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The Ex Who Hired Her
Kate Hardy
Memo to self: when you work with your ex, keep all thoughts strictly business!No matter how wickedly kissable those luscious lips, or how sinfully seductive those endless legs, tycoon Jordan Smith wants nothing to do with his ex-lover Alexandra Bennett… Only Alex is his new hotshot employee!Their sizzling chemistry can’t be denied, and working late nights soon drives them both crazy with need… It’s becoming impossible to resist – but with so much painful history between them can breaking up ever lead to making up…for good?



Oh, dear God. If Alexandra hadn’t been sitting down, she would have fallen. Jordan had always been able to make her knees weak with that beautiful, clever mouth. Pictures bloomed in her head: she could see herself sweeping everything off his desk. Pushing him across it…
She was practically hyperventilating now.
‘Jordan. This is a bad idea.’ She did her best to drag her common sense from where it was hiding. ‘I… This wasn’t meant to be a seduction.’
‘No. But it could be.’ He moistened her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, making her wish it was her skin he was moistening.
‘Alex…’ His voice was low and sexy.
Oh, God. She was seconds away from losing her self-control. From losing her mind. But his fingers were caressing her wrist, feeling the pulse thudding here.
She tried again. ‘I was just being nice. Doing what I’d do for any colleague.’
Liar. He didn’t actually say it, but then again he didn’t need to. They both knew.

About the Author
KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history, she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon
has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!
Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com
A recent title by the same author:
A MOMENT ON THE LIPS
Kate also writes for Mills & Boon
Medical
Romances. Her titles include:
ITALIAN DOCTOR, NO STRINGS ATTACHED
ST PIRAN’S: THE FIREMAN AND NURSE LOVEDAY
(St Piran’s Hospital)
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Ex
Who Hired Her

Kate Hardy








www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Lizzie Lamb and Jasper, with love.

CHAPTER ONE
XANDRA BENNETT.
Jordan would just bet she’d changed the spelling of her name, on the grounds that it made her sound more like a marketing hotshot than plain ‘Sandra’. He just hoped there was enough substance to back up the style. Maybe there would be; the recruitment agency had obviously thought enough of her to ask Field’s for a last-minute interview. Though, after an entire day listening to the bright and not-so-bright ideas of the people who were desperate to become the next marketing manager of Field’s department store, Jordan wasn’t really in the mood for someone who was all style and glitz.
Last one, he told himself. Last one, and then I can get on with my work.
His PA opened the door. ‘Ms Bennett.’
And, as Xandra Bennett walked into his office, Jordan forgot how to breathe.
It was her.
Of all the department stores in all the towns in all the world, she walked into his.
Different name, different hair, and she’d clearly swapped her glasses for contact lenses, but it was definitely her. Alexandra Porter. His whole body tingled. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been eighteen, with mousy-brown hair that fell almost to her waist when he’d loosened it from its customary plait. And she’d worn clothing typical of a shy eighteen-year-old girl: scruffy trainers, nondescript jeans and baggy T-shirts that hid her curves.
Now, she looked every inch the marketing professional. A sharp, well-cut business suit that flattered her curves without making them look ostentatious; a sleek jaw-length bob with highlights so skilfully done that the copper and gold strands looked as though they’d been brought out naturally by the sun; and high-end designer heels that made her legs look as if they went on for ever.
And she still had a mouth that sent shivers through him.
He pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to think about Alexandra Porter and her lush, generous mouth. The mouth he’d once taught how to kiss.
She masked it quickly, but he’d been watching her closely enough to see the shock on her face. She recognised him, too, and hadn’t expected to see him here, either … or had she? He didn’t trust her as far as he could drop his pen onto the desk. Back then she’d turned out to be a manipulative liar, and that wasn’t the kind of personality trait that changed with age. Was Bennett the man she’d dumped him for? Or had she then dumped him as soon as she’d found someone else who could offer her more?
Maybe he should tell her that the position was already filled and he wasn’t going to do any more interviews. Except that would mean explaining his reasons to his co-interviewers—explanations he’d rather not have to give.
Jordan Smith.
Alexandra felt sick to her stomach. He was the last person she’d expected to see. Ten years ago, she’d vowed never to have anything to do with him again. She’d never forgiven him for not being there when she’d needed him most. For lying to her. For letting her down. It had taken her years to rebuild her life; and now, just when her dreams were in reach, he was right in her way all over again.
The tall, slightly gangly student she’d known had filled out; he was far from being fat, but his shoulders were broader and his build more muscular. His mouth still had that sensual curve, promising pleasure—not that she wanted to remember how much pleasure his mouth was capable of giving.
The scruffy jeans and T-shirt he’d usually worn back then had been replaced by a designer suit and what looked like a handmade shirt and a silk tie. There was the faintest touch of silver at his temples—well, of course hair that dark would show the grey quickly. And he definitely had an air of authority. He’d grown into his looks; more than that, he’d grown into the kind of man who just had to breathe to have women falling at his feet.
As the CEO of Field’s, Jordan Smith would have the final say over who got the job.
Which left her … where? On the reject pile, because she’d be a permanent reminder of his guilt—of the fact that he’d abandoned her when she was eighteen and pregnant with his baby? Or would he give her the job, even if she wasn’t the best candidate, because he felt he owed it to her for wrecking her life all those years ago? And, if he did offer her the job, would she take it, knowing that she’d have to work with him?
The questions whizzed round her head. Then she realised that one of the panel had said something to her and was waiting for a reply. Oh, great. Now they’d think she had the attention span of a gnat and would be a complete liability rather than an asset to the firm. Bye, bye, new job. Well, she had nothing to lose now. She might as well treat this as a practice interview. Afterwards, instead of licking her wounds, she could analyse her performance and see where she needed to sharpen up, ready for the next interview.
‘I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,’ she said, giving the older man an apologetic smile.
‘I’m Harry Blake, the personnel manager,’ he said, smiling back. ‘This is Gina Davidson, the deputy store manager.’ He paused for long enough to let Alexandra exchange a greeting and shake the deputy manager’s hand. ‘And this is Jordan Smith, the CEO.’
Jordan had to be a good twenty years younger than his colleagues. He was only thirty now. How had he made CEO of such a traditional company that fast?
Stupid question. Of course Jordan would be on the fast track, wherever he worked. He’d always been bright; his mind had attracted her teenage self just as much as his face. A man who could speak three other languages as fluently as his own; who knew all the European myths, not just the Greek and Roman ones; who knew Shakespeare even better than she did, back in the days when she still wanted to lecture on Renaissance drama. Dreams that had shattered and died, along with—
Alexandra pushed the thought away.
