Worlds Apart (5 page)

She flopped like an old tulip. This was hopeless. “I’m advertising Kenplucky Fried Chicken. Just for the day. As a favor for a friend.” Actually, Ken Nazir wasn’t exactly a friend, but Roo thought it might sound better. Then she straightened again. “How do you know I was dressed as a chicken? Did you have a camera spying on us? Is that legal? Did I dribble? Did I fa— Oh God.” She put her head in her hands.

Taylor laughed. Roo glanced up.

“Why did you leave your last job?” He clicked on his keyboard. “Childers Advertising? In London? Why did you come up to Leeds?”

Roo’s heart clenched at the thought of Tom—her boss, her friend, her lover—except he’d been a crap boss who’d stolen her ideas and pretended they were his, he’d never been her friend, and although he’d fucked her, he’d never made love to her. She saw that at the end when she should have seen it at the start. There was a difference between lust and love, and Roo had to stop thinking every guy who wanted to fuck her also loved her, because they didn’t. And she had to stop falling in love with every guy she invited into her bed, plus these two who she’d only just met.

Bugger, he’s waiting for an answer.
She had the made-up excuse for why she’d left Childers ready in her head. She’d repeated it so many times, she ought to sound convincing by now, but when she opened her mouth the truth came out.

“My boss was a lying, cheating scumbag who ought to be castrated with a spoon, and I wanted to get as far away from him as I possibly could before I was tempted to raid the cutlery drawer.”

Shit.
Roo slapped her hand over her mouth. Where was a slip in the space-time continuum when she needed one?

“Thanks for coming. We’ll be in touch,” Taylor said.

That’s a no, then. She didn’t blame them. She wouldn’t give herself the job. Roo pushed herself up, thought about shaking hands and decided not to. She gave a little nod. “Thank you for seeing me. I appreciate it. Oh, and I really would try not to yell at clients on the phone.”

“It was the window cleaner,” Taylor said.

Oh, course it was.
“Ah, sorry. Though—no, sorry.”

No point in saying he was more likely to get clean windows if he was pleasant. Roo closed the door quietly behind her, started to leave and then tiptoed back to press her ear to the wood. Had she really blown it spectacularly? Did they like her just a little bit? The door opened and she almost fell into the room. Niall was holding the handle. He raised his eyebrows.

“Showing how resourceful I can be,” Roo said and strode off purposefully.

“Other way.”

Her shoulders fell and she reversed direction.

Niall closed the door on Roo and removed the smile from his face before he turned to look at Taylor because he knew what the guy was going to say.

“Oh Christ, I have to have her,” Taylor said. “Roosevelt? What were her parents thinking?”

“What are
you
thinking? She couldn’t organize herself out of a paper bag.”

“I know, but she’d have fun trying and I’d have even more fun watching her.”

Niall exhaled. “Yeah, for about five minutes before she drove you insane. That was a woman who’d drive from New York to Miami via Los Angeles.”

Taylor laughed, but the glint in his eye told Niall that Taylor had already made up his mind. Niall felt desperate that Taylor
didn’t
hire her. He felt he was just getting somewhere with Taylor, and Roo was a distraction neither of them needed. He’d had the horrible sensation that Roo had seen something she shouldn’t when she’d looked at him. The fact that he’d let that happen alarmed him.

“You asked me to sit in on the interviews to give my opinion, and my advice is don’t choose her. You’ll be repeating the mistakes you made with the other three.”

Taylor’s face hardened and Niall’s heart sank. “And what mistakes would those be?”

Careful.
“You told me you never fucked the help—your golden rule—but you were close to it with—”

“No, I wasn’t. I admit I’d thought about it with Francine, but that was all.”

“So why put temptation in your way again?”

It wasn’t just that Roo would be a distraction. Part of Niall’s reason for arguing was that he didn’t want Roo to get hurt. She was like a burst of sunshine on a cloudy day. Hard to remember when he’d last thought that about any female. In another life, Niall would have pursued Roo, he’d felt that spark between them, but he verged on success with Taylor and wasn’t going to give that up. Once upon a time, Taylor had made the sun shine in Niall’s life, and Niall still hoped it would happen again.

