Free The Morning After the Night Before: Love & Lust in the city that never sleeps! by Nikki Logan

our submission, paranoid as they are, are your own,’ she said. ‘I know why I came back to Broadmore—’ though God knew that didn’t look like such a sterling idea with benefit of hindsight ‘—and I know it was a good submission because I’ve been on two other shortlists already in just a few weeks. So I’ll be able to sleep perfectly straight at night, thanks very much.’
    â€˜In that tiny, lonely bed.’
    No question. He wanted her off kilter. He wanted her remembering how they’d flipped and turned and sweated together in that bed. And if he wanted it, she wasn’t giving it to him.
    â€˜Eight straight, deep hours. When was the last time you achieved that, Harry?’
    With that, she punched the door’s open button and swept out of the lift ahead of him, resisting every urge to look into any of thebuilding’s mirrored foyer panels to see if he was still behind her.
    â€˜Looking forward to working with you, Izzy,’ he called just as the street doors silently parted.
    Yeah. Right.

FIVE

    â€˜Otter fanciers are a dedicated bunch,’ Harry murmured, casting a sideways look in the direction of the welly-boot brigade, criticism patent in his gaze.
    Umbrage burbled up right below Izzy’s skin. Sure, their volunteers were a motley bunch, and a little disorganised—and possibly only semi-effectual—but they were giving their time for free.
    Her parents would have fitted right in if she’d found the courage to invite them. But calling because she needed something wasn’t how she’d imagined getting back in touch with them after all this time. And this wasn’t the first time she’d quietly put the phone down again.
    Baby steps.
    â€˜Your staff are the only people here todaywho are getting paid to re-vegetate this waterway,’ she reminded him with astonishing self-control considering what a jerk he continued to be whenever she was around.
    Another two weeks apart had clearly done little to improve things between them.
    â€˜You don’t think my people would be here if we weren’t paying them to be?’ Harry asked.
    â€˜Would you?’
    He considered her silently before changing tack. ‘You realise it was really only a few weeks ago that you would have been one of us, sloshing about with no idea what we’re doing and fixating on knock-off time.’
    Oh, she was very aware of that. And how much of a fraud she felt for pretending to be anything else, now. This was only her second re-vegetation trip. But it was amazing how fast her misspent childhood romping around the fields was coming back to her.
    â€˜It’s a win-win. The Lutra Trust gets a helping hand on this stretch of wetlands and Broadmore Natále gets a good team-building activity.’
    At least that was how she’d sold it to them last week when she’d first conceived the idea.
    â€˜A couple of pints at the pub is also good team-building,’ he pointed out.
    â€˜But this is outdoors. In nature. On a beautiful day. And they’re doing something worthwhile.’
    â€˜Everything they do at their desks is worthwhile.’
    Maybe for their shareholders.
    â€˜Nothing they do at their desks will get Broadmore Natále’s name in the paper, though.’
    On the other side of the sodden bog they were clearing of weeds, a cadet journalist from the Butterforth Crier interviewed one of The Lutra Trust staff and one of Harry’s team while a photographer grabbed pictures of the muckiest weed-clearing activity. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a Sunday paper but it was a start. And he’d wanted grass-roots exposure.
    â€˜I thought you’d have put yourself forward for the interview,’ Izzy commented.
    His eyes instantly grew cagey. ‘Not me. Better things to do than talk to the media.’
    Was a village newspaper not worthy of his esteemed attention? ‘Saving yourself for your Time Magazine Man