There was no way round it; she was going to have to be polite and shake his hand. She forced herself to keep her handshake brief, firm and businesslike and to ignore the tingles running along every nerve end as his skin touched hers. But then she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
Midnight blue. Arresting. His eyes had caught her attention, the very first time she’d met him. Sweet seventeen and never been kissed. Until that night, when he’d seen beyond her image of the geeky girl with the mousy hair and glasses who didn’t really fit in with everyone else at the party and had come over to talk to her. He’d danced with her. Kissed her.
She swallowed hard, and looked away, willing the memories to stay back.
She couldn’t meet his eyes, Jordan noticed. Guilt? Not that it mattered, because as far as he was concerned she wasn’t getting this job. No way was she going to be back into his life, not even in a work capacity. He’d get through this interview, and then he’d never have to set eyes on her again.
As the personnel manager, Harry was officially the one conducting the interview, so Jordan sat back and listened to him take Alexandra through the same questions he’d asked the others. Her answers were pretty much as he expected, so he glanced through her CV again. And then something stood out at him. The date she’d given for her A levels was three years after the date he remembered her being due to take them. Why? She’d been a straight-A student, the last person he’d expect to fail her exams.
Had the guilt of what she’d done finally hit her in the middle of her exams, so she’d messed them up? But, in that case, why had it taken her three years to retake them? And she didn’t have the English degree he’d expected, either. She’d planned to become a lecturer, so why was she working in business instead of in an academic role?
He shook himself. It was none of his business, and he didn’t want to know the answers.
He really didn’t.
‘Any questions?’ Harry asked his colleagues.
Gina smiled. ‘Not at this stage.’
And here was Jordan’s opportunity to show everyone that Xandra Bennett was completely unsuitable. ‘We did ask all the other candidates to prepare a presentation on how to take Field’s forward,’ he pointed out.
‘But the agency added Xandra to the list at the very last minute,’ Harry said, with a slight frown at Jordan. ‘So it wouldn’t be fair to expect her to give a presentation.’
‘Not a formal presentation, of course,’ Jordan agreed. ‘But I do expect my senior staff to be able to think on their feet. So we’d like to hear your ideas, Ms Bennett. How would you see us taking Field’s forward?’
Her eyes widened for a moment; she clearly knew that he was challenging her. And it was obvious that she also knew he was expecting her to fail.
Then she lifted her chin and gave him an absolutely glittering smile. The professional equivalent of making an extremely rude hand gesture. ‘Of course, Mr Smith. Obviously, if this were a real situation, the first thing I’d ask is what the budget and the timescales are.’
She was the first person that day to mention budgets and timescales; the other candidates had just assumed. And some of them had assumed much more money than was available, talking about putting on TV spots in prime-time viewing. Completely unrealistic.
‘And secondly I’d ask what you meant by taking Field’s forward. Are you looking to attract a different customer base without losing the loyalty of your existing customers? Or do you want to offer your existing customers more services so they buy everything from Field’s, rather than buy certain products and services from another supplier?’
Both Harry and Gina were sitting up a little straighter, clearly interested. She’d gone straight to the heart of their dilemma.
‘What do you think?’ Jordan asked.
‘I’d start by doing an audit of your customers. Who they are, what they want, and what Field’s isn’t offering them now. And I’d talk to your staff. Do you have a staff suggestion scheme?’
‘We used to,’ Gina said.
‘I’d reinstate it,’ Alexandra said. ‘Your staff know their products and their customers. They know what sells, what the seasonal trends are, and what their customers are looking for. They’re the ones who are going to come up with the best suggestions for taking Field’s forward—and I’d say that your marketing manager’s job is to evaluate those suggestions, cost them, and work out which ones are going to have the most impact on sales.’
‘Do you buy from us, Ms P—’ Jordan had to correct himself swiftly ‘—Bennett?’
‘No, I don’t.’
That surprised him. He’d been so sure she’d claim to shop here all the time. She wasn’t planning to curry favour that way, then. ‘Why not?’
‘Because as far as I can tell your range of clothes isn’t targeted at my age group, the pharmacy chains have much better deals than you do on the perfume and make-up I buy, and I’m not in the market for fine crystal, silverware and porcelain dinner services,’ she said.
Wow. She was the first of their candidates to criticise the store. And he could see that she’d taken Harry and Gina’s breath away, too. ‘So Field’s is too traditional for you?’ He couldn’t resist needling her.
‘Field’s has one hundred and five years of tradition to look back on,’ she said. ‘Which should be a strength; being around for a long time shows your customers that they can rely on you. But it’s also a weakness, because younger customers are going to see Field’s as old-fashioned. As far as they’re concerned, you sell nothing they’d be interested in. This is where their parents shop. Or even their grandparents. And you need to counteract that opinion.’
‘So how would you raise their interest?’ And, heaven help him, she’d already raised his own interest. Her comments were the best thing he’d heard all day. Her criticisms were completely constructive and she’d given solid reasons for her views. Reasons that he’d been thinking of, himself.
‘Taking myself as a prospective customer—if you tempted me into the store by, say, a pop-up shop showcasing a hot new make-up brand I’m interested in, and you set it up next to my favourite designer’s ready-to-wear range, then I’d realise that maybe I’d got the wrong idea about Field’s. I’d be tempted to look around the store. If you sell what I want, at the right price, and your store loyalty scheme’s good enough to tempt me away from my current supplier, then you’ll get my business.’
He really couldn’t fault that.
‘And I’d also take a look at your online presence. Your website needs to be dynamic and involved with social media. Do you have an online community?’
‘Not at the moment,’ Gina said. ‘How would you see one working?’
That was the moment that Alexandra really lit up. Suddenly she was shining, full of enthusiasm and bringing everyone along with her. ‘Forums, hosted maybe by selected members of staff. Not all the time, just five minutes now and then. You could invite customers to be an expert in their field and share their tips. And you definitely need a plan for taking advantage of new media, if you’re looking to attract a younger audience. Look at how they use social media and mobile media, and how you could make that work for Field’s.’ She rattled off a few examples—all practical ones.
Jordan glanced at her CV again. In her last job, she’d been responsible for online marketing, so she knew exactly what she was talking about. He made a mental note to look up her old company’s website to see what she’d done there.
‘Thank you, Ms Bennett. No further questions from me,’ he said.
‘Are there any questions you’d like to ask us?’ Harry asked.
‘Not at this stage,’ Alexandra said with a smile. A polite smile, Jordan noticed, rather than a triumphant one; she clearly wasn’t taking it for granted that her interview had gained her a ticket to the next round.
‘Then thank you, Ms Bennett,’ Gina said. ‘If you’d like to wait outside for a couple of minutes?’
Jordan was aware of every single step Alexandra took as she crossed to the door. And, although he tried hard not to look, he couldn’t help himself. Ten years ago, she’d been sweet and shy, her beauty hidden away; now, she was polished and confident, and any man with red blood in his veins would stand up a little straighter and try to catch her eye. He hated the fact that she could still make him react physically; so it was just as well he wouldn’t have to see her again. Working with her would drive him crazy.