“She’s cute,” Taylor said and headed over to the window.

Yes, she is.
“Such a good reason to give someone a job.”

Taylor frowned. “She’ll cheer me up if I’m having a crap day.”

That hit Niall like a dagger. Hadn’t
he
been doing that for the last month?

“She didn’t come by car?” Taylor asked.

A bright white-and-yellow chicken was making its way down the drive, but not in a straight line. Roo zigzagged. Taylor sighed.

“Evidently not,” Niall said. “Well, that settles it. She lives in Pudsey. How could she get here?”

“She can use the train or bus, and then walk—maybe she has someone who’ll give her a lift.” He turned to face Niall. “Why are you so down on her?”

“She’s…trouble.”
Because you’ll want her and not me.

“She’s funny and cute and sexy.”

Niall clenched his fists behind his back. “You said
this
time you wanted someone who was going to stay. Noticed a pattern here? You go for the young and pretty ones and they leave.”

Taylor glared. “Well, they didn’t leave because of me.”

“Didn’t they?”

His glare hardened. “No.” He slumped back behind his desk. “Who do you think I should choose then?”

“Phil.”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “He had sweaty hands and stank of aftershave.”

“He has a wife and three teenagers to support.”

“Yes, how did you guess that? Sometimes I think you’re bloody psychic. I’m not a social worker. The job’s beneath him. He won’t stay and I’ll be back where I started.”

“Ben?” Niall tried.

“Arrogant little shit.”

Niall raised his eyebrows and Taylor squirmed.”Yeah, he did remind me of me, but I need someone yesterday and he has to give a month’s notice. Roo could start tomorrow.”

“What about Lucy? She seemed bright and keen. And she’s available immediately.”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “A degree in economics from Cambridge? I want someone to do as I tell them, not someone trying to tell me what to do.” He gave a deep sigh. “How about Steven? He’s already a PA. He’s young and enthusiastic.”

And gay. Had Taylor noticed? That why he’d put him last?

“And gay,” Taylor added.

“Is that a problem?” Niall asked.

If Taylor said yes, Niall thought he might as well give up right now. One long month of being so near and yet so far had left Niall in a state of painful frustration.

“No, that’s not a problem,” Taylor said. “The problem is that he wants to be a detective, not work in the office. I already have Jonas out in the field. It’s someone to sort all this out that I need.” He gestured to the room.

None of the three PAs had made much of a dent in Taylor’s mess, just made a mess in his head from what Niall could tell. Taylor might deny it, but he’d lusted after Emma, then Francine followed by Nina. Of course, they had to go. Niall had made sure of that.

Taylor sighed. “I want Roo—Roosevelt, oh Christ.” He laughed.

“You should choose Phil.”

Niall could perhaps have persuaded Taylor to choose Phil, but he didn’t have the surplus energy today. Plus a tiny, tiny part of him wondered if Roo could do some feminine magic and make Niall’s world turn again. Might she be the spark he’d been waiting for? Or just more trouble?

“I
should
choose Phil, but I’m not going to. I want Roo. If she’s useless, I’ll get rid of her.”

Taylor checked his screen for her mobile number, turned his speaker on and punched numbers.

“Yaruuup?” Roo said.

Taylor snorted.

Roo cleared her throat. “Yes?”

“Eight thirty to five thirty. Other hours when needed. Start tomorrow. A month’s trial.”

Her squeal was very loud.

Chapter Four

By the time Roo reached Kenplucky Fried Chicken, it was six thirty. A noisy children’s party had overwhelmed the restaurant and her arrival was greeted by screams of delight. She felt a desperate need to escape from the costume, but the kids clamored around her, tugging at her wings.

“Do the chicken dance,” one of the little monsters shouted.

“Chicken dance, chicken dance.” The call was taken up by the other kids and Roo heard the serving staff sniggering.

