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‘Yes. Your girlfriend is a perfect example of the kind of woman you go for.’
James dipped his chin and levelled her with a stare that stopped her heart. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’
Her heart restarted with a jolt, half relieved at his words, and half horrified he was treating ‘E’ so badly.
He gestured to the wall behind her. ‘I like it.’
Huh? ‘The Spice Girls?’
The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘The map.’
‘Oh.’
James rolled back his chair then stood, completely in control of the game unfolding between them. Estelle felt like she’d dropped the ball five minutes ago.
‘Although I have nothing against the Spice Girls.’ He moved around his desk towards the life-size cut-outs of the band she’d propped against the wall. ‘I enjoyed their company multiple times during my adolescence.’
‘You’re a pig.’
‘No, just honest.’ He stroked his chin. ‘Staring across the office at them over the next six months is going to rekindle so many happy memories.’
Estelle’s face heated at the thought of James ‘rekindling’ his memories, and she moved further away from him.
He turned his attention from contemplating her favourite girl band to the satellite photos of Foxbrooke Manor and the surrounding area. Estelle had enlarged them, printed them out, then stuck them to the wall, covering a three-metre squared area.
‘I’ve seen the site plan on a screen before,’ James continued. ‘But this is a far better way to understand the festival. We need copies of this for the conference room and the other offices.’
‘And you expect me to do that?’
His gaze stayed on the wall. ‘No. Just tell Max where you got this done and he can organise it.’
She didn’t know how to reply, so ran her finger around the smooth edge of a mug with a picture of a cockerel on it, and the words ‘Rise & Shine, Mother-Cluckers!’
James glanced out of the window. ‘No rain is forecast today. How about we visit the site this morning?’
‘You want to come to Foxbrooke Manor?’
He shrugged. ‘It would be good to walk the grounds and check the layout works before we set it in stone.’
‘It’s fine. I designed it.’
‘And Estelle Foxbrooke is never wrong.’
She bit the inside of her mouth, remembering the Winter Ball. She’d been spectacularly wrong about James that night, falling into his arms and then for his charms.
He moved closer, picking up another mug from her desk and reading aloud. ‘I’m not opinionated; I’m just never wrong.’
‘You can have that one,’ she muttered, breathing through her mouth so she didn’t fall prey to the power of his scent.
‘What do you think, Max?’ James asked.
Estelle whipped around to see Max standing just inside the door. When had he come in?
‘Hey boss, hi Estelle,’ he replied, a guileless smile on his face. ‘Great idea. When are we going?’
‘Now,’ James said. ‘I’ll drive us.’
Estelle itched to know what car James drove, but didn’t want to be in an enclosed space next to him.
