Bound By Their Babies. Caroline Anderson

spent twenty years ignoring it, keeping the lid firmly on the box.

      And she’d either done the same, which he doubted because she frankly wasn’t that good at hiding her feelings, or she’d genuinely felt nothing more for him than friendship. Well, not in that way, anyhow, and even if she did there was no way he was ripping the lid off the box at this point in their relationship, not with so much riding on it.

      He felt her head settle on his shoulder, then after a few minutes, as the story came to its inescapable and heartrending end, her grip on his arm tightened reflexively and he heard a tiny, stifled sniff.

      ‘You’re a softie, do you know that?’ he said, resting his head against hers, and she pulled away and sniffed harder, grabbing the remote from the table and turning the television off.

      ‘You’re such a hypocrite. You snivelled just as much as me in the cinema.’

      ‘I was nineteen, and anyway, it’s sad!’

      ‘You were a softie,’ she told him, swivelling round to look at him. ‘And you still are!’

      ‘I am not!’

      ‘So what’s this?’ she asked victoriously, lifting her hand and touching a finger to the outer corner of his eye. She lifted it to her lips, flicking her tongue out to taste it, and he stifled a groan. ‘Tears, Stratton! Actual, real tears! So don’t you go giving me grief!’

      She was just there, mere inches away, hands on her hips and laughing at him while her eyes still sparkled with her own tears, and the urge to lean in and kiss that sassy smile off her face nearly finished him.

      But not quite.

      He took her by the shoulders, eased her away from him and stood up, sending a shower of popcorn crumbs onto the carpet. ‘Right, enough nonsense, it’s time for bed,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ve got a long day tomorrow, and we need to rehearse our interview technique in the evening.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Yeah, really. Come on. Bedtime.’

      He reached out a hand and hauled her to her feet, then just because he couldn’t help himself he reeled her in and hugged her.

      Just briefly, just enough to mess with his dreams, but they were probably going to be X-rated anyway after that wrestling match over the popcorn. Dammit. He let her go, screwed up the empty bag and picked up the mugs as she headed for the stairs.

      ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said, and flicked off the light and went into the kitchen for a quiet moment alone to gather his ragged composure and have a stern word with his heart, because the tears she’d seen in his eyes had had nothing to do with the film and everything to do with his feelings for a woman he couldn’t allow himself to love.

      Not if this job share was going to stand the slightest chance of working.