I sprang away from the bottom step and sauntered over to the kitchen. Once I got there I frowned in surprise, suppressing a giggle. Harvey had one of my very feminine aprons, the ones with pink frills, wrapped around his waist; his hands were busy at the hob. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. His eyes raked over my body and sent a rush of heat down to my belly. His gaze was intense and appreciative, and as he finally met my eyes. His own blue ones shone with fire and something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“You hungry?” he asked.

I flushed against his heated stare. “Famished.”

“Then come and sit down. I’ve prepared us some breakfast, and then I might show you the surprise I have for you.”

I made a face and raised my eyebrows. “A surprise? For me? Like a gift?”

He chuckled. “Yes, an early Christmas prezzie. But that’s for later—you have to patient, and eat first. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” I said with a smirk, resisting sticking my tongue out at him. “I feel a lot better than yesterday, though. It still hurts, of course. I never got to say goodbye to her, but she’d be livid if she knew I was miserable in bed.”

I sat at the table and put my head in my hands. I wasn’t explaining myself properly, and I felt like I needed to apologise to him for letting her, and him, down. God what must he think of me missing my own mother’s funeral? “I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I know I should have come, but I wasn’t in my right mind.”

Hearing faint footsteps, I lifted my eyes, and before I knew it he was standing across from me. He reached out and tilted my head up to meet his gaze. His eyes were sober but filled with such intensity that they almost took my breath away. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Sara. Hell, you don’t have to explain anything to anybody, do you understand?”

I nodded, grateful that Harvey was in my corner. Not even Eric had been able to do that. I scolded myself for comparing the two of them; it made me angry and so aware of the torment Eric had put me through. In contrast, Harvey, who wasn’t even a lover or boyfriend, treated me better than my husband ever did. How had I let Eric get away with that shite?

Harvey removed his fingertips from my chin and went back to cooking. He hummed a tune under his breath as he busied himself, collecting plates and cutlery, and I closed my eyes as his beautiful voice washed over me.

“You’ve got a beautiful voice,” I remarked when he finished plating our breakfast and brought it to the table.

“Why, thank you,” he said and performed an extravagant bow as if he’d just received a standing ovation.

I laughed. He moved back towards the counter, grabbing cups of coffee. As I watched him, I saw a muscle twitch in his shoulder through the fabric of his t-shirt. Fascinated, my eyes lingered upon his broad back, narrowing to a V at his waist. Then my gaze travelled even farther downwards onto the tight fabric around his butt. I giggled silently and bit down on my lower lip in case a laugh threatened to spill free. He turned around, and I attempted to avert my gaze, a poor show, really, since my eyes had been locked onto his butt for a second too long. I looked sheepish, but Harvey was grinning down at me. A knowing leer flickered over his face that said, I know what you were doing and I like it. Thankfully he didn’t bring it up; he sat down and we started to eat.

I sighed in relief and hoped the colour from my rosy cheeks would fade. We ate in comfortable silence, and by the time we were finished, I was eager to know more about the surprise he’d mentioned earlier.

“All right, all right,” he said when I drummed my hands on the table impatiently, giddy and full of enthusiasm. “I’ll go get it. Go wait in the living room, and no peeking.”

I indulged him and sat on the sofa. By the time he came back, I was on the edge of the cushion, just about to stand up, anxious to see what he had for me. I had no clue what it could be. Definitely not a new dishwasher, I thought, if he was bringing it into the living room. Images of random gifts ran through my mind, but nothing came close to what it ended up being.

“Close your eyes,” he said, his firm tone sending shivers down my spine.

“But then I won’t see.”

“Trust me.”

Did I trust him? I wasn’t sure yet, but I did what I was told and closed my eyes.

“Okay. You can open them up now.”

Held in Harvey’s huge, outstretched hands was a tiny black and white kitten. His pink, wet nose tilted up as he sniffed the air around him.

“Oh my god, Harvey.”

I lifted a hand and reached out. My fingers connected with the soft, fluffy fur at the back of the kitten’s neck. His baby blue eyes met mine for a brief moment, and his body purred as I took him with both hands, bringing him to my chest.

I looked up from the kitten as I stroked him and ran my fingers through the silky coat. “You brought him for me?” I asked in amazement.

“Yes,” Harvey answered simply. “I found him all on his lonesome on the street near my place. He must’ve gotten away from his mother or been abandoned. But I couldn’t leave him there. If I had, and I told you, I don’t think you would have ever forgiven me. He’s been staying with me for a few days, but I know nothing about cats. I did name him, though. He’s called Humbug.”

I smiled. It was the perfect name—minty black and white hard-boiled sweets that match the colours of his patchy coat. Plus, of course, it was Christmas soon. “I think it suits him. It is a him, right?”

Harvey twisted his lips and shrugged, “I believe so. I didn’t exactly go prodding down there, seemed rude.”

I laughed and brought the little guy up to my face. His eyes were a little runny, nothing some meds wouldn’t sort out. His little paws, tiny pink pads on the underside, waved in front of my face, booping me on the nose. “I think he likes me.”

“He’s yours if you want him. I think you need him, and he certainly needs you, Sara.”

Was he talking about the kitten or something else? No, I was reading far too much into his words.

I shook my head and couldn’t help the line that marred my forehead. “But how on earth can I afford to keep a kitten when I can barely function, or feed myself? Not to mention the likely possibly that’ll I’ll be homeless soon.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want that, and I’ve been meaning to bring this up anyway. What with your mother’s passing, I forgot all about it, but how about this?” He took my hand in his after I’d let Humbug down to scamper around our feet on the rug. “I’ll make you a deal. You take the kitten in, give him a good home, look after him, and I’ll give you a job at my company.”

Sceptical, I narrowed my eyes at him. “That doesn’t sound like a very fair deal—for you, I mean. I get an adorable kitten and a job? Win-win for me… What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged. “I need the help, and there’s plenty of work to go around. I just landed another contract. But if you’re not interested, I’ll take my kitten and leave,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, his hand outstretched as he reached to grab Humbug, who darted away from his grasp at the last second.

“Pfft, over my dead body. Humbug’s mine now. What’s the job?”

“My secretary.”

“Ha!” I blurted. “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’m not that bad to work for.”

“Yeah, sure, totally undemanding, not wanting everything your own way all the time…”

“I do like things a certain way,” he huffed. This was clearly not the reaction he was hoping for, I thought, but I was only teasing. “So, do you want the job or not?”

My head reeled for a moment, and my heart pounded against my chest at his dangerous proposal—but dangerous for whom? Me, or my heart? I was so dazed and lost in my own thoughts that I barely heard him say, “It’s good pay, Sara. I’ll even loan you some money to pay off your missed mortgage bills.”