Page 16 of His Best Mistake

“I have a Stella Grant here to see you,” came the disembodied voice of the receptionist and instantly Jack froze.

Seriously?

What the hell?

If he’d been superstitious he’d have called her timing spooky, but he wasn’t. It was serendipitous, that was what it was, because, actually, now the opportunity had presented itself it occurred to him that it would be far better to conduct the conversation he wanted to have with her in person. After the way he’d treated her, she deserved that much. He’d broach it once they’d covered whatever she’d come to see him about, although why she was here, now, after all this time, he had no idea. She couldn’t be wanting a repeat performance, could she? No. That would be ridiculous. And very, very unwelcome.

“She doesn’t have an appointment,” the receptionist was saying. “I told her it was unlikely you’d be able to see her but I’m afraid she’s being very…insistent.”

“Thank you, Barbara,” said Jack, moderating his tone because none of this was Barbara’s fault. It was his, and therefore his to fix and it would be fine because here, now, he was in control. He wasn’t concerned about the effect that seeing Stella again might have on him. Weeks had passed. That crazy desire he’d felt for her had simply been a result of circumstances that had left him a million miles out of his comfort zone and way off kilter.

Here, in his office, he was on his own ground. Very much inside his comfort zone and firmly in charge. Solidly back in the realm of the fifty-one weeks. That thing stabbing away in the pit of his stomach wasn’t anticipation. Or excitement. It was nearly lunchtime and he was hungry – that was all. “Send her up.”

*

Stella used the ride up in the lift to steady her nerves. They’d first started fluttering when she stepped out of her front door this morning. On the nine thirty train to London they’d doubled. Now, at the prospect of seeing Jack again, they were flapping around her insides like giant monster butterflies.

Not that she was concerned she might not be able to control herself around him. Of course she would. There was no way he could be as attractive as she thought she remembered. No way at all. And even if he was, well, events had somewhat overtaken that. Once she’d achieved what she’d come here to do, she’d simply leave.

Nevertheless, it was all a bit of a mess, especially with the added complication of his sister. She felt as if she was on Jerry Springer or something. She could see the tagline now. ‘I got pregnant after a one-night stand with my ex-boyfriend’s ex-fiancée’s brother and I’m having the baby!’ It wasn’t a scenario she was exactly proud of, but it was what it was, and regret seemed a little obsolete.

As the lift slowed Stella pulled her shoulders back. She smoothed her skirt and tugged her jacket down, her fingers annoyingly shaky. She pressed her hand to her stomach and took a deep breath that she slowly released, and then the lift pinged. The doors opened with a soft swoosh and there he was, right there in front of her, looking so devastatingly gorgeous in a navy suit and open-necked white shirt that her mouth went dry and her heart sank, because, oh dear, he was just as attractive as she remembered. Possibly even more so.

“Stella,” he said with the hint of a smile, and maybe it was hormones, maybe it was her nervy state, but his voice seemed to slide right through her, filling her entire body with prickly heat. “How are you?”

Feverish, she thought dizzily, gazing at his mouth and instantly recalling the incredible things he could do with it before reality smacked her across the head and reminded her that, hello, this was not some romantic reunion.

“I’m fine,” she said, giving herself a mental shake and pulling herself together. “How are you?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

“Great.”

“Would you like to come with me?”

“Sure.”

He put a hand on the small of her back – which she didn’t feel one little bit – and led her down the luxuriously carpeted hall to his office, an office, which, she noted, was practically the size of her entire house. One whole wall was glass, and through it the panoramic view was staggering. From this high up, she could see London spread out to the south, the buildings sharp in the crisp light. The Houses of Parliament, the Eye, the bridges and the Thames winding through the city, glinting in the sunshine. If she worked here she’d never get anything done. She’d be too distracted by the ever-shifting view.

At the far end of his office was an enormous, beautifully curved desk, upon which stood a dozen monitors, in two tiers of six. She could only see their backs, but she’d seen the films, and she was willing to bet that the screens would be flashing and blinking with rapidly changing columns of numbers and graphs. Between there and here were two facing tan leather sofas with a modern low table in the middle.

“Coffee?” said Jack, and instantly her stomach churned, but she swallowed down the surge of nausea since it really wouldn’t do to throw up all over the thick cream carpet or the expensive furnishings. Instead she plastered a smi

le on her face. “No, thank you.”

“Water?”

“I’m fine.” What with the nerves as well she didn’t think she’d be able to keep anything down.

“Then, please, do take a seat.”

With a wave of a hand he indicated her to take one sofa and folded himself into the other. She took her time arranging herself, more time than was strictly necessary perhaps, but she needed to prepare.

“So. Stella,” he said, and she looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the impact of meeting his gaze. “Why are you here?”

“I didn’t have your home address.”

“I didn’t give it to you.”

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