A/N: I'm doing something I very rarely do, which is post something as a stand alone that I fully intend to turn into a longer fic. I'm doing it in this case because I think this scene can stand alone and I write so slowly these days that it could be a very long time before the full version appears.
Her Smile
It wasn't, he thought, as though there actually could be anything. She couldn't think of him like that. It was impossible.
Foyle leant against the wooden framework of the door and watched Sam move around the Station kitchen. She moved with ease around the familiar room. She was here almost as much as he was – of course it was familiar. He paused, frowning to himself. That wasn't right, she was here more than he was.
He kept his expression neutral as he watched, his face betraying nothing. She certainly couldn't know that he thought of her like that. He was far too old for it to even cross her mind that he might be interested in her. She was beautiful, he supposed she had to know that, but she wasn't over conscious of it like some women were.
Women. Sam was barely a woman.
She reached up for the tea from the top shelf and her uniform shirt stretched taught against her body outlining the curve of her breast.
He bit his lip. She was a woman, there could be no doubting that. But she couldn't be interested in him. She had walked out with his son, for goodness sake! She was hardly going to be interested in him. If it was anything, it was a touch of hero-worship, or a youthful infatuation.
It wasn't even that. It was nothing more than the imagination of a lonely old man. She simply couldn't think of him like that.
She finished making the tea, and handed a cup to Milner, who was already seated at the old wooden table. She smiled at him and Foyle watched as the Sergeant smiled back.
They would make a better pair: Sam and Milner. He was older than she was, but not by much – certainly not enough to raise any eyebrows, or start any tongues wagging. They looked good together, Milner's smile lighting up his face as he basked in the reflected glow of Sam.
Foyle shook his head. It wasn't like that between them. It might have been, if Milner hadn't been married when the two of them had met. If the Sergeant hadn't felt more like Sam's older brother than a potential lover.
It was a pity really. He could have dealt far better with her falling for his colleague than falling for his son. Somehow that was too close to home.
She had her back to him now and he let his eyes drift over her form again. She was so vital, so young. It was wrong to think of her the way he did, but he couldn't help himself. Still, at least she didn't feel anything for him. She couldn't.
And then she turned to him. "Tea, sir," she said. The smile that played at her lips was no more radiant than the one she had given Milner, but it was her eyes that drew him. It was a curious expression. Her eyes were bright with some inner fire and in the strangest way it made her look older, wiser, as though she could read his mind and was pleased with what she found.
"Thank you," he said, mouth suddenly dry.
She held his gaze for a moment too long before turning away again.
"Are there any biscuits left?" she asked hopefully.
Before Foyle could summon up an answer, Milner spoke, "There are some in the tin."
"Oh good. I don't think I shall ever get used to tea without biscuits and sugar. I need one or the other."
Milner laughed, "I can live without the sugar, but I do miss biscuits."
Sam offered the tin to him before taking one for herself. "Sir?"
Foyle shook his head, "You can have mine, Sam."
When she smiled at him this time, he could see nothing but her youth.