There wasn’t a name anywhere on the note. Even so, she had a strong suspicion she knew who it was from. A burst of laughter bubbled up from inside her and broke free. Was this Tristan’s way of trying to persuade her to agree to take back the job? If so, it was a pretty good shot.
Leaning down, she sniffed the beautiful fragrant bouquet, delighting in the heady mixture of scents as they wound through her nostrils. No one had ever bought her flowers as grand as this before and they certainly hadn’t gone to the trouble of leaving her a message to puzzle out.
Standing up, she shook herself. She really shouldn’t let a few stems and a jigsaw turn her head so easily. It was important to remember that he needed something from her and there wasn’t any kind of romance in the gesture. It was purely mercenary on his part.
She took herself off for a shower, mulling it all over, and just as she got out there was the loud rasp of the buzzer again.
Hurrying to the door in just a towel—praying it really wasn’t Tristan this time—she pulled it open to reveal a tall, lanky youth with a brown cardboard box in his hands.
‘I have a delivery for Tallulah Lazenby,’ he said, desperately trying to keep his gaze averted from her dripping wet, skimpily towelled body and looking somewhere off to the left of her head, his eyes wide and the skin on his neck flushed a deep red.
‘Thanks,’ Lula said, taking the box gently from him. ‘Where has it come from?’
‘I work at The Magic Store on Oxford Street. A customer gave me fifty quid to come over and deliver this to you in my break.’ He still couldn’t meet her eyes and she decided to be kind and put him out of his misery. ‘Thanks very much.’ She gave him a nod to release him and he backed away quickly and ran off down the hallway leading out of her apartment block.
She opened up the box right there by the door. It looked as if there was a glass ball inside. Lifting it out carefully, she examined it. It sat on a wooden base and the whole thing was heavy and solid, the glass thick.
It took her a few seconds to realise what she was holding. It was a fortune-teller’s crystal ball.
Shaking her head, she laughed to herself.
Nice.
He’d remembered her flip remark about how being able to see into the future would be a useful skill. It really would have been the night they’d met. None of this mess with Tristan would have happened if they’d both known what was about to unfold.
Carrying it into the living room, she put the ball on the sideboard and turned her attention back to the box. There was an envelope taped to the top of it, which she tore open, shifting the cardboard box under one arm so she could hold up the note and read it.
Once I realised, I wanted to let you know...
Once he realised what? That he’d been an arrogant arse for not even listening to her side of the story before jumping to conclusions?
That he liked her a lot more than he was letting on and wanted to see her again in a non-work capacity?
Even though the thought of that gave her a warm flutter in her belly, she knew she needed to quash it quickly. There couldn’t be any more sexy times with him—she wasn’t going to sleep with someone she worked for ever again.
No.
Not going to happen.
Tossing the card onto the table, she went to get dressed and dry her hair.
She was in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea when the buzzer went for the third time.
Fishing the tea bag out of the cup so as not to stew her drink, she went to answer the door again.
Since the last note had arrived she’d turned the question of what he would write next over and over in her mind, spending rather more time than she should have thinking about him.
The guy knew exactly what he was doing—she had to give him credit for that.
A tall, raven-haired lady with a bright red-lipsticked smile waited patiently on the other side of her door. Lula recognised her from the café round the corner—the place that did the most amazing breakfasts.
The smell of the bacon sandwich the woman was now proffering hit her nostrils. Lula’s stomach rumbled and her mouth filled with saliva in anticipation of the intensely sweet, salty taste of the bacon and the glorious soft bloomer roll. She took the sandwich and thanked the still beaming lady, who waved away her offer of money. ‘It’s already been taken care of,’ she said, giving Lula one last knowing grin.
She only noticed the writing on the greaseproof wrapper—which appeared to be in different handwriting to the rest of the notes—after she’d shut the door. He must have got the lady from the café to write it.
It read:
Right or wrong—wrong as it turns out—I thought I was making things right...
Huh.
Well, at least he’d fully admitted he was wrong to fire her, even if he was still trying to defend his actions.
She stared at the sandwich in her hand, which looked and smelled all delicious and tempting.
Well, there was no sense in wasting food. She peeled back the wrapper and sank her teeth into the soft floury roll.
Heavenly.
* * *
It was just after lunchtime when the next delivery arrived. Lula rushed to the door, trying not to get too excited, aware of the manic beat of her heart and how foolish it was to allow herself to respond like this.
This time a courier held out something the size and shape of a shoebox to her.
She took it inside and opened it up.
It was a pair of black mule-style slippers with six-inch heels and a fluff of feathers framing the open toe.
She’d never have to answer the door feeling short again.
There was a strange tingling feeling behind her eyes as she opened the note attached to the shoebox.
Respect to you for standing your ground...