‘She’s by far and away the best of the bunch,’ Harry said when Alexandra had closed the door behind her.
‘Seconded,’ Gina said. ‘She understands our business a lot more than most of the others did. And she’s got some great ideas.’
Which didn’t leave Jordan any room to manoeuvre. If he hadn’t known her in a previous life, he would’ve agreed with them. But he had known her. And that was a problem. Maybe that was the way round this. ‘Unfortunately, I need to tell you there’s a slight conflict of interest. One I wasn’t aware of before the interview.’
Gina frowned. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I knew her. At school.’ He coughed. ‘Under a different name.’
Harry’s eyebrows arched. ‘Neither of you said a thing just now.’
Jordan knew he deserved the rebuke. Either or both of them could’ve acknowledged that they knew each other. But they hadn’t. For exactly the same reason: one that he wasn’t planning to share. He sighed. ‘The middle of an interview’s hardly the place for a reunion.’ Not that he wanted a reunion with her. He’d moved on. And he didn’t have any plans to go back.
‘Her CV doesn’t say she was at your school,’ Harry pointed out.
‘She wasn’t at my school. I met her at a party—a friend of a friend of a friend. Actually, I was at university at the time.’
Harry shrugged. ‘So you didn’t know her that well.’
Well enough, Jordan thought, to make her pregnant. Except, when his mother had refused to pay her an extortionate allowance, she’d cold-bloodedly terminated their unborn child without even so much as discussing it with him. She hadn’t even told him she was pregnant, and he couldn’t forgive her for that.
And then she’d vanished to avoid any fallout. He’d spent weeks trying to find her, to no avail. When he’d finally tracked her down, he’d been gutted to discover that she was married … to someone else. He’d had to face how little he’d really meant to her—otherwise how could she have married another man so quickly after getting rid of his baby?
Not that he was going to tell Harry and Gina about that. It was something he never, ever talked about. To anyone. He’d buried the anger and the hurt, and they were staying buried.
‘She’s what we need,’ Gina said. ‘She can think on her feet, she’s full of ideas, and she’s straight-talking. And she was the only one to mention a budget—she’s grounded in the real world.’
Jordan couldn’t deny any of that. But could he cope with having her back in his life?
Harry clearly sensed the younger man’s reservations, because he asked, ‘Did you clash badly with her, or something?’
Or something. She’d been the first girl Jordan had really fallen in love with. She’d charmed him utterly. To the point where he’d even planned to spend the rest of his life with her.
How stupid he’d been. It would never have worked. Then again, neither had marrying someone he’d been friends with for years, someone who had the same kind of background that he did. He’d failed there, too. So, as far as he was concerned, relationships were best kept short and sweet—and ended before they started to sour.
‘Jordan?’
He made a noncommittal murmur, not wanting to explain.
‘Whatever happened—and I for one won’t pry—you were both a lot younger then and still had a lot of growing up to do. People change,’ Gina said.
Jordan didn’t think so. Alexandra had been incredibly ambitious—expecting their unborn child to give her an entry into his world and a hand up from her own—and he’d bet that she was just the same, now. That kind of personality trait didn’t change.
‘Let’s go through the candidates and see who we’re going to bring back for a second interview,’ he said, wanting to shift back onto safe ground.
On three of the final candidates, they were agreed; on the fourth, there was no way he could explain why he didn’t want her without dragging up too much of the past.
Just as they finished, Jordan’s PA knocked on the door. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mr Blake. I’m afraid it’s a matter that can’t wait,’ she said to Harry.
‘Go,’ Jordan said. ‘You too, Gina. I know you’re both up to your eyes. I’ll do the debriefs,’ he said.
‘Are you sure?’ Harry asked.
‘Absolutely.’ It meant he’d get a word with her on his own—and then maybe he could find out what she was really up to.
As soon as his colleagues had gone, Jordan spoke to the candidates in the order he’d seen them. He commiserated with the ones who didn’t get through to second interview and explained why, so they could work on their skills for the future; and he gave a briefing pack to the three candidates who’d got through to the next round.
And finally it was time to face Alexandra.
All the candidates had been seen in order. Most had come out looking dejected; three had come out looking pleased. And, as the last one to be interviewed, Alexandra was the last one to be debriefed.
She had thought about leaving quietly, so she didn’t have to see the expression in Jordan’s eyes when he told her that she was rejected. But that would be the coward’s way out, and she wasn’t a coward. Plus the debriefing was going to be useful for her next interview. Even so, her nerves were strung so tightly that she stumbled as she walked through the door.
‘Ms …’ He paused, looking her up and down. ‘Bennett.’
Then she realised that Jordan was on his own. Oh, no.
This was going to be really bad. He wouldn’t have to hide the fact that he was gloating when he told her that she hadn’t got the job.
Well, they did say that attack was the best form of defence. She lifted her chin. ‘You could’ve just sent a message via the agency that I didn’t get the job. You didn’t need to bother telling me personally.’
‘Actually, you made the list for second interview.’ He handed her an envelope. ‘And this is the briefing pack for the situation we want you to think about and discuss with us tomorrow.’
It was so unexpected that it silenced her. He was actually giving her a chance?
Then, when he spoke again, she wished she’d just said thank you and made a run for it.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today,’ he said coolly.
‘I had no idea you worked here.’ Much less that he was the CEO.
He scoffed. ‘Come off it. You know exactly who my family are.’
She frowned. ‘No. All I knew was that they were posh.’ In a different league from her own family. The ground floor of their entire house could’ve fitted into the Smiths’ living room.
He didn’t look as if he believed her. ‘Let me refresh your memory. My great-grandfather started the store,’ he said. ‘My grandfather took over from him. And then my father.’
So it was his family business. ‘And now you’re the CEO. Following in their footsteps.’ That much she could work out for herself. ‘But it doesn’t quite add up. Since it’s a family business, why isn’t your surname Field?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s my middle name. My father refused to change his surname when he married my mother.’
Oh. So the store belonged to his mother’s family. With a heritage like that, no wonder Vanessa Smith had been so confident. And maybe she could understand now why Vanessa had made that accusation when Alexandra had gone to her for help—an accusation that even now made a red mist swirl in front of Alexandra’s eyes because it had been so unfair and so unjust.
Jordan looked at her. ‘Speaking of names, I notice you’ve changed yours.’
Was that a roundabout way of asking her if she was married? Under employment law, he couldn’t ask her; marital status was nothing to do with someone’s performance in their job. On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt if he thought she was still married. Just in case he was under the very mistaken impression that she wanted anything from him other than this job. ‘It’s my married name.’ And she’d kept it after the divorce.
