Sheâd never felt so acutely conscious of a man before.
It was as if she had suddenly regressed to being a very young teenager again, hormones racing all out of control.
He was barring her way. âAre we going to call a truce, Charlotte?â
âA truce?â She looked up at him uncertainly.
âWell, we canât go on like this, can we?â
âI donât know what you mean.â
âI think you do. Iâm sorry about whatâs happened.â
She wondered which particular thing he was sorry aboutânotching her up on his bedpost or accusing her stepmother of fraud?
THERE was no excuse, it was probably one of the most stupid things she had ever done in her lifeâapart from getting involved with David of course, that went without saying, but this⦠Her thoughts trailed off. This was incomprehensible it was so stupid.
She turned her head slightly on the pillow and looked across to the other side of the bed. They had left the bedside lamp on last night, so she could see him quite clearlyâit hadnât been a dream, he was still there and fast asleep. Charlotte felt panic rising like a spring inside her, gushing like iced water through her veins. Jordan was her fatherâs business partner, for heavenâs sake; and more than that he was her boss. How could she have let this happen?
Her eyes drifted over his features; he looked different asleep, less formidably handsomeâ¦more vulnerable. It was an absurd thought; Jordan Lynch was anything but vulnerable; in fact he was one tough cookie, a dynamic businessman with a never-ending stream of glamorous girlfriends who just seemed to fall at his feet. Charlotte had watched them come and go and she had sworn she would never be one of his conquests. So what had happened? It wasnât even as if she could blame it on drinkâtwo glasses of sparkling water was hardly mind-altering.
She cast her mind back to yesterday. She remembered her eyes had connected with his through the glass partition of the office. And she remembered thinking that he had the sexiest eyes on earth, before hurriedly looking away again. But that wasnât so unusual; she was a red-blooded woman after all, and very often sheâd glance at Jordan and admire the sheer male perfection of him. But it didnât mean anything, it was a transitory thought that probably went through every womanâs head at least once when they looked at him.
She had applied herself back to her work, reminding herself that he may be thirty-eight, single, wealthy and gorgeous, but his latest girlfriend was a twenty-three-year-old sultry Latin-American model. And anyway he wasnât her typeâhe was too arrogantly sure of himself; good-looking but knew it.
In fact Charlotte had quite enjoyed pretending she didnât notice him. Being coolly dismissive when everyone else was fawning around him appealed to her rebellious side. She hadnât particularly agreed with her father taking him on as a partner last year. They had been doing fine without him, then along heâd come with his newfangled ideas and his haughty manner. The first couple of months the air had been a bit frosty between them. But since then things had thawed slightly. To be honest, sheâd had to get on with him because her father was rarely here these days and Jordan was running the show.
Then the phone on her desk had rungâ¦
Sheâd ignored it, thinking her assistant, Frank, would pick it up in the main office. But it had continued to ring until in desperation sheâd snatched it up. âCharlotte McCann speaking; how may I help?â
âHi, Charlie, itâs Melanie. Just thought Iâd touch base with you, see how you are. Bearing up, I hope?â
âOhâ¦hi, Melanie.â Charlotteâs heart sank as she heard the sympathetic tones radiating from the other end of the line. Everyone was talking to her like that these days. She knew people meant well but she hated it. âI take it youâve heard?â
âYes, Erica told me. I couldnât believe it; David always seemed such a solid, dependable type.â
Something twisted inside Charlotte. âYes, well, obviously appearances can be deceptive.â
âIâm really sorry, Charlie. You must be devastated.â
âNot really. Actually Iâm feeling pretty positive about the situation; itâs probably for the best.â Charlotte scribbled her pen rather violently through a memo Frank had left on her desk. âThings had been cooling between us for some time now.â