This Man (4 page)

‘You have a lovely hotel.’ I say genuinely. I’m beginning to wish that my handbag contents consisted of spare knickers, a blind fold, ear plugs and some armor. I might have been more prepared.

His eyebrows shoot up as he keeps hold of my hand and slowly shakes it. The buzz travelling through our joined hands makes me tense all over. ‘I have a lovely hotel.’

he

repeats

thoughtfully.

The

buzz

transforms to a full on jolt of electricity, and I retract my hand under reflex. He looks at me questioningly. ‘It really was nice to meet you, Ava.’ He emphasises the
really
.

‘You too,’ I practically whisper.

I watch as his eyes dart briefly and he starts chewing his bottom lip. His shifting body eventually moves over to the centre table of the entrance hall. He pulls out a single calla lily from the huge spray that’s dominating the piece of furniture. He studies it for a few moments before he holds it out to me. ‘Understated elegance.’

he says softly.

I don’t know why, maybe because my brain is mush, but I take it. ‘Thank you.’

He puts his abandoned hand in his pocket, watching me closely. ‘You’re more than welcome.’ His gaze travels from my eyes to my lips. I take a few steps back.

‘There you are!’ A woman walks out of the bar and towards Ward. She’s attractive

– all blonde, mid-length, layered hair and red, pouty lips. She kisses his cheek. ‘Are you ready?’

Okay, I’m assuming this must be the wife. But there was no ring, so maybe it’s the girlfriend? Either or, I’m completely stunned when he doesn’t take his eyes off of me, making no attempt to answer her question. She turns to see what’s stealing his attention and eyes me suspiciously. I don’t like her instantly, and it has nothing to do with the man she’s draped all over.

‘And you are?’ she purrs.

I shift uncomfortably, feeling like I’ve been captured doing something naughty.

Well, I have. I’ve been having extreme unwelcome reactions to her boyfriend. An unreasonable pang of jealousy stabs at me.

How ridiculous!

I

smile

sweetly.

‘Just

leaving.

Goodbye.’ I turn, practically running to the door and scuttling down the steps. I jump into my car, letting out an almighty breath, and when my lungs have thanked me for the welcome air, I flop back in my seat and commence breathing regulating exercises.

I’m going to have to pass this to Tom.

But then I laugh at my stupid idea. Tom’s gay. He’ll be just as affected by Ward as I am. Even knowing he’s taken, I still couldn’t work with him. I shake my head in disbelief and start my car.

As I drive down the gravel driveway, I look in my rear view mirror at the imposing Manor getting smaller and smaller behind me. And there, stood at the top of the steps watching me leave, is Jesse Ward.

***

She still doesn’t look up.

This is good. I’m sure my face will give away any attempt to feign coolness. I’m still slightly flustered after my lunchtime meeting with a certain Lord of the Manor. I don’t have the energy to get ready and go out.

‘Shall

we

save

ourselves

for

tomorrow?’ I try. I know this will mean a bottle of wine on the sofa, but at least I can put my PJ’s on and chill out. After the day I’ve had, winding down my racing mind is paramount. I’ve got a headache and lacked the ability to concentrate all day.

‘Absolutely. Let me finish this cake, then I’m all yours.’ She swivels the fruit cake on the stand, dabbing edible glue onto the icing. ‘How was your day in the countryside?’

Ha! What do I say? I expected a pompous country bumpkin, but I got a devastatingly handsome, suited God. He requested me by name, his touch turned me to molten lava, I can’t look in his eyes for fear of passing out and he liked my dress.

Instead, I say, ‘Interesting,’

She looks up. ‘Do tell.’ she prompts, her eyes sparkling as she bends back down, her tongue popping out again.

‘It wasn’t what I expected.’ I flick a piece of imaginary lint off of my navy dress in an attempt to appear casual.

‘Leave out what you expected and tell me what you got.’ She’s stopped trying to fix husband and wife to the top of the cake.

Instead, her eyes are narrowed on me. She has icing on the end of her nose, but I ignore it.

‘The owner,’ I shrug, fiddling with my tan belt.

‘The owner?’ she asks, her lips twitching.

‘Yes. Jesse Ward, the owner.’ I flick more imaginary lint from my dress.

