Her mouth worked, and she started to say something several times before giving it up as a bad job. “What can I do to earn your trust, even a little?” In a familiar gesture, she brushed the fingertips of one hand against her temple. “I can … taste … how stressed you are. I know I’m being a pest, but I just … I can’t not try. To help … ” Abruptly she swore. “This fucking language!”
‘Calm your mind.’
He raised his eyebrows at her, then resumed working through his papers, two fingers resting casually on his temple as he did. ‘It isn’t a matter of trust, it’s a matter of ‘only Charles knows where the papers go’, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it. If I wanted a secretary, I would have asked one of my students to take the job, as only they know the school as well as I do. I may end up tired at the end of the day, but what person who looks out for more children than he has fingers isn’t? It’s the name of the game, sweetheart, and while I appreciate your efforts to spare me the agony of paperwork, there are better ways to get to know me.’
He would not project that buying him a drink was usually where most people started.
She had to rock a step backward when his voice slid into her mind, as cool and sophisticated as everything else about him. It sent a shiver down her spine. Almost immediately, she could feel her … gift latch on, and she groaned inwardly. The last thing she needed was to end up coming on to the one person she’d been directed to that might be able to help.
“Anything at all I can do to help? Fetch and carry, get you a drink?” A little wryly, she added, “Get out of your hair already?”
Charles didn’t think his eyebrows could go any higher. The suggestion of a drink was wonderful, and he looked reluctantly down at his paperwork, checking due dates and other fine print. This was his house, after all, and he should be treating guests, not the other way round. It was far too late to go to a bar, and he wasn’t going to risk any sort of legal action if the young lady was a minor. And he wasn’t going to poke around inside the girl’s head to see if she was of age; that sort of thing he reserved for troublemakers and scoundrels, which he knew very few of.
One way or the other, the paperwork could wait. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet, sighing quietly and running a hand tiredly through his hair. “A drink sounds marvelous, but I can get it myself, dear. You’re welcome to join me,” he breathed before crossing the office to the door and tugging it open. Across the hall was his study, and in his study was a minibar stocked with wonderful goodies.
Clearly, there was going to be a lot of communication with eyebrows in this relationship. She raised her own at Xavier’s back and followed, saying, “I’m not really much of a drinker, myself, but I’ll sit with you, if I may.” She could sense his mild unease, but empathy without telepathy left her guessing about the reason.