One Night with the Sexiest Man Alive (The One 1)

“I put him in the new conference room but it’s all glass so I’m going out there to stop people gawking at him, and I already confiscated all phones until this crisis is over.”

“Good idea.”

Sophie pumped her fist. “Get out there and win.”

“What?” Win? There wasn’t any way to win in a one-night stand with the Sexiest Man Alive if you didn’t leave it at one night.

Sophie flung the door open. “I mean break a leg.”

Break a leg? She might, the way they were wobbling. Every eye was on her as she walked from her office to the conference room where Sophie stood, back to the glass, glaring at anyone who dared look over. Haydn stood at the window looking out at the same grotty alley that’d always been there.

He turned when she opened the door and looking at his handsome face almost made her stagger. She didn’t let him get a word out. She’d missed him. She’d mourned for the lost opportunity of them and he couldn’t just show up looking for a fun time again out of nowhere.

“You waltzed in here without an appointment assuming I’d have time to see you. That’s incredibly poor form.”

He grinned and her legs nearly went out from under her. “Aw hell, yeah, it is. I know better, but I had to take the chance.”

“This makes no sense.”

“But here we are, you’re seeing me.”

She swept an arm towards the cube farm outside. “My whole office is seeing you.”

“It’s much bigger. More people. There’s a lot of glass.”

“I bought the building and we renovated.” Despite the anger and the confusion, there was pride in her voice.

“That’s fantastic. I knew you could do it.” There was pleasure in his.

“You were robbed,” she said. He shook his head, uncomprehendingly. “A little gold dust collector.”

“Ah, that. Pharrell Jefferson deserved that win. I got mine at the UN.”

“I heard.”

“You did?”

That he sounded surprised. That he didn’t expect her to know, that he’d taken his dad to the awards, softened her anger towards him. She sat at the head of the table. There were fourteen chairs between them. “It’s a shock, you being here.”

“I get that. I’m feeling it too. I tried to forget you, Teela. For the first time, I tried to plan B my way out of what we started.” He shook his head. “Couldn’t get it done.”

“I can’t sleep with you again.” Her body, her mind wouldn’t take it.

He walked seven chairs closer but remained standing. “There’s someone else.” He wore jeans and a T-shirt that fitted too well. A worn brown suede jacket was lying on the end of the table. His hair was clipped close and he looked bigger, more heavily muscled. He sounded annoyed.

“It’s none of your business.”

He pulled out a chair, leaving two between them. “You’re right.” He sank into it, the irritation in his tone dying away. “I didn’t stay in touch. I don’t know what I’m doing. You don’t owe me anything. I can see you’re successful. At least tell me you’re happy.”

He didn’t call or write or send an idiot card. He never said he would but if he’d cared, if he’d cared, it would’ve been different. It wouldn’t have been this. “Why are you here, Haydn?”

“I—whoa.” He passed a hand over his face. “I’m so fucking nervous. I haven’t been this nervous for years. It’s awful. I feel ill.”

Teela pressed her feet to the floor ready to stand. “Can I get you—wait. You’re nervous?”

“Petrified.” He blew out an audible breath like he was preparing to jump out of a plane. “And I’ve already fucked this up.” He put his hands on the table, fingers spread as if he was expecting to be tipped out of the room and needed to hold on. “The thing is, Teela, I got a new dog. Her name is Cyd. She was mistreated but she’s doing better now.”

A new dog. He’d told her he thought about getting another dog when he was blue after a show. “Aren’t you in the middle of shooting?”