‘Jesse Ward, the owner.’ she mimics me, pointing to one of the flowery tub chairs in her workshop. ‘Sit, now! Why are you trying to sound cool? You’re failing miserably, by the way. Your cheeks are the colour of that icing.’ She points to a fire engine cake on the metal shelf stand. ‘Why was the owner, Jesse Ward, not what you expected?’

Because he was steaming hot!
I flop into the chair with my bag on my lap, while Kate stands tapping her palm with the handle of her spatula. She finally walks over, sitting in the chair opposite me.

‘Tell me.’ she presses, knowing there’s something to tell.

I shrug. ‘The man’s attractive and he knows it.’ I see her eyes light up as the spatulas taps become faster on her hand.

She wants more drama. She loves it. When Matt and I split up, she was the first on the scene to soak up the spectacle as a supporting friend. She needn’t have bothered. It was mutual, very amicable and really rather boring. No plates were flying and no neighbours called the police.

‘How old?’ she asks keenly.

Now, that one’s got me. I’m still mortified

that

I

blurted

such

an

inappropriate question during a business meeting. My embarrassment wasn’t even worthwhile as he was obviously playing with me.

I shrug. ‘He said twenty one, but he’s at least ten years past that.’

‘You asked him?’ Kate’s jaw hits her lap.

‘Yes, in a moment of pure brain to mouth filter malfunction, the question did slip. I’m not proud.’ I mutter. ‘I made such a fool of myself, Kate. A man’s never done that to me before. But this one, well, you would have been ashamed of me.’

A sharp shot of laughter flies from her mouth. ‘Ava, I need to teach you some social skills!’ She falls back in her chair, starting to lick the icing from her spatula.

‘Please do,’ I grumble, putting my hand out to her. She passes me the spatula, and I start licking at the edges. I’ve lived with Kate for a month and existed on wine, icing sugar and cake mixture. A loss of appetite after a break up, I don’t have. ‘He was very self-assured.’ I say between licks.

‘As in?’

‘Oh, this man knew he was sparking a reaction in me. I must have been painful to watch. I was pathetic.’

‘That good?’

I

shake

my

head

in

dismay.

‘Ridiculously,’

‘He’s probably shit in bed,’ Kate muses.

‘All the hot ones are. What’s your brief?’

‘Ten new bedrooms in the extension. I thought I was going to a country mansion, but it’s a mega plush hotel come spa. The Manor, have you heard of it?’

Kate’s face screws up into a clueless expression. ‘Nope,’ she replies, getting up to turn the oven off. ‘Can I come next time?’

‘No, I’m not going back. I can’t work with that. Besides, he has a girlfriend. And I could never look him in the eye again, not after my performance.’ I push myself up from the chair, throwing the spatula into the empty mixing bowl. ‘I’ve passed it over to Patrick. Wine?’

‘In the fridge,’

We make our way up to the flat and change into our PJ’s. I dump my bag on my bed and it flops open, the calla lily Ward gave

me

making

an

appearance.

Understated elegance. I pick it up and twirl it in my fingers for a few moments, then dump it in my wastepaper basket.

Forgotten...

Once changed into my slob out clothes, I load the DVD player with the latest offering from the local rental shop, jump on the couch with Kate and try to concentrate on the movie.

It’s impossible. My mind’s eye is trampled with a tall, lean, dark blonde, green eyed male of a certain age, with a dribble worthy gait and bag loads of sex appeal. I doze off with the words “But I want you” pin-balling around my head. Not so forgotten…

Chapter 3

After two progress meetings with clients and stopping by at Mr Muller’s new townhouse in Holland Park to drop off some samples, I’m back in the office listening to Patrick moan about Irene. It’s a normal Monday morning affair after he’s endured a whole weekend away from the office with his wife. I really have no idea how the poor man pokes up with her.

Tom breezes in with the widest grin on his face, and I know immediately he must have pulled over the weekend.

‘Darling, I’ve missed you!’ He air kisses me and turns to Patrick, who holds his hands up in a don’t-even-think-about-it gesture. Tom rolls his eyes, completely un-offended, and waltzes to his desk.

‘Morning, Tom.’ I greet brightly.

