Mr One-Night Stand

by Rachael Stewart

  She’d had her one night of crazy; she’d had her fun. It was time to get back to reality—a reality without Mr Distraction in it. It was for the best.

  It really was.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

  The words had been echoing through his brain for the last two hours, ever since he’d woken to find her gone. The only evidence she’d ever existed was a hurried Thank you x on a scrap of paper placed on the pillow.

  Thank you. He had been worth that, at least.

  But gratitude was the last thing she’d be feeling shortly. In just over an hour, when he turned up at her office and told her who he was, he was certain he could say farewell to a thank-you or a repeat.

  A repeat.

  He wanted to shake himself. Was he mad?

  Sex was sex. He could get it anywhere.

  What he couldn’t get was another business partner like Jennifer Hayes.

  He could hear his body laughing at the idea even as he shot the thought down.

  Work had to come first. He would tire of her eventually, as he had every other woman. She wouldn’t be any different—he wouldn’t allow it.

  And he wasn’t about to put it to the test.

  He needed to get the situation under control, and swiftly. He just had to hope he hadn’t screwed their working relationship along with her.

  But she was a professional and he was banking on that to save him from too much of a scene in the office. It wasn’t the ideal location for delivering the news, but what choice did he have? A phone call wouldn’t cut it—not when she could simply hang up. And he wasn’t about to risk her getting wind via anyone else.

  He was also banking on her sound business acumen making her realise that ultimately his presence in the company could only be a good thing.

  Plus, they’d both had fun. That had to count for something—right?

  He combed his hand through his hair and wiggled the knot of his tie. Stress really wasn’t in his make-up...

  Across the table Tony Andrews sat in discussion with his solicitor. Documents were being passed to and fro, and the scratch of pen on paper broke the air as each one was signed. But the buzz that usually accompanied such a sound was non-existent, drowned out by the very real possibility that he was heading into World War III.

  His own solicitor, to his right, leaned towards him. ‘It’s not too late, you know...’

  It wasn’t the first time he’d said that this morning. He was astute. He knew Marcus. Had worked with him for a decade. He knew something wasn’t right and assumed it was the deal.

  ‘No, it’s all good, Roger,’ he said, his gaze resting on Andrews as the man looked to him questioningly. He saw the flash of relief in his eyes before he looked back to the paperwork and wondered yet again at the man’s situation.

  He was clean-shaven, smartly turned out, his blond hair greased back as per usual, but it was his eyes and the dark circles beneath that told of the stresses beneath the slick exterior.

  There was also a tell-tale scent that one might mistake for an overly strong cologne if one wasn’t as attuned to it as Marcus. It didn’t matter that he’d spent two decades free of it, of him, it still affected him as if it was yesterday. As if he was still that little boy hiding away as his father rolled in night after night, intent on taking out his demons on the one person unable to evade him.

  His nails bit painfully into his palms and slowly he unfurled his fists, forcing himself to relax, throwing his focus into Tony Andrews instead.

  He would feel sorry for the man if not for the fact that he’d brought it on himself. Or the fact that Jennifer was suffering as a direct result. She was clearly hitting the point of exhaustion if her tiredness last night had been any indication. If Andrews had been a decent business partner who pulled his weight she wouldn’t have been in such bad shape.

  Jennifer... He gritted his teeth. He never should have believed her when she’d suggested they talk in the morning. He should have known it was bull.

  Christ, how many times had he done that himself? Escaping before morning, before all the questions and the hopes for a future...

  His ego took the hit even as he respected her for the move.

  And what did it matter? Soon she wouldn’t be able to walk away from him. He felt the buzz then—the spark of excitement in his gut.

  ‘Mr Wright, if you could do the honours?’

  Andrews’ solicitor beckoned him, twisting the pages of the contract so they were facing his way and sliding them across the polished wooden surface of the table.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, taking up his pen and signing as Roger directed.

  With each scrawl of his name the passion thrived, the excitement, the buzz... Only it definitely wasn’t this acquisition that was doing it. It was her—Jennifer—being tied to working under the same roof as him.

  The confusing realisation should have bothered him—but did it?

  He couldn’t see past the buzz to care.

  * * *

  Jennifer was having the morning from hell.

  Tony letting her down last night was one thing. Tony not turning up to the morning’s company-wide briefing was something else altogether. How could the employees trust their direction if he hadn’t even turned up to deliver his part?

  She gave way to a groan and collapsed back into her chair.

  ‘Hey, don’t stress—you did a great job.’

  She looked to Anna, her optimistic, ever-cheery personal assistant, and smiled. ‘I could’ve walked in there wearing a pink tutu, reading a fairy tale, and you would still tell me I’d done a great job.’

  Anna set a fresh coffee down on her desk, her face lighting up. ‘Ooh, now there’s a thought—one for the next briefing, hey?’

  In spite of herself, Jennifer laughed and took up the drink. ‘I’ll make a note.’

  ‘Great,’ she said. ‘And while you’re doing that I’ll go and see if I can track down our elusive Mr Andrews.’