‘Even your first name’s different,’ he mused. ‘I knew you as Alex.’
When she’d been a very different person. Naïve, believing that she’d been lucky enough to find her soul mate at the age of seventeen. Except she’d kissed her handsome prince and he’d turned into a slimy toad. She shrugged, affecting a cool she definitely didn’t feel—even thinking about kissing when Jordan Smith was sitting right in front of her was a mistake. ‘Xandra is a perfectly valid diminutive of Alexandra,’ she said crisply.
‘Very “marketing”.’
Which was what her tutor had told her when she’d started doing the evening class. Look the part, sound the part, act the part, and you’ll get the part. She’d followed that to the letter. ‘Is that a problem?’
‘No.’ He paused. ‘I told Harry and Gina I knew you.’
Knew her. Yeah. He’d known her, all right. In the Biblical sense. ‘Didn’t that put me out of the running?’
‘They liked you.’
And he’d made it very clear that he didn’t. Definitely guilt talking, she thought.
Meeting his gaze was a huge mistake. The man had proved to her years ago that he had no integrity where personal relationships were concerned. He’d abandoned her when she’d needed him most, let her down in the worst possible way. How could she possibly still find him in the slightest bit attractive? She reined her thoughts back in.
‘If Field’s were to offer you the job, would you take it?’
If that was his idea of an apology, Alexandra thought, it was much too little and much too late.
Then again, this was a real opportunity: to be the marketing manager of a traditional, well established department store, with a brief to bring it bang up to date. If she was offered the job, it’d be a real plus on her CV. If she turned it down just to spite him, she’d really be doing herself a disservice. ‘I’d consider it,’ she said.
‘The job would mean working with me.’
‘Is that a problem for you?’
He looked straight at her. ‘Not if it’s not a problem for you.’
In other words, it could work if they didn’t talk about what had happened ten years ago. Could she do that, for the sake of her career?
She took a deep breath. ‘That depends on what you offer me.’
Pretty much what she’d said to his mother.
Alexandra might look different and have a different name, but deep down she was still the same person. Still on the make. Jordan had to fight not to scowl at her and to keep his voice even. ‘That depends,’ he said, ‘on what you can offer us. We’ll see you here tomorrow at three.’
‘I’ll be here,’ she said.
Yeah. And he’d just have to hope that this time she managed to show her true colours and put Harry and Gina off.

CHAPTER TWO
‘SHE’S the one,’ Harry said the following afternoon, when Alexandra left the room after her second interview. ‘No question about it.’
‘I really like her ideas for taking the store card to a new level, especially combining it with an app so customers can have instant access to all their account information wherever they are,’ Gina added. ‘And her presentation was flawless as well as enthusiastic. You’d never believe she only got the brief yesterday. She’s going to be a real asset to Field’s. The Board’s going to love her.’
Jordan couldn’t think of a single argument to change their minds. Mainly because they were right. Much as he hated to admit it, she was the best person for the job.
Maybe that huge ambition of hers could be harnessed to work in their favour.
Maybe.
Well, he’d never been a coward. He’d always stepped up to the mark, always shouldered his responsibilities. That wasn’t going to change now. ‘Let’s call her in and give her the good news.’
The serious look on Jordan’s face confirmed Alexandra’s gut reaction. She hadn’t got the job. Given that he was on the interview panel, that wasn’t so surprising. Hopefully the debrief would tell her where she’d gone wrong; though she had a feeling that the real reason for her rejection lay ten years in the past.
What an idiot she’d been, putting herself in a position where he could reject her for a second time.
‘Ms Bennett. Do sit down.’
She thought about defying him and remaining on her feet; but she was very glad she had taken the seat when he added, ‘Welcome to the team.’
She’d got the job?
It surprised her so much that she was actually lost for words.
But her silence didn’t seem to faze him. He continued, ‘Mr Blake will sort out the details with you—when you’re able to start, setting up an induction day so you can meet the rest of the team, sorting out your security for the store and the computer network.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you have any questions?’ Harry asked.
‘At the moment, only one.’ She paused. ‘Is the culture here always this formal? I’m more used to working on first-name terms.’
Jordan looked at her. So she was going to start challenging him already?
OK. He’d let her think she’d won this one, because it really wasn’t an issue. ‘No, it’s not. Everyone here calls me Jordan.’
‘Jordan,’ she repeated.
It was the first time he’d heard her say his name in a decade, and he felt the colour rise through his face because he could remember a completely different tone to her voice, back then. When she’d cried out his name as she’d climaxed.
What an idiot he’d been. Not an issue, indeed; suddenly she’d made it one. And she hadn’t just won this round, she’d completely flattened him. He needed to get out of here before he said something stupid. He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I need to be somewhere. Excuse me. Thank you for your time, Ms B—Xandra.’ He deliberately didn’t meet her gaze and turned instead to the personnel manager. ‘Harry, would you mind debriefing the other candidates?’
‘Sure.’
Jordan walked out of the room without looking at her; when he reached his office he sank into his chair and closed his eyes. How the hell was he going to cope with having her back in his life?
Lots of cold showers, he answered his own question. And he’d better hope that the icy water would wake up his common sense. Because this particular woman was absolutely off limits, whatever his body might like to think.
A week later, Alexandra walked into Field’s.
From today, this was hers. And she was going to take it from being a quiet, slightly old-fashioned department store to one that was buzzing. One that hit the news for all the right reasons. One that could deliver cutting-edge products, yet back them up with solid tradition.
And she could hardly wait.
She smiled as she swiped her store ID card through the slot by the staff entrance door, and stepped through.
Harry was there to meet her and introduced her to all the office staff, then took her round to meet the manager of each department. Jordan was conspicuous by his absence. She wasn’t sure whether to be more relieved or cross; was he deliberately avoiding her? Well, he’d have to face her eventually, and she’d make sure that he didn’t have a single thing to complain about. She was going to make a real success of this job.
A couple of days later, Jordan was doing his daily walkabout through the store—not so much checking up on his staff as making sure that he was visible rather than a faceless boss, and so he could see for himself if there were any issues that needed tackling or where his staff needed more support.
His body prickled with awareness and he glanced round. Alexandra—he still couldn’t think of her as Xandra—was there, talking animatedly to the staff on one of the perfume counters. She was wearing another beautifully cut business suit that emphasised her curves and those high, high heels that made her legs look even longer.
As if she sensed him watching her, she glanced up and caught his gaze. She gave him a shy smile, and for a moment he was transported back to being nineteen years old, catching her gaze across a crowded party. She’d smiled like that at him back then, her brown eyes huge and slightly wary behind her spectacles.
And then she’d reeled him in. Hook, line and sinker.
He had to remember that. The shyness had been just an act, and she’d fooled him.
