Mr One-Night Stand Page 16

It was time to stop behaving like a love-sick puppy.

  Love?

  Where the fuck had that come from?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A FULL TWO weeks had passed since the alley incident—since Marcus had promised he would leave her alone, and she’d confessed her desire for more and scared him off entirely.

  And the greater the distance he put between them, the greater was her need to have him back, to accept what little he was able to give—because the current situation was unbearable.

  The change in him drove her crazy. He communicated via email, even when a simple conversation would have been quicker and easier. When she forced him to talk he rarely looked her way. In the few meetings they attended together his attention was on everyone else.

  It wasn’t that he was rude. Not at all. He was businesslike, platonic—everything she’d asked for.

  And she hated it.

  Then there was her goal to split her time fifty-fifty. It was feasible, but her worry over letting go had had her upping her efforts to the point of exhaustion, convinced that putting in the extra time would ensure her handle on the company didn’t slip. Not for anything. Or anyone.

  As for her feelings—they would go with time. They had to.

  Planting her elbows on the desk, she massaged her temples and pushed through the mind fog, the emotional turmoil. She had work to get done. It was long past home-time and she was poring over financial projections that she should have finished reviewing hours ago. She squinted at the figures. The computer screen and her desk lamp offered the only light since the main office was dark and deserted.

  Half an hour later she was reviewing her feedback when her office was lit up, by light leaking in from the main office outside.

  Heart in her mouth, she glanced up.

  Who’d be here at this hour?

  Marcus.

  Her pulse took charge and did its thing, and her body tripped out at the mere sight of him. As much as she tried to force it down, it just kept on coming. The feeling of being ignored for the best part of a fortnight only served to intensify it all.

  Would he ignore her now, when he realised that she was still here? That she was the only one here?

  To her surprise, he didn’t head to his office—he strode straight for hers.

  Definitely not ignoring her, then...

  Slowly she got to her feet, readying herself for his proximity, searching for what to say and the numerous reasons he might be here.

  She walked to her door, reaching it at the same time as he did.

  His eyes raked over her, something close to anger sparking in their depths. What was wrong now?

  Cautious, she swung it open. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey, yourself,’ he said, his mouth returning to form a grim line.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I was about to ask you the same thing.’

  She brushed her hand over her hair. ‘I’ve yet to leave.’

  ‘Yeah, I got that much.’ He looked to the empty office and then to her desk, covered in various papers and several coffee cups. ‘You know, it’s not good to work this late.’

  ‘What can I say? I’m a workaholic.’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ He sounded beat, and his eyes returned to her with a frown. ‘It’s been every night for the last two weeks, though. It’s not sustainable.’

  ‘I have things to get done.’

  ‘Those “things” can wait until tomorrow.’

  ‘Not these.’

  ‘Christ, Jennifer.’ He thrust his hand through his hair. ‘What is this about? You can’t always work like this.’

  He was concerned for her wellbeing. It was obvious now. And it warmed her through, its effect as powerful as the desire she so missed. She liked it that he cared, regardless of whether it was wise or not.

  She gave a small smile. ‘I’m more used to it than you know.’

  ‘But you’ve done your father proud already. You don’t need to keep on pushing—’

  ‘This is not about my father,’ she interjected without thinking. A strange softening sensation curled its way in—he’d listened to her, really listened.

  ‘Then what is it?’

  He leant against the doorframe, his frown deepening, his presence dominating her vision and the scent of freshly applied aftershave filling the air. Suddenly she felt inadequate. Her hair was falling out of its bun, and her dress was crumpled from her sitting down for the best part of a day. God knew what she smelt like. And now he was asking why she was like this. Why?

  She bit into her bottom lip. Because of you! she wanted to scream. Because you can’t offer me more.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, pushing off the doorframe and closing the gap between them. ‘I’m worried it’s because you think you’re somehow giving up by leaving—’

  ‘I’m not leaving,’ she cut in. ‘I’ll be just as present from my desk up north.’

  ‘Okay.’ His eyes widened, his palms raised outwards. ‘I meant splitting your time between Yorkshire and here.’

  She crossed her arms around her middle, not liking the unease creeping in. ‘It’s doable.’

  ‘I agree—it is.’ He nodded. ‘But I worry you’re having trouble believing it.’

  ‘I believe it just fine,’ she said, shaking her head and feeling her hair falling across her face. She saw him move to touch it and backed away.

  ‘Sorry.’ He bowed his head, raising his hand to rub at the bridge of his nose instead, his stress permeating the air.

  Should she say something? Anything? Like, It’s okay?

  But it wasn’t.

  He took a long, drawn-out breath, lowering his hand as he lifted his gaze to her. ‘Then is it me?’

  She froze, her cheeks chilling, his accurate conclusion startling her. ‘I’ve always worked hard.’

  ‘I know.’ His eyes pierced her, their depths earnest, deep with concern. ‘But I feel like this is different, like I’m somehow to blame.’

