Page 4 of The Great British Bachelor Chase

I turn the old-fashioned key in the lock and let out a sigh of pleasure as I take in the small, charming space. My room is buried under the eaves, with a view over the countryside, and a clutter of quirky antique furniture to go with the mismatched floral bedspread. I flop down on the bed, and let out an almighty yawn…

RING.RING.

I lift my head, groggy, as the ringing sound echoes through my room. What the hell..?

The noise continues, until I realize it’s coming from the room phone. I fumble with the handset, still half-asleep.What time is it?

“Hello?” I mumble. It’s still light outside. Or did I just sleep through until tomorrow morning? Or is that, today?

“Miss Jameson?” a chirpy voice is on the other end. “This is your wakeup call. Anna says a cart will collect you in thirty minutes for the afternoon read-through.”

“Thank you,” I manage with a sigh of relief. I drop the handset, and sit up, rubbing my eyes. Apparently, I’ve just slept for the past two hours, but I feel like I’ve been dragged backwards through a hedge, as the English like to say.

And, according to the mirror, I look like it, too.

I find a Diet Coke in the minibar fridge, and guzzle it down, before grabbing my bath stuff and heading to the bathroom down the hall.

“Hello?” I call, politely tapping the door. There’s no reply, so I scoot inside, relieved to find it’s a renovated shower with gleaming marble and plenty of hot water. Soon, I’m under the jets, letting the water pummel my tired limbs and bring me back to life again before my first big work meeting.

I’ve got my work cut out for me; I can already tell. Reeve seems like he’s under pressure, and we haven’t even started the cameras rolling yet. But his script is beautiful, a real faithful adaptation of the book, and I like to think that my advice has had more than a little to do with that. I mean, the first time we talked, he wondered if we even needed all the Bennett sisters, or if a few of them could be combined! Not to mention his idea that Darcy and Wickham could have a dramatic duel, swords and all.

You can bet I set him straight on that soon enough.

I’m just stepping out of the shower, reaching for my towel, when suddenly, the bathroom door swings open.

I let out a shriek, stark naked and dripping wet in the middle of the room.

“Shit, sorry!” A looming, bearded man exclaims, as I dive for the nearest piece of fabric. Which happens to be a hand towel.Dammit. I clutch it to me anyway, and just about cover my breasts and crotch with the tiny square.

“What are you doing?” I yelp, realizing the towering stranger is still frozen there, getting an eyeful of, well, pretty much everything. “Get out!”

“Aye, of course.” He mumbles. “Sorry Jolene.”

The door slams behind him, and I grab my robe, belting it tightly around me—

Jolene.

I stop dead, my brain finally catching up with my eyes—and ears. The glimpse of a tall, broad-shouldered frame. Tawny hair. That familiar Scottish burr.

No way.

No fucking way.

But it is. The Hot Scot himself. Fraser MacKenzie.

The first—and only—man to break my heart.

2

JJ

I sink backagainst the vanity, my heart suddenly racing in my chest, every nerve in my body on fire.

It’s impossible,I tell myself desperately, trying to picture the random stranger ten years younger, and without the beard. I’m still half-asleep, I must be. Because out of all the country house hotels in all the world… The fates wouldn’t be so cruel as to send him walking into mine.

But I already know, they have.

Because that man? I’d know him anywhere. At twenty feet in a snowstorm, or in a pitch-black room. Already, I’m flooded with memories—the sound of his laugh, teasing and infectious… That dark spark of intention in his blue eyes, so tempting, it made my pulse kick… The way his smile would soften, brushing back my hair and reaching for me in the morning light…

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