Surprise Reunion with His Cinderella Page 3

  ‘What do you say, Jas?’

  ‘What do I say to what?’

  The line between her brows deepened and she caught the corner of her lip in her teeth just like she used to when she was on edge. It made his chest ache even as he shut the emotion down for what it was—ridiculously sentimental.

  ‘One week together. We can catch up, and then we can go our separate ways again.’

  ‘You can’t be serious?’

  He raised his hand palm up and shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not.’

  She continued to flounder, quiet and contemplative, and he forced himself to act as though he wasn’t perturbed in the slightest. Not even a bit.

  ‘After all, we always wanted to visit the Seychelles.’

  Her eyes glistened, and his skin prickled, his chest quick to tighten. Was she going to cry?

  He started to straighten, blinked once, and weak Jasmine was gone, replaced by a pale, stone-faced replica. He settled back once more. Better. This was better. This version he could cope with.

  ‘That was a long time ago, Freddie.’

  ‘Indeed. We’ve both grown up a lot since then...’ He let his eyes travel over her, memories heating up his body, tightening up his core. Her chest lifted under his appraisal, the pulse in her throat fluttering as her cheeks coloured. They still had it. The spark. It arced between them just as readily as it had back then. ‘It could even be quite...enjoyable.’

  ‘Enjoyable?’ She choked over it. Her eyes wild. Her laugh sudden. ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘No, I’m not crazy, Jas.’ He stared back at her, determined, hungry. ‘I’m a man used to taking the opportunities life throws my way.’

  ‘And you see me—this—as an opportunity?’

  ‘Definitely.’ His lips quirked. He wanted to laugh at her outright horror. Provoking her was something he could definitely enjoy. The potent mix of anger and lust had him feeling more alive than he had in years.

  And now that he was over his shock, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend the next seven days. A little reacquaintance, testing the chemistry that so obviously still fizzed and pulsed between them...

  ‘Seven days getting to know one another again, each other’s likes, dislikes...’

  He let the suggestion hang in the air, ran his index finger beneath his lip and watched her eyes flit to the move, the heat so obvious in their depths. She was shaking her head, but the rest of her...

  ‘You can’t seriously hope to just pick up where we left off?’ She lifted a hand to the gold locket she wore, clutched it to her chest. ‘We were practically kids, Freddie, kids with naïve expectations of how life could be.’

  ‘True. And now we’re adults. Our eyes wide open to the wonders of the world and its harsh reality. In all honesty, I have no time or need for a relationship. Pleasure, on the other hand...’

  Her sucked-in breath made him want to laugh all the more, laugh and kill off the rising heat deep within his gut. He was playing with fire and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be the one burned. That was if she didn’t take flight first...

  ‘We hired M to find us a love match, Freddie, a relationship! You paid for that. Not for a week of...of...’ She gesticulated, looking so deliciously flustered he had the urge to grab one flapping hand and tug her onto his lap, to seal her parted lips with his.

  Would she still taste the same?

  ‘Sex, Jas. You can say it.’

  She clamped her mouth shut, clutched the locket tighter. He wondered whether it housed a photo. And if so, whose...?

  ‘May I remind you...’ he lifted his eyes back to hers, halting his thoughts, which were getting too personal ‘...you also paid for a love match.’

  Her nose flared with her breath. ‘Only because my friends wouldn’t leave me well alone.’

  Now he laughed, until it hit him that her confession relieved him far too much. ‘In that case, it’s definitely a win-win.’

  She pressed her lips together and her eyes started to dance. Her shock and panic were dissipating, replaced with something that looked far more like amusement. ‘You really are serious?’

  ‘Always.’

  Her lips started to curve up, her head shake became softer, one of wonder and possibility.

  ‘And let’s be honest, Jas, the way I see it, M hasn’t really failed. Seems Madison Morgan is actually rather skilled.’

  ‘But don’t you want to see who else she has out there for you? Don’t you—?’

  ‘What I want...’ He grimaced as her eyes widened and he realised his exasperation at life, his parents and their expectations had erupted with his interjection. He tried again. ‘What I want is a week away from my interfering family. A week to forget the world exists outside these islands. A week to forget our past and just have fun, enjoy ourselves.’

  He watched her frown ease, her hand lowering to her side as her eyes softened with what looked too much like compassion and he had to look away. He didn’t want to feel around her, not in that way. He’d handed her the reins to his heart long ago, and he wouldn’t do that again.

  ‘Let’s be clear,’ he stated, wanting to avoid any potential misunderstanding. ‘I had no intention of coming here for love, Jas. I was foolish enough to fall in love once and that was enough. This week was about putting my parents and their matchmaking schemes on the back burner for a while. Buying myself some time, so to speak.’

  Her throat bobbed, realisation dawning and dousing the flush to her skin. ‘Still so desperate to marry you off to a lady of status and means, are they?’

  There was a tease to her voice, her words, but he wasn’t blind to the fact she was trying to cover up a pain of old.

  ‘Won’t they always?’

  Her lips parted, her shoulders lifting as she went to say something and stopped, her body deflating with her breath .

