he’s not normally this prickly. He just needs a little time to adjust to his new role.’
If only that were the real reason Jake was currently near burning her skin with the intensity of his glare.
But Ella just laughed, smiling as if she were a woman with infallible confidence—and not at all concerned that she was about to be alone in a room with Jake Donner.
An instant later, as the door clicked shut, she was.
The next second he was on his feet. Then, suddenly—horribly—he was standing far too close to her. Close enough that she could smell the clean, fresh scent of him—not cologne, something else. Maybe whatever he washed his clothes in? An innocuous, friendly scent that did not match the reaction he triggered in her.
Blood thrummed through her veins and the hairs on her arms stood on end.
And then warmth collected low in her belly, the sensation shocking her. Surely he couldn’t still affect her in that way? Hadn’t she learnt the hard way what a mistake it was to want Jake Donner?
He waited before he spoke, for what felt like hours. Could he sense her tension, even though she did nothing—not a blink—to give herself away?
Finally, finally, he spoke.
‘What the hell is going on, Eleanor?’
CHAPTER TWO
ELEANOR CARTWRIGHT.
Jake couldn’t quite grasp the frankly crazy concept that the woman before him, this woman who didn’t so much as flinch as he delivered his trademark—or so the papers said—glower, was Eleanor.
It didn’t make any sense.
He’d recognised her immediately, of course.
Or maybe not immediately. All he’d heard was Cynthia starting to talk some rubbish about hiring him an image consultant—an image consultant? That was a job?—and then he’d turned around ready to tell this consultant that he had no requirement for her services. He’d barely been paying attention when Cynthia had mentioned the consultant’s name, too focused on ending this latest bout of high-handedness as quickly as possible.
The board might have got away with it this morning—due to very specific extenuating circumstances—but Jake Donner did not get pushed around. He never had been, and he never would. It was yet another reason why he avoided the corporate world.
He had no time to pander to the whims of others.
But then, with the words Unfortunately you’ve wasted your time right on the tip of his tongue—he’d seen her.
His gaze had caught with hers, instantly. And his first reaction, if he were brutally honest, had been something hot, and primal, and male. His body had registered the obvious: a beautiful woman stood before him. A woman with brilliant emerald eyes and thick lashes of blackest black.
But then his mind had kicked into gear, and he’d recognised her.
It had been a long time. A very, very long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought of her.
But he hadn’t forgotten Eleanor.
Although his memories clashed dramatically with the woman who stood before him now.
Because the transformation was complete.
Hair, teeth, glasses—lack of—everything had changed. Where Eleanor had once had nicely rounded curves she was now willowy, bordering on thin. Her dirty blonde hair had become auburn-streaked mahogany and her pale skin now had a golden hue. The braces were gone, the glasses as well, and—he was sure—she was wearing those coloured contact lenses. As at sixteen, Eleanor Cartwright’s eyes had definitely been brown.
And finally, her nose … It was long, thin and straight. The bump she’d hated so much conspicuously absent.
At a glance, he’d been right—she was beautiful. But if you looked past the dazzling camouflage of her hair and make-up, the reality was quite different.
Full lips, but her mouth veered closer to wide than delicate. And while she did have defined cheekbones, her jaw was strong, not elegant. Plus her eyes, once you saw beyond all the make-up, were pretty, but certainly not spectacular.
So, no, she wasn’t beautiful, if you really looked. But as a whole package—from her perfectly fitted suit, to the soft elegance of her upswept hair and the aura of confidence she just oozed from every pore—it would be easy to think she was.
She still hadn’t answered his question.
‘Eleanor—’
‘That’s not my name,’ she said. Snapped, really.
She gave a little shake of her head and stepped around him, covering the short distance to the table in three hip-swinging strides. She turned, leaning her butt against the table, her hands lightly resting on either side of her on the polished wood surface, her ankles casually crossed.
‘I thought the answer was obvious,’ she said. ‘I’m an image consultant. You need your image to be made over—quickly—so, tada! Here I am. Image consultant at your service.’
He was a little in awe at her unflappable demeanour. Oh, he knew she wasn’t as calm as she appeared. He’d seen the flicker in her eyes when he’d stepped too close.
But she was determined to give nothing else away.
‘What’s with ignoring the elephant in the room, Eleanor?’ he said. ‘Don’t play games. We’re not strangers.’
No, definitely not strangers.
But certainly not friends. The room hummed with uncomfortable tension.
She shrugged. ‘I fail to see how our past is relevant. I’m a professional. You’re a professional. I can see no reason why anything but the here and now would be of any importance.’
However, what was relevant was his sudden urge to end this meeting—and this whole image consultant debacle. Immediately.
‘Eleanor—’
She groaned and shook her head. ‘Really? You think the fact I had a crush on you—when I was a very silly and very angst-ridden teenage girl, no less—would matter now? I assure you, I’m not secretly carrying a thirteen-year-old torch.’ A pause. ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe. You’re in no imminent danger of further declarations of love.’
That hadn’t been what he’d been thinking at all. He’d been thinking that there was a woman in his boardroom who made him feel …
Lord, he didn’t know. Made him feel as if he didn’t want to be in the same room with her any more.
The issue didn’t need any further analysis than that.
The benefit of being very wealthy—and known for being, well, surly, as Eleanor had said—was that he didn’t need to do any
