To Be A Bridegroom. Carole Mortimer
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Stazy could see exactly the thoughts that were going through Zak’s head—and probably so could Jordan. But Zak couldn’t have been further from the truth, no matter how damning the evidence!
Jordan stepped forward, holding out his hand in greeting to Zak. ‘J. Hunter,’ he introduced dryly. ‘The “guy in Apartment 7”,’ he tacked on deliberately so that there would be no mistake on Zak’s part. ‘And the J stands for Jordan,’ he supplied.
The two men were of similar age, similar height too, but there the similarity ended; Zak brimmed over with boyish good humour, while Jordan was much more reserved as the two men shook hands.
‘Sorry about that.’ Zak grinned unrepentantly. ‘But Stazy can be damned awkward when she wants to be,’ he said affectionately.
‘The word is private, Zak,’ she put in before Jordan could add anything to that—one way or the other! ‘Jordan Hunter, meet Zak Prince. And vice versa.’ She resented having to make this introduction at all. One—or both!—of these men had to leave! But one looked like being her employer for the foreseeable future, and the other one—! That suitcase Zak had brought in with him looked distinctly ominous!
‘Prince.’ Jordan repeated the name slowly, his expression thoughtful as he looked at Stazy.
She watched him warily. What was he thinking? Did he know—? Had he realised—?
He turned to Zak. ‘We were discussing the merits—or otherwise—of princes earlier,’ he explained. ‘The fairy-tale kind,’ he amended softly.
Stazy had said she hadn’t kissed a prince yet that hadn’t turned into a frog! Well, it was true—literally—Zak was chief frog!
‘Need I say more?’ She looked irritatedly at the blond giant who had invaded her apartment so effectively.
Jordan smiled at the joke. ‘I’m sure you have a lot more to say to this particular Prince,’ he drawled. ‘And that you would probably prefer to say it when I’m not around! Tomorrow is Sunday,’ he continued consideringly. ‘Will you be able to start work on Monday?’
She blinked at his directness. Of course she could start on Monday—her diary wasn’t exactly overflowing with work, as she had already told him. But—
‘Get some ideas together,’ Jordan ordered as he walked confidently to the door. ‘And we’ll discuss them Monday evening when I get back from work.’ He glanced across at Zak as the other man made himself comfortable on one of the bean-bags before sitting forward to top up the champagne for himself in one of the glasses. ‘At my apartment,’ Jordan stated hardly. ‘I’ll expect you around seven-thirty.’
Stazy walked with him to the door. ‘I’m sorry about Zak,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I—He—’
‘You don’t owe me any explanations, either, Stazy,’ He reminded her of her own comment to him earlier in the evening.
Of course she didn’t. This was business, after all. Although a part of her suspected that hadn’t been Jordan’s intention when he’d come to her apartment half an hour ago! Perhaps it was as well Zak had arrived when he did...
‘Seven-thirty Monday evening,’ she acknowledged briskly, closing the door firmly behind Jordan once he had left.
Now she must go and tackle Zak. Because he wasn’t staying here. No matter what sort of persuasion he might try to use!
‘Zak, will you get out of that bathroom right now!’ Stazy banged loudly on the bathroom door in accompaniment to her demand. ‘I’ve been waiting almost an hour to take my shower,’ she cried furiously.
‘Calm down, Stazy,’ he soothed in a completely unruffled voice. ‘You aren’t due at Jordan’s for another half an hour yet.’
So much for making Zak leave, she told herself. As she had known he would from the onset, Zak had wheedled his way into persuading her to let him stay, just until he got fixed up with a hotel. Which, as Stazy knew only too well, would probably never materialise; Zak liked his home comforts, someone always there—usually for him!
Stazy had made it clear that his ‘someone’ wasn’t going to be her; if he was staying in England for any length of time, at her apartment, then he could do his share of the chores and cooking. His share of the cooking yesterday had comprised taking her to the nearest fast-food restaurant for Sunday lunch, assuring her that she could have the chicken or the ribs when she’d protested she didn’t even like burgers. As a change it had been fine, but as a staple diet—Zak’s staple diet, if left to his own devices!—it just wasn’t good enough.
‘Move it, Zak,’ she told him in a strained tone. The last thing she needed was to be stressed out when she went to see Jordan. Besides, it was her bathroom!
Apart from getting to know her in her apartment, Jordan hadn’t seen her doing business yet, and she wanted to make a good impression. He might have reconsidered things since Saturday, and decided he didn’t want his place redecorated after all...
‘I mean it, Zak.’ She rattled the door handle impatiently. This was worse than when she had lived at home and had to fight her three brothers for the use of one of the two bathrooms. ‘If you aren’t out of there by the time I count to five, you can start looking for somewhere else—’ She broke of her tirade as the bathroom door was opened from the inside, and Zak stood there enveloped in a cloud of steam, with one towel draped about his neck, and another one—thank goodness!—draped about his waist and thighs. ‘I hope you haven’t used all the hot water,’ she grumbled as she strode past him into the now overheated bathroom. ‘Zak—!’ she gasped as she looked around.
‘I’ll clear the mess up later,’ he hastily assured her at her dismayed wail. ‘You aren’t the only one with somewhere to go this evening, you know,’ he defended as she turned to glare at him angrily.
‘Spare me the details,’ she snapped. ‘Just go away and leave me to—’ She broke off as the doorbell rang.
‘I’ll get it,’ Zak told her hurriedly, obviously glad of the excuse to escape. ‘You just carry on with your shower.’
He had gone before Stazy had time to stop him. And it had been the internal bell. Which could only mean one person... Jordan had changed his mind about the decorating. Damn it. She needed that job. She certainly wasn’t about to crawl back home, having failed in what she set out to do. It was—
‘Jordan,’ Zak told her with a grin as he strolled back down the hallway, using the towel that had been draped about his neck to dry off his hair after his fifteen-minute shower.
‘Well?’ Stazy finally said when the tension of waiting for him to continue became too much for her; she had known it was Jordan, but what did he want?
Zak blinked innocent blue eyes. ‘I thought you were in a hurry to take your shower?’
‘I am,’ she ground out between gritted teeth. ‘What did Jordan want?’ As if she couldn’t guess.
She had regaled him on Saturday with those two tales of confusion concerning her profession, and now Zak had answered the door to him wearing only a towel—two towels, to be exact. Jordan probably thought she was a high-class call-girl!
‘Oh, that,’ Zak replied, unconcerned. ‘He said could you make it seven forty-five instead of seven-thirty? He’s only just got in from work, and he would like to take a shower.’
Jordan hadn’t changed his mind. Well, until Zak had opened the door to him a couple of minutes ago, wearing only a couple of towels, he hadn’t...
‘He isn’t the only one,’ she told Zak determinedly, grabbing the towel draped about his neck. ‘See you later.’ She closed the bathroom door firmly in his face.
A lot later, she hoped. With any luck Zak would have left for wherever he was going by the time she finished her own shower, leaving