Mr One-Night Stand

She beckoned him over, moving so she could stand directly behind her and could read what she was working on.

‘I think our product is better,’ she said. ‘I’ve taken a look at what they’re offering and ours outstrips it by far.’

‘Okay...’ he said, his hands sinking forcibly into his pockets.

‘I told you it was a good idea to merge product specifications!’

She was ribbing him, but all he felt was pride blooming. He had the crazy urge to pull her into his arms and tell her as much.

‘So, I reckon the best solution,’ she continued, ‘is to have a red carpet affair for our launch and do it now.’

‘Now?’

‘Well, not literally—but certainly within the next week or two, hot on the back of this. I think I can pull a few strings, get some big names in the business to attend, bring in the press, and it’ll bury this morning’s news.’

He chuckled. ‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’

She smiled up at him, her expression unreadable. ‘Our product is better,’ she stressed. ‘It deserves to be treated as such.’

‘No arguments here.’

Her eyes went back to the page and she traced her index finger down the list she’d created. ‘These are my first thoughts on guests, location, theme, catering and—’

The trill of his phone interrupted, but it was a while before he even registered it because he was so lost in her and what she was saying.

‘Do you want to get that?’

Her question brought with it his senses. Of course he should get it. Someone ringing at this hour had to be important. He slid his phone out of his pocket and checked the ID. Gran.

He stared at it, a thread of unease coiling steadily up his spine.

‘Who is it?’

He could hear the concern in her voice. She was so astute.

‘It’s my grandmother.’ Or would it be Pops again?

He knew he needed to answer but his fingers were frozen around the phone. If he didn’t answer, whatever news was coming wouldn’t be real...

Christ, don’t be ridiculous!

Next to him, Jennifer stood and placed a hand on his arm. ‘Would you like me to step out?’

The comfort of her touch radiated through the ice and his fingers came alive. ‘No.’

She nodded and he answered the call, lifting the phone to his ear. ‘Gran?’

‘Marcus.’

‘Pops?’ It came out gruff, unrecognisable even to his own ears.

‘She’s been rushed in—’

His grandfather broke off and Marcus felt as if someone had a noose around his neck, was pulling it tight, his very life being squeezed out of him.

He needed to spea

k, but the words weren’t coming. He shut his eyes, then opened them to seek out Jennifer, and she was there, her own eyes shining with an emotion that he knew mirrored his own.