A Girl Less Ordinary

He met her gaze. ‘That’s exactly what I’m worried about.’

She blinked. Normally her clients couldn’t wait to begin their transformation. Ella understood that, understood the need to grow and change. Jake— so apparently happy to ignore what the rest of the world thought of him, and so reluctant to concede anything to conform—she had a lot of trouble getting her head around.

She always had. In that way, at least, he hadn’t changed at all.

But she could do this. She had to.

‘While it would appear I’m not going to convince you today—I will convince you. You need me, Jake.’

With his back to her, Jake shrugged. ‘I seriously doubt that.’

Ella’s jaw clenched.

‘Give me two hours.’

He turned back towards her, a rapid movement in stark contrast to his default speed of languid. Maybe, finally, she’d piqued his interest. ‘For what?’

‘Proof,’ she said. She mimicked his casual shrug of before. ‘That’s all.’

‘And if you fail—that’s it. You’ll walk away—leaving me image-consultant free?’

She nodded. ‘Exactly. Although it’s possible the Armada board may disagree with this arrangement.’

Disagree was probably too soft a word. ‘Have conniptions’ would more likely be their response at the prospect of Jake Donner—with no buffing or polishing—fronting their campaign.

But, of course, it wouldn’t get to that.

Jake made a flippant gesture. ‘I’ll handle the board.’

Ella’s lips tipped up into the tightest of grins. ‘So, we have a deal? Two hours of your time. If I’m right, you agree to follow my programme. If I’m wrong—that’s it. Armada can tear up my contract.’

Slowly, he nodded. Then closed the distance between them and held out his hand.

Ah. Now he was going to shake her hand—when he thought she’d just made a deal she was certain to lose.

Had he seriously forgotten how competitive she was? Losing was never an option for Ella Cartwright.

But Jake’s touch suddenly obliterated any thoughts of victory or defeat.

It was a simple movement: just a handshake. Yet the sensation of his palm, and his fingers—large and just the slightest bit rough—wrapped around hers, it … struck her momentarily dumb. All she could concentrate on was the warmth radiating from this very G-rated connection. The sparks …

‘Why are you so determined to work with me?’

Ella snatched her hand away. No. Regressing back to a gooey, lovesick teenager was so not an option.

‘Because any image consultant worth her salt would want to work with you. High-profile client, high-profile campaign—what more could I ask for?’ Then she added, because she didn’t think she could reiterate it enough, ‘The fact we were once friends has absolutely no relevance. This is a business relationship, pure and simple.’

It was just slightly catastrophic that Cynthia had insisted it exist at all.

Jake met her gaze and just looked at her for a long moment. He didn’t waver from her eyes, but Ella still had the sense he was searching. Exploring.

‘Are you sure that’s it?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ she replied. Firmly, without missing a beat.

Because she was sure. Absolutely sure.

It was time for her to go.

‘I’ll contact your PA to organise our two hours for tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘We could do today, if you prefer,’ she said. Sweetly.

Ella was nearly positive she saw Jake grin—just a little.

As long as she remembered to treat him exactly as who he was: a client, and she continued to diligently leave the past exactly where it belonged, this could actually work out okay.

It could. Kind of like how pigs could—theoretically—fly right past this twenty-sixth floor window.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow is fine.’

‘Excellent,’ Ella said—briskly and with utter professionalism.

She excused herself and exited the Armada building just as briskly and professionally.

And to look at her, absolutely no one would ever know, or even suspect, how much she was shaking inside.

What had she just got herself into?

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