Page 60 of Behind Frenemy Lines

“Oh, I’ll book a sleeping pod,” he said.

My old firm had had sleeping pods, too, for when you were working late enough that a firm-funded taxi home wasn’t going to cut it. I’d never used one, though colleagues said they were nice. It had always seemed to me tantamount to giving up on life. I was lucky enough to be able to afford to live in central London. I’d take the cab home even if it was four a.m. and I had to be back at my desk in a few hours’ time.

“Don’t dothat,” I said, on impulse. “I’ve got a spare bed at home. It’s just a sofa bed, but you’re welcome to use it.”

Charles’s expression froze. “Oh—no, that’s, um, that’s very kind, but the sleeping pods will do me fine.” He went red.

“If you’re sure,” I said.

Just as well. What had I been thinking?

“They’re very comfortable,” said Charles, typing. “I need to track down the booking form on the intranet. I haven’t booked one in a while…” His voice trailed off, his eyes on his computer screen.

“What is it?”

“They’re closed for refurbishments.” Charles massaged his temples. “I’ll get a hotel.” He started typing again, presumably looking up options.

I made a decision. “Charles, seriously. The sofa bed’s in the living room, there’s a door, you can shut yourself in. I’ll never know you’re there. It’s a good bed, my family use it when they’re over.”

“It’s fine, I’ll—”

“It’s ten o’clock,” I said. “You could spend the next half hourfinding a hotel that has availability and won’t bankrupt you. Or you could take up my offer, and spend the time finishing the draft. The sooner we’re done with this, the sooner we get to go home—”and go to bed,I was going to say, but cut myself off. Given how skittish Charles was looking, that was not going to help my argument.

“I don’t want to impose,” he said, but he was weakening. From the alarm that had crossed his face, I guessed he had just seen what he’d have to fork out to get a hotel room at this time of night.

“You wouldn’t be imposing. You’d be doing me a favour,” I said. “You might not mind spending your evening at your desk, but I want to be home with my feet up, watching my kdrama.”

I thought that would clinch it. Sure enough, Charles said:

“OK. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I said. “Come on. Let’s knock this note on the head.”

Bringing Charles home might have felt more illicit if we hadn’t both been shattered. It was midnight by the time we left the office. The advice note was in the client’s inbox, so wehadmanaged “end of day.”

I fell asleep in the taxi, only stirring awake as it pulled up outside the development where I lived. Charles, predictably, was still on his phone.

“Have a good one, guys,” said the cabbie serenely. Goodness knew what he thought of the fact he was ferrying colleagues from the same law firm to the same block of flats, at this time of night.

It likely wasn’t the first time he’d done that, to be fair. If anything marked us out, it was the fact therewasn’tanything exciting going on. We were keeping enough of a distance from each other that he probably thought we were married.

Charles put his phone away as we got in the lift, but we didn’t talk until we got to the flat.

“Nice place,” he said politely, as I let us in. He took off his shoes before I could ask.

“Do you want to have a shower?” I paused to yawn, then said, “I’ll get you a towel. My dad left some clothes here last time he came. I think they should fit you.”

Charles mumbled something to the effect that I shouldn’t bother. I waved this off:

“You don’t want to be sleeping in your suit. Unless,” I added, “you’re one of those people who sleep naked.”

“I, er, no. No, I’m not.”

“That’s good.” I grinned. “One less thing to worry about, in case I forget you’re here and walk in on you.”

Charles went red.

I lost the fight over who got dibs on the bathroom, so I went first. Then, while Charles had his shower, I got the sofa bed ready.

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