Free Hitched! by Jessica Hart Page A

humour.’
    There was a silence in the office as he left with a friendly
nod to us both. We listened to his boots clumping down the steps, followed by
the slam of a car door.
    George looked at me.
    ‘Oh, very well, you might as well say it!’ I said crossly and
he laughed.
    ‘I told you they’d like it,’ he said.
    ‘OK, they thought the ringtone was funny,’ I admitted, ‘but you
had no business changing it to something equally silly,’ I told him, remembering
my horror that morning when the phone had first rung. ‘You knew perfectly well I
wanted you to put my normal ringtone back!’
    ‘I couldn’t resist,’ he said, holding up his hands in surrender
at my fierce look.
    ‘Now I’ve got to tell them all where to get hold of a ringtone
that quacks and chortles.’
    I pushed my glasses up onto my forehead so I could knuckle
under my tired eyes. ‘I suppose I should be grateful you picked that and not the
orgasm scene from When Harry Met Sally or something
equally embarrassing—and don’t even think about it!’
I warned as George’s face lit up. ‘I’ll admit that your little stunt has
improved my relationship with the guys on site—and my reputation in the council
offices, apparently!—but no more, all right?’
    George crossed his fingers and held them up. ‘Scout’s honour,’
he mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich.
    I might as well accept the inevitable. I pushed back my chair.
‘Want some coffee?’ I asked and he stuck up a thumb.
    I made the coffee and plonked his mug in front of him before
taking mine round to my own seat. It felt easier with the desk between us.
    It was a delicious sandwich, I had to admit, and my enjoyment
was spoiled only by the fact that when George had finished his, he tipped back
in his chair at a dangerous angle so that he could put his feet up on my
desk.
    ‘Do you mind?’ I said pointedly.
    ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘Your dirty socks are the problem! Could you please take them
off my desk and stop tilting that chair like that? It’s making me nervous. I
don’t care if you break your neck, but I’ve got a health and safety record to
think about.’
    George sighed and swung his feet down. ‘It seems to me health
and safety regulations were invented just to stop the rest of us having
fun.’
    ‘It’s perfectly possible to have fun without risking injury,’ I
said primly, and then wished I hadn’t because George leant forward and waggled
his eyebrows at me suggestively.
    ‘How do you have fun, Frith? Do you have a five-year plan for
that too?’
    I pressed my lips together and glared at him, almost glad when
my mobile went off and spared me the need to reply.
    I use the words ‘went off’ advisedly. I leapt in my seat as a
maniacal cackling and quacking filled the room. ‘You’re not leaving here until
you’ve changed this,’ I said to George, who was grinning, idiot that he was.
    Snatching up the phone, I answered it just to shut up the
noise. ‘Hello,’ I snapped.
    ‘Frith, it’s me.’
    ‘Oh...Saffron.’
    Please God, let it not be another forty-five minutes on whether
the guests would think three thousand pounds a bottle too mean, which pair of
Jimmy Choos would go best with Saffron’s dress, or the exact shade of the
specially woven silk coverings for the chairs.
    Evidently prepared for a long wait, George tipped back in his
chair and put his feet back on the desk.
    ‘I’m doing the seating plan,’ moaned Saffron. ‘It’s so difficult.’
    ‘It must be,’ I said, not really listening. I pointed at
George’s feet and mouthed Down!
    Needless to say, he just smiled blandly back at me. It wasn’t a
challenge I was about to resist. Saffron wittered on in my ear as I went round
and tried to lift George’s legs onto the floor. I was hampered by the fact that
one hand was holding the phone, but even so he was incredibly strong.
    Refusing to give up, I wrestled one-armed with his legs while
he just leant back in his chair and smiled at