Though he was a fast learner. Nobody fooled him twice.
He gave her a cool, formal nod and turned away.
By the end of the week, Alexandra was absolutely certain that Jordan was avoiding her. He never seemed to visit the staff canteen—or, at least, not when she did; he hadn’t dropped in to see how his newest manager was coping in the role, delegating that task to Harry; and he hadn’t acknowledged her once on his daily walkabouts in the store, even though she knew damn well he’d seen her talking to customers and staff and setting up the customer audits.
Worse still, even when her back had been to him, her body seemed to have developed some kind of radar system that told her exactly where he was. And it was infuriating that she was still so aware of him.
If she was honest with herself, she knew the old attraction between them had never really gone away. But she’d just have to ignore it, because she didn’t repeat her mistakes. Apart from the fact that Jordan Smith had been the second-biggest mistake of her life, her marriage had taught her just how rubbish her judgement was when it came to men. As far as she was concerned, from now on, she was married to her career. At least her career wasn’t going to let her down or try to control her or make her feel bad about herself.
Though Jordan was the CEO here, and she was planning to make quite a few changes. Which meant that they were going to have to work together. They’d need to discuss her plans. Since he clearly wasn’t going to make the first move and establish a decent working relationship between them, then she was going to have to be the one to do it. ‘Stubborn, annoying, ridiculous man,’ she muttered, and printed out the report she’d been working on.
It was late enough on a Friday evening for the rest of the office staff to have gone home, but she knew that Jordan would be working late. He put in a crazy number of hours—a work schedule that would strain just about any marriage to creaking point. Which wasn’t her problem; she wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in whether Jordan Smith was married and how happy he was. But his working habits did mean that she’d be able to talk to him this evening without anyone else being able to overhear.
Just in case it got awkward.
She walked down to the far end of the corridor—had he deliberately made sure that her office was as far away as possible from his? she wondered—and looked through the open door. He was seated at his desk, working at his computer. She’d never seen him wearing glasses before, and it made her catch her breath; right now he looked incredibly clever and incredibly sexy.
But she had to remember that she couldn’t trust him as far as she could roll a ten-ton boulder up a slope.
OK, as a boss he seemed reasonable enough, and everyone she’d talked to in the department store had spontaneously mentioned what a nice guy he was and how he really cared about the staff; but when it came to personal stuff she knew he wasn’t in the slightest bit reasonable or reliable. She had the physical scars to remind her. Scars that only a surgeon would see, but they were most definitely there. The physical ache had gone, but the emotional ache was something she’d learned to live with over the years.
She rapped on the door jamb.
He looked up, and his eyes widened in surprise. ‘Is there something you need?’
‘I just thought you might like to know what I’ve been working on for the last week.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t believe in micromanagement. I know my managers are perfectly capable of doing their jobs.’
Ha. Considering he clearly hadn’t wanted to give her the job in the first place, that was rich. ‘Well, I’m telling you anyway, because I believe in good communications.’ Neatly pointing out his own failings in that area, without actually saying the words. ‘This is the stuff about the social media. It’s a quick win and a small budget.’ She walked over to his desk and handed him the report.
‘You could’ve emailed this to me. Or given it to my PA.’
‘So I could.’ He wasn’t even going to try meeting her halfway, was he? ‘I’ll remember that in future.’ She gave him a cool smile and walked away.
Jordan almost called her back. Almost. But, until he’d managed to inure himself against those beautiful brown eyes, he needed to keep some distance between them.
Even so, instead of putting her report in his in-tray for later, he read through it.
There was a concise summary at the beginning, then each section had figures to back up her recommendations. She was definitely as bright as he remembered. And she was a team player: she’d acknowledged the input of every member of staff from the shop floor who’d made a suggestion. She’d suggested who would be good at hosting each of the community forums she’d recommended, and why. All the store’s departments were included: home, garden, fashion, beauty, kitchen, technology, sport. She wanted sections on the website for articles giving ‘how to’ advice on everything from choosing lighting in a room or the right pillow for you through to make-up demonstrations and fashion tips, and she already had people in mind to write them or be filmed in action for a demonstration.
In one short week, she’d managed to spot the strengths of the team, and reinforce them. It was exactly as Harry and Gina had said: she’d be a real asset to the firm.
So why did he feel so antsy around her?
Not wanting to answer that question, he typed her a swift email instead. Headed ‘Social media’.
I’ll talk to the Board next week and recommend that they agree your plans. JS.
Nicely formal.
And now he could go back to what he’d been doing before she’d torpedoed his concentration.
Easier said than done, Jordan thought wryly the following day, when he saw Alexandra balanced precariously on the top of a ladder in the toy department. She was standing on tiptoe, for pity’s sake. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.
‘Putting up a banner in the department to publicise the first story-time session, next week,’ Alexandra said. ‘What does it look like?’
‘Dangerous, with a flagrant disregard for health and safety. You could hurt yourself, as well as customers or colleagues. Why didn’t you ask Bill—or anyone taller than you, for that matter—to do it?’
‘Bill was busy, and I wanted the banner up as soon as possible. The kids have worked hard on this.’
‘Kids?’ Jordan wasn’t following.
‘My friend Meggie’s Year Two class.’
Meggie? He narrowed his eyes. He remembered Meggie. Alexandra’s best friend. Ten years ago, she’d had great pleasure in telling him that Alexandra was married to someone who would treat her properly, and he could go and take a running jump. Or words to that effect. ‘I see,’ he said crisply.
But he noticed that the banner was composed of the words ‘story time here Monday 10 a.m.’, with each letter carefully cut out, painted and glued to the banner. And all around them were glued drawings of book covers, clearly the children’s favourite books. The children had obviously worked really hard to make the banner bright and colourful. To make it special, for Alexandra.
Year Two. The children in the class would all be aged seven. If things had been different, he and Alexandra might’ve had a child of their own in that class, as well as another in Year Five …
The thought made him snap at her. ‘Will you get down from there before you fall?’
‘I won’t fall.’
In a suit and high heels? He wasn’t going to take the risk. ‘Get down,’ he said again. ‘I’ll put the damn thing up for you.’
For a moment, he thought she was going to defy him, but then she shrugged. ‘Fine. Thank you.’
He had to take his eyes off her legs as she descended from the ladder, carefully holding the banner.
Then she handed him one end. He’d just finished fixing it to the ceiling when he glanced down at her, and realised that she had a camera in her hands. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking shots for social media. To show that our CEO isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.’
‘You’re photographing me?’
‘I’ll let you vet the pictures, first.’ She gave him a wicked grin. ‘Maybe.’
Infuriating woman. He was about to say something cutting, when she asked, ‘Would you mind putting the other end up for me, too, please, as you’re here?’
After the fuss he’d made about her being up the ladder, he could hardly say no. He gave her a speaking look, but did so.
