A Girl Less Ordinary. Leah Ashton

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СКАЧАТЬ side—if he smiled like that at a female interviewer, Ella reckoned he could make anyone forget whatever curly question they’d thrown at him.

      Ella dismissed the way her body instantly tensed at that idea as pure frustration, and not ridiculously placed jealousy related to hypothetical future interviews.

      He nodded. ‘And you changed pretty much everything else, too, I’ve noticed.’ His gaze travelled over her—her hair, her impeccably made-up face, her perfectly fitted outfit.

      Though she knew it was terrible, she all but preened under his gaze.

      See, I can scrub up okay. I’m not a clumsy schoolgirl with bad hair any more.

      But—strangely—he didn’t look all that impressed. If anything, his expression was … disappointed?

      Which was crazy. No one could possibly argue that she hadn’t improved every single aspect of herself since the last time she’d seen Jake. She’d changed everything—and for the better.

      She shifted awkwardly in her seat, then stilled her fingers when she realised she was plucking absently at the fabric of her skirt.

      ‘Jake, can you tell me what makes the new Armada phone so special?’

      He raised an eyebrow at the swift change of subject, but, thankfully, didn’t call her on it.

      Instead, almost instantly, he became more animated. He launched into a detailed—far too detailed, really—description of the phone, and his pet topic the operating system, which, she knew from Cynthia’s briefing, was his brainchild.

      For the next few minutes, Ella absorbed all she ever—ever—needed to know about multi-touch capability, near field communications, API support and the team’s focus on usability. His detailed description went on and on—and eventually, she yawned.

      ‘Am I boring you?’

      She nodded emphatically.

      ‘Lots of people are interested in that stuff,’ Jake said, back to being just the slightest bit defensive.

      ‘Not the average consumer,’ Ella said. When he opened his mouth—to argue, she was sure—she took much enjoyment in being the one to interrupt this time. ‘Put it this way. Do you want to hear me wax lyrical about my whole-food diet?’

      He blanched.

      ‘Exactly. Your multi-field-API whatsit …’ her deliberate mangling of the secret language of software developers made him flinch ‘… is like my discussion on the health benefits of spelt. Only a very specific type of person is interested. And that person is not the average Australian.’

      He nodded—reluctantly.

      ‘How about I ask you a question that people will really want to know about “Sydney’s reclusive millionaire”—’

      ‘I’d rather you didn’t call me that.’

      ‘I’d rather you didn’t interrupt me. You promised, remember?’

      He gave the slightest of grins, and again she needed to bite her lip.

      It was unexpected—this … what? Friendly conversation? Banter?

      No. No. They were building a rapport, just as he’d said. That was all.

      She took a deep breath. ‘You’re renowned for refusing to do interviews. What’s changed?’

      Jake immediately swung back to the defensive—this time, very defensive. ‘I’m here to talk about the Armada phone. Not about myself.’

      Undeterred, Ella carried on, now sticking determinedly to her interviewer persona. ‘But, Jake, all our viewers are equally interested in you.’

      ‘You know the answer, Ella. I’m sure Cynthia told you.’

      ‘Pretend I’m an interviewer, Jake. Not Eleanor.’

      Jake stared at her for a long moment. What?

      ‘Eleanor?’

      Too late she realised her mistake. One she’d never, ever made before.

      ‘Ella,’ she said. ‘Of course that’s what I meant.’

      As he watched her Ella felt her cheeks grow steadily warmer, until she was very glad she wasn’t the one with the camera pointed in her direction.

      She bit her lip, trying to refocus. Remember where she was. And, more importantly, who she was. She was Ella Cartwright—successful, confident, popular.

      Ella Cartwright: businesswoman, friend, girlfriend, even—sometimes. For very short periods. Her career always came first. Always.

      But what she was not—not even in the slightest—was Eleanor.

      ‘Freudian slip?’ Jake asked.

      ‘Not at all. My subconscious is obviously a little confused. When I knew you, I was Eleanor.’ She shrugged, attempting nonchalance despite the tomato-hue of her cheeks and the whirring of her brain.

      ‘You act like Eleanor’s an entirely different person.’

      ‘She is,’ she said. Firmly. ‘Now. I’m doing the interviewing, not you.’

      ‘I liked Eleanor,’ Jake said, ignoring her.

      ‘No, you didn’t,’ she said, quickly, before her distracted brain could halt her tongue.

      But it was true. He’d made his dislike quite clear that night, in his bedroom. And then confirmed it when he left Perth, and her life, without a backward glance.

      For weeks—months—she’d expected something. An email maybe, so she’d checked the computers at school religiously each day. Or a phone call—and for far too long she’d leapt to her feet whenever its ring had reverberated throughout her wooden-framed house.

      Really, she would’ve been happy with a postcard of the harbour bridge, even.

      She’d been totally pathetic.

      And now she was horrified to register an echo of that ache she’d forcibly buried so long ago. It had faded, for sure, but it was still there. Somewhere inside her.

      A little piece of who she once was. Of the girl that Jake had rejected.

      That everyone had rejected.

      The realisation shocked her.

      ‘Ella,’ he said, and his voice was far too kind. ‘You can’t possibly—’

      No. She didn’t want to hear this. It should be impossible to remember his pity-edged tone from thirteen years ago but she did, and she didn’t want to hear it again. ‘When will the phone be available for purchase?’ she said, snatching up a question at random.

      There СКАЧАТЬ