Killing Me Softly Read Online Free

she could somehow find it in her heart to try and forgive him once more.
    David Neale swung round from the computer screen, his face lit with pleasure when he saw it was Clare who’d brought his morning pot of coffee. He was especially pleased to see two cups on the tray.
    â€˜If you’ve come about the budget, I’m afraid it’s not quite ready yet.’ He indicated the spreadsheets on his desk. ‘This afternoon, maybe?’
    â€˜That’s all right, David, we weren’t expecting any figures yet. I just wanted a chat.’
    â€˜Make yourself at home.’ He took the tray from her, drew a chair closer to the desk and poured coffee for both of them, remembering that she took it black, unsweetened, adding both cream and sugar to his own.
    â€˜Have a biscuit.’ Clare offered the plate of cherry shortbread, a batch she’d just now thrown together, pandering to his sweet tooth. ‘Your favourites, straight out of the oven.’
    He smiled as he took one, and she reflected how easy it was to like him, how well he’d fitted in here. A tall Scot, a little reserved, but with an expression behind his spectacles that was kind and thoughtful. A nice smile with white, even teeth. Always well-dressed, in a conservative way, today in a grey suit, a finely striped maroon and white shirt, a discreetly patterned tie. Business attire, though he needn’t have bothered. They were pretty relaxed about dress, here at Miller’s Wife.
    â€˜One of the nicest things about working here is the food,’ he commented, munching shortbread appreciatively. ‘Where else would I get home-made biscuits with my coffee?’ Occasionally, too, he was roped in as a taster for new lines. Not to mention being able to pick up something to take home for his evening meals. He lived alone and was glad enough not to have to cook when he arrived home at night.
    â€˜I hope it’s not the only thing that keeps you here. We’d be lost without you, now. Though if anything else turns up –’
    â€˜This suits me very well, Clare,’ he said quietly.
    She thought this must seem very small beer to him after his previous job, but as the financial director to a big international construction company, the frenetic pace had taken its toll, by way of a slight heart attack at an age much too young for it, though it was hardly possible to believe, now, twelve months later, he looked so fit and energetic. A warning, his doctor had called it, but David admitted it had thoroughly shaken him. He was barely forty-five.
    His doctor had insisted, however, on the need for him to slow down, and the work here was undemanding. In fact, any reasonably competent clerk could have coped, and Clare had been afraid he would very soon find it boring. But he seemed content, for the moment, to stay on.
    â€˜It suits me fine,’ he repeated, his eyes following the graceful movement of her arm as she lifted the cup to her lips. She had slipped on a colourful knitted jacket to come upstairs in place of the overall she wore to work in, and its rich, stained-glass colours warmed her skin, reflected blue into the grey of her eyes.
    â€˜I’ve more free time than I ever had,’ he continued, ‘besides being near enough to walk to work.’ He walked wherever he could, worked out twice a week, even played squash. Doctor’s orders, Clare guessed, though she’d soon been made aware that the last thing he wanted was concern about his health. ‘For heaven’s sake, I’m not in a wheelchair, yet!’ he’d protested.
    She said neutrally, ‘Walking to work must be a plus point. I can’t tell you what the journey here this morning was like. Thank the Lord I didn’t have to do the driving! Luckily, Tim was able to run us in.’
    David was conscious of the slight constraint, the wariness that clouded her eyes when she spoke Tim’s name, and he himself stiffened with