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I held up my hands. “Ooookay…it was just a suggestion.”
“I’m not paying a stranger. If you don’t want money, you can have something else. Name it.” His dark eyes met mine. “So, what’s your decision?”
“Hold on, Mr. Impatient. Can I at least have some time to think about this?”
“You have until the end of the working day. Let me know your decision by five o’clock.”
He stood, effectively dismissing me, and I stumbled back to my desk in a daze. Had that really happened?
Needless to say, my concentration was non-existent for the rest of the day. One comment Ethan had made kept repeating itself in my mind. He’d said I was attractive enough to pass as his girlfriend. Coming from him, that was the closest he’d ever given me to a compliment. I mean, he was an incredibly good-looking man: he had that tall, dark, and broodingly handsome thing going on that so many women seemed to like.
Okay, so I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him, but in the same distant way I’d find a celebrity attractive. He barely featured on my radar as we were poles apart. He was a rich, successful businessman, and I was an accountant. His luxury penthouse bathroom was probably bigger than the entirety of the tiny studio apartment I rented. No doubt he stayed fit with an expensive gym membership, and I stayed fit by making the long walk to work every morning to avoid being charged peak travel fares on the Tube.
We got on well at work, but he was so strait-laced and proper. I was, frankly, a bit of a mess and a daydreamer. Flighty—that was what my mother had always called me. “You’ve got your head in the clouds, Avery. Join the rest of us in the real world sometime.”
I mulled over Ethan’s proposition in my mind as I input the expenses claim forms strewn across my desk into my accounting software. It took me all of thirty minutes to make up my mind, but I decided to let Ethan stew until the end of the day. At 4:55 p.m. I pushed all my paperwork into a messy pile on the edge of my desk and shut down my computer. Swiping my handbag from the floor, I headed to Ethan’s office, smiling at his assistant, Delia, as I passed her desk. His door was open, and he looked up from his computer with a hopeful expression as I entered the room.
“I’ll do it,” I said, not wanting to prolong the suspense any longer.
A huge smile spread across his face. An honest-to-goodness actual smile from Ethan Barrett, directed at me. That smile did funny things to my insides. He looked so gorgeous right then, it completely disarmed me. Pull yourself together. I walked briskly across to his desk and held out my hand for him to shake.
He pushed back his chair and rose to his full height. “Hang on a minute. I’m not shaking on anything yet. What’s your stipulation? What do you want as compensation for this?”
“A coffee machine.”
“Huh?” Ethan’s expression was so befuddled that I laughed out loud.
“A coffee machine for the office,” I clarified. “So your staff members don’t have to waste time queuing in crowded coffee shops. And everyone benefits, because none of us will have to drink that disgusting instant stuff that’s the only other current option in this building.”
He stared down at me, humour dancing in his espresso eyes. Okay, I had coffee on the brain. What could I say? I was addicted.
“And that’s all you want?”
“Yes. Well, I may take advantage of one or two of those spa treatments you mentioned earlier.”
“Only to be expected.”
He rounded the desk to stand in front of me, and I had to crane my neck up to look into his eyes. He clasped my hand briefly, then cleared his throat.
“Miss Jenkins, we have a deal. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that this is a confidential arrangement, so please don’t mention it to anyone in the office. I’ll message you all the details later. Thank you for doing this; you’re helping me out of a sticky situation.”
I nodded. To be perfectly honest, other than the bonus of the coffee machine, I was intrigued to spend some time with Ethan and see how he acted out of the office environment. And being pampered for a weekend in a gorgeous country manor—in the end it had been an easy decision to make. How often did a chance like this come around?
2
Ethan
Reclining against my smooth Italian leather sofa, I took a sip of Scotch, then placed my glass down on a coaster on the coffee table. I picked up my phone, scrolling through my contacts to the number I’d saved earlier. Avery. I laughed to myself, thinking how stunned she’d looked when I’d presented my suggestion to her. I was glad she’d agreed to my deal; I was dreading this weekend away. An entire weekend with my mother, who wanted nothing more than to palm me off on some fucking trophy wife type, all breathy fake baby voice and flicky hair. No, thanks. Avery would be my buffer—my barrier against the interference. It didn’t hurt that she was stunning, and she didn’t even appear to be aware of it. Huge, expressive, azure-blue eyes, long waves of dark hair, and her body…no. I did not want to go there. The whole point of her coming on this shitshow of a weekend away with me was so I didn’t have to deal with inconveniences like attraction and feelings.
Besides, I wasn’t attracted to her. She was nothing like my usual type. I dated tall, cool, refined blondes—career women who were happy to meet up occasionally and had no expectations. Avery was…different. Looks aside, although she had a real talent for numbers, her mess of a desk and general untidiness exasperated me. She was happy-go-lucky and had an annoying obsession with musical theatre, a fact that everyone in the office was well aware of. I shuddered. Was there anything worse than sitting through endless hours of overly dramatic actors wailing and prancing around on a stage?
No, Avery was a safe option. I’d made the right decision.
I abruptly downed the dregs of my Scotch, then tapped out a message.
Me: The wedding is the weekend after this. We’ll drive up on the Friday after work, and be back by Sunday evening.
She replied a couple of minutes later.
