Chapter 14: I am not a morning person

I was still feeling very sleeping and was so not in the mood for a guest, even one as hot as the one standing before me. It felts like I just fell asleep. 

"What are you doing here?" I all but moaned the words to tell how much of not a morning person I am? 

Amelia gave me her signature look. The one with an arched eye brow and superiority. 

"I told you that I was coming this morning." 

"Yeah, but I didn't know you meant at the crack of dawn," I grumbled moving back into the house. 

She followed me. 

"It is nine o'clock," she said the words as if that should make a difference. 

"Still very early," I complained moving into the kitchen. "Please tell me there is a coffee machine somewhere in this house." I turned in Amelia's direction. 

She has made herself comfortable on one of the high stool at the kitchen Island. 

"Yes, but you have to open it." 

I gave her a confused look not catching on. 

She pointed up the shelves where a brand new coffee machine sat. 

"Oh. Thanks," I turned to get it but my five foot six height proved to be inadequate. 

I leaned in on my toes still trying to make an effort and then I felt her heat behind me and I immediately froze. 

Her scent fell all over me making me breathless. I swallowed against the thickness in my throat, and held myself very still while I waited for her to get the coffee machine. 

When she did, I turned to thank her and that put us on a very close proximity that I could see the small mole on her cheek, very close to her nose. 

It is so cute. 

I pulled my eyes away from the small round dark lesion to her deep blues. They looked as if they were on fire and their gaze incinerating my face and making my inside burn hot. 

We stood that way for what felt like ages but were few hot seconds before she stepped away without saying anything and placed the coffee machine on the counter. 

I exhaled silently and then said. "Thank you." 

I was glad when my voice didn't shake, but my inside was. 

A thick silence fell between us, and I tried to think of something to break the silence but nothing was coming to my brain. It felt all mushy up there. 

I opened the coffee machine in silence and when it was out of its carton I turned to her. "Coffee?" 

"I don't drink coffee." 

I froze and then gawked at her like she was a green skinned alien. 

My horrified look brought out a beautiful soft chuckle from her. 

"Why?" 

She shrugged her slender shoulders. "Don't like the taste."

I have never met anybody that doesn't drink coffee. It felt weird.

"Where is the beans?" 

She pointed to the cupboard directly above my head. 

I reached up and took the bag. It is exactly the same one I buy for myself. 

I turned to face her a frown on my face. 

"What?" 

"How did you know the coffee I like? And it is not just the coffee, the music too?" The furrow between my brow deepened. It was freaky how much she knows about me. 

"I was in your house, remember," She arched a brow at me. 

"For few minutes. You couldn't have learned all these about me within that amount of time." 

And then I remembered. 

"What else did you dig up on me?" I narrowed my eyes at her. I wasn't happy that she investigated me. I have certain things in my past that I wish that people don't know about me. 

"I told you that you don't need to worry about it. It is for my eyes only." 

I looked at her wondering if she knows, but there was nothing on her face to tell me what she was thinking. I know asking will only reveal what I didn't want her knowing so I changed the subject.

"So what do you like then, if you don't like coffee, tea?" 

My question was partly sarcastic and rhetorical, so I was pretty surprised when she said yes. 

"What! Are you English?" I teased her. 

She rolled her eyes. "You do know it isn't only English people that love tea, right?" 

"Don't think so." 

"Okay, I spent a lot years there before coming back to the States."

Curious to know more, I asked. "For studies?" Turning back to look at her briefly before returning my attention to what I was doing. 

"No." Her tone was cold, and a little abrupt. Her tone indicating that she wasn't open to any more questions. So I changed the subject. 

"So what would you like to drink instead, unless you also bought a bag of tea for me?"

"Why would I do that? You don't drink tea." 

I flushed red from my assumptions. "Never mind," I muttered in a low voice and made my way to the fridge. At least there will be juice inside here. 

I was right. 

It wasn't just the juice. The fridge was stuffed with everything I need. Milk, eggs, pizza, fruits, jam and so on and so on. 

I took out the apple juice, turned to one of the cupboards on the wall that had the glasses. I saw it while I was looking for salt for Cassius last night. 

I opened the cupboard, took out a glass and then poured the juice until it was almost to the brim and then made my way back to her. 

I placed the glass in front of her. 

"Thank you," I said softly, leaning my body slightly on the marble counter. 

"For what?" She gently enquired lifting the glass to her lips. 

"All these." I waved my hand to indicate the house and everything she has put inside it. "You maybe the best boss I have ever had. I don't think Cheryl will be happy to hear me say this," I muttered with a fond smile on my face, thinking about my old boss.

I wondered how the girls were doing? I missed New York.

"Who is Cheryl?" 

I looked at her weird that she doesn't know who booked our first meeting and then remembered that it was a man that booked it. I was curious about that, but first, I answered her question. "Cheryl is my boss." 

She nodded. 

Before I asked what I wanted to know and turned back to the counter and got my coffee, and then came back to the island. 

I took one of the stools and brought it around so it was facing Amelia. 

"Aren't you going to add anything?" She looked at the hot coffee in my hand.

"No." I shook my head. "I like it black," I answered sitting on the stool. "So who booked our appointment? Cheryl said it was a man." 

"Rocky."

"Why?" The brunette didn't seem to me like the kind of person that lets people do stuff for her.

She shrugged. "I didn't want my name on it." 

The look on her face said there was more to it, but I knew she wasn't going to say more. 

And the mystery surrounding her deepens. 

"So how do you want to play this?" I asked taking a sip of my coffee. 

"Don't worry it is something simple." 

"What?" I looked at her curiously. 

"You have to become my husband's next secretary." 

"What happened to the previous one?"

He fired her. 

"Can I ask why?" I asked slowly. 

"I caught him fucking the tart," she muttered flatly, with no emotions in her voice. No anger, no jealousy. 

I choked on my coffee, and started coughing. 

Amelia got to her feet and went behind me. I heard the tap run and when she came back she placed a glass of water in front of me. 

"Thank you," I said taking the water. 

I waited till she returned to her seat before speaking. "So is that why you want to kill him?" 

She gave me a hard look. "What is your obsession with me killing my husband." 

I blushed and looked away from her probing stare. 

Because I don't believe you were kidding. 

Instead of speaking these words out loud, I said. "I have never worked as a secretary before." 

"Don't worry your experience isn't needed. You have the right look." Her eyes ran over my body making my body to shiver from the heat of her stare. 

"What do you mean?" I asked in a husky tone. And then took a sip of the glass of water beside me to cool my insides. 

"My husband has a type," she said humorlessly. 

Her words confused me. In terms of appearance we are like night and day. 

She is tall, slender, blue eyes and dark haired. I am average height, blonde, grey eyes, and curvy. 

So what is her husband type?