The bet was madness, Jess thought, frowning at her feet and wondering how to get out of it. And as for her gorgeous shoes...they were history.
THREE
Jess’s thin heels made tiny square marks in the thick carpet of the passage outside the smallest conference room at the hotel where Luke had chosen to view the various campaign presentations. She was scheduled to present last, and was getting more and more nervous. Realising that her hands were slick with perspiration, she hustled off to the closest bathroom to wash her hands and check her face. Again.
She was being ludicrous, she decided, drying her hands for the third time in twenty minutes. Since her contretemps with Luke eight years ago she’d always been nervous before presentations, but no one besides Ally ever knew it. She appeared to be ice-cool and confident, unflappable, but underneath her façade her heart misfired and her brain spluttered.
Jess slicked on another layer of lipstick and smoothed down her scarlet mid-thigh-length jacket. The bottom of her short black pencil skirt just peeked out under the hem, and she wore a black silk polo-neck jersey underneath. With sheer black stockings and knee-high boots, the outfit was dramatic and eye-catching, and not what she’d usually wear to pitch for a job.
But if this was the last time she’d see Luke Savage then she’d damn well make sure that she made a lasting impression.
Ally stuck her head around the door to the Ladies’. ‘Jess, it’s time.’
Jess walked out of the Ladies’ and was grateful for Ally’s steadying hand on her back, unaware that she was biting the inside of her lip. ‘Let’s knock their socks off.’
‘Okay...but maybe you should take a deep breath first...’
‘Why?’ Jess asked, picking up her laptop and boards.
‘Your knees are knocking together.’ Ally reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of Rescue Remedy. ‘Open up.’
‘Ally!’ Jess muttered, but she obediently stuck out her tongue as Ally shook the foul-tasting drops into her mouth.
The door behind them opened and Jess’s eyes slid over. She winced as Luke stepped out of the conference room.
‘Hi—’ He stopped suddenly and Jess yanked her tongue in. Could she feel any more stupid?
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Luke demanded, his hands in the pockets of his smart black pants. Jess noticed his button-down cream shirt with its discreet, expensive logo and sighed at how good he looked.
Mr Savage cleaned up very, very well indeed.
‘Nothing,’ Jess muttered.
‘Rescue Remedy,’ Ally said at the same time. ‘Jess tends to get a bit nervous before presentations.’
‘Alison!’
Luke smiled at Jess and her stomach flipped over. ‘I would never have guessed. Jess doesn’t seem to be the gets-nervous type.’ Luke held out his hand to Alison. ‘Luke Savage.’
‘Ally Davies.’ Ally shook his hand.
‘How nervous?’ Luke asked, and Jess willed Ally not to be her normal open, brutally honest self.
‘Very. Her knees are knocking together and her hands are shaking.’
‘Will you stop?’ Jess demanded. ‘Jeez, Alison! He’s a client.’
‘Relax, Jess, there’s no need to torture such pretty knees.’ Luke sent her another of his slow, sexy smiles that were guaranteed to melt the panties off any female between eighteen and eighty. It was the smile she intended to use to launch his campaign. She was under no illusions. It was going to be tough to sell it to him...
‘And I like the skirt you’re almost wearing, Sherwood,’ Luke added.
‘Oh, shut up!’ Jess told him before sailing into the room, her nose up in the air.
Great start, Jess, telling your prospective client to put a cork in it. Not.
* * *
Jess ended her presentation and caught herself biting the inside of her lip in the resultant heavily pregnant silence. She felt her heart thumping in her chest and wondered if the St Sylve contingency could hear it.
Thump, thump, kadoosh. Thump, thump... Oh, the kadoosh happened every time she looked at Luke; it was, Jess realised, her heart bouncing off the floor.
Well, okay, then. Good to know. Better if she knew how to make it stop.
Luke looked utterly inscrutable and non-committal—especially for somebody who, as she’d suggested, should be the new face of St Sylve wines. Did they love it? Hate it? Think that she’d not only crossed the line but redrawn it as well? Jess just wished they’d say something—anything!
About a million years later—okay, ten seconds, but it felt that long—Luke sat forward and rested his arms on the table. His eyes sliced through her.