Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Stop it! ‘Can I get a copy of that?’ I ask him, my voice shaky as I point to the schedule in his diary.
‘Sure.’ Jack looks at me, cocking his head a little to the side. ‘I’ll send a scan later today. I just need your e-mail.’
Biting down on my lip, I pull a business card from my bag and slide it across the table, trying not to think about the fact that I’ve just given him every contact detail he could need for me.
‘So we’re all on the same page?’ Colin asks, rising from his chair.
‘We’re on the same page,’ Jack confirms. I look across the table at him, reading between the lines. ‘Aren’t we?’ he asks, swallowing hard. ‘I know where I stand.’
He knows where he stands. I read his code message loud and clear. ‘Same page,’ I confirm on a gulp, feeling relief course through me as I silently thank him for not making this harder than it needs to be.
He nods knowingly, snapping his diary shut.
‘Great.’ Colin swipes up a huge art folder. ‘I just know you two are a match made in heaven.’ He breezes out of the bistro as I stare at his back in utter shock, and Jack coughs over his coffee.
He looks at me, his face expressionless. ‘A match made in heaven.’
I don’t allow myself to fall into the depths of his twinkly eyes. ‘Professionally, maybe,’ I say, getting my bag from the back of my chair, resisting the urge to point out that we can’t possibly be a match made in heaven . . . since he’s married. My stray thought turns my stomach as I unzip my slouchy leather bag to retrieve my purse.
Jack pulls his wallet from his inside pocket. ‘Put your money away. I’ll get this.’ He reaches over and halts my hand from going into my bag, and I jump so much my chair actually shoots back. Jack retracts his hand in shock. ‘Sorry; I didn’t mean to make you jump.’ He sounds sincere, and I feel utterly stupid. But his touch. Oh God, his touch.
‘Thank you for the coffee,’ I say, getting to my feet but keeping my eyes on the table.
‘No problem. Can I give you a lift anywhere?’
I actually laugh. ‘No, but thanks for the offer.’
‘What’s so funny?’ He stands, towering over me, and I get another onslaught of flashbacks as a result. He’s naked, looming over me, asking if I’m ready for him.
I squash my thoughts and take a deep breath. ‘Nothing.’ I hand my drawings to him while keeping my gaze far, far away from his. ‘Don’t forget these.’
Slowly, too slowly, his hand lifts and takes them from my grasp. ‘I promise to keep this strictly business, Annie,’ he tells me candidly.
‘Good.’ My voice is shaking terribly, adrenalin racing through my bloodstream and making my heart pump crazily. I can feel him staring at me, and as hard as I know it’s going to be, I tell myself I mustn’t ever look at him. At least not in the eye. I brush past him and pace out of the bistro, feeling his stare on my back the entire way. He might have promised to keep it business, but that doesn’t stop my entire being from responding to him like it does. And it doesn’t erase the memories, either.
When I get back to my studio I fire up my laptop, fetch a coffee and get on with submitting a planning application and e-mailing building control before sifting through piles of e-mails and cleaning up my inbox. I sip my coffee and jot down notes in my diary as I go, confirming a few potential client meetings. The weeks ahead are full-on, and I’m relieved. I need to keep busy.
As it approaches midnight my eyes are beginning to glaze over. I flag my final e-mail and guide the cursor to the top right-hand corner to shut my e-mail down, but the ping of a notification stops me and a new message icon appears in the bottom right-hand corner. My heartbeat dulls to an uncomfortable pulse as the sender’s name glows brightly at me:
jack.joseph@josephcontractors.co.uk
I move away from my laptop slowly, placing my mug on the desk and my hands in my lap, trying to psych myself up to open it. It’s just a damn e-mail, just words. I click the message open.
Annie,
Please find attached the schedule of works detailing the four phases of Colin’s project. Any questions, just shout. Richard and I have been over the revised drawings. He has a few questions. Are you available to meet him on site tomorrow to go over them?
Best,
Jack
CEO, Jack Joseph Contractors
I sit back in my chair, reading over his e-mail once more. It’s nearly midnight. I question what he’s doing working this late until I remind myself that I’m working too. His e-mail is formal. So formal. Just how it should be, so why is my heart thrumming nervously?