Page 38 of Pride and Privilege

He gave her a flat look, then had to suppress a yawn, which made them both laugh. “Busted,” he muttered.

“Any shows you’re watching?” she asked, still flicking through their options.

“I started that new sci-fi one a while back. You know, with the bounty hunter and the baby—”

“I know it.” She navigated to it. “It says you’re up to…episode one. Of the first series.”

“That’s as far as I got.”

“You know this show’s been out for years now?”

“I was a bit busy.”

“It’s up to the third series.”

“Shit. Really?”

“The little guy has aname now.”

“Shh. No spoilers!”

Laughing, she put it on.

Roscoe was—he could freely admit to himself, if to no one else—a bit of a nerd. He worked with numbers. Liked numbers. Data. Analysis. Ofcoursehe was a nerd.

And so, it turned out, was Poppy.

He could tell by the avid way she watched the show, the comments she made that showed her understanding of the franchise. He did exactly the same, and together, as a big silver guy saved a little green guy, they got their nerd on.

When the show ended, Poppy turned the TV off.

“Noooo,” he protested. “Let’s watch the next one.”

“You’re yawning your head off. You nearly fell asleep in your Pad Thai.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

“Are we really doing this?”

“You started it.”

He laughed. But he really was exhausted, had nearly drifted off a couple of times, eyelids heavy. The food filling his stomach wasn’t helping, or the beer in his veins. The only thing keeping him alert was the woman sitting nearby. He never lost his awareness of her.

She had been sitting with her legs curled under her. Now they were stretched out, bare feet resting on the edge of the coffee table. She was wearing black leggings. There was no varnish on her toenails, just pale pink shells at the tips of her pale pink feet. His eyes tracked up to her calves, her knees…

He reached for his beer, picking up his phone at the same time. He quickly checked his emails, pulled up some market reports… And Poppy plucked the phone from his hand.

“Time for bed, Mr Blackton.”

Which dialled straight into just about every secretary-slash-stern nurse fantasy he’d ever had. However, on the less arousing side, she had his phone. His very important work phone.

He held his hand out. She shook her head.

“Seriously?” he asked.

She held it behind her back. “You need a lie in.”

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