www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For Lizzie Lamb and Jasper, with love.

      CHAPTER ONE

      XANDRA BENNETT.

      Jordan would just bet she’d changed the spelling of her name, on the grounds that it made her sound more like a marketing hotshot than plain ‘Sandra’. He just hoped there was enough substance to back up the style. Maybe there would be; the recruitment agency had obviously thought enough of her to ask Field’s for a last-minute interview. Though, after an entire day listening to the bright and not-so-bright ideas of the people who were desperate to become the next marketing manager of Field’s department store, Jordan wasn’t really in the mood for someone who was all style and glitz.

      Last one, he told himself. Last one, and then I can get on with my work.

      His PA opened the door. ‘Ms Bennett.’

      And, as Xandra Bennett walked into his office, Jordan forgot how to breathe.

      It was her.

      Of all the department stores in all the towns in all the world, she walked into his.

      Different name, different hair, and she’d clearly swapped her glasses for contact lenses, but it was definitely her. Alexandra Porter. His whole body tingled. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been eighteen, with mousy-brown hair that fell almost to her waist when he’d loosened it from its customary plait. And she’d worn clothing typical of a shy eighteen-year-old girl: scruffy trainers, nondescript jeans and baggy T-shirts that hid her curves.

      Now, she looked every inch the marketing professional. A sharp, well-cut business suit that flattered her curves without making them look ostentatious; a sleek jaw-length bob with highlights so skilfully done that the copper and gold strands looked as though they’d been brought out naturally by the sun; and high-end designer heels that made her legs look as if they went on for ever.

      And she still had a mouth that sent shivers through him.

      He pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to think about Alexandra Porter and her lush, generous mouth. The mouth he’d once taught how to kiss.

      She masked it quickly, but he’d been watching her closely enough to see the shock on her face. She recognised him, too, and hadn’t expected to see him here, either … or had she? He didn’t trust her as far as he could drop his pen onto the desk. Back then she’d turned out to be a manipulative liar, and that wasn’t the kind of personality trait that changed with age. Was Bennett the man she’d dumped him for? Or had she then dumped him as soon as she’d found someone else who could offer her more?

      Maybe he should tell her that the position was already filled and he wasn’t going to do any more interviews. Except that would mean explaining his reasons to his co-interviewers—explanations he’d rather not have to give.

      Jordan Smith.

      Alexandra felt sick to her stomach. He was the last person she’d expected to see. Ten years ago, she’d vowed never to have anything to do with him again. She’d never forgiven him for not being there when she’d needed him most. For lying to her. For letting her down. It had taken her years to rebuild her life; and now, just when her dreams were in reach, he was right in her way all over again.

      The tall, slightly gangly student she’d known had filled out; he was far from being fat, but his shoulders were broader and his build more muscular. His mouth still had that sensual curve, promising pleasure—not that she wanted to remember how much pleasure his mouth was capable of giving.

      The scruffy jeans and T-shirt he’d usually worn back then had been replaced by a designer suit and what looked like a handmade shirt and a silk tie. There was the faintest touch of silver at his temples—well, of course hair that dark would show the grey quickly. And he definitely had an air of authority. He’d grown into his looks; more than that, he’d grown into the kind of man who just had to breathe to have women falling at his feet.

      As the CEO of Field’s, Jordan Smith would have the final say over who got the job.

      Which left her … where? On the reject pile, because she’d be a permanent reminder of his guilt—of the fact that he’d abandoned her when she was eighteen and pregnant with his baby? Or would he give her the job, even if she wasn’t the best candidate, because he felt he owed it to her for wrecking her life all those years ago? And, if he did offer her the job, would she take it, knowing that she’d have to work with him?

      The questions whizzed round her head. Then she realised that one of the panel had said something to her and was waiting for a reply. Oh, great. Now they’d think she had the attention span of a gnat and would be a complete liability rather than an asset to the firm. Bye, bye, new job. Well, she had nothing to lose now. She might as well treat this as a practice interview. Afterwards, instead of licking her wounds, she could analyse her performance and see where she needed to sharpen up, ready for the next interview.

      ‘I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I didn’t