‘My hero,’ she purred.
‘Don’t push it,’ he warned.
She just batted her eyelashes at him. And it made him want to grab her shoulders and …
Kiss her.
Shake her, he corrected himself. ‘Don’t take unnecessary risks again,’ he said when he got down from the ladder.
‘No, sir.’ She gave him a smart salute.
He resisted the provocation, just, and stomped back to his office.
Later, his email pinged. The message contained a picture of him up the ladder, and a note from her.
Using this one. If I don’t hear back within the hour, will assume OK.

He went straight to her office. ‘How exactly are you intending to use that photograph?’
‘Here.’ She flicked into a screen on her computer and indicated the monitor so he could see the web page.
‘What if I said no?’
‘Let me see. This shows you as hands-on. All the mums are going to go weak at the knees and want to be here in case you walk by. All the grandmothers are going to think of their own sons and warm to you. The grandfathers will do the same, and the dads will see themselves in your shoes. So you’re generating customer warmth. Plus you’re creating links with the local community, as a local school worked on the banner—using material that Field’s supplied. Now, why would you say no to that kind of PR?’
He didn’t have an answer to that, because he knew she was right. ‘Just stay inside health and safety guidelines in future,’ he muttered.
She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not planning to have an accident and sue Field’s or anything like that. I’m part of the team here. And I like being hands on.’
Hands on. He wished she hadn’t used that phrase. He could still remember the feel of her hands against his skin. ‘Whatever,’ he said, annoyed by the fact that she could still unsettle him like that. ‘If you’ll excuse me. I have things that need sorting.’ And he left her office before he did or said anything really rash.
On Monday morning, Jordan headed for the toy department. It was the first of their story-time sessions, and Alexandra had managed to get a minor children’s TV presenter in to do the first one.
Except it seemed that the presenter had gone down with tonsillitis and wasn’t able to appear. And Alexandra had stepped into the breach.
Jordan stood on the sidelines, watching her. She was sitting on a bean bag, with the children gathered round her and the mums sitting on chairs that looked as if they came from the staff canteen—no doubt she’d asked very nicely, with those huge eyes and the sweetest smile, and charmed the catering manager into helping. She was reading a rhyming story for the younger ones; some of them were clearly familiar with it, because she got them to join in on the chorus sections. She had a gorgeous voice, he thought, and he wasn’t surprised that all the children were hanging onto every single word.
And then he found himself imagining her with their child. If she hadn’t had the termination, would she have sat curled on the sofa with their toddler on her lap, pointing out the pictures and the words, gently teaching their little one to recognise letters?
Their child would’ve been ten, now. Nearly ready for high school. Would they have had a boy or a girl? And would they have had more children? A boy with his own dark hair and blue eyes, a girl with Alexandra’s huge brown eyes and sunny smile …
Jordan was cross with himself for even thinking about it. It was pointless dwelling on what might have been, because you couldn’t change the past. And right now children weren’t part of his future in any case.
Quietly, without catching her eye, Jordan moved away. Alexandra was doing just fine on her own; she didn’t need any support from him. And he wasn’t going to crowd her.
Though he did return right at the end, just as Alexandra was finishing the story, with a camera.
She glanced up at him and for a moment he could see laughter in her eyes; she clearly recognised this as a bit of tit-for-tat. And he took more photographs of the line of children thanking her for the story and the queue of mums at the tills with books under their arms, before sliding the camera back into his jacket pocket and starting to stack the chairs.
‘I saw that camera, you know,’ she said, joining him in the chair-stacking.
‘My marketing manager is very keen on social media and taking every photo opportunity we can,’ he said.
‘Good man. You’re learning.’ She patted his arm. ‘Though I’m afraid we’ll need to get all the mums to sign a release form before we can use those pics.’
Just as well there was a jacket sleeve and a shirt sleeve between his skin and hers. As it was, his skin was tingling where she’d touched him. How could she affect him like that, when he knew what he did about her?
He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t think anyone missed the TV presenter. You did a good job.’
‘Thank you. I’m getting the staff to do a rota; they’re all going to read their favourite stories.’ She smiled. ‘It’s lovely that everyone in the store wants to get involved, whether they’re from the shop floor or behind the scenes. Maureen from the canteen’s even coming in on her day off to read her granddaughter’s favourite story.’
‘Was that a hint that you’re expecting me to read a story?’ he asked.
‘Could be.’
She smiled again, and he noticed the dimple in her cheek. Cute. How had he forgotten that? And it really made him want to touch it. Touch her. Dip his head and brush his mouth against hers. Kiss her until they were both dizzy.
‘Jordan?’
‘Uh—sorry.’ He felt the colour rise in his cheeks. She’d just caught him staring at her like a fool. ‘You know me. Mind always on the next project.’
‘I said, it might be a hint. If you want to read a story for the kids, that is. If you’re not too busy.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ Again, he found his thoughts coming back to the baby. Did she ever think about their baby? Did she ever regret what she’d done? Did she ever wonder what it might’ve been like, making a family with him?
And just what was wrong with him, suddenly thinking about having a family? Since the break-up of his marriage, he’d pushed all that sort of thing to the back of his mind and concentrated on making Field’s the best department store he could.
‘What made you think about having story time sessions?’ he asked. ‘Did your parents used to read to you a lot, or something?’
She shook her head. ‘It was Miss Shields, my primary school teacher. She used to read a few pages to us just before we went home. And she took me off the official school reading scheme and lent me books that I enjoyed a lot more.’
He should’ve guessed it hadn’t been her parents to encourage her love of reading. She’d told him once that she was the first person in her family to stay on for A-levels, let alone think about going to university.
‘How about you? Did your parents read to you?’ she asked.
‘I had a story every night.’ From his nanny. His parents had been busy at work; they hadn’t had the time to read to him.
‘And you read to your own children?’
‘I don’t have children.’ Except the one he hadn’t known about—the one who hadn’t even been born. He knew he shouldn’t ask, because he really didn’t want to hear the answer, but he couldn’t help the question. ‘You were pretty good at that. I assume you read to yours?’
For just a second, he could’ve sworn that she flinched. And she turned away as she said, ‘I read to my godchildren. Meggie’s two.’
So she still didn’t have children. Then again, pregnancy would make her face up to what she’d done when she was eighteen. And he was beginning to think that maybe Alexandra was a bit less hard-boiled than he’d believed her to be. How did she feel about the prospect of starting a new family, knowing that she’d deliberately chosen not to have a family before?
‘Excuse me. I’m sure you’re busy and I need to get some things sorted here. Thanks for your help in stacking the chairs.’ And then she fled.

CHAPTER THREE
BUT Jordan couldn’t stop thinking about it all evening. Thinking about her. Alexandra still didn’t have children. Why? Was it the guilt about what she’d done to his baby stopping her, or had her husband not wanted children anyway?
