by Anna Cleary
Why had she let her emotions take over? It was just as Joe had said. She was too emotional for an MA job, any kind of job. She should be locked up somewhere remote with water access only. She’d allowed herself to get all stirred up over that Kirsty as if Joe had still been hers, when…face it. She didn’t know a thing about what had gone on between them.
The truth was, admit it, she just couldn’t stand to hear of him being in a relationship with anyone. No wonder he’d made that humiliating crack at the end. He probably thought—no, he definitely thought—the old fires were still there underneath, blazing away.
She’d exposed so much of herself she could die.
Visions of how sexy he’d looked at the end, all stern and hard and angry while he taunted her about lolling on his bed, came back to haunt her, and against all her pride and principles she couldn’t suppress a sick pang of yearning.
For heaven’s sake, her evil genius whispered, she could have been on a plane to France with him tomorrow if only it hadn’t been for her stupid pride and her wicked temper.
After a long miserable while she realised that she’d have to start job-hunting the next day, and if she didn’t act fast she’d have red swollen eyes.
She got up and tiptoed out to the kitchen in an effort not to wake her flatmates, opened the fridge and dug around in the vegetable crisper for a cucumber. Failing to find one, she settled for a courgette. Surely they had antioxidants?
She cut a few slices without much hope, then lay back on her bed and spread them over her face and eyes. Redheads were blotchy enough to start with, and it would take more than a courgette to fix her issues. She couldn’t imagine what Joe had ever seen in her in the first place.
Joe’s dashboard digital showed 1:58 a.m. He sighed. With a twenty-six-hour flight ahead of him, wouldn’t it have been sensible to sleep? Though what was sleep? He hadn’t had eight straight hours for weeks, ever since the casino project… No. Since Mirandi Summers had sashayed back into his life.
He turned into Lilac Crescent and slowed in an attempt to make out the house numbers. Moonlight washed the sleeping avenue in shadows, making it ideal territory for ghosts, though thankfully no ravaged, broken face of Jake Sinclair lurched out of the dark to greet him. The contours of the street had changed a little, but it was still all nerve-rackingly familiar. He felt suddenly aware of his blood pressure.
In chinks between apartment buildings he could see the city scrapers, the lights from an occasional vessel on the harbour. He supposed it was a desirable address for the innocent. Why did Mirandi still have to cling here, though? Was her father still appointed to the church here?
Indigo Street and the Sinclair house was just over the hill and around the corner, but Joe wasn’t tempted. He shut it out of his mind.
The illuminated number on a high brick fence caught his eye. So this was where she’d made her home.
He drew up at the kerb. The enormity of what he was about to do, waking her and probably her flatmates in the dead of night, struck him, and he hesitated, but only for an instant. His father had always said it did no good when negotiating with a woman to start on the back foot. Not that poor Jake had wrung much benefit from his own advice.
The low buzz of the security intercom startled Mirandi from the doze she’d finally drifted into. One of the other tenants, she thought hazily, forgotten their key and mistaking the number. She settled back for sleep.
The buzzer sounded again, this time in a series of imperious staccato bursts.
Oh, for goodness’ sake. Did they want to wake the whole street? Groggily, she dragged herself up and staggered out to where the intercom was fixed in the kitchen.
‘Who is it?’ she snarled when she’d located the button in the dark. ‘Are you trying to wake the dead?’
‘It’s Joe.’
Shock followed fast by adrenaline sent her heart ricocheting around her chest cavity. ‘Joe.’
‘Yeah. Look, I, er— Sorry, I know it’s late but I need to talk to you.’
Her brain made a wobbly spin. ‘Now?’
‘That’s right. Can I come up?’
She shut her eyes and made an attempt to think. What possible reason could he have unless it was to talk her out of quitting? An energising hope sprang up in her heart. Maybe…maybe she was still in with a chance? ‘Mirandi?’
‘Oh, well…’ She remembered her bare blotchy face. No one should ever see her like this, let alone Joe, and in this extreme situation. ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘Give me a minute and I’ll come down.’
