He closes his eyes briefly and presses his lips together in a weirdly earnest way, as if he’s carrying the weight of the world but is trying to be a big brave boy. If you remove the sex, this gig is sounding more and more like a nannying role. And I may not be an experienced EA, but I have raised a child, albeit one with more problems and more resilience than this guy will ever have. Placating and enduring tantrums and making the pain go away are second nature to me. And if that’s what Brendan essentially wants, I’ll deliver it in spades.

I flick my hair back over my shoulder, and it jolts him out of his spontaneous little pity party. His handsome face turns predatory again as his gaze lingers on my hair.

‘You know,’ he says, his voice gruff, ‘you’re making it very difficult for me to keep this professional. If I had my way, we’d be moving onto Round Two right now.’

My smile turns coquettish, and my insides dance at his tone as much as his words.

Bring it.

It seems the terrified clutcher of pearls in Camille’s office is on her way out.

In her place?

A mama bear who’s just caught her first whiff of victory.

And boy, is it heady.

CHAPTER 8

Marlowe

‘Ithink I’m loving High Class Hooker Barbie even more than Sexy Secretary Barbie,’ Athena muses from somewhere near my knee as she rubs moisturiser with a hint of light-reflecting highlighter into my legs. Apparently, the trick is to use enough leg makeup to be alluring but not so much that it comes off on the bed in revolting pinky streaks.

On the bed.

Oh my sweet Jesus.

I’m at her palatial flat getting ready for Interview Round Two, AKA The Audition, AKA I Need To Actually Put Out For The First Time in Eight Years. It’s a relief in a whole host of ways. Not only is my “date” with Brendan over this side of town, but I definitely need Athena’s particular brand of moral support right now, and I didn’t want Tabs to see me getting tarted up.

I’ve left her with a sitter she loves—a young woman called Hattie from a specialist babysitting agency that only takes on paediatric nurses. There was no way I was leaving her with my parents, who’d smell a hell of a rat if I went out on a “date”, nor would I risk leaving her with a random sixteen-year-old who wouldn’t know how to call nine-nine-nine if anything happened.