  ‘What?’ She was quiet. Too quiet, and he wanted to know. ‘Jas?’

  Maybe, for all she claimed to have been coaxed into signing up to M, deep down she did want to find herself a man. And since he’d so clearly stated that man wasn’t him, he’d ultimately ruined her week.

  He hated that it had the power to hurt him. That ten years on she could get to him as easily as she had then. And yet he didn’t even know her now.

  Not quite true...

  He knew plenty from the internet. How she’d become a rising star in the world of tech. How her app had made her millions. How it had made her clients successful too. She was an industry icon with the kind of money that made M’s price tag a drop in the ocean.

  But money and power told him nothing of the woman beneath the accolades...and he wanted that knowledge. He wanted to get to know the woman she was now. And that need should have had him running, but instead he was pushing for more.

  So much for keeping away from the personal...

  ‘Unless, of course, you’d prefer I leave so that M can send you their next candidate?’

  ‘No.’ She came alive, dropping back into her seat and burying her head in her hands.

  She shook her head, her glossy red bob hypnotic in the light of the fire.

  ‘But this is crazy, surreal even. I mean...’ She raised her head, her eyes spearing him. ‘It’s you, Freddie! You!’

  ‘It is.’ His smooth voice belied the chaos within, the swarm of emotions that he couldn’t get a handle on.

  ‘I still can’t believe this is really happening.’

  He took a sip from his glass, waited until he knew his voice was steady. ‘You’d better believe it, Red.’

  Red.

  His nickname for her. He shouldn’t have used it. Shouldn’t have, but he’d done it anyway, the name flowing off his tongue as easily as breathing and causing the colour to creep into her cheeks, spreading beneath the freckles that he remembered so well. Freckles that covered her creamy skin, top to toe. W
ould there be more now?

  ‘Don’t,’ she breathed.

  ‘Don’t want?’

  ‘Don’t look at me like that.’ She reached for her drink, took a gulp.

  ‘Look at you like what?’ He feigned innocence but he could feel the hunger so blatant through his body that it was sure to be blazing in his eyes too.

  ‘Like...’ Another swallow. ‘Like you possess that X-ray vision you so often spoke of.’

  He chuckled, the sound so throaty and thick he hardly recognised it as his own.

  ‘If I remember rightly, you often wore the same expression...’

  Her eyes raked over his chest, their green depths dark and luscious and oh, so vivid as she appraised him.

  ‘You’re doing it now,’ he murmured.

  Her eyes collided with his. ‘I blame you.’

  ‘You hungry?’

  Her lips parted, her cheeks flushing all the more. ‘Freddie, I don’t think this is a good idea.’

  ‘Best not tell the chef...’ His eyes flitted to the right, to where a smiling Monique was approaching. ‘It would be a shame to tell Monique to turn around.’

  ‘To tell...’ She turned to follow his line of sight and instantly snapped back to him. ‘You could have said!’

  ‘I was having too much fun.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHE WAS TREADING a dangerous path. That much was obvious.

  But could she walk away from him now?

  No.

  She knew the risks of what she was agreeing to. A week with him, like this. And with that look in his eye, she knew that he would want more from her than she could safely give.

  Because he would never want her love, and she wasn’t convinced she could give in to the lust heating the very air they breathed without falling deep.

  But, then, who was to say she would love the man he was now? The man who still blamed her, hated her even, for what she’d done. The man who’d just declared he had no interest in love and labelled his younger self as foolish for having done so. This man’s blue eyes didn’t sparkle with easy teasing, or warm with love, or dance with happiness. There was an edge to his humour, a reservation to his remarks.

  No, this man looked and behaved much more like his father. Cold and severe.

  This man would hurt her as readily as he would take his first bite of the delicious meal being placed before them. She didn’t doubt it for a second, so why was she still sitting here like some willing lamb off to the slaughter?

  It was an impossible situation and as she eyed the exquisitely arranged dish and smiled up at Monique blankly, pretending to listen to what the woman was saying about the food, all she could really hear was the inner rant telling her to end it before it ended her. Extreme, but...

  ‘Thank you, Monique,’ Freddie said when Jasmine couldn’t manage a word. ‘This looks delicious.’

  His eyes flicked to her and she smiled wider. ‘Yes.’ Breathe! ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Bon appétit.’ Monique bowed her head and turned away, her muted footsteps loud in the sudden silence.

  He picked up his cutlery and tucked in. All the while she watched him, his hum of appreciation filling her ears as she appreciated him. The masculine cut to his jaw as he moved the food around, his clean-shaven skin enhancing the dimple in his right cheek, the bob to his throat as he swallowed...

  ‘You should try it,’ he encouraged, so calm, so in control. ‘It’s delicious.’

  She didn’t think she’d be able to swallow anything past the swell of desire persisting irrespective of her fears, determined to torment her. And then it hit her: the spark she always attributed to being young and naïve, the power and intensity of one’s first love—it wasn’t down to that at all. It was him. Freddie.

  He was the one who inspired those feelings in her, those feelings that no one else had come close to triggering. Not even Tim, her closest thing to an ex, and she’d almost married him.

