Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 by Serenity Woods Page A

right number of hours, having a brief meeting with Accounts when she found two members of staff who hadn’t, settling a dispute between two secretaries who weren’t getting along, and generally ensuring that the office ran smoothly and without a hitch.
    At lunchtime, as usual, she put on her coat, walked outside and rang her mother on her mobile.
    Nurse Rachel picked up the phone. “Hello?”
    “Hi, Rachel, it’s me.”
    “Hi, Coco. We were just talking about you.”
    “Oh. How is she today?”
    “So so.”
    Eleanor Stark was currently in the middle of an attack that had started over a month ago, leading to problems with coordinating her arms and legs, incontinence, some trouble speaking and bouts of dark depression at the thought that she was going to be that way for the rest of her life.
    “I’ll put her on,” Rachel said.
    The phone rustled and muffled voices sounded, and then Eleanor said, “Hi, love.”
    “Hi, Mum. How are you today?”
    “I’m fine,” Eleanor said, her standard response, her words slurring slightly. “Now, have you been thinking about our conversation this morning?”
    Coco gritted her teeth. Eleanor had given her a speech as she ate her breakfast, something along the lines of “You’re twenty-seven and should be out enjoying yourself, not looking after me.” It was a recurring theme.
    “No,” Coco said.
    “I want you to go out this evening. It’s Friday night and I’ve asked Frances to come and stay with me for a few hours so you can socialise.” Frances was Eleanor’s best friend.
    “I don’t want to socialise,” Coco said. “I’ve just bought the final series of House . I thought we could have a marathon watch—four or five episodes until we fall asleep.”
    “That sounds lovely,” Eleanor said softly. “But not tonight. Please, Coco. Do this for me.”
    Coco walked across the road to look at the harbour, her stomach churning. “Seriously, Mum, I haven’t got anywhere to go. Amy’s busy tonight, and I don’t have any other friends.”
    “Then you should get some,” snapped Eleanor. “There must be someone at work you can go for a drink with.”
    Coco hesitated as Felix’s tall, smiling form jumped into her mind. She shook her head angrily. “It’s my choice to look after you,” she said, near to tears. “I wish you’d stop trying to push me away.”
    Eleanor ignored her. “Sort something out. Frances will be here from seven until at least ten, or whenever you get home.”
    She hung up.
    Coco stared at the phone, then clipped it shut and slid it in her pocket. Eleanor had never hung up on her before.
    It was a windy day in the capital city—no change there, she thought—and the breeze whipped the waves of Lambton Harbour into white horses. The ferry that crossed the Cook Strait from the North Island to the South—affectionately named the Vomit Comet—would be earning its nickname that day.
    Depression settled over her. Eleanor meant well, and deep down Coco supposed she was right, but the truth was that she couldn’t think of anyone to go for a drink with. She purposely maintained a professional relationship with everyone in the office, except for Amy, whom she’d known since secretarial college and who was unfortunately going to her Tai Chi class that evening. And Coco didn’t want to get close to anyone else—didn’t want to reveal that beneath the severe image of the office manager she worked so hard to project was a soft-hearted, passionate woman, too afraid of being hurt to open up and let anyone in.
    Unbidden, Felix’s brown eyes swam into her mind again, kind as he promised to keep her nickname a secret, and she sighed. He’d impressed her in the boardroom, and although his insistence on investigating the case could raise problems for her, nevertheless she was touched that he obviously felt Sasha’s claims deserved to be considered.
    But there was no point in going out with him. He would only be in Wellington a week at most—surely