It might have taken more than a minute to smooth on a thin layer of make-up, perhaps two, three or even five minutes to achieve the natural look she aspired to, though she hurried as fast as she could for fear of him changing his mind and driving away. Finally she wrapped herself in her robe and flew downstairs to the entrance.
She paused to steady herself, then took a deep breath and opened the heavy door a crack.
Joe was standing on the porch surveying the street, his brows drawn. He was in jeans and a black tee shirt that stretched over his powerful chest and shoulders. His bronzed arms looked so satisfyingly solid that despite everything she felt her heart pound. Even in extremis she wasn’t immune to their seduction.
He turned sharply, and she noticed his dark beard devastatingly in evidence. Hot gleams made his eyes burn when he saw her in her robe and slippers. His thorough, all-encompassing survey made her feel intensely female and vulnerable.
Remembering the way his eyes darkened like that under certain stimuli, she drew the robe closer about her. ‘This—this is a surprise.’
‘Yeah. Well…’ He frowned, though that gleam still shone in the darkened depths. ‘I’ve been thinking about this afternoon. I thought—maybe you’d like to talk.’
Hope fluttered in her heart but she barely allowed herself to breathe. ‘About what?’
‘Your decision. Were you planning to quit before today?’ His hot gaze held hers for a dizzying second, then drifted down to her throat and the opening of her robe.
She dropped her lashes and shrugged. ‘Well, no. Probably not. I was… I had hopes that…somehow the job might eventually work out.’ She drew her fingers through her hair and his sharp glance followed the gesture, fastening on her loose tumbled locks with wolfish intensity.
His voice deepened. ‘I’m pleased to hear you say that.’ He scrutinised her for a moment, then the shadow of a smile touched his sensuous mouth. ‘I think…er…today maybe things got a bit overheated. Things were said that shouldn’t have been.’
She gave a stiff nod of admission, and as she moved further into the light his gaze sharpened on her face and she wondered if her make-up was letting her down. She edged back, but a frown entered his dark blue eyes.
‘Were you asleep?’
‘Of course.’
‘Alone?’
She gasped. ‘Yes. Alone. Though why you should think you can ask—’
He gestured. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry, honestly. I don’t know why I said that.’
A hot retort rose to her tongue, but she managed to repress it. Despite her natural annoyance at such masculine impertinence, her brain cells perked up. Why would he ask such a question if he wasn’t at all interested in her? Why would he even be here? Surely…surely this was how the old Joe Sinclair had always operated at the time when he was crazy about her.
He resumed his smooth CEO expression, but she could feel his scorching gaze on her mouth and breasts and sense the hot magnetic current emanating from him. It sparked her nerves and made her feel extremely conscious of her nakedness under her flimsy night things.
He continued, devouring her with his eyes. ‘I probably asked because I was needing to ascertain how available you are for—this offer.’
She elevated her brows. ‘What offer?’
He didn’t smile, but there was a burning intensity in his gaze that seared straight through her robe, her nightie and into her rapidly churning bloodstream. ‘I thought you might like
your job back. Interested?’
Interested. Such a flood of relief coursed through her she wanted to burst into rapturous smiles, but she knew better than to appear too pathetically grateful. ‘Are we talking about my real job, Joe, or the job as Ryan’s assistant?’
He lowered his eyelids briefly. ‘Look, you were never Ryan’s assistant. But—all right…’ He lifted his hands. ‘I admit we should have moved faster in setting up your office. That situation will be rectified at once if you still want the job. Okay?’
She nodded, though a joyful pulse started pumping through her veins and she wanted to sing, dance, frolic in the moonlight, maybe even throw her arms around him.
Instead she controlled herself and said with hauteur, ‘Since you ask, I dare say I could—reconsider. I haven’t taken on anything else yet, so…’
‘Good.’ His lashes flickered down but not before she saw his gleam of satisfaction. Almost imperceptibly he moved closer to her. His chest wasn’t too far from her breasts. She could feel the heat from his big lean body sear her, teasing her erotic zones into an electric arousal she had no right to be feeling.
