Swept Into The Rich Man's World

The tulips did look good, but something about their cheery presence in the kitchen niggled him...they were just too homely.

For a few seconds she looked at him expectantly. When he didn’t respond she smiled at him uncertainly, before rolling up the sleeves of her pink and white striped shirt.

‘I’ll tidy up here and then put some breakfast on. In honour of being in France, I’m going to make us oeufs en cocotte.’

He looked at her, bewildered. And slowly it dawned on him that she was expecting them to have breakfast together.

For a few brief seconds he was tempted to give in to the tantalising aroma of fresh baking filling the room. But a glimpse of her white lace bra as she bent over to swoop up the errant milk cap from the floor had him coming back to reality with a bang.

This wasn’t what her stay was supposed to be about. A bed and an office... Not seeing too much of her. That was what he had signed up for. Not this cosy domesticity. Not some breakfast routine that could quickly become a habit. Not feeling desire for a woman first thing in the morning.

‘I don’t eat breakfast.’

It was almost the truth. He usually just grabbed some toast and coffee and took it to his office, eager to start work.

She was going about gathering up all the empty packaging on the island unit and paused briefly to give him a quick look. ‘But that’s crazy. After exercising you should eat.’