finally, he answered. ‘The Armada phone will be launched worldwide on the first of August …’
And just like that, they were back on track. She was Ella, and he was Jake—her client. Only. Because that was the way it had to stay.
The way it was going to stay.
Jake tried—he really did—to pay attention.
It shouldn’t have been too difficult a task, as Ella was sitting a perfectly respectable distance away from him. Given the huge size of his LED computer screen—about the only thing he actually liked in his office—their chairs weren’t exactly shoved close together behind his desk. And yet, without the barrier of the desk between them, her nearness was distracting.
Currently she was possibly talking about the mock interview. But he couldn’t be absolutely sure.
He’d been right, yesterday. This was not a good idea.
He was still uneasy in a room alone with Ella Cartwright.
What he wasn’t—was any closer to understanding why.
She’d been right, logically. There must be a reason their friendship had ended with such finality. That he’d never been tempted to seek her out.
Nothing.
And yet, here they were, with definite undercurrents beneath every word they said, despite Ella’s absolute insistence that this was nothing more than a business relationship.
Why had he even agreed to this?
It was a total waste of time, only prolonging the inevitable. He didn’t need an image consultant.
He didn’t need Ella back in his life.
Although even yesterday, even as he’d been telling her he didn’t require her services, he’d been considering the possibility of asking her out for a—platonic—drink. A catch up between old friends. That was all. An hour or two of his life to get this weird imbalance out of his system.
Maybe he should still do that, once this was over. A means to an end, so to speak.
Because despite his best efforts, in the less than twenty-four hours since she’d walked back into his life, he’d spent way too much time thinking about her. Wondering. How could she possibly have changed so much?
Although—now and again, little actions had triggered half-forgotten memories. The way she tucked her hair behind her ears. The way, when the questions had turned to her, her gaze had skittered all over the room.
But for every glimpse that was familiar, there was so much that was not. Like her emerald green eyes, the freckle-free skin and her sexy-as-hell fire-engine-red lips.
Momentarily, there was absolutely no confusion for the cause of tension in the room. For now, he was back to basics.
‘Jake,’ she said, ‘have you heard anything I’ve said?’
His gaze darted up from her mouth to her eyes and he watched as her cheeks went pink.
Ah. He remembered that blush, too.
She must have seen something of his very much work-inappropriate thoughts in his eyes, and her blush only deepened. Those thoughts, he remembered too—although thirteen-odd years ago, she’d been wearing a school uniform when she’d triggered them, not a tailored suit and three-inch heels.
Oh, yeah. He had liked Eleanor. A lot.
And all grown up, she was having a similar effect.
Which wasn’t ideal.
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