to do.”

“What about you, then? You’ve had a great adventure here. Might it be time for you to move back home?”

I hesitate. “I feel like I’m just settling in. I mean yeah, I miss home sometimes, but I love England.”

“What happened with Jason hasn’t put you off being here?”

“Of course not. There are obnoxious men in New Zealand too. Besides, Titus sorted him out. I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.”

“Ooh, did he get physical with him?”

My pulse picks up at the memory of Titus pushing Jason up against the wall. “Oh yes. He was quite… um…”

“Yummy?” She offers.

I giggle. “As good a word as any.”

“He’s lovely, Heidi,” she says, “and he looks at you as if you’re something precious. I like that.”

“He does not,” I scoff.

She smiles. “He’s obviously very fond of you.”

“He thinks of me as Oliver’s kid sister, that’s all.”

“That might be what he tells you, but I think he wants to do much more than pull your pigtails.” She waggles her eyebrows.

I glance at the window, where I can see him leafing through a book as Grandpa talks to him. “Well, actually, we did kiss last night…”

Her jaw drops. “Really? Oh my God, Heidi! A peck or a smooch?” Her excitement makes me laugh. She’s always been like this—like my fifteen-year-old best friend, excited to hear about my love life. She made such an effort with Jason, but he just seemed to think she was weird, which made me very sad.

“Oh,” I say with feeling, “it definitely fell into the smooch category.”

“And yet you slept in separate rooms?”

I sigh. “I know he’d like more, and so would I, but we’re both hesitant because we know it would have to come to an end, and neither of us wants that complication.”

“It doesn’t have to end. If it’s meant to be, love always finds a way.” She gives me a meaningful look, sipping her coffee as the two men come back out again.

I finish off my tea. It’s a romantic thought, but not a practical one, and I’m not willing to enter a tunnel when I can’t see the exit.

Still, it’s nice to watch Titus talking to Grandma, laughing at her jokes, and responding with some of his own. He seems so at ease in whatever company he’s in, able to converse with young and old, men and women. He’s quite clever, I notice, at turning the conversation away from himself; he’ll talk about his work, but he tends to divert personal questions away by asking the other person about themselves. With some surprise, I realize actually it might be because he’s shy at heart, and uncomfortable talking about himself.

He’s a puzzle, with many layers. A girl could take years peeling them away to discover what lies beneath.

We chat for another half an hour, and then it’s time to say goodbye. I hug Grandma, and she turns to him and says, “We’ll see you again at the wedding!” They’re flying over closer to the big day.

“Of course,” he replies. “I look forward to it.”

She hugs him. “Take care of her.”

“I will,” he promises, meeting my gaze over her shoulder and smiling.

“Will you be staying with Titus in Auckland?” Grandpa asks as he hugs me.

I move back, and I know I’ve blushed scarlet by the heat in my face and Titus’s amused glance. “No, I’ll be staying with Chrissie.”

“Oh, I thought you were…” Grandpa trails off as he looks at Grandma, and she glares at him. “Ah,” he says, “trust me to put my foot in it.”

Titus laughs. “We’re just friends,” he says.

“Goodbye,” Grandma replies, “I hope the weekend goes well. And that he persuades you to stay!” she adds mischievously.

He gives her a wry look, and then we wave goodbye and head back to the car.

“Jeez,” I say as we get in and close the door. “Sorry about that.”

“He’s getting a bollocking now,” he says, amused. “Poor Graham.” He looks across at me as I start the engine and back out of the drive. “He’s worried about you.”

“Because of Jason?” He nods. “Yeah,” I say, putting the car into gear and heading toward the main road, “Gramps didn’t like him much. Neither did Grandma, come to that, although they were both too polite to say so. I’m not quite sure what they didn’t like, but you can tell, can’t you?”

He nods, and something about his silence prompts me to look at him. “Gramps told you, didn’t he?”

He glances at me. “Maybe.”

“Go on, spit it out.”

“He didn’t like the way Jason treated you.”

That surprises me. “Oh. I assumed you were going to say he was too arrogant or something.”

“He didn’t like that either.”

I give a short laugh. “What did he mean, the way Jason treated me?”

“He said Jason put you down sometimes. And that you were his princess and deserve to be treated like one.”

“Jesus. Grandparents.”

“I think he was warning me,” Titus says.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, embarrassed. “I did tell them we were just friends.”

“Heidi, I don’t mind. I happen to think he’s right. A man should always treat his girl like a princess.”

He’s looking out of the window as he says it, distracted by the view, so I don’t think he’s being sarcastic. My gaze lingers on him for a moment before returning to the road, a frisson running down my back. He says such nice things.

“How come you’re not married with six kids?” I ask.

That brings his gaze back to me. “Haven’t met the right girl.”

“Maisey wasn’t The One?”

He snorts, and I chuckle.

“Do you want kids?” I ask.

“I don’tnotwant them. They’re not on my radar at the moment. They seem like hard work.”

“Yeah. You got that right. So you’re not envious of Oliver, impregnating his girl?”

I meant to make him laugh, but instead he shrugs. “I admit to a twinge of jealousy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s getting ready to take his vows and promise to love her forever. They’re going to be joined together forever metaphorically, spiritually, whatever you want to call it, by their baby. He’s deliriously happy. So yeah, I envy him, a bit. I’d like to have that comfortable relationship. That contentment. I just don’t want all the hassle that comes before it.”

“I know what you mean,” I say with feeling. “It’s so bloody complicated. I hate dating with a passion. I think that’s why I stayed with Jason for so long. I was relieved that I’d found someone, and I didn’t have to worry about first dates anymore.”

He doesn’t reply, and so I leave it there. I signal to come off the Devon Expressway, and head toward Briarton.

“Nearly one o’clock,” I say. “We’ll have a couple of hours in, shall we? Do you need to sort out what you’re wearing for the weekend?”

“Most of my clothes are already in my main case in the car, but I can do some work for a while.”

“I’ll make us some lunch.”

“Sounds great.”

Once we’re home, I retrieve some wraps from the fridge, spread them with cranberry sauce, and add slices of camembert that I warm up in the microwave, along with a handful of green salad. Titus sits outside with his laptop, under the shade of the umbrella, and I take our plates out with two glasses of lemonade over ice, and sit and read my book while he works. After that, I close my eyes, resting my head on my hand, and doze for half an hour.

At one point, I hear a rustle as he gets up, and he quietly makes his way past me. He stops, and a shadow falls over me before I feel his lips on my hair. Then he goes inside.