at eight,’ she said.
Mac got easily to his feet. ‘Shall I bring anything with me?’
‘Just the divorce papers,’ said Georgia coolly. ‘Preferably signed.’
She waited until the door had shut behind him before she groaned and dropped her head on to the desk with a thump. What was it with life at the moment? She’d no sooner struggle over one hurdle than another would be dropped in her way.
Ever since Becca had died, it had been one thing after another. Adjusting her life around a small boy. Giving up the job she loved so much. Leaving London. Dealing with hostility over her appointment as editor here. Staff walkouts. And now Mac, thinking that he could stroll in here and take up where he’d left off!
Well, he would learn that he was wrong, thought Georgia with grim determination. She had listened to ‘I will survive’ and now she could sing along with Gloria Gaynor with the best of them. She had survived, and she was going to go on surviving. She had enough to worry about without Mac.
Of course, it was typical of him to come back now, just when she was getting her life under control, she reflected bitterly. But he would find that she had changed. She was stronger now, more sure of herself, and she had learned to manage perfectly well without him.
It had taken her four long years to get to this stage, though, and it had been a hard process. There was no way she was going through all that again, no matter how tantalising his smile might be. She was a professional woman, with a career and a life of her own. She didn’t need him and she didn’t want him.
Now all she had to do was convince her treacherous body of that. Particularly her heart, springing around like a boisterous puppy, and those legs, whose bones had dissolved at the mere sound of his voice…They were just going to have to shape up, Georgia thought as she lifted her head from the desk.
And as for her stupid senses, who knew no better than to start throwing a ticker tape parade, cheering the good memories as they marched victoriously past Georgia’s puny defences—well, they could just pipe down too. Her head was in charge now.
Unconsciously, Georgia stiffened her spine. That was better. She was not going to let Mac cast her into confusion and turmoil the way he had before. She had other problems to deal with and more important things to consider, Toby chief among them. Let Mac have his say tonight, if that was what he wanted, but he would just have to accept that she had moved on and that her own need was for a very different life now.
Surely he would be able to accept it when he saw how much she relied on Geoffrey now?
Which reminded her; she ought to ring Geoffrey and warn him that Mac was coming for dinner. Geoffrey was about as different from Mac as it was possible to be. The Y chromosome was about all they had in common, Georgia thought ruefully, so while Mac might like surprises and living on the edge, Geoffrey most certainly didn’t. He would want to be prepared.
Georgia settled her glasses back on her nose and immediately felt more businesslike. Reaching for the phone, she braced herself to deal with Geoffrey’s PA, Ruth, who controlled access to her boss with a steely efficiency and a crisp manner that even Georgia found intimidating.
Sure enough, her attempt to speak to Geoffrey was immediately stonewalled by Ruth. ‘I’m afraid he’s with a client,’ she said, and Georgia knew better than to ask her to interrupt the meeting.
She had often thought that Ruth’s talents were wasted on a mere chartered surveyor. She should have been guarding the office of a Cabinet Minister at least. In fact, Rose could do with picking up a few tips from Ruth, Georgia reflected wryly. It might not be so easy then for the likes of Mac Henderson to stroll in and out of her office. No way would Mac have got past Ruth!
‘Can I take a message?’ Ruth was always polite, but Georgia sensed that she didn’t like her. Georgia wasn’t sure whether she was jealous of her relationship with Geoffrey or, in common with a good many other locals, resented her appointment as editor of the Askerby and District Gazette.
Probably both, thought Georgia wearily.
‘No, it’s all right, thanks, Ruth,’ she said, unwilling to launch into an explanation of the fact that someone who was technically her husband was coming to dinner. She could just imagine how Ruth would react to that little bit of information! ‘Just remind Geoffrey that I’m expecting him at eight tonight, would you?’
‘There won’t be any need for that,’ said Ruth primly. ‘He has eight written in his diary.’
In other words, dinner with Georgia was just another appointment for Geoffrey.
Biting back a retort, Georgia put down the phone and took off her glasses once more so that she could rub her eyes. She was fed up with today. She would write the leader tomorrow morning. It wasn’t as if it would change anything. People in Askerby knew what they thought, and they weren’t going to have any jumped-up journalist from London tell them any different.
It was hard to believe that she had grown up here sometimes. The ex-editor of the Gazette had been very popular locally, never mind that he had brought the paper to its knees, and few people were prepared to extend a welcome to Georgia when she was appointed in his place.
Geoffrey had been a notable exception, and she would always be grateful to him for that.
Although perhaps grateful wasn’t the best way to describe how you felt about a man you were seriously considering having a relationship with?
Georgia pushed that particular worry aside impatiently. Really, she had too much else to think about now. One thing about Mac’s reappearance—it would convince Geoffrey that she needed to finalise her divorce once and for all before she could contemplate embarking on another serious relationship.
She gave her email a final check and cast a quick eye over the agency reports in case anything dramatic had happened. Not that there would be much she could do about it if there were, she thought bitterly. Nobody in Askerby wanted news in their paper.
Her last job was to tidy her desk. She hated coming into a mess in the morning. Mac had used to call her a control freak but, if she was, she didn’t seem to be a very good one, Georgia had long ago decided. If she was so controlling, how come life so often seemed to be completely out of her control?
Shrugging on her coat, she went out into the outer office, aware, as always, of the tiny moment of silence that fell whenever she appeared.
‘I’m off now, Rose,’ she said, hating the way her voice sounded a little too hearty, a little too much as if she were trying too hard not to mind how long it was taking her to be accepted. ‘Don’t forget the editorial conference tomorrow morning. I want everyone there.’
‘I won’t.’ Rose looked important. She had been thrilled when Georgia had taken a chance on her and given her the job, and was even more pleased to find herself included in all the workings of the newspaper after being made to feel useless by her ex-husband for so long. ‘Have a good evening. Are you meeting your friend?’
‘My friend?’
‘Mr Henderson. He said he knew you,’ said Rose, suddenly anxious. She had made so many mistakes since she started, and she knew Georgia got impatient sometimes.
‘Oh…Mac,’ said Georgia. ‘Yes, we did know each other a long time ago.’
‘He
