The Ordinary King. Nina Harrington
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did not do giddy. She never did giddy.
Except that six feet two of broad-shouldered, brown-haired hunk of a man-boy from a distant country she called the past was blocking her view of the hotel entrance and the light from the halogens above his head. Even at this distance, with only a side view of his head, there was no doubt at all about who she was looking at.
It was a face she’d used to know by heart. A face she had kept in that safe locked room in her memory alongside the fading images of the people she had once loved.
But there was no mistaking him.
Simon Richard Reynolds. Her Simon.
The last person on the planet she had expected to see at that moment, in this hotel, and still in Ghana after three years, took a couple of steps closer—and the sight of him sent her brain into a complete spin.
This must be what it feels like to have a heart attack.
Her hands moved instinctively to smooth down the fabric of her skirt, and she had to force herself not to check her hair and her shoes to make sure that she was clean and neat and almost good enough for the smartest, richest boy in her university class. It seemed that old habits were hard to break.
‘Oh, there’s Simon,’ Molly said with a smile. ‘Have you two already met?’
Met? Kate did not know whether to laugh or to cry. Her brain was racing with memories of Simon laughing, Simon racing along the beach holding her hand, Simon kissing her so hard that she thought she would die from the pleasure of it … Her Simon.
‘Yes. We were on the same course at university back in England. But that was years ago,’ she added quickly. ‘I haven’t seen him since. I certainly had no idea he was still in Africa.’
‘He most certainly is,’ Molly said with a certain lilt in her voice, ‘and likely to stay in Ghana for quite some time. We’re all very excited about what Simon has achieved here.’
‘Really? Is he working on one of your field projects?’ Kate asked as casually as she could; only it came out squeaky and a lot wobblier than she wanted.
Molly looked up at her in surprise. ‘Oh, no. Simon was working with Andy. I am looking forward to his presentation this afternoon—so far it sounds like one of the company’s most successful initiatives. Lucky girl—he’s all yours. Now, if you will excuse me, I promise I’ll catch up with you later. And welcome to Ghana, Kate. Akwaaba.’
Breathing was starting to become difficult.
Simon had been working with Andy? He was all hers?
That could not be right. She had read through the files on the three projects Andy was supervising during the long flight from Mexico, and she certainly hadn’t seen Simon’s name come up. Tired she might be, but she would not have missed the name which was engraved on her heart.
And then Kate sighed out loud.
Of course. Stupid girl.
All of the proposals for company sponsorship had to go through the most senior member of that particular small tribal kingdom in Ghana. Royal protocol demanded that only the king for the area made those sorts of decisions. Volunteers like Simon would not be listed on any of those high-level reports.
Kate’s cup rattled on the saucer as the terrible reality of her situation hit home.
Suddenly it was all a bit too much. She was on a new continent, for goodness’ sake, in a new country, without her luggage after a long nightmare journey from Mexico. Her body clock had no idea what time of day it was, and she was eating breakfast when she should probably be sleeping.
And now she was going to have to work with Simon Reynolds if she was going to make a go of her temporary promotion and impress her boss, just when she needed promotion so very badly.
Kate sucked in a lungful of air and watched Molly meet and greet the other conference delegates, dressed in bright African robes or western dress, and felt even more guilt. The company she worked for was one of the main sponsors for this conference. She should be on her feet, smiling and shaking hands like Molly and Simon were doing now. Networking. Explaining why Andy was not there to meet them as usual. Making the delegates feel welcome.
But that would mean talking to Simon. And she was not ready for that. Not yet.
How did you start a conversation when what you really wanted to say was along the lines of, Hi, Simon—isn’t the weather nice for this time of year? Oh, by the way, do you still blame me for destroying your parents’ marriage and generally ruining your life? Because I would really like to know why you abandoned me just when I needed you the most and broke my heart in the process. If it is not too much trouble?
Suddenly her confidence faltered and shuddered to a grinding halt.
Kate swallowed down the huge lump of emotion and regret in her throat that was threatening to overwhelm her. She had sworn three years ago, during that terrible summer after he left, that she would not waste one more tear or sleepless night on Simon Reynolds while her stepdad and her sister needed her to be strong for them.
She could do this. The company needed her to be a total professional and do her job. Simon was just another volunteer working on the company-sponsored rural IT project. That was all.
She was going to show him that she had changed in the past three years. Kate O’Neill was not the push-over he had known at university, who had relied on her extrovert boyfriend to make all the big decisions for them both. The tables had turned. She was the one making the decisions now.
Forcing her head up, she stood up from the table, smiled across to the delegates and lifted her chin, back straight.
Only at that same moment Molly said something to Simon, and they both turned their heads in her direction.
Simon’s gaze met hers, locked and held.
She had always been able to read Simon from those remarkable grey eyes, but at this distance it was not possible—except for a flicker of … What? What was it she saw in that instant? Hurt? Need? Confusion? Surprise and amazement? Remorse?
Kate’s stomach clenched and tied into a tight painful knot under the cold, analytical focus of his stare. Then Simon gave one hard blink and the moment was lost.
With one brief smile and half-bow to the group around him Simon turned towards her and strolled in slow, deliberate steps across the room, as though he owned the hotel, the resort and most of the world around it.
Confident. Strong. Impressive.
Simon Reynolds had been brought up to be a leader amongst men, and it showed in every step that he took—no matter where he was or what he was wearing.
In fact she might have been intimidated by him if it had not been for a few tiny aspects of his new look. The supersmart, casual but expensive preppy clothes his mother had used to buy him in London when he was a student had been replaced by a loose short-sleeved shirt made from the same type of striped fabric she had seen being worn at the airport the previous evening. The faded and darned fabric hung over the scruffiest trousers she had ever seen in her life. The knees were patched with several irregular pieces of fabric in various patterns, which seemed to have been cut out with the same nail scissors he had used to trim his hair. A brown cowhide shoulder bag was slung casually across his chest.
He was unshaven, he was trailing a line of red dust along the floor as he walked, and he looked tastier than hot bread straight from the oven.
Mouth-watering. Hot. Bread.
Perhaps he was more country Sourdough than buttery brioche, but Simon Reynolds still looked just as delicious, and her treacherous heart yearned for a taste.
Her whole body prickled to attention, aware of every move that he made.
Kate sucked in a breath, dropped her gaze, and pretended to gather together her papers on the table, trying to ignore the hot pulsing of the blood