Short of breath, she edged back out of range. Heavens, how could she be so affected? So he smelled good and looked hot. Just because they were alone out here in the dark did she have to be at the mercy of her senses?
He inclined his head towards her. ‘Where’s that rose fragrance coming from? Is it perfume?’
She felt herself flush all over, though in a pleasant way. ‘Bath oil, if you must know.’
‘Oh, the old bath oil. Right.’ His sensuous mouth quivered and the depths of his eyes burned brighter. ‘Good. Oh, and, er—there’s a condition.’
Right. With a pang of misgiving, she folded her arms under her breasts and braced for it. ‘I might have known.’
Without blinking he said, ‘I need you to come with me on the trip to Provence.’
An irrepressible, weakening thrill shot through her, but though the temptation to cave in was overwhelming she couldn’t let go of her pride altogether. She drew herself up to stand straight and tall. ‘I thought I had made it clear—’
‘You did. You made it clear. But this is the condition. Take it or leave it.’ His tone didn’t waver while his unequivocal gaze compelled hers with mesmerising power.
She had no doubt he’d drive the bargain to the limit and walk away if she refused. Questions reeled through her head. What about the dangers? The possibilities she hardly dared even contemplate?
‘Why, Joe?’ she hedged. ‘Why me?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? I need a market analyst along.’
‘Oh, right.’ She gave a disbelieving laugh, though she was excited. So excited. ‘That’s not what you said this afternoon. So really. Tell me what this is about.’
He hesitated. His black lashes swept down, then he pierced her with one of those glances. ‘Well… I guess…it’s a long trip. I’m not exactly looking forward to it and…’ He exhaled in a long sigh and spread his hands. ‘Somehow it would feel right to have you—someone I know, I mean,’ he added hastily, ‘along.’
Frowning, she searched his face, the involuntary leap in her heartrate warring with some warning bells that were suddenly jangling an urgent message. A message she wasn’t so keen to hear. ‘I don’t know…’
‘Do you want your job back?’ A silky seductiveness had entered his voice, and he lifted one brow, assured, persuasive.
She bit her lip, hesitating, then shrugged. ‘You know I do.’
‘Fine. It’s yours.’ He smiled and warmth of a different sort, the sort of intimate, friendly warmth she used to see in the old Joe, flooded his eyes and rayed like the sun into her arteries.
For a breathless moment she almost expected him to kiss her or touch her at the very least, but he did neither. Instead he reverted to his brisk boss demeanour.
‘All right, you’d better get some sleep. Check-in’s at noon.’ He drew his brows in admonition. ‘And for once in your life don’t be late.’ He waited for her obedient nod, then, lifting a casual hand, turned for the porch steps.
She pulled herself together. ‘Wait. Wait, Joe.’
He paused and glanced back. ‘Something worrying you?’
‘Yes, there is.’ She braced. ‘All right, I’ll come, but I have a condition of my own.’
His brows went up interrogatively.
She looked steadily at him. ‘You don’t try to use this as an opportunity to seduce me.’
His brows flew higher still and a laugh sprang into his eyes, then he put his hand over his heart. ‘Mirandi. What sort of guy do you think I am?’
‘You forget,’ she said without smiling. ‘I know exactly what sort of guy you are.’
Her words were soft on the night air, but they must have reached their target for the lines of his face froze. Fleetingly, but perceptibly, then a muscle moved in his lean cheek and he shrugged. ‘You think you know. But, all right, I’ll accept your condition. So long as you agree to it.’
She lifted her brows. ‘I agree?’
‘Of course.’ Amusement tinged his lean face and his gaze sparked with challenge. ‘You must agree not to try to seduce me.’
‘Oh,’ she scoffed, rolling her eyes. ‘As if there was ever any likelihood of that.’ She gave a tinkling little laugh, then his knowing glance met hers, loaded with everything that had ever happened between them, every clinch, every wild act of passion, and she felt her face go pink.