Something squeezed hard in her chest. Brushing the feeling off, she stooped and slid the slippers onto her feet. They were totally over the top for wearing indoors and she’d never owned anything so ridiculous in her life—but she loved them.
Striding into her bedroom, she stood in front of the long cheval mirror and stared at her reflection. She couldn’t help but laugh, the impulse surging up in great bursts of joy from deep inside her.
It had been a long time since she’d felt this buzzed.
Staring out of the window, she toyed with the idea of going out. The sun was pouring down onto an unseasonably bright and balmy London, but she couldn’t quite be bothered.
It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to see what Tristan would send next or what might be written in the note that came with it.
Nothing at all.
Just as the discomfiting heat of her self-denial began to warm her face, there was another loud jolt on the buzzer.
A brand-new pair of top-of-the-range headphones was waiting for her this time. She signed the courier’s electronic pad and took them eagerly into the house, pulling them out of the box to study them properly. She’d been meaning to get herself a pair of these for a while. They had amazing sound quality and were incredibly comfortable, which was imperative when you had to wear them for hours at a time.
He’d really thought about all his gifts, targeting them directly at her needs and whims.
Clever. Very clever.
She pulled off the note taped to the box and read it with her heart in her mouth.
You are appreciated. We need you here. Please come back.
PS If you line the cards up, the first vertical row will tell you how I’m feeling right about now.
PPS I’ll be picking you up for dinner at eight p.m. and we’ll get into those ‘perks’ that we never got around to discussing yesterday.
Wear what you like. I suspect you look good in everything you own.
Tristan
<
br /> Exhilaration, driven by pure unadulterated excitement, shot straight through her. What did he mean by ‘perks’? Was he referring to business-type bonuses or an altogether more saucy sort of incentive?
Her heart banged in her chest and she had to sit down as the sudden excess of adrenaline made her woozy.
She read the note still clutched in her trembling fingers again: ...line the cards up, the first vertical row will tell you how I’m feeling...
Gathering all the notes together, she placed them one above the other in the order they’d been sent and scanned down the first letter of each word.
SORRY
It felt as though something tight and hard had finally broken inside her, coating her insides with a delicious warmth.
Okay, so he was capable of apologising properly and he certainly didn’t do things by halves, but the man was so presumptuous telling her to be ready to go out at eight o’clock when he had no idea whether she was busy tonight or even prepared to give him her answer yet.
She couldn’t stop a wide grin from breaking across her face.
She really liked that about him. She liked it a lot.
Quite possibly more than she should.
* * *
Tristan smoothed down his hair one more time before pressing the buzzer to Tallulah’s apartment.
He hoped the deliveries he’d sent over had softened her up a little—at least enough to give him an opportunity to talk her round.
After all his years of heading up a business, he couldn’t believe he’d propelled the radio station into such turmoil after he’d only been responsible for it for one day. He’d never made such an ill thought-out, emotionally driven mistake in his life and it was all down to the woman who lurked behind this door.
He seemed to have found his nemesis.
He’d been thinking about her all day, wondering what her reactions had been to each present and feeling a strange disappointment that he hadn’t been there to witness her delight—or disdain—as each one arrived.
He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself earlier, but he was actually looking forward to taking her out to dinner this evening and having the opportunity to get to know her a little better.
Not that he was expecting any kind of serious relationship to develop here—he wasn’t ready for that so soon after the fallout of the last one—but he wouldn’t say no to another night in the sack with her.
Would she even entertain the notion?
He had absolutely no clue.
The woman was a total conundrum, so much so, he had no idea what to expect when Lu opened the door to him this time—assuming that she did of course. Maybe she’d have deliberately gone out to make a point.
At least the things he’d sent over seemed to have been taken in and hadn’t been left in a rejected heap by her front door.
He waited, nerves thrumming, for a few more seconds before reaching for the buzzer again. He didn’t want to seem too eager. Based on his previous experience with her, he needed to keep his cool if he was in with a chance of resolving this quickly and successfully.
Just as he gave in to his impatience and moved to push the buzzer again the door swung open to reveal Tallulah in all her glory.
And she really did look glorious. She was wearing a knee-length black dress that hugged her voluptuous curves. The neckline was low, but not too revealing, giving a tantalising glimpse of those magnificent breasts and her hair was swept back into some sort of elegant knot at the back of her head. She looked businesslike but classy. And very sexy.
‘You look lovely,’ he said, experiencing a swell of satisfaction as he clocked her answering smile.
‘You weren’t expecting to find me dressed for dinner?’ She looked back at him from under her eyelashes with mischief in her expression.
He battled to ignore an extra hard pulse of sexual heat as he recognised it as the same look she’d given him the other night in his hotel room.
‘To be honest, you’re a bit of an unknown quantity at the moment,’ he said on a grin.
