Harlequin Presents--April 2020--Box Set 2 of 2 by Caitlin Crews

Author:Caitlin Crews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWO

THEO ALLOWED HIMSELF a moment to savour the angry shock on Helena’s face before brushing past her and into the pleasant warmth of her home. That this should never have been her home was something he would not allow himself to dwell on.

He wiped the rain off his face with his hands while wiping his feet on the doormat.

‘Nice place you have here,’ he commented as he stepped over a threadbare rug covering hardwood flooring. An estate agent would call her flat cosy. A lay person would describe it as fit for dormice.

Helena closed the door and stood with her back against it. ‘What are you doing here?’

He faced her and placed a hand to his chest in a wounded fashion. ‘You don’t seem happy to see me, agapi mou.’

‘Dysentery would be a more welcome visitor. For cripes’ sake, Theo, it’s been three years. You turn up at my place of work all cloak and dagger and then you turn up at my home? What’s going on?’

‘I thought you would like to know in person that you won.’

Her forehead creased. ‘Won what?’

‘The job.’ He flashed the widest smile he could spread his mouth into. Theos, he was enjoying this. ‘Congratulations. You are the architect of choice for my new home.’

But her beautiful face only became blanker.

‘Why don’t you open a bottle of wine for us while we talk details?’ He peered round the nearest door and found a kitchen of a size a toddler would struggle to party in.

‘What are you talking about?’

He spun back round to face her and clicked his finger and thumb together. ‘Details. They are important, do you not agree?’

‘Well…yes…’

‘And alcohol always makes tedious detail go down easier.’ He strode to the fridge and opened it. He tutted and sighed theatrically at the sparsity of its contents. ‘No white wine. Where do you keep the red?’

‘I haven’t got any.’

‘None? Anything alcoholic at all?’

‘No…’

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and winked as he pressed his thumbprint to it. ‘Easily rectified.’

‘Hold on.’ Suspicion suddenly replaced the disbelieving gormless look.

‘Nai, agapi mou?’

‘You’re telling me I’ve won the pitch?’

‘Nai. You have won. Congratulations.’ He raised a hand palm up and waggled his fingers jazz-hands-style.

Her brows drew together in increased suspicion.

‘You’re allowed to smile, you know.’ Goading her was something to relish in itself.

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, eyes not leaving his face. ‘I’ll smile when you tell me why you’ve come to my home to deliver the news instead of using the proper channels, and, now I’m thinking about it, who gave you my address? And will you stop going through my cupboards and drawers?’

‘The contents of a kitchen are a good indication of a person’s character,’ he chided playfully, opening another drawer that contained precisely a roll of cooking foil, a roll of Clingfilm and two tea towels.

‘And the failure to stop rifling through said kitchen when the owner has requested it is an equally good indicator.’

With another theatrical sigh, he closed the drawer.

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