‘I’ve had the most stressful morning. Mr and Mrs Baines have changed their bloody minds for the thousandth time. I’ve had to cancel all the orders and re-arrange a dozen workmen,’ He waves his arms in the air in frustration. ‘I got a sodding parking ticket for not displaying a permit in a resident’s zone and, to top it off, I snagged my new jumper on them hideous railings outside Starbucks.’ He starts picking the stray wool from the hem of his hot pink, V

neck jumper. ‘God damn it, look! It’s a good job I got laid last night or I’d be in the depths of despair.’ He grins at me.

I knew it.

Patrick walks away, shaking his head.

His attempts to tone Tom’s gayness down to more tolerable levels have proven ineffective. He’s now given up.

‘Good night?’ I ask.

‘Wonderful, I met the most divine man.

He’s taking me to the Natural History Museum at the weekend. He’s a scientist.

We’re soul mates, for sure.’

‘What

happened

to

the

personal

trainer?’ I ask. That was last week’s soul mate.

‘Don’t, it was a disaster. He turned up at my apartment on Friday night with the Dirty Dancing DVD and an Indian takeout for two. Can you believe that?’

‘I’m shocked.’ I tease.

‘I bloody was. Needless to say, I won’t be seeing him again. What’s happening with you, darling? How’s that gorgeous ex-boyfriend of yours?’ He winks. Tom doesn’t hide his attraction to Matt, which makes me laugh but makes Matt extremely uncomfortable.

‘He’s okay. He’s still the ex and still straight.’

‘Damn shame. Let me know when he comes to his senses.’ Tom saunters off, tweaking his perfectly positioned blonde quiff.

‘Sally, I’m emailing you a design consultation fee for Mr Ward. Can you make sure you send it today?’

‘I will, Ava. Seven day payment terms?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ I turn back to my desk and resume colour matching, reaching over to grab my phone when it starts dancing around my desk. Glancing at my screen, I nearly fall off my chair when I see the n a m e
Jesse
flashing up. After a few seconds of staring, my brain finally gets the shock message and my heart commences sprint in my chest. What the hell?

I never stored his number – Patrick never got round to passing it to me and after handing the project over to him on Friday, I no longer needed it. I wouldn’t be going back, and I meant it. And even so, I wouldn’t have saved his number under his first name. I hold my phone in my hand, scanning the office to see if the continuous ringing has drawn any attention from my colleagues. It hasn’t. I let it ring off. What does he want?

I make for Patrick’s office to ask if he’s notified Mr Ward of the change in arrangements, but then it rings again, halting me in my tracks. I take a steady breath and connect the call.

If Patrick hasn’t advised him yet, then I will. And if it doesn’t suit, it’s bad luck. I make a rubbish job of convincing myself that I’ve passed the contract over because Patrick’s more suitable for the project. I know damn well that’s only half the reason.

‘Hello.’ I say, stamping my foot a little for sounding apprehensive in my greeting. I was aiming for sure and confident.

‘Ava?’ His husky voice has the same impact on my weak senses as it did on Friday. But at least over the phone he can’t see me physically trembling.

‘Who’s speaking?’ There. That sounded better – professional, business-like and steady.

He laughs lightly, and it throws me completely off guard. ‘Now, I know you already know the answer to that question because my name came up on your phone,’

I cringe on the spot. ‘Trying to play it cool?’

Oh, the arrogant arse! How does he know that? But then realisation dawns on me. ‘You added yourself to my contacts list?’ I gasp. When did he do that? I mentally sprint through our meeting, settling on my visit to the toilet when I left my portfolio and phone on the table. I can’t believe he went through my phone!

‘I need to be able to get hold of you.’

Oh, no. Patrick, obviously, hasn’t told him. Nevertheless, you don’t go around snooping through strangers phones. He really is very self-assured. And storing it under Jesse? That’s a bit familiar.

‘Patrick should have contacted you,’ I coolly inform him. ‘I’m afraid I’m unable to assist you, but Patrick will be more than happy to help.’

‘Patrick has been in contact,’ he replies.

I sag in relief but then frown. Why is he calling me then? ‘I’m sure he will be happy to help, but I’m less than happy to accept it.’

My mouth gapes. Who does he think he is? He’s called to tell me he’s not happy?

Oh, this man is way past arrogant. I close my gaping mouth.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ I sound less than sorry; I sound irritated.

‘Are you?’