Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4. Maisey Yates
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was a moment of silence. He could hear her searching for words. He wondered if she would try to hide behind those polite little platitudes which didn’t mean a thing.
‘I can’t possibly work alongside you now!’
‘Don’t make such a big deal out of it, Jess,’ he said. ‘Our bodies are programmed to react towards each other that way. You want me and I want you. We’ve always had chemistry. Big deal. We’re both grown-ups and neither of us are in relationships—at least, I’m not and I’m assuming you aren’t either.’
‘Isn’t that something you should have asked me before you leapt on me in the elevator?’
‘I don’t know if I would describe it as leaping,’ he commented drily. ‘And I was assuming you might have put up some kind of objection had that been the case.’
‘How do you manage to twist everything I say?’
‘Is that what I am doing, koukla mou?’ he questioned innocently.
‘You know you are.’
‘So why don’t we put down what happened to curiosity and leave it at that? The advertising team want to meet you at their offices,’ he added. ‘My car will be outside your hotel at eleven.’
Jessica was left staring at the phone as he did that frustrating thing of ringing off before she felt the conversation was finished. Though really, what was there left to say? She ordered breakfast from Room Service, nibbling half-heartedly on a piece of wholemeal toast, and drank two cups of coffee strong enough to revive her. But when she went down to the front of the hotel just after eleven, it was to find Loukas sitting in the back of a car parked directly outside, reading through a large sheaf of documents.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said as he glanced up, and was caught in his ebony gaze. Her heart gave a punch of excitement she didn’t want to feel, but was it really so surprising that she was reacting to him? Last time she’d seen him he’d had his tongue down her throat and she had been in danger of dissolving beneath his touch. Was he remembering that, too? Was that why his eyes were gleaming with inky provocation and his lips had curved into a mocking smile?
‘Yes, Jess. It’s me.’
She swallowed as the driver shut the door behind her. ‘I wasn’t expecting to find you here.’
‘But hoping you might?’
‘You’re...’
‘I’m what, Jess?’
She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, come on,’ he taunted softly. ‘Why hide behind that frozen expression you’re so fond of—why not come out and say just what you’re thinking for once?’
She stared at him, her heart beating very fast, and suddenly she thought, What the heck? Why shouldn’t he know how she felt about him? She wasn’t on a tennis court now and he wasn’t her opponent. Well, he was, but not in the traditional sense. What did it matter if she was honest with him—the world wouldn’t stop turning if she told him the truth, would it? But it wasn’t easy to voice her emotions, when she’d been drilled to keep them hidden away ever since she could remember. Wasn’t that why sex with him had been so wonderful—and so scary—because it had knocked all those barriers down, and for a little while had made her feel free? ‘Actually, you’re the last person I wanted to see.’
‘Liar,’ he said softly. ‘Stop pretending—most of all to yourself. Your body language gave you away the moment you saw me again. Even you can’t disguise the darkening of your eyes or the unmistakable tightening of those delicious breasts.’
‘How come you’re even here?’ she said crossly as the car pulled away from the kerb.
He laughed. ‘I live here.’
‘You live in a hotel?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because...because a hotel is somewhere you stay. It’s not a real home.’
‘For some people it is.’
Loukas stared out of the window as the streets of London passed them by. Would it shock her to discover that he’d never really had a home of his own, just a series of places in which to stay? He remembered the too-thin curtain at one end of the room, and the saving grace of the cotton-wool plugs which he’d crammed into his ears and which had blotted out most of the sounds. ‘Actually, it’s ideal for all my needs,’ he said. ‘It’s big, it’s central and there are several award-winning restaurants just minutes away from my suite. I send out for what I want. My car gets valet parked and there is effective security on the door. What’s not to like?’
‘But don’t you like having all your own things around you?’
He turned back to look at her. ‘What things?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, you know. Pictures. Ornaments. Photos.’
‘The clutter of the past?’ He smiled. ‘No. I’m not a big fan of possessions. I try to live by the maxim that you should always be able to walk away, with a single suitcase and your passport.’
She frowned. ‘But what about the future? Do you plan to live in a hotel for ever—is that what you want?’
‘There is no future,’ he said softly. ‘There is only what we have right now and right now all I want to do is kiss you, but unfortunately there isn’t time.’ He reached for his jacket. ‘We’re here.’
Heart pounding, Jessica stared out of the car window. ‘Here?’
‘Zeitgeist. The best advertising agency in London.’
She looked up at the cathedral-high dimensions as they entered the modern building, forcing herself to concentrate on her surroundings instead of focusing on how much she had wanted him to kiss her back then. ‘Tell me why we’re here?’
‘Gabe and his team would like to show you a mock-up for the new campaign. They’ve been in pre-production for weeks and want to present you with your brief.’
They were ushered into a huge room filled with a confusing amount of people. She was introduced to Patti, the stylist—a spiky-haired blonde in a bright green mini-dress and a pair of chunky boots who was swishing through a rail of clothes. The long-haired art director was peering at photos of a woman standing on a gondola—a gondola!—who looked suspiciously like her. And when she looked a bit closer she could see that it was indeed her—with her head superimposed onto the body of some sleek model wearing a series of revealing evening dresses, set off with dazzling displays of diamonds.
There was a dynamism in the air which was almost palpable and nothing like the rather slow pace of the advertising agency Lulu had employed before. In fact, it was all a bit of a whirlwind experience, made all the more intense by Loukas at her side—warm and vibrant, and impossible to ignore. He took her over to the far side of the studio to meet Gabe Steel, the agency’s owner—a striking man with dark golden hair and steely grey eyes.
‘When Loukas explained that he wanted a complete change of image for the Lulu brand,’ Gabe was saying, ‘I could see it was a change which was long overdue. So we’re ditching the Grace Kelly look and going for something more modern. We’ve had a lot of fun putting these new ideas together, Jessica—and I think you’re going to like them. I showed them to my wife last night and she certainly did.’ He smiled. ‘So why don’t you sit down and you can see what we have in mind?’
Jessica sat down on a chair which had clearly been chosen more for style than comfort and watched as the art director and Patti whipped through a series of photos, showcasing different pieces of jewellery.
‘We’re taking out a two-page spread in one of the broadsheets just in time for Valentine’s Day,’ explained Gabe, ‘which only gives us a few weeks to play with.’
‘Valentine’s