‘So, then,’ he said, backing away, the gleam in his eyes. ‘I’ll let you know if there’s any problems reserving your place on the flight. Otherwise… Noon at the International check-in. Oh, and—bring your passport.’
She damped down her mad, joyful desire to whoop down the street. ‘Certainly, Joe,’ she said. ‘Noon.’
CHAPTER FIVE
ONLY an idiot or someone very desperate would have agreed to fly across the world with a man who’d broken her heart. And on such short notice. For a thrilled second last night on the doorstep Mirandi had actually had the sensation she was about to climb back on the Ducati.
Looking back, she suspected she might have gone a little crazy since walking into Joe’s apartment yesterday afternoon. Still, a woman needed a job, and at least she’d insisted on her condition, flimsy though it might have been.
The truth was, despite her excitement, when he’d turned and walked to his car last night she’d been in a turmoil. Certainly he’d seemed appreciative of her appearance, but he’d made no move towards her—and she was grateful for that, wasn’t she? After everything, especially the volcanic emotions of their afternoon encounter, it was certainly best they avoid complications and stick to their working relationship.
Still, no live woman in proximity to Joe’s lips after midnight could be blamed for hungering for them. After she’d bounded upstairs to bed, all churned up and excited by the transaction on the doorstep, she was ashamed to admit she couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he’d looked with the heavy shadow outlining his mouth.
It seemed she could control her will now when it came to Joe, but there was no controlling her body. Everything about him was too deeply embedded in her senses. At least she knew now she must fight the attraction. And she could. As long as he kept his distance she’d be fine, she firmly believed it. Certainly she’d had no power of resistance when she was a green girl. But she wasn’t a green girl any more.
As soon as she spotted him in Departures at noon, several things hit her between the eyes at once. He looked like an intriguing mixture of the corporate Joe and the old Joe. With his long, lean frame clad in blue jeans, loafers, and a blue shirt that reflected his eyes and brought out the highlights in his raven hair, he could have slung her over his handlebars and roared away in a second. Just as well for one of her impulsive temperament that he was carrying a casual navy jacket slung over his shoulder and his briefcase. It added that soupçon of discreet elegance the younger Joe had never aspired to.
Another thing, he was leanin
g against a column, brooding and looking more than a little tired. Hardly surprising, considering his habit of making nocturnal visits, though when she first observed how grim he looked she experienced a pang. Was he regretting the invitation?
He glanced up, saw her and his expression lightened at once. Her heart made a joyous little skip. That first glimpse meant truth. No chance to pretend.
She herself hadn’t managed any sleep at all, she’d been so excited, wired about what to pack and doubtful. Wary. Amazed Joe was so keen to have her along. And in the blackest night before dawn, filled with misgivings. Warning herself not to be too thrilled. What felt so right about taking her? What had he mean by it, really?
Just take it calmly, don’t be a fool, act like an MA, don’t fall in love, forget the past… Oh, for goodness’ sake. Under no circumstances should she allow herself to forget the past.
As Joe scrutinised her in her own jeans and jacket with a thorough, veiled gaze she enquired, ‘Have you fixed the flights? Did you talk to Ryan? Should I phone him myself?’
‘Relax. Everything’s under control. So far,’ he muttered in a grim undertone.
She shot him a quick glance. ‘It’s not too late to change your mind, Joe. You don’t have to go through with it.’
‘Of course I have to. It’s my job.’
‘Taking me, I mean.’
‘Oh, that.’ He smiled and touched her cheek. ‘Oh, but I do. You’re the essential ingredient.’
‘Yeah?’ She tried to look nonchalant, but the truth was, though it might have been a strange thing to say, those words and that careless brush of her cheek sizzled into her capillaries and radiated glowing embers through her bloodstream. It was the first time he’d actually touched her since…all those years ago.
She’d had no idea her skin was so in need of a masculine touch. So deeply in need. ‘As your Market Analyst.’