Oh damn.
Roo winged it and launched into an impromptu strutting walk, did a few jumps and pecked at the remains of the meals on the tables which made one little girl cry.
Oops.
She felt a hand at her neck and then the chill of ice cubes slithering down her back inside the costume. As the ice made its way toward her bum, she wriggled and jerked and raced around in the confined space like a—ah, a headless chicken. Roo saw Barry, one of the staff, backing away, smirking.
Bastard.
The kids thought it was all part of the act and were creased up laughing—except for the one still crying. Roo eyed the door marked private and burst through it into Ken Nazir’s office.

She closed it, leaned back against it and then arched forward as the ice found a way out and dropped to the ground. Ken looked over his desk and frowned.

“Laying ice cubes?”

Roo sighed. “Eggs are too expensive.”

“I expected you back an hour ago.”

“I kept going until I’d handed out all the leaflets.” Every passenger on the train from Ilkley to Leeds had been given one. It had earned her a telling off from the conductor though he’d taken one too. The handout offered fifteen percent off meals including drinks if produced at time of ordering.

“Don’t think that means I’ll pay you more.”

As if.
“Can you give me a hand with the zipper?” Roo asked.

She sighed with relief when the costume was off and sat to untangle her shoes from the Velcro straps of the chicken feet.

“They’re dirty,” he said.

“I’ve walked miles.” Roo unclipped the pedometer from the inside of her waistband and put it on the desk.

He picked it up and raised one bushy eyebrow. Roo hoped he couldn’t tell that she’d spent an hour of the day on a train, but she
had
walked up and down the carriages. He counted out five ten-pound notes and handed them to her along with her backpack.

“Thank you,” Roo said, and fought off the urge to cry, “Mine, Mine” and run away cackling manically.

“Depending on how many people come in with the leaflet, I might want you to have another go.”

“Fine.”

Roo had no intention of dressing up in that costume ever again, but she’d learned not to count her chickens.
Ha, ha.
Tomorrow the Prince of Darkness who ran the detective firm might decide he didn’t need her to assist with anything after all.

Even so, Roo bounced most of the way back to her bedsit.
I’ve got a job. I’ve got a job. I’ve got a job.
She was still bubbling when she reached her building but took a deep breath before she unlocked the front door of the three-story house.

Roo occupied a small basement dungeon complete with bed of nails and Chinese water torture—a perpetually dripping tap—while her landlord had the flat directly above. Since she owed him a month’s rent, Roo needed to avoid him. She crept in silently and thought about telling Taylor she’d be good at this sort of thing until she slammed to a halt halfway down the stairs and barely managed to stifle her yelp.

All her things were piled up outside her room—clothes, books, bed linen, pillows.
Bloody hell. That’s not good.
The door was ajar, music coming from inside, and Roo peeked in to see her landlord slapping paint on the wall. An insipid magnolia already covered most of the primrose yellow daubed on by Roo. She would have liked to believe Mr. Aziz was finally getting round to dealing with the outbreak of mold. It had been rising faster than her overdraft and given her yellow paint application a look of a Jackson Pollock. But Roo had long suspected he wanted to rent out her place to a relative and had been waiting for the opportunity to throw her out.

Not paying her rent on time was reason enough.

She fingered the fifty pounds in her pocket. It wouldn’t change his mind. He’d snatch it and still throw her out. She’d had enough of this place anyway. The bed was really uncomfortable and the dripping tap drove her crazy. This was supposed to be a temporary stop, and she’d lived here since she arrived in the city.

Roo crouched down and quietly sifted through her heaped up possessions. There was no room for books, or her lovely vase rescued from a Dumpster, or the posters of half-naked men she’d fastened over the black speckles on the walls. She stuffed the suitcase until it was bulging, forced a couple of cans of food into her straining rucksack, and wore her coat even though it was too hot for it. Because she had no free hand to carry her pillow, Roo wedged it under the coat. After one final check of what she’d left behind, she waved a reluctant goodbye to her bed cover—if she put that where she’d stuffed the pillow, she’d look as though she were giving birth to an elephant—and walked up the stairs out into the night.