She chuckled. ‘Actually, I did consider going out in my band T-shirt, sweats and heeled slippers—which I love by the way—but I thought it might seem rather petty.’
He nodded; pleased she’d acknowledged the slippers and seemed to have appreciated the gesture. He’d worried that that particular present could have gone down very badly, considering how touchy she seemed to be about her height. Luckily humour appeared to have won out. ‘So you went for pretty over petty.’
Colour flushed across her cheeks at his blatant flattery.
‘You’re full of compliments today, aren’t you?’ she purred, the tone of her voice implying she knew his game and wasn’t falling for it that easily.
‘Just trying to claw back some goodwill,’ he said, leaning in closer to her.
She took a small step back and narrowed her eyes; giving him such a taunting look he felt the power of it deep in his chest. Desire rushed more heat down his spine, but he swept away his urge to push her up against the wall and kiss that look right off her face.
He needed to stay focused and remember they had business to take care of first.
Clenching his hands into fists for strength against the tempting urges, he gestured back out into the hallway of the apartments. ‘So, are you ready?’
‘Yes,’ she said, turning to grab her bag and coat from a hook on the wall.
‘Then let’s go.’
* * *
Tristan had called in a favour from a friend and snagged a table at his new restaurant, which was currently the hippest—and most eye-wateringly expensive—joint in town, wanting to ram home to Tallulah that he wasn’t messing about here.
After the taxi dropped them off outside, he guided her in through the large dark-tinted glass doors and gave his name to the maître d’.
They were ushered through the dining room, which appeared to be styled like some kind of 1970s diner—all dark wooden panels, squared off chrome fixtures and boxy orange leather booths—to an octagonal, glass-topped table at the back.
Their waiter brought over complimentary glasses of Appletini and a small bowl of spiced nuts while they perused the menu.
Neither of them said anything to the other until they’d given their food and drink orders, but the tension hummed between them like a stripped livewire.
Lula was the first to break the silence as she watched their waiter walk away.
‘So.’ She crossed her arms in front of her, which automatically drew his eyes to her impressive chest.
He flicked his gaze back up quickly, not wanting to be caught ogling her. Damn, if this wasn’t doing his head in. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t already know how amazing she felt pressed against him and how sweet she’d tasted. How moreish.
Shifting in his seat, he tried not to give away how turned on he was just from sitting opposite her with those incredible memories dancing through his head. ‘So. Thank you for coming back to Flash.’
She smiled down at the table. ‘I haven’t agreed to it yet.’
‘Ah, but you will.’
Her gaze snagged with his. ‘You’re very sure of yourself.’
He shrugged. ‘We both know Flash has the potential to be an outstanding radio station—which means accolades and upward career moves for anyone working there—and that you’re the best DJ there by a mile. Everyone I’ve spoken to says so.’
She was looking at him with a concentrated frown on her face now, which she forced into a sad little smile when he raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
‘It’s really nice to hear that,’ she said. ‘No one’s ever told me that before. Jez wasn’t particularly good at boosting staff morale.’
‘So I’ve heard.’
‘I guess I should thank you for t
aking my concerns seriously. In the end.’
He leant forwards, splaying his hands onto the table in front of him in a gesture of total openness. ‘Look, I apologise for that. I wasn’t as focussed as I should have been during that session. Meeting you and doing what we did,’ he shifted in his seat as his body responded to the memories again, ‘wasn’t the norm for me. I’ve just come out of a four-year relationship and wasn’t looking for that to happen. It caught me by surprise, and I’m not good with surprises.’
He took a sip of his drink to cover his discomfort. It was harder than he’d anticipated, talking about how he’d reacted to what had happened. It was bringing back the rumblings of unease he’d been supressing since Marcy had left him.
He shook it off and focussed his attention back on her.
She was giving him a speculating look. Was she wondering about how they moved forwards from here too?
‘I hope it won’t effect our working relationship because once you come back,’ he gave her a meaningful look, ‘you’re going to have to put up with having me as your boss until I can find a new Station Manager to take over.’
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide, then nodded slowly. ‘I guess I should thank you for all the gifts and notes you sent today. I’m very impressed that you remembered all that about me.’ She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and he noticed her fingers were shaking.
‘I bet no woman has ever resisted your wooing,’ she continued, smiling now. ‘If the way you handle your relationships is anything like the way you handle business affairs, they wouldn’t stand a chance. I bet they’re putty in your hands!’
From the colour of her cheeks it was clear she thought she’d said too much and he experienced an unnerving urge to help her out of her babble loop.
‘To be honest, I’ve never sent a woman flowers before.’ He frowned. ‘Not that I should be admitting to that.’
‘Really?’ she raised her eyebrows. ‘Maybe that’s why your last relationship broke up.’ She followed her comment with a smile, which quickly dropped off her face when she saw he wasn’t smiling back.
Fired by Her Fling Page 8