  ‘Thanks, Anna.’

  Anna turned on her heel and headed for the door, pausing on the threshold just long enough to say, ‘You know, maybe you should take a leaf out of his book some time and take a break. Leave him to pick up the pieces for a change.’

  Jennifer gave a non-committal snort. Anna meant well, but seriously, there was no way in hell she would leave the company in his hands. Not now.

  She looked out to the buzzing office on the other side of the glass wall, to the employees she had a duty to protect, and decided she had to push for his signature on the Shareholders’ Agreement. She didn’t like to force it, but it was time.

  Her solicitor would certainly be relieved. He’d made no bones about how stupid he thought she’d been to continue operating without one. But, hell, she’d been naïve and young, thinking some great gift had come her way when Tony had offered up the joint venture. She hadn’t thought for a second that he would change so much, that he would destroy her trust so spectacularly.

  Her mind decided, she wiggled her mouse to wake up her computer screen and Marcus Wright stared right back at her, filling it up.

  Yes, she’d looked him up. Yes, it had been the first thing she’d done when she’d hit the office at seven a.m.

  It hadn’t taken her long to find out enough. It was surprising she hadn’t come across him, considering they worked in the same industry. But then she didn’t focus on the people, rather on the companies and what they were churning out. And she knew of his company plenty well enough.

  As for him—he was big news. Well-regarded, highly esteemed—not only in the business world but for his charity work too. His name came with accolade after accolade. The perfect chocolate box mix. And now she’d sampled him how was she supposed to move on?

  She groaned again. Her head landed on her palm as she sulked into his photo.

  �
��Why couldn’t you come along in ten years’ time?’ she muttered, twirling the mouse pointer over his delectable mouth. He was perfect. Both sexually and on paper. Her absolute Mr Right. Only she wasn’t ready.

  Her eyes slid to the family photo on her desk—Mum, Dad, her sister, her—all so happy. Especially her. She’d been leaving for university that day, buzzing with excitement over the future. No one could have known that twenty-four hours later her dad would no longer be with them. Taken too soon by a heart attack brought on by his determination to be everything to everyone.

  And she’d made a promise—to herself and to him—that she would be the success he had dreamed of her being. That she would secure the future he had wanted for them all.

  But she wouldn’t make the same mistake and pursue it all at once—a successful career and a family of her own.

  She wanted both, but a relationship, her own family—that could wait. She was only twenty-eight. She had time to wait for her financial circumstances and the company structure to be such that she could strike the right balance.

  At least that was what she’d thought before her mum had got sick. Now she wasn’t so sure of anything. Her tummy twisted painfully and she pressed her palms into the desk.

  Get back to work...you’re safe with work.

  She looked at the computer screen and promptly closed down Mr Distraction. It was for the best. Losing herself in spreadsheets would help and she had work to do: financing the new product stream, sorting out resources...

  Her thoughts trailed away, her eyes trailing with them, and the sight of someone exiting the lift across the office caught her eye.

  It wasn’t... It couldn’t... What the fuck?

  She catapulted out of her seat, knocking over her coffee in the process. The steaming liquid seeped across her desk, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t care. Her entire being was set on the man striding with absolute confidence towards her office—Marcus!

  Excitement surged, her pulse tripped, and alarm bells resounded through her head as her best-laid plans sensed jeopardy. But he’d tracked her down, sought her out, and her heart swelled even as her stance hardened.

  You can’t have him.

  The shrill ring of her phone jarred her. It was Anna. Blindly, she pressed the button. ‘Not now.’

  ‘But I have Tony on the line.’

  Jennifer could sense the girl’s frown, could see her turn to look at her through the glass from her desk outside.

  ‘He says it’s urgent.’

  She wasn’t listening—not properly. ‘Tell him I’ll call him back. I have a visitor.’

  ‘A visitor?’ Anna’s eyes left her to zone in on the man now only a few desks away. ‘Right—a visitor. No problem.’

  She was sure if she bothered to look Anna would be as transfixed by him as she was. Hell, everyone would be. He demanded attention.

  But the only attention you’re giving him is the been-nice-knowing-you kind.

  Her tummy sank and she took a breath.

  She could do this...

  * * *

  If someone had been riding his bollocks right now, Marcus didn’t think he could have been any more uncomfortable.

  Her eyes were on him. He could feel it. And, God help him, he couldn’t even look in her direction. Andrews had been clear enough in his instructions. Out of the lift, across the foyer, through the rows of desks to the office straight ahead. That was where he’d find her.

  And then the guy had pleaded. ‘Let me speak to her first.’

  Like hell he was going to agree to that. The man had missed his chance. There was no way Marcus was going to let anyone but him deliver this news. He needed to do it, needed to make sure she gave him a chance to explain.

  He paused at the desk positioned just outside her office door and looked to the petite blonde sitting on the other side of it. She was currently doing something of a fish impression, a phone receiver hanging limp in her hold.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m here to see Jennifer Hayes.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she said, making no effort to say any more or deal with whoever was on the other end of the line.