  ‘Marcus, don’t flatter yourself,’ she blustered, raising her chin. ‘I’m working because I want to.’

  He looked as if he would argue further, and she spoke over him.

  ‘And the sooner you leave, the sooner I can finish and get off home.’

  ‘Have you at least eaten?’

  She blushed. She knew she didn’t look after herself, and him pointing out the obvious made her feel doubly foolish. ‘I’ll get something shortly. What about you? You look like you’re off out.’

  His eyes wavered. ‘I’m meeting up with an old friend.’

  ‘Old friend’ sounded like code for old flame.

  She itched to ask, and hated herself for it, turning away instead. ‘Well, don’t let me keep you.’

  He reached out for her arm, the warmth of his fingers permeating the thin fabric of her dress and she caught her breath, her eyes flicking questioningly to his.

  ‘Promise me, you’ll leave soon.’

  She’d had the ridiculous notion he was going to pull her into him, kiss her, anything but his concerned plea. Disappointment clogged up her throat, clipping at her words, ‘I’ll leave when I’m ready.’

  She pulled away and headed to the desk. The lack of movement behind her telling of his hesitation and she lifted a document, any document, throwing her focus into it.

  ‘Fair enough,’ he said eventually, his voice disturbingly raw. ‘I guess I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she murmured, her eyes fixed on the page of swimming grey, her ears attuned to his every sound.

  She listened to him walk away, not daring to turn, not wanting to watch him go, scared that the tears she didn’t want to shed would start to fall.

  * * *

  What the hell was he doing?

  Opposite him, his ex Zara was
discussing food with the waiter, her pregnancy making her extra-cautious with her choices, and he was using the time to berate his idiotic move.

  He should never have gone into the office—never asked that Colin drive by the building on the way to the restaurant. He just hadn’t been able to leave well alone.

  And yet he’d done everything she’d asked of him, fought every urge to see her to ensure he stood by his promise. His conscience should be clear. Even if it hurt...even if it felt wrong.

  But tonight he’d had the urge to check that she’d gone home. She was losing weight, the worry lines and dark shadows on her face ever-present, and it was pulling him apart inside. When he’d seen her light on he’d been determined to get her to leave.

  Only the main office had been deserted, just the two of them in the entire space, and his restraint had hung dangerously in the balance. And instead of doing what he’d intended he’d annoyed the hell out of her. Idiot.

  ‘Sir, what can I get you?’

  The waiter looked at him and he stared unseeingly at the menu, ordering his usual dish and passing the menu back. The idea of eating when Jennifer so clearly wouldn’t plagued him. He should send Colin with something. At least then he would know she’d eaten.

  Zara smiled at him, her cheeks glowing. Pregnancy clearly suited her. ‘So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’

  Hell, he didn’t know. He could hardly say he’d needed to get out but he didn’t do lads’ drinks and he couldn’t do dates. Not any more.

  ‘I had some time on my hands.’

  She laughed, her blonde hair bobbing, blue eyes twinkling. ‘You with time on your hands? Impossible.’

  He smiled. She was right there.

  ‘You look well.’

  ‘Is that you changing the subject?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Her smile grew, one hand dropping to stroke over her bump. ‘I am well,’ she said. ‘I never thought I was the maternal type. It’s funny what love can do to you.’

  Love. There was that word again.

  ‘I’m glad. You were always too good for me.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t think that was ever the case.’

  ‘No?’

  He didn’t believe her—not in the slightest. But he wasn’t the same man he’d been then. He could feel it. His concern for Jennifer told him as much.

  Bloody Jennifer—she needed to eat.

  ‘Hold that thought.’

  He took up his mobile and issued Colin with a text.

  Check she’s still at work. If she is, take her food. She won’t say no to you.

  She’d kill him. But he didn’t care.

  He placed his mobile back down and looked at Zara with fresh eyes. She was beautiful, she was clever, and they’d got along well. So how come she’d never got under his skin in the same way?

  ‘Why didn’t we work out?’

  Her eyes widened, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d never indulged in the personal—not when it came to conversation—not until Jennifer.

  ‘What? You mean besides the fact you always told me you didn’t want anything serious?’

  ‘Besides that.’

  She took a sip of water, her eyes assessing him. ‘You want the truth?’

  He nodded. ‘The whole ugly lot.’

  ‘I never felt like you were fully with me,’ she said softly, her gaze reminiscent. ‘Your mind was always on the next big project, your next acquisition, your next whatever. You couldn’t live in the moment and I couldn’t compete with it.’

  He let her words sink in, comparing them to how he felt when he was with Jennifer, how he wanted to draw out each and every moment, how she filled his mind whether he was with her or not...

  ‘It’s far easier to cope with you being distracted when we’re just friends.’

  His phone buzzed with a reply from Colin. He was on it.

  ‘Take now, for example.’ She gestured to his phone. ‘Another big project, by any chance?’

