‘You’re late.’
‘You look nice.’
‘Thank you. So do you.’ Her mother cast a critical eye over her outfit and nodded with approval. ‘Good. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’
Oh, no. Not another one of her mother’s attempts to get her to switch careers. Other people’s mothers engaged in not-so-subtle efforts to marry off their daughters. But not her mother. She’d apparently made it her lifelong mission to rescue her daughter from the clutches of the frothy world of PR by any means possible. ‘He’s a friend of Dan’s. Try and be nice.’
Phoebe fought the urge to stamp her foot like a petulant child and bleat that she didn’t want to be nice and she didn’t need to meet another man who thought he could whip her off the PR track and set her on the straight and narrow. But her mother had a firm grip on her arm and Phoebe was left with no choice but to follow.
Five minutes. That was all she’d give whoever her mother had lined up for her, and then she’d leave. She’d shown her face and that would have to do. All she wanted was to go home and flop into bed and relive the glorious hours she’d spent in Alex’s office.
Phoebe fixed a bland smile to her face and rummaged around in her head for her stash of stock responses.
‘Here we are.’
She glanced round to where her mother was looking and her jaw dropped. She’d recognise that back anywhere. Only an hour ago she’d been raking her nails all over it.
Alex turned and a bubble of delight started bouncing around inside her. What on earth was he doing here?
‘Phoebe, this is Alex Gilbert. He’s a venture capitalist. Alex, this is my daughter Phoebe. She’s in PR.’ Her mother scrunched her nose up. ‘But I’m hoping you might be able to make her see the light.’
‘I’m delighted to meet you,’ he said softly, a smile hovering at his lips. He dropped a kiss on her cheek and she swayed as she breathed in his scent.
‘Me too.’ Her voice sounded husky and she cleared her throat.
‘Perhaps some of you will rub off on her.’
‘I’ll try and make sure that it does.’
Phoebe felt her cheeks flame. God, he was gorgeous. Dressed in a navy suit and pale blue shirt he looked dark and dishevelled and Phoebe felt her heart lurch.
‘Remember. Rub.’ Her mother patted him on the arm and made a little circular movement with her hand.
‘How could I forget?’
Her mother blushed and giggled, then dashed off muttering, ‘Charming. Quite charming.’
Phoebe stood there stunned. Since when had her mother blushed and giggled? ‘Alex,’ she said, when she eventually managed to find her voice. ‘Gatecrashing again?’
Alex grinned. ‘Why do you automatically assume that I receive so few invitations that I have to gatecrash parties?’
‘You mean you actually have an invitation?’
‘I do.’
‘Who from?’
‘Your brother.’
‘Why didn’t you mention it earlier when we—?’ She broke off and went red.
‘I didn’t have it then. I rang your brother after I dropped you home.’
‘Why?’
Alex shrugged and frowned slightly as if he couldn’t work it out either. ‘I was intrigued.’
‘By what?’