  ‘Soooo...’ he drawled, raising his brows and waving in the direction of the door. ‘Can I go in?’

  She didn’t respond, but her eyes shifted to the office as the faint sound of the door opening reached him and sent every hair rising with the knowledge that she was approaching.

  And then she spoke. ‘Mr Wright?’

  Take a breath...

  ‘I think we can drop the “Mr”, don’t you?’ he said, turning on his heel and feeling the hit of her beauty like a slug to the stomach.

  He righted himself against it, adopting his faithful mask. The one that had got him through deal after deal. Only this time he questioned its success. The power of his reaction was so strong he was sure even her PA, who was still in full-on fish mode, was picking up on it.

  ‘It’s Marcus,’ he said, putting one foot in front of the other and extending a hand, fixing his eyes on her face, not daring to lower his gaze, not wanting to see, but acknowledging all the same, the way the fabric of her green blouse clung distractingly close to her upper body. Or how the delicate length of her neck was accentuated by her hair being smoothed back and twisted into a severe knot high on her head.

  Desire burned in his throat and he cleared it as her hand slipped inside his own.

  She looked up at him, her crystal green eyes widening on a flicker of something—lust, nerves, fear... And then her hand closed around his and his blood rushed towards the contact, the softness of her palm doing things below the belt that he didn’t want to permit.

  He searched her face. Did she feel it too?

  Her eyes glittered, streaks of colour shone through the make-up on her cheeks, and then her lips parted on a breath, the tip of her tongue flicking briefly across her lower lip. It was still there, the chemistry, he was sure of it. And the very idea that he could work with her and keep it platonic was fast becoming laughable.

  But he would.

  His no-mixing-business-with-pleasure rule existed for a reason. If only he’d been able to remember that last night, when he’d realised who she was, rather than letting her...

  A flashback of racing images sent heat ripping through him and he coughed abruptly.

  She started at the sound, her eyes narrowing on him. ‘It’s nice of you to come by,’ she said, and then her eyes flitted about the room and saw their steadily growing audience. ‘Do you want to go on in?’ She gestured to her open doorway. ‘I just need a brief word with my PA.’

  ‘Of course.’ He nodded and she stepped around him. He stared after her, teasing himself with the swaying curve of her hips, snug within a black pencil skirt.

  For fuck’s sake.

  He snapped his eyes away and headed for her office. The sooner they could clear the air, the sooner he could focus on their relationship—their purely platonic, business relationship.

  Entering her room, he was drawn to the bookcase running the length of one wall. Books were good. Books were calming. Books would get him in check.

  He explored the titles, fingering the bindings—business, psychology, law... And then he paused, as a small collection tucked in the corner closest to the window drew his eye. He crouched and pulled one of the books out. He knew from the binding what he would find, and the entwined couple on the front only served to confirm it. He looked from the front to the back, scanning the blurb with a smile.

  So the formidable Miss Hayes was a romantic at heart.

  A throat was cleared directly behind him. Shit.

  He looked at her over his shoulder. Her arms were crossed over her middle, her breasts bulging distractingly above them, and he tore his eyes away, slipping the book back into place and slowly getting to his feet to face her, his eyes carefully pinned above neckline.


  ‘Sorry, it’s an occupational hazard,’ he explained. ‘I like to understand people, and their books can give quite the insight.’

  He smiled and watched her colour slightly, her eyes flicking over her little collection before returning.

  She cocked a brow. ‘Nosy, much?’

  ‘What can I say? It pays to understand people.’

  She surprised him with a laugh and, shaking her head, strode to her desk—just as her PA walked in, a roll of paper towel in her hand.

  ‘Here you go,’ the girl said, passing it to her. ‘You sure you don’t want me to do it?’

  ‘Don’t be silly—it’s my mess.’ She wrapped a fistful around her palm and tore it off. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll let you get on, then.’

  Her eyes flicked briefly in his direction before returning to Jennifer in a widened state. Was this girl all together there?

  ‘Let me know if you need anything else.’

  ‘Will do,’ Jennifer said, her attention now fixed on the desk.

  He followed her gaze to an upturned mug and a dripping mess. How had he missed that?

  She righted the cup and started to mop at the liquid.

  ‘Want some help?’

  She gave him a brief look. ‘You’ve done enough.’

  Surprise made him chuckle. ‘I’m not quite sure how to take that.’

  She straightened, smoothing her free hand over her hair, and then she looked to him again, for longer this time—long enough for him to make out the pulse twitching in her neck and the re-emerging colour in her cheeks.

  ‘Truth is, you gave me a shock when you came in and the coffee took the hit.’

  ‘Ah.’ He looked from her to the puddle. ‘In that case, I’m definitely helping.’

  He strode towards her, ignoring the flash of panic in her eyes, and held out his hand.

  Reluctantly, she separated out some sheets and thrust them into his palm. ‘You can do the floor.’

  He smiled. Relegated to floor work? He could cope with that.