Her husband.
The words dropped into his thoughts like a clanging bell. Alexandra was married. Jordan didn’t believe in cheating. And, even if she hadn’t been married, she worked with him. How many times had he seen an office romance end in tears? And then there was the kicker: been there, done that and she’d destroyed his trust. Never again.
No, what he needed to do now was to establish a working relationship with her; maybe then he could move on and leave the demons of the past behind, locked away where they belonged.
On Tuesday night, Jordan was working late as usual. He went to make himself a cup of coffee in the staff kitchen, and noticed the light shining through Alexandra’s open door at the far end of the corridor. She was working late again, too. Now he thought about it, she’d worked late every night since she’d started. Was she trying to prove herself to him? Or was she struggling with her workload, unable to cope with the demands of the job?
He walked down the corridor, knocked on her open door and leaned against the door jamb. ‘Won’t Mr Bennett have something to say about you working this late every night?’
She looked up and simply shrugged.
She was so ambitious that she’d put her job before her marriage? he thought, stunned.
Then she gave him a cool look. ‘Won’t Mrs Smith have something to say about you working this late?’
‘Touché.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Actually, I didn’t come in to fight with you, just to say that I was making coffee and to ask if you wanted a mug, too. And, for the record, I don’t expect my staff to work the same hours as I do.’
‘I’m fine. I’m just settling in and enjoying the challenges of my new job.’ But she returned his smile, her expression softening slightly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you just then.’ She glanced down at her left hand. The ring finger was defiantly bare. How hadn’t he noticed that before? ‘I guess I should tell you that there isn’t a Mr Bennett. Well, there is,’ she amended, ‘but he’s not married to me any more. I just kept his name.’
She was single?
For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
Oh, for pity’s sake. That wasn’t what this was meant to be about. He was simply trying to set up a decent working relationship between them. And maybe he should offer her the same honesty. ‘There isn’t a Mrs Smith, either,’ he admitted. ‘She went back to her maiden name after the divorce.’ And then she’d remarried.
‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.’
‘And you.’
It was the most civil they’d been towards each other since she’d walked back into his life, and Jordan was surprised at how good it felt.
The harsh overhead light showed that there were shadows under her eyes. He remembered her looking like that years ago, when she’d been studying too hard. ‘When was the last time you ate?’ he asked.
She blinked, looking surprised. ‘What?’
‘It’s nearly eight o’clock. You’ve been here for more than twelve hours. Did you actually have a lunch break today?’
‘Yes.’
Though the slight hesitation in her voice told him the truth. ‘It was a sandwich at your desk while you were working, wasn’t it?’
She spread her hands. ‘Busted. But there’s just not enough time for lunch. There’s so much I want to do.’
He knew that, from the wish list she’d emailed him. Pop-up shops, chosen by the consumer through an online poll; a Christmas bazaar showcasing local craftspeople, held in a marquee in the courtyard café; an events programme including demonstrations that would also be broadcast on the Internet; and a dozen more ideas, some of them completely off the wall but he had a feeling that she could make them work. No, she wasn’t struggling with her job. She was struggling with prioritising things—and only because she’d had so many good ideas. He’d be doing the same, in her shoes.
‘If you don’t pace yourself properly, you’ll burn out,’ he warned.
Her expression said very clearly, Right, as if you give a damn about that.
‘Actually, I do give a damn,’ he said. ‘We look after our staff at Field’s.’
‘Everyone I’ve spoken to is happy.’
That was completely out of left field. He blinked. ‘You asked my staff if they were happy?’
‘No, that wasn’t my brief. But I can tell they’re happy by the way they talk. They’re enthusiastic, they’re full of ideas, and they love the new staff suggestion scheme. You should see my inbox.’
‘Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner?’
‘Dinner?’
He pushed aside thoughts of damask tablecloths and the light from vanilla-scented candles glinting on antique silver cutlery. This was a working relationship; they weren’t picking up where they’d left off, before she’d vanished. Before the bombshells had dropped. ‘I have to eat. So do you. We might as well eat together while we discuss it.’
She shrugged. ‘I was going to stop in ten minutes anyway. I was going home to make myself an omelette.’
‘An omelette’s fine by me.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t remember inviting you back.’
He blew out a breath. ‘Sorry. That was pushy. How about a compromise?’ he asked. ‘There’s this trattoria just round the corner. It’s pretty basic, but the food’s excellent.’
She leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing even further as she stared at him. ‘You’re asking me out to dinner?’
‘A working dinner,’ he clarified. ‘To make up for the fact that I haven’t had a chance to spend any real time discussing your ideas with you.’
They both knew that wasn’t what he was really saying. He’d been avoiding her, and they were both well aware of the fact.
‘So you’ll listen to my ideas.’
‘And give you feedback. Yes.’
Her expression showed that she was considering it. Weighing up the pros and cons. So she was just as wary of him as he was of her, then. Guilt talking? he wondered.
‘OK,’ she said eventually.
‘How long will it take you to get ready?’
‘As long as it takes to back up my files and shut down the computer.’
Ha. Well, of course she wasn’t going to change, or retouch her make-up, or spritz herself with perfume. This wasn’t a date. It was simply discussing work while they ate. Multi-tasking.
‘Meet you back here in ten minutes?’ he suggested.
‘Sure.’
Ten minutes later, when he met her outside her office, he was pretty sure that she’d reapplied her lipstick, but he didn’t make a comment. He simply ushered her out of the store and down the side street to the little trattoria he’d discovered a couple of years before.
‘Red or white?’ he asked as the waiter arrived to take their drinks order.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. Though I would like some water as well, please. Still, with ice.’
He remembered her preferring white wine; her tastes might have changed over the years, but he decided to play safe and ordered a bottle of pinot grigio and a jug of water. ‘Thanks, Giorgio.’
‘Prego, Jordan.’ The waiter smiled back at him.
‘If the waiter’s on first-name terms with you, I assume you eat here a lot?’ she asked.
Jordan shrugged. ‘It’s convenient. And, actually, he’s the owner. His wife’s the cook.’
She gave him a sidelong look. ‘So you haven’t actually learned to cook, yet?’
He knew what she was referring to. The time he’d taken her back to his place when his parents had been out. He’d put some bread under the grill to toast—and then he’d started kissing her on the sofa and forgotten all about the toast until the smoke detector had started shrieking. He couldn’t remember how to turn the alarm off, so they’d had to flap a wet towel underneath it and open all the windows; even then, the house had reeked of burnt toast for a whole day afterwards.
‘It’s convenient,’ he repeated. After Lindsey had left him for someone who didn’t have workaholic tendencies, he’d discovered that he really didn’t enjoy cooking a meal for one, even if it was just shoving a ready meal in the microwave. He tended to eat at lunchtime in the staff canteen, then grabbed a sandwich at his desk in the evening; and on days when he didn’t have time for lunch, he grabbed a sandwich on the run and ate at the trattoria after work.