  He met her eyes, the answer sticking in his throat, and her brow furrowed with his hesitation. ‘It’s not, is it?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Well, I’ll be...’ she said, a grin breaking across her face with dawning realisation. ‘Someone’s managed to crack the great Marcus Wright.’

  Crack?

  It wasn’t a bad way to put it. He certainly felt as if someone had ripped him apart and put him back together all wrong. ‘It seems that way.’

  ‘Now, this I have to hear.’ Zara settled back into her seat, making herself nice and comfortable.

  ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re going to take some weird twisted delight in this?’

  ‘Not at all, Marcus,’ she said softly. ‘It’s high time you realised everyone deserves a piece of happiness—including you.’

  * * *

  As the outer office lit up again Jennifer’s heart leapt. When she saw Colin striding towards her, takeaway bag in hand, her tummy did a weird dance of disappointment and pleasure.

  Marcus had sent her food. He cared enough to make sure she ate.

  She beckoned Colin in and he opened the door.

  ‘From Mr Wright,’ he said, walking in and depositing the bag on the desk before her.

  ‘You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble,’ she said, but she opened the bag with glee, glancing inside. The smell of Chinese food wafted up to her and her tummy rumbled in excited protest. ‘It smells lovely.’

  ‘There’s a mixture—hopefully something you like.’ He shifted awkwardly on his feet. ‘I would have asked you first, but...’

  ‘But you knew I’d refuse?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Well, it’s just what I need. Thank you.’

  She expected him to turn and leave but he still stood there, doing that weird uncomfortable dance. ‘Is there something else?’

  ‘Aye, I’m to wait and give you a chance to eat,’ he said, moving to clasp his hands in front of him as he stilled. ‘Then I’m to take you home.’

  She coloured. Really? A bloody chaperone?

  But there was no use arguing. Not with Colin, at any rate.

  And, hell, the truth was Marcus was right. She did need to eat, and she did need to go home.

  It would just be easier to accept if she knew her unoccupied mind wouldn’t be filled with him.

  * * *

  It was late when he bade Zara goodnight. The evening had been good for him. In a way it had been good for her too. It had been like some weird closure for her to see him so wrapped up in someone.

  And he truly was wrapped up—in deep, over his head. Whatever way he looked at it he was falling for her. Hell, he already had.

  But what did he do with that? It was one thing to realise he was capable of love, to accept it was too late to shield himself. It was another to know what to do with it.

  Right from the outset he’d never stood a chance. The moment she’d come into his life his world had changed. And so had he. She’d opened his eyes to how his life could be if he let go of his past.

  But he was still scared. Scared of what would happen if he let those feelings take hold, risked it all to tell her and ask her to take a chance on him.

  The question plagued him. What if he lost her?

  The very idea winded him. Yes, he’d parked his past, but it had still moulded him, left ingrained in him the life lesson of love ripped away.

  How did he unlearn that?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!

  Jennifer stared at her mobile news feed, her coffee and toast forgotten, her freshly showered hair dripping over the reports she’d brought home after her impromptu Chinese takeaway the previous night. She ignored them now, the news taking all her attention.


  Despite their best efforts, their US competitor had beaten them to their product launch.

  Marcus was going to be pissed off. Hell, she was pissed off. Had she made the right call? Fuck, would he blame her?

  Leaving her breakfast untouched, she raced upstairs, pulled on a pair of trousers and a polo neck, plaited her hair and applied some gloss to her lips.

  That would have to do.

  Grabbing her mobile, she hit the stairs and issued a hurried text to Marcus.

  Work emergency. Need to talk asap.

  It was six a.m. He had to be up, right?

  If he didn’t reply by the time she got to the office then she’d ring him until he did. The situation was still salvageable. She knew it. She just needed him to know it too.

  * * *

  When she arrived the foyer was deserted, save for the security guard. She greeted him and took the lift to her floor. She knew someone was in because she’d seen the lights of the main office from outside.

  It had to be him. Who else would be in at this time?

  The usual rush had her pulse skipping and she breathed through it.

  It wouldn’t always be this hard—it couldn’t be...

  Exiting the lift, she looked towards his office. The lights were on behind his blinds.

  Definitely him, then.

  Her tummy somersaulted and she ignored it, shrugging off her coat and heading straight to her office. She dumped her belongings and immediately left for his.

  The noise of him moving around reached her. Her tummy was taking on the feats of an Olympic gymnast but she fought it.

  She rapped on his door and, swinging it open, strode straight in. ‘Marc—’

  The remainder of his name died on a gasp and her legs halted mid-stride, an instant fire making further somersaults in her stomach impossible. He was standing in the open doorway to his bathroom, his virtually naked rear glistening with an indecent strip of towel slung low about his waist...

  He started to turn towards her and she twirled on her heel, cheeks burning. ‘So sorry.’

  ‘Hey, easy,’ he said, his husky intonation teasing every rigid stretch of her body. ‘I think you’ve seen enough of me before not to get bashful all of a sudden.’