Her Client from Hell by Louisa George

Author:Louisa George [George, Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

‘Jack, come on.’

‘Okay. Okay.’ God only knew why he’d been convinced to do this. He’d spent the last few days holed up in the editing room, stuffy and hot and with thoughts never wholly on the job. Even working late into the night, focusing on the real things that mattered—his career, where he’d be next week, next month, next year—hadn’t been enough distraction.

Truth was, work just wasn’t enough these days.

Gritting his teeth, he followed his sister through streets thick with people wearing bright clothes and wide smiles. The air was heavy with a loud bass beat and the smoky spice smell of a distant Caribbean island. Every single person he brushed past seemed pleased to be here. Excited. Everyone swayed to a foreign rhythm that actually seemed to reverberate in his heart—a wild bouncing vibe that coaxed and cajoled and seemed to promise: you’re going to have some fun today whether you like it or not.

And Jack didn’t.

Not least because he had no idea how to face Cassie again. He wasn’t a lay-it-on-the-line kind of man. He’d learnt to hold everything close. He’d had to. To be strong. To be independent. To survive on his own. And yet she made him want to give just a little bit of himself. And he was scared as hell as to what that might mean.

Plus, their last conversation had ended as a damp squib and he owed her. She’d given up some of her profit just to make his sister happy, when she hadn’t needed to. The least he could do was stick to his side of the deal and turn up. Bring a smile too.

‘Come on, Jack! Hurry up.’ Lizzie danced along in Callum’s arms—a waltz, a whirl, a huge grin. ‘I want to show Cassie our float as it goes by. If we can get there in time.’

‘She’s probably not even set-up yet. Or in chaos. Or forgotten. She’ll definitely be running late. You don’t know her like I do.’ Did he know her? Really? Deeply? Enough to be able to make more than a passing observation of her business skills—and the fact she was a damned fine kisser; not much more, really.

But his feet were moving quickly through the slow-paced crowd. There were people as far as he could see, stretching behind him up the road into the distance and in front, down to the Tube station and beyond, lining the pavements, cheering from balconies and roofs, clapping and singing as parades of children dressed in feathers and frills and hoops and bows gyrated and danced down the street. And everywhere that whistle sound that gave him half elation, half heartache.

There was a chance they wouldn’t find her in the crush. But the moment his skin prickled and his head was turning to the right he saw her face—as if his body had some kind of Cassie-guided missile.

Surprisingly, her Sweet Treats stall was way more sophisticated than he’d imagined. Impressive, really: a huge awning in bold colours with

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