puffed up with pride. ‘Thank you.’
‘We have a new account for a kitchen-appliance company which this would be perfect for. I must show it to Peter. He’s handling that account. I can see Michele and Peter fighting over you. Of course, Mr Marshall will have to hire you first,’ she added with a grin. ‘But I’m sure that’s just a formality. Come on, let’s get you in there. Hopefully, he’s recovered from the last applicant by now. You should have seen his face when she walked in. My fault, of course. I was the one who picked her. Her résumé was impressive, but in reality she was not suitable at all.’
‘Do you mind if I ask why not? Looks can be deceiving. She might have been very talented.’
‘She was. A very talented graphic artist. But not suitable for promotion. Harry likes his front people to have a certain look, and style. After all, they have to deal with a wide range of clients, some of whom are very conservative. Harry believes first impressions are very important. Kane agrees with him. And you, Jessie Denton, make a very good first impression.’
‘But I’m only wearing jeans.’
‘Yes, but they’re clean and neat, and you wear them with panache. And I simply love what you’ve done with your hair. Very classy.’
Jessie could not have felt more confident as she was ushered into Harry Wilde’s office. Her self-esteem was sky-high, her heart beating with pleasurable anticipation, not nervous tension.
Fate had been good to her, for once.
But then the man seated behind Harry Wilde’s desk looked up, and Jessie’s heart literally stopped.
Oh, no, she groaned. How could this be? The receptionist had said his name was Kane, not Curtis!
But it was him. No doubt about it. She wasn’t about to forget what he looked like, especially when he was even dressed the same, in a suit, shirt and tie.
His ice-blue eyes locked onto hers, his dark brows lifting in surprise. Or was it shock?
‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Karen said to him with a small laugh. ‘A definite improvement on Ms Jaegers. This is Jessie Denton. Here’s her portfolio.’ She walked forward and placed the folder on the wide walnut desk. ‘I’ve had a good look at it and it’s simply fabulous. Now, can I get either of you some coffee? Or tea?’
‘No, thanks,’ Jessie croaked out.
‘Not at the moment, Karen,’ her boss said.
‘OK, I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Relax,’ she mouthed to a shell-shocked Jessie as she walked past her.
And then she was gone, shutting the door behind her.
Jessie just stood there in the middle of the large, plushly furnished office, her shock slowly draining away, anxiety rushing back. Anxiety and dismay.
Fate hadn’t been kind to her at all. It had dangled the most wonderful opportunity in front of her nose like a carrot, only to snatch it away at the last moment. Because this Mr Marshall—regardless of what his first name turned out to be—wasn’t about to hire her, no matter what she did, or said.
There was no way out.
If she told him the truth about why she’d been at that bar last Friday night, he would feel both humiliated and threatened. If she didn’t tell him the truth, then she had to fall back on that other even more sordid reality. That she’d fancied him like mad and been tempted by him, despite knowing he was married.
No, that wasn’t right, she suddenly realised. If she kept her decoy work a secret, then she would not have known he was married. He didn’t wear a wedding ring. She’d noticed that the other night.
In that case, how could she explain her sudden disappearing act?
Saying simply that she’d changed her mind seemed rather lame. She would come across as a tease. She supposed she could say someone in the ladies’ room had warned her he was a married man and that was why she’d done a flit.
That might salvage her pride and reputation, but it wouldn’t do much for his.
The main problem here was that he’d known he was a married man all along, and he’d still asked her to go to a hotel room with him.
Recalling that highly charged moment brought back to Jessie the feelings she had shared with him that night. The mutual attraction. The rush of desire. The heat.
She stared at him as a new wave of heat flowed through her body, flooding her from her toes right up into her face.
There was no way out of this, except out the door.
‘I guess I might as well leave right now,’ she choked out. ‘Just give me my portfolio back, please, and I’ll get going.’
KANE rarely felt panic, but he felt it now. She was running out on him. Again!
He couldn’t let that happen. Not now that he’d found her. The thought that he would never see her again had haunted him all weekend.
Of course, it would help to know why she’d run out on him in the first place. The only reason he could imagine was that he must have come on too hard and too fast for her.
Now he didn’t know what to think.
All he knew was that nothing had changed for him since Friday night. One look from those incredible eyes of hers and he’d been right back there on that dance floor, his body consumed by the need to sweep her off into bed.
Bed? He almost laughed at that notion. A bed would not do. This all-consuming passion he was suffering from demanded a much faster, harder surface to pin her to. A wall. A floor. This desk, even.
Kane swallowed. He was really losing it!
And he’d lose her again, if she knew what was going on his head.
‘Last Friday night has no relevance whatsoever to today,’ he said with astonishing composure. Lust was a very powerful motivation. ‘That was pleasure. This is business. But perhaps we should get the past out of the way first. Would you care to sit down and tell me why you left the way you did?’
She frowned, but stayed standing. He tried to stop his eyes from continually raking her from head to toe, but truly she was a magnificent-looking woman. And so sexy in those tight jeans, it was criminal.
‘What’s the point?’ she said sharply, brown eyes flashing. ‘I can’t work for you. You must know that.’
He didn’t, actually. Was she worried about sexual harassment in the workplace?
Perhaps she had just cause, given how much he craved her right now. But Kane could exercise control and patience when necessary. And when she wasn’t touching him. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her off. She was the first woman in a long time who had made him feel what he’d felt on Friday night. To be honest, he couldn’t recall ever feeling quite what he’d felt on that dance floor.
Usually, he could stay in control. Usually, his brain was always there in the background, analysing the situation, making judgement calls, warning him when the momentary object of his desire was another waste of his time.
But it hadn’t on that occasion.
Maybe that was why she’d obsessed about him all weekend. The way she’d made him forget everything but the moment. He hadn’t known anything at all about her, except that she went into sleazy bars alone, dressed to thrill. Not a great recommendation.
Yet he’d still wanted her like crazy.
He still did.
No way was he going to let her escape from him a second time. He wanted to experience the magic he’d felt in her