paint a row of stripy bright colours. It’d take ages to sort out everything at the flat, but finally she’d be able to bring one of her sketches to life. Will had a fantastic eye for spotting items and putting together different combinations to help her achieve the look long after she’d given up.
‘Phew!’ Emma stared at the overflowing trolley in front of them. ‘Good thing I brought my credit card.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Will rubbed his forehead. ‘I never even thought to ask if all of this was in your budget. We can decide what to put back, if you like.’
‘No, no, don’t worry. I was just joking.’ Emma turned to face him, her heart flipping over. ‘So … yet again, I owe you.’ Dare she invite him for dinner once more? He did appear to have snapped back, like Alice had predicted. But what if he said no again? After all, this was his job; he could just be playing Mr Salesman. He probably got a commission every time he sold something. So far, though, thinking positively did seem to be working. She might as well give this a go, too.
‘Er, would you like to come over sometime this week for dinner ? Maybe tonight when you’re off work, or tomorrow?’ Emma forced out the words quickly, as if they were a painful plaster to be ripped off. Bracing herself for another rejection, she glanced up at Will’s face. To her surprise, he looked like he was contemplating it.
‘That would be great,’ Will said finally. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve had a home-cooked meal. What about Wednesday? I’m working the evening shift tonight and tomorrow.’
Home-cooked meal? Emma had been thinking more along the lines of an upscale takeaway. Her cooking skills extended to toast, and even that she burned. ‘Sure, Wednesday’s fine,’ she croaked out over the panic clutching her throat. ‘Around seven?’
Will nodded. ‘Sounds good. Come on, let’s get you through the checkout, and then I’ll help you pack up the car.’
What would Pollyanna say about this one? Emma wondered as they walked towards the tills. Ah well, at least she had until Wednesday to come up with something. How hard could it be?
Will cursed as he watched Emma pull away from the car park and merge neatly with traffic on the busy high street. What was it about this woman that made him forget his resolve not to get involved with anyone? He’d figured his cool behaviour yesterday would put her off, but she hadn’t seemed bothered by it when they’d met today. If she’d been Cherie, she’d have engaged in a full-blown pout, lasting days until he bought her something to say sorry.
But Emma wasn’t Cherie—far from. She was so easy to spend time with, and her enthusiasm for design was catching. One glimpse at the wonderful living space she’d created, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from jumping in to help. That colour he’d mixed deserved something spectacular like her design, and he couldn’t wait to see what it all looked like put together.
That was why he’d said yes, Will told himself. Artistic interest only—nothing to do with the chemistry or connection between them, despite knowing little about each other. Anyway, it was just one dinner. He was capable of controlling himself for a couple o f ho urs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘H elp!’ Emma shrieked to Alice over the phone the next day. It was just after ten, and Emma had spent most of last night and a few hours this morning sorting out her purchases and frantically scouring the Internet for a recipe that looked halfway doable. Trouble was, nothing seemed within her grasp—a shame positive thinking couldn’t conjure meals from thin air. Visiting her mum would fill the rest of the day, and tomorrow Emma needed to start decorating before Will arrived. Not to mention she still hadn’t revisited the job hunt!
‘What’s up?’ Alice yawned. ‘God, late night. Didn’t get home until three—Chaz invited me out to dinner, then we headed back to his. Anyway, what’s the big
‘Phew!’ Emma stared at the overflowing trolley in front of them. ‘Good thing I brought my credit card.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Will rubbed his forehead. ‘I never even thought to ask if all of this was in your budget. We can decide what to put back, if you like.’
‘No, no, don’t worry. I was just joking.’ Emma turned to face him, her heart flipping over. ‘So … yet again, I owe you.’ Dare she invite him for dinner once more? He did appear to have snapped back, like Alice had predicted. But what if he said no again? After all, this was his job; he could just be playing Mr Salesman. He probably got a commission every time he sold something. So far, though, thinking positively did seem to be working. She might as well give this a go, too.
‘Er, would you like to come over sometime this week for dinner ? Maybe tonight when you’re off work, or tomorrow?’ Emma forced out the words quickly, as if they were a painful plaster to be ripped off. Bracing herself for another rejection, she glanced up at Will’s face. To her surprise, he looked like he was contemplating it.
‘That would be great,’ Will said finally. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve had a home-cooked meal. What about Wednesday? I’m working the evening shift tonight and tomorrow.’
Home-cooked meal? Emma had been thinking more along the lines of an upscale takeaway. Her cooking skills extended to toast, and even that she burned. ‘Sure, Wednesday’s fine,’ she croaked out over the panic clutching her throat. ‘Around seven?’
Will nodded. ‘Sounds good. Come on, let’s get you through the checkout, and then I’ll help you pack up the car.’
What would Pollyanna say about this one? Emma wondered as they walked towards the tills. Ah well, at least she had until Wednesday to come up with something. How hard could it be?
Will cursed as he watched Emma pull away from the car park and merge neatly with traffic on the busy high street. What was it about this woman that made him forget his resolve not to get involved with anyone? He’d figured his cool behaviour yesterday would put her off, but she hadn’t seemed bothered by it when they’d met today. If she’d been Cherie, she’d have engaged in a full-blown pout, lasting days until he bought her something to say sorry.
But Emma wasn’t Cherie—far from. She was so easy to spend time with, and her enthusiasm for design was catching. One glimpse at the wonderful living space she’d created, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from jumping in to help. That colour he’d mixed deserved something spectacular like her design, and he couldn’t wait to see what it all looked like put together.
That was why he’d said yes, Will told himself. Artistic interest only—nothing to do with the chemistry or connection between them, despite knowing little about each other. Anyway, it was just one dinner. He was capable of controlling himself for a couple o f ho urs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘H elp!’ Emma shrieked to Alice over the phone the next day. It was just after ten, and Emma had spent most of last night and a few hours this morning sorting out her purchases and frantically scouring the Internet for a recipe that looked halfway doable. Trouble was, nothing seemed within her grasp—a shame positive thinking couldn’t conjure meals from thin air. Visiting her mum would fill the rest of the day, and tomorrow Emma needed to start decorating before Will arrived. Not to mention she still hadn’t revisited the job hunt!
‘What’s up?’ Alice yawned. ‘God, late night. Didn’t get home until three—Chaz invited me out to dinner, then we headed back to his. Anyway, what’s the big
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