  ‘I meant what I said, Jasmine. I want us to make the most of this week. We’re both cut off from the world and there’s something to be said for having that kind of privacy, don’t you agree?’

  She considered his words, considered the way she felt inside. Reawakened. Hot. Wanton. As for her heart... She swallowed. Ten years she’d been haunted by their break-up. She’d not only lost her best friend, she’d lost the love of her life. Now they had a chance to make new memories, happier ones. A seven-day reset on ten years of pain.

  She took up her glass, felt his eyes trace the movement as she sipped at her drink, forcing down the wedge in her throat, the panic and the thrill.

  ‘Yes.’ It was soft, barely audible. ‘I agree.’

  ‘So, let’s make a pact.’ He lifted his glass out to her, drawing her eyes to his, their magnetic sparkle sucking her in. Did it matter that it wasn’t the same kind of sparkle? That there was an edge she couldn’t dismiss? No. In fact, it helped keep this within the realms of reality, it would stop her getting carried away. ‘We lay the ghosts of the past to rest and at the end of this week we go our separate ways. We move on.’

  He made it sound so simple, but...

  ‘Okay.’ It caught in her throat, her tummy twisting in warning, but she smiled over it, gave a very definite nod.

  His grin was worth every second of discomfort. The haunted look of Freddie that fateful Boxing Day ten years ago, when she’d walked away from him on the doorstep, was replaced for a split second by Freddie now. Pleased. Satisfied. Wanting her.

  ‘You’re on.’ Smooth. Confident. Better. ‘One week to forget it all. One week to just be.’

  ‘Agreed.’ His jaw pulsed, his eyes flashed, and he raised his glass to her. ‘One week to just be.’

  She clinked her glass to his and lost herself further in the intensity of his gaze. She took a sip of the champagne that sealed the deal and his eyes trailed lower. Following the journey of the chilled liquid as it glided down her throat, settling somewhere amongst the dizzying dance kicking off down low.

  This was insane but she wasn’t about to stop it.

  For the first time in too long she was living for the now. Not for her business, not for her mum or her friends. Not even him.

  Just her.

  * * *

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  He was constantly noting what had changed, what was the same. Her accent had mellowed, much like his own, the curse of conversing with anyone outside Scotland, or even Edinburgh for that matter.

  Her oval face was sharper, her cheekbones more pronounced. He watched as she played with her food and wondered whether she ate properly at all. Did she look after herself? What had changed over the years to bring about such change?

  And the truth was, he didn’t just wonder, he worried.

  But he shouldn’t be worrying. He was here for a week with a beautiful woman, and she was that, no more...if he were to adhere to their pact and forget the past.

  M truly had outdone themselves. He’d given them a list as long as his arm, a challenge he’d never expected them to meet. And he certainly hadn’t expected them to throw his past back in his face.

  He was intrigued. What was it about Jasmine now that made her his ‘perfect match’ according to M?

  ‘Do you not like it?’ He gestured to her plate, to the barely touched prawn tartare and its equally delicious kiwi guacamole.

  Her eyes flittered to his, her cheeks flushing and making her eyes appear greener, brighter.

  ‘It’s lovely.’

  She covered her lips with her fingers, their dusty pink tips perfectly manicured, not bitten as they had been all those years ago. This Jasmine was more refined and yet still possessed the blushes and the edgy mannerisms of her youth.

  ‘I’m just...’ She frowned even as her lips curved up. ‘This whole thing...it’s crazy, unbelievable...’


  ‘You’re saying the shock of it has stolen your appetite?’

  ‘I’m saying I’m distracted by it.’ She picked up her glass of wine, a chilled Sémillon chosen to complement the dish, and smiled softly. ‘You have to admit, it’s a little surreal.’

  ‘You’ve said that already.’

  Her smile grew as she swallowed a considerable gulp. ‘And I’m still coming to terms with it.’

  ‘Well, let’s pick it apart.’

  She frowned. ‘Pick it apart?’

  ‘Yes, work out what we said to M to make us so perfect for one another.’

  He didn’t like saying ‘perfect’ out loud, it gave the idea merit, the idea of a relationship again merit...

  Never going to happen.

  ‘Okay,’ she drawled.

  ‘You start.’

  ‘Me?’ She arched those perfectly shaped brows at him—again, another change. He wondered how often she had her appearance tended to these days. She never used to be quite so careful with such things. ‘Why me?’

  ‘It’s polite to let the woman go first.’

  She laughed, the sound rippling through him with its familiarity, its authenticity. She was relaxing into this meal and he was glad of it, even as he felt his own defences lower.

  ‘I can’t even remember half the stuff I said to Madison now.’

  ‘No?’ It was his turn to arch his brows. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  She pursed her lips, the fire flickering gold in her green eyes and making him want to lean in closer. ‘You just want me to feed your ego.’

  ‘Ah...’ He cleared his throat as the sound caught, stuck by the lust he couldn’t dampen. ‘Guilty as charged. I indeed have an ego that likes the occasional stroking.’

  ‘Like it ever really needed it.’

  History passed between them again, a charged stillness where the air crackled and the years evaporated. They were young and easy again, teasing one another, having fun.

  Until they weren’t.