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‘But his cleaner? He was bloody horrible and a right smarmy git.’
But those eyes. Those bright blue, intense eyes. My throat actually closed up when he looked at me. Who has that effect on people? I was like a tongue-tied idiot every time he spoke to me.
These people don’t understand people like us. They don’t have our problems. That playboy will have forgotten about you as soon as he stepped inside his big plush apartment to count all his money.’
As a bookworm, Anna Cooper would often look at strangers and try to uncover their inner character. The moment Jake Reynolds stepped into the lift with her, she had envisioned a tall, elegant, historic gentleman. A throwback from a pallid era. An older-looking Edward Cullen. A modern-day Mr Darcy. A well-mannered Heathcliff.
There’s nothing to clean, and he doesn’t have a cleaner. He must be like some sort of Mrs Hinch.
I have to get out of here. I need to be away from this man. I can’t believe he stroked my hair. Oh, ruddy hell, I have to get a grip. I almost melted. I’m so stupid. What am I doing? Concentrate. Right. Work.
You take your clothes off! What am I saying? I’ve got to stop laughing as well. It was so funny. She doesn’t even realise how adorable she looks soaking wet. So different to how she looked in the lift. She’s now taking her clothes off in my bathroom. Jake, do not think about that woman naked. Concentrate.
One of Anna’s favourite smells was books. She simply loved working in her bookshop.
‘He’s been in again, hasn’t he? The plague of all plagues. Cyrus The Virus. Dementor of the Year…’
‘Not many talk about suicide so openly.’ ‘I was one of those people once, but now I know that we have to speak openly about it. If we don’t, the stigma remains, and what good is that to anyone.’
