course...and maybe more. Hell, she’d been the first thing he’d thought about as his alarm clock had blared, when most days he was filled with the rush of the day ahead, the love of his nomadic job—no two days the same.
Even the prospect of an exclusive interview with a famously reclusive star hadn’t erased the image of her as she’d turned away. The questions and confusion in her eyes. Things he didn’t know any answers to—and he shouldn’t even try to find them.
So, as he was clearly under par, he wouldn’t jump headlong into making a similar mistake again. Not with Estelle. And definitely not with Cassie.
He looked out of the window and watched London disappear below the clouds and with it he attempted to leave behind the events of last night. The soft touch of her lips against his. The little mewl of delight as she’d pulled him closer. The chaotic whirlwind she created wherever she went, including inside his head.
Especially inside his head.
He’d been torn between giving in to that sudden bolt of temptation or fighting it until he’d got her home safely. Because he got the impression that Cassie, with her muddle and fuss and her ardent words about his sister’s special day, did believe in the hearts and flowers he so easily decried. So getting interesting in the sack with her would only lead to a bleeding heart, which he plain avoided at all costs.
He was not going to think about her. He was going to sit back, close his eyes and plan, frame by frame, his next assignment so that when he met with Andres, the sound engineer, he’d be one step ahead of the game. Jack prided himself on always being one step ahead of the game.
Unlike Cassie, who seemed to have life happen to her and dragged everyone else along for the ride. That wasn’t what he’d worked so hard for. His childhood years had been chaos in the extreme and he never wanted to go back there again, to bewilderment and pain. No, he liked certainty and planning and order.
At that moment Estelle unclipped her seat belt and started to make her way over, determination lodged in that calm exterior. So she wouldn’t disturb him he delved into his briefcase and pulled out a wad of paper. But when he looked down his stomach tightened. He’d lifted out the folder of Sweet Treats’ menus and did he imagine just the faintest whiff of sugar?
Okay. So the fates were aligning against him. Typical. Just damned great. He hadn’t even realised he’d put that folder in his bag. And so, it seemed, Cassie was playing games with his head even from hundreds of miles away.
Staring at the endless lists of food, he decided he might as well have some recommendations for Lizzie when he finally broached that thorny subject. Maybe if he presented her with such spectacular choices she’d be blindsided to his interference. Irritatingly, though, as he scanned the entrées, his attention was held not by the thought of smoked salmon and cream cheese blinis, but by the woman who was going to make them.
* * *
For once, Cassie was going to be on the other side of the serving hatch and she was determined to enjoy every single second. A sumptuous gala dinner, flowing wine and playing posh dress-up—what wasn’t to like? As she adjusted the straps on her way too expensive but breathtakingly beautiful silver sparkly sandals, she glanced at the large clock above the ornate hotel door.
No. Really? Her stomach clenched. Did an hour past start-time count as fashionably late? No wonder there was no one around but doormen. One approached and asked for her ticket, which she handed over.
‘This way, ma’am. Please be silent as we make our way through the ballroom. The awards have begun.’
‘Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,’ she whispered, as she followed the doorman’s ramrod-straight back across the crowded dimly lit room to her allocated table, all the while trying to keep an eye on the stage, where someone was rambling about public service. Trying to gauge whether she’d
Even the prospect of an exclusive interview with a famously reclusive star hadn’t erased the image of her as she’d turned away. The questions and confusion in her eyes. Things he didn’t know any answers to—and he shouldn’t even try to find them.
So, as he was clearly under par, he wouldn’t jump headlong into making a similar mistake again. Not with Estelle. And definitely not with Cassie.
He looked out of the window and watched London disappear below the clouds and with it he attempted to leave behind the events of last night. The soft touch of her lips against his. The little mewl of delight as she’d pulled him closer. The chaotic whirlwind she created wherever she went, including inside his head.
Especially inside his head.
He’d been torn between giving in to that sudden bolt of temptation or fighting it until he’d got her home safely. Because he got the impression that Cassie, with her muddle and fuss and her ardent words about his sister’s special day, did believe in the hearts and flowers he so easily decried. So getting interesting in the sack with her would only lead to a bleeding heart, which he plain avoided at all costs.
He was not going to think about her. He was going to sit back, close his eyes and plan, frame by frame, his next assignment so that when he met with Andres, the sound engineer, he’d be one step ahead of the game. Jack prided himself on always being one step ahead of the game.
Unlike Cassie, who seemed to have life happen to her and dragged everyone else along for the ride. That wasn’t what he’d worked so hard for. His childhood years had been chaos in the extreme and he never wanted to go back there again, to bewilderment and pain. No, he liked certainty and planning and order.
At that moment Estelle unclipped her seat belt and started to make her way over, determination lodged in that calm exterior. So she wouldn’t disturb him he delved into his briefcase and pulled out a wad of paper. But when he looked down his stomach tightened. He’d lifted out the folder of Sweet Treats’ menus and did he imagine just the faintest whiff of sugar?
Okay. So the fates were aligning against him. Typical. Just damned great. He hadn’t even realised he’d put that folder in his bag. And so, it seemed, Cassie was playing games with his head even from hundreds of miles away.
Staring at the endless lists of food, he decided he might as well have some recommendations for Lizzie when he finally broached that thorny subject. Maybe if he presented her with such spectacular choices she’d be blindsided to his interference. Irritatingly, though, as he scanned the entrées, his attention was held not by the thought of smoked salmon and cream cheese blinis, but by the woman who was going to make them.
* * *
For once, Cassie was going to be on the other side of the serving hatch and she was determined to enjoy every single second. A sumptuous gala dinner, flowing wine and playing posh dress-up—what wasn’t to like? As she adjusted the straps on her way too expensive but breathtakingly beautiful silver sparkly sandals, she glanced at the large clock above the ornate hotel door.
No. Really? Her stomach clenched. Did an hour past start-time count as fashionably late? No wonder there was no one around but doormen. One approached and asked for her ticket, which she handed over.
‘This way, ma’am. Please be silent as we make our way through the ballroom. The awards have begun.’
‘Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,’ she whispered, as she followed the doorman’s ramrod-straight back across the crowded dimly lit room to her allocated table, all the while trying to keep an eye on the stage, where someone was rambling about public service. Trying to gauge whether she’d
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