Page 10 of Third Time’s a Charm

“I hope so.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that this guy just arrived, unannounced, out of the blue?” Colin asks, settling in to chew on a meaty bone of gossip.

“Yeah, I do, actually. HR had no idea at all?”

“None. Normally I’d be the one to organise accommodation and a car and whatever. But nothing. Do you think it was a deliberate stealth attack?” Colin holds a hand up, mimicking a snake’s head, and darts his hand forward with a hiss.

“Possibly.” I crane my neck to look into the corridor, checking nobody is loitering about, then lower my voice. “Could the London office finally have noticed you-know-who is incompetent and they’ve sent someone out to investigate?”

“Oh, honey, let’s hope so.” The snake’s head becomes prayer hands.

“Because we can’t keep going the way things are. I mean, profits are holding. Just. But revenue is down. If he hadn’t cut the marketing budget and done that round of redundancies, we’d be in the red.”

“Well, if this Jasper McSexy-Jones has an ounce of sense, he’ll grab this idea of yours and run with it. Regardless of what McHandsy Mackelden might say.”

It’s a risk. But as long as John Mackelden doesn’t get in Jasper’s ear, maybe there’s hope.

To paraphrase Jane Austen, it’s a truth universally accepted that John Mackelden likes nothing more than a drink. Especially on the company’s dime.

So it comes as no surprise that a ‘little welcome party’ is organised for Jasper McSexy—I mean Spencer—Jones at the end of the day.

I love a little company party myself. But not for the same reasons as John.

It’s a chance to catch up with people I don’t see in the normal day-to-day course of my work, and I genuinely love most of the people I work with.

There are some pitfalls, though. I’ve been at Cellar Road International for four years now, so I’ve learnt a couple of things. First and foremost, to keep at least a half-room distance between myself and John at company parties. Or anywhere alcohol is served.

You’d think in this day and age you wouldn’t have to worry about stuff like this, but there are still some dinosaurs roaming the earth. Preying on the unwary. Luckily, Colin always has my back.

Tonight, though, I sense different eyes on me. Those of Jasper Spencer-Jones. Not in a creepy way. In an assessing way. Exactly what he’s assessing, I’m not sure.

I hope it’s my ability to pull off the ideas in my presentation. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a small part of me hopes he’s assessing my arse, or my legs, or my boobs.

Jeez. Maybe I’m a dinosaur too. The difference is, I’d never do anything about it. Unless invited to, of course.

Because there’s no denying Colin was right about him. He’s very McSexy, with his one curl of brown hair that flops over his forehead and blue eyes so dark they’re navy. Not to mention the way his waistcoat hugs a very flat belly, and the super-fine wool of his suit pants mould perfectly to a rounded arse.

I don’t know what it says about me that I even find his cool reserve appealing.

Last time we met, when I was twelve and he was fifteen, I thought he was everything cool and sophisticated. In reality, he was probably just a broody teen. He spoke little and smiled even less, but my God, gangly and awkward as he was, he looked good doing it. And I was smitten. So were all my friends, who were beyond jealous he was staying in my house. As was evidenced by the way Alison, my bestie at the time, kept finding ways to appear unannounced and invite herself on outings. Not that it did either of us any good. Our tween hopes that he’d notice us went unfulfilled.

The broody teen has lived up to all his early promise and then some. Perhaps that’s what I’m feeling. Residual attraction from an unresolved, unrequited crush. Either that, or it’s just plain hormones. It has been a while.

Whatever it is, I need to stop. Because he’s my boss’ boss’ boss. That threesome alone should be enough to put me off. If he would just stop following me with those eyes. Dark and serious.

Between the way he’s watching me, and the calculating looks he’s occasionally shooting John Mackelden, I’m not enjoying the party as much as I normally would.

“I don’t think McSexy likes parties,” Colin whispers over my shoulder, handing me a fresh glass of wine.

I turn and look as subtly as I can. Colin is right. I’ve seen people waiting for surgery looking more relaxed.

“Maybe he’s shy?” I can’t even tell Colin how Jasper’s behaviour tracks with his teenage self. Because as much as Colin loves me, when he’s had a couple of chardies, his mouth can run away with him.

“Or maybe he’s the strong, silent, broody type. And when he gets you alone …” Colin’s shiver expresses what he leaves unsaid.

Damn. I don’t need to be thinking about being alone with Jasper. I really don’t.

Fortunately, at that moment, John Mackelden taps his glass with a fork, bringing the room to silence.