I can’t un-see it.
I wish I could. But I can’t.
I should be grateful. But I’m not.
FIVE DAYS SINCE I’ve seen her.
Five days since she told me to finish my shower and leave.
I’d blame it on the fact that I lost my load like an inexperienced fool if not for the fact she was so turned on by it. She told me so herself and I believed her. It was written on her face…in her actions.
And then her watch beeped and she morphed into someone else entirely.
A cold replica.
She had no time for me…for us.
Not that there would ever be an ‘us’—but, hell, in that moment in her kitchen…before, during, after… I felt things shift between us. I thought it felt right, picking up where we’d left off ten years prior, saying to hell with everyone and everything else.
Clearly I was wrong.
She offered no explanation. Nothing. As if I didn’t even warrant one. And I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of grovelling for justification.
I cleaned up, dressed and left.
Two days later Monday morning hit, and my PA informed me that my meeting with her had been scheduled for a week Friday.
I laughed. Actually laughed. Did she really think she could keep me hanging on for two weeks like some insignificant prospect?
But you’ve only got yourself to blame.
I’ve hardly covered myself in glory, following her around like some fool, giving her the impression she can wrap me around her little finger.
But no more.
It’s time she saw the real me. The one who stays in control.
So now I’m here, in her building, more than a week early and ready to face the music.
I know she’s not going to like this, but I have a score to settle. Not just professionally, but personally too.
‘Mr Waring, I’m afraid Miss Beaumont has an appointment with Houston Logistics right now,’ her PA says to me, her smile polite but confused. ‘I believe we have an appointment scheduled for next week on Friday?’
I give her a smile loaded with charm. ‘That was the case, but Houston and I have decided to swap.’
‘To…swap?’
Her brows lift past the rim of her thick black glasses and I want to laugh. It’s a worrying sign. Laughter tells me that I’m nervous. And I’m never nervous.
Control, Lucas. Control.
I clear my throat and slot my hands into my pockets, letting my eyes drift across the office and back to her. ‘That’s right. We—’
‘Lucas?’
Eva.
My pulse skips a beat. Her sudden presence triggers an adrenaline shot and I’m slow to turn to face her, to neutralise it.
‘Evangeline, it’s good to see you.’
Good? Christ. ‘Good’ has nothing on the reality.
She’s striking in pink today. A simple shirt that looks anything but simple clings to her curves and disappears into a tight black skirt. Her legs are exposed from the knee down and accentuated by heels that trigger a carnal hit, making me think about things that have no place in this room right now.
Control.
I drag my eyes back up to her hair—something innocent. It’s twisted high on her head, smart and professional and sexy as fuck.
Dammit all.
I meet her eyes. They’re bright. Their blue depths alive and popping. I could say it was down to effective make-up, but I know it’s her reaction to me.
And then I find my control. I’m not alone in this. She feels it too.
It puts us on an even footing, at least.
My chest eases and I step forward, offering my hand. She eyes it suspiciously before taking it for the briefest handshake I’ve ever experienced. But I feel the current that sparks between us, and I see it reflected in her dilated gaze as she looks up at me.
‘I’m afraid I’m too busy to see you today.’ She crosses her arms, her lips giving a delightful little tremble as she breathes. ‘If you’d called ahead we could have saved you the disappointment.’
She looks past me to her PA.
‘Clare, when are Mr Waring and I scheduled to meet?’
‘Well, you—’
‘Now.’ I cut over her. There’s no point dragging this out. ‘Shall we…?’
I gesture to the open door behind her. Her office. But she’s busy looking at her PA, as though she needs saving, and I allow myself a momentary sense of satisfaction because I’ve unsettled her.
It doesn’t beat my experience last Friday night. No, I had the rug well and truly pulled out from beneath me then. But it’s a start.
‘It seems Mr Waring and Houston Logistics have made an arrangement to swap appointment slots.’
I almost feel sorry for her PA as her voice pitches, and I know she can sense the undercurrent between us.
‘Swap?’ Eva looks at me incredulously. ‘Clare, could you ring and confirm that’s the case?’
‘Sure.’
‘No need—use my mobile.’ I extract my phone. ‘Houston’s in my recently dialled—we played in a golf tournament Sunday. Great chap.’
‘Of course you did.’
She doesn’t take my phone—she doesn’t spare me another glance. She simply turns on her heel and starts for her office.
‘Clare, would you mind bringing me a coffee, please?’
Something tells me she wants something stronger than coffee, and I have to stop myself from grinning.
‘No problem.’ Her PA looks at me, hesitant. ‘Can I get you one too, Mr Waring?’
I force my attention off Eva’s elegant curves as she strides away—she’s so damn sexy when she’s pissed off. ‘Black, no sugar. Thank you,’ I say, and follow her in.
Her office is contemporary. A geometric pattern adorns the grey walls, but there are splashes of colour everywhere. Splashes of her. It has a bright couch with co-ordinating chairs, and a glass coffee table adorned with industry magazines. Her desk is large, a mixture of modern glass and old twisted oak. Interesting, fascinating…just as its owner.
I close the door behind me and wait for her to offer me a seat. Actually, I’m waiting for the eruption that I sense is coming.
She’s standing at the room’s only window, looking out. From here, I can’t make out what she sees, but I’m guessing it’s the park across the road. Her building is in a residential area of the city—it’s pleasant. Especially on a day like today, when the sun is out, not a cloud in sight.
Her shoulders lift as she takes a long, drawn-out breath. ‘It’s a shame you didn’t have the decency to let me know about your little arrangement with Houston.’
Her voice is brittle. As if I’ve done something to offend her. As if it’s