‘What do you recommend?’ she asked, glancing over the edge of the menu at him.
‘Pretty much everything on the menu. Though the lasagne’s particularly good,’ he said.
‘Lasagne it is, then. Thank you.’
He ordered the same for both of them when Giorgio returned with the wine and water. ‘Bread and olives?’ Giorgio asked.
He glanced at Alexandra. At her nod, he smiled. ‘Yes, please.’
If anyone had told Alexandra six months ago that she’d be having dinner with Jordan Smith, and enjoying it, she would’ve laughed. Really, really scornfully.
But Jordan was excellent company. Charming, with good manners. And she was actually having a good time.
Then she reached for another piece of the excellent bread at the same time as he did; when their fingers touched, her mouth went dry. Oh, hell. She could remember him touching her much more intimately, and it sent a shiver of pure lust through her.
She mumbled an apology and withdrew, waiting for him to tear off a piece of bread before she dared go anywhere near the bread basket again.
‘The bread’s good,’ she said, hoping to cover up the awkwardness—and hoping even more that he wouldn’t guess what she’d just been thinking about.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I did wonder if you’d stick to just the olives.’
‘Why?’ For a moment, she looked puzzled. ‘Oh. Because of the carbs.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘You’re obviously used to dating twig-like women who exist on a single lettuce leaf—and maybe a nibble of celery if it’s a special night out.’
‘I don’t date twig-like women.’ He couldn’t help the slight snap in his voice. It was none of her business who he dated.
‘Another elephant,’ she said softly. ‘At this rate, we’re going to have a whole herd.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘The elephant in the room. Screened off. Things we don’t talk about, things that are absolutely off limits. The past. Your marriage. Mine. The women you date who don’t eat.’ Her gaze held his. ‘Would you like to add any more to the herd?’
He really hadn’t expected this. ‘That’s very direct.’
‘I find it’s the easiest way. It cuts out the lies.’
Was she admitting that she was a liar? Or was she accusing him of being a liar? Right at that moment, he couldn’t tell. But he wasn’t the one who’d behaved badly. He wasn’t the one who didn’t even bother to say, ‘You’re dumped,’ but simply went incommunicado. Then, when he’d heard what his mother had to say about the situation and tried to find out what the hell was going on, Alexandra had simply vanished. He hadn’t been able to find her and drag the truth out of her.
‘By my reckoning,’ she continued, ‘that leaves us the weather, work or celebrity gossip as our next topic of conversation. Would you like to choose?’
There was the slightest, slightest glint of laughter in her eyes, and suddenly the tension in his spine drained away. ‘Work, I think,’ he said. ‘Before we have a fight.’
She inclined her head in recognition. ‘That’s direct, too.’
‘Yeah.’ He couldn’t bring himself to echo her words back at her. Because she was the one who’d told the lies; and they’d just tacitly agreed not to discuss it. He still wanted to know why—why hadn’t she told him about the baby? Had she ever loved him, or had his mother been right and she’d just seen him as a meal ticket for life? But he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to handle the answers to his questions; and anyway, whatever had happened in the past, right now he knew that Alexandra Bennett was going to be really good for Field’s. And his family business was the whole purpose of his life nowadays.
‘Tell me about your ideas,’ he said instead, then sat back and watched her blossom as she talked. As she expounded on her ideas her eyes shone and her face was completely animated. She clearly loved her job; this was her passion, the reason she got up in the mornings.
And then he wished that word hadn’t slipped into his head. Passion. He could remember her being passionate in bed with him, once she’d got past her shyness. Once she’d got past the embarrassment and awkwardness of her very first time, started to learn how she liked him to touch her, and what gave him the most pleasure when she touched him …
Oh, hell, he really needed to stop letting his thoughts run away with him like this.
‘So why did you pick marketing?’ he asked.
She blinked. ‘Sorry?’
‘I thought you were going to be a lecturer.’
‘That’s not relevant.’
And he’d hit a nerve, judging by the expression on her face. ‘OK. Ignore that. I just wondered what made you pick marketing as a career?’
She shrugged. ‘I was in a bit of a rut in my job. A friend who worked in HR persuaded me to let her practise on me and got me to do some tests. The results said that marketing would suit me as a career, so I found myself a job as a marketing assistant and started studying for my professional exams.’
Exams, he remembered from her CV, where she’d gained distinctions in every paper. And she’d done the whole lot in less than a year. ‘So was your friend right? Are you happy?’
‘Yes. And this job is a challenge. I’m glad I went for it.’ She paused. ‘Though I really didn’t know you were anything to do with Field’s.’
Her eyes were very clear; maybe she was telling the truth.
‘The agency put you in at the very last minute.’
‘I’d just signed up with them. I was looking to make my next career move,’ she explained. ‘They said there was the perfect job for me, except the application date had already passed. And then they said they’d see if they could do something about it.’ She spread her hands. ‘I really wasn’t expecting them to ring me and say I’d got an interview, so I didn’t bother doing any research on Field’s. When they said I had an hour and a half to get there, it was too late to do more than read the factsheet they sent me and then spend five minutes walking round the store before the interview.’
He couldn’t leave it. ‘If you’d known I was going to be doing the interview, would you have turned up?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I would’ve had to think very hard about it.’
‘But you came back for a second interview.’
‘Because I wanted the job. This sort of challenge doesn’t come up that often, and I realised it’d be pointless cutting off my nose to spite my face.’
He could appreciate that.
‘So why did you give me the job?’ she asked.
Even though he hadn’t wanted her back in his life? ‘Fair question,’ he acknowledged. ‘Because you were the best candidate. And you said it wouldn’t be a problem working with me.’
‘It won’t be.’
He wasn’t so sure. ‘This elephant in the corner thing isn’t going to work. We’re better off getting everything out of the way. We need to talk about what happened. And then we can move on and have a chance of a decent working relationship.’
Her face went white. ‘You want to talk about it here?’
She had a point. The trattoria was quiet, but not that quiet. ‘After we’ve eaten,’ he conceded. ‘Your place or mine?’
She shook her head. ‘Neutral territory. Isn’t there a park or something near here?’
‘On a March evening? We’ll freeze. Your place or mine?’ he repeated inexorably.
She sighed. ‘Yours.’
So she could walk out when it got too much for her? he thought cynically. ‘That’s settled, then.’
The lasagne was good. Probably the best she’d ever tasted. Except Alexandra was so nervous, she could barely swallow. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? Why had she had to make that stupid comment about him dating twig-like women? Why hadn’t she kept the conversation strictly to business and insisted on discussing marketing ideas for the department store?

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