Stranded With The Boss. Elizabeth Lane

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      CHAPTER ONE

      IT WAS one of those crisp clear late summer mornings that said autumn was coming. Isabel Dare, doing her stretches just inside the park gates, drew deep, luxuriating breaths. Peace, she thought.

      Alone. Room to breathe. Silence to think, except for the birds twittering in the trees. For the first time in weeks, months, there was no one walking her off the pavement as if she didn’t exist. No stifling underground train with a stranger’s elbow in her side and her nose pressed into someone else’s back. No beep announcing the next text message.

      Just not a natural London person, I guess, she told herself wryly.

      The next text message would be, like all the others, from Adam. She knew what it would say. ‘Date 3 whn?’

      The problem was, she didn’t know the answer.

      ‘Third date coming up, huh?’ Jemima had said last night, just before she dropped her overnight flight bag and crashed. ‘Hope he has more luck than the last five. I like Adam.’

      Well, Izzy liked him, too. She just wasn’t sure she wanted him to move in any closer. And the third date was—well, big.

      Bigger even than she’d realised, thought Izzy wryly now. She and Jemima called it the Sex Date. They always had; it was a sister thing. So Izzy was taken aback to find that everyone else seemed to be calling it the Sex Date, too. Including Adam Sadler.

      He was getting increasingly impatient, too. To be honest, Izzy couldn’t blame him. The trouble was, it wasn’t just London that was getting her down. Adam—and the five guys before him—were a big part of it, too. She enjoyed dating; she liked having a good time. But she didn’t want to go through the third date barrier with any of them. Not any more.

      She took herself to task. Well, maybe make that not with anyone yet. Things could change. Meanwhile—

      Izzy shook her head. ‘Hard-Hearted Hannah,’ she said with a grin. ‘They’ll just have to live with it.’

      She began to jog quietly along the grass beside the Tarmac path. It was only just six-thirty, but already the sky was hazy with the promise of heat. It would be a perfect day for walking in the woods. Or canoeing. Or just lazing by the river under the shade of a willow, watching the insects hover and thinking of nothing. Alone.

      ‘Not an option,’ she said aloud, squashing regret.

      Today was her cousin Pepper’s big day. Today saw the opening of Out of the Attic, Pepper’s new retail concept. Pepper had put her heart and soul into this, her breakout venture on her own, and Izzy had worked with her on it for months. This was a day of presentations and schmoozing and parties. No time for willows.

      Izzy sighed—but she laughed as well.

      The trouble was, she thought, Pepper really cared about shopping. Whereas Izzy didn’t, not if she were honest. Still, that didn’t matter. Pepper had given her a job when she’d been so badly shaken she’d thought that she was unemployable and always would be.

      Not that Pepper knew that. Nobody did. Izzy had taken good care of that. Izzy fought her demons in private. Always had.

      She increased her pace.

      The low morning sun struck rainbows off of the dew-wet leaves. Birds sang. A heron cruised idly over the mill-pond surface of the lake. It was not really hunting, just checking out the scene, she thought with a grin.

      The exercise was beginning to take effect. Izzy’s blood pumped and her skin tingled. Oh, this felt good. This would make up for the hours to come. Hours of monitoring what she said to make sure she stayed on message; of circulating in air thick with warring perfumes; of feeling that she was drowning in people.

      When she’d first moved to London she’d run in the park every day. Always early, very early, when it was virtually deserted.

      ‘But isn’t that terribly dangerous?’ New Yorker Pepper had said, blenching, the first time she met Izzy in the hallway in her shorts and running shoes.

      Izzy laughed. ‘I run fast and I kick hard.’

      ‘She does,’ agreed Jemima with a grin. Jemima had been there all the time then. Hadn’t got her big job; wasn’t travelling twenty-four days a month; still listened.

      But Pepper was unconvinced. ‘But what if a man came at you with a gun?’

      Inwardly Izzy tensed. But outwardly she stayed unconcerned. She shrugged. ‘Run if you can. If you can’t—negotiate!’

      Jemima, still in silky kimono with a coffee in her hand, shook her head at her cousin.

      ‘That’s what she always says, Pepper. Izzy has been all round the world you know. Every time she comes back without a scratch. So she must be right.’

      Pepper was unconvinced. ‘But the risk!’

      Izzy was unlacing her shoes, but at that she turned her head and said with quite unnecessary force, ‘Life is all about risks.’ She eased the shoes off, sat on the polished parquet and looked up at the other two. ‘Run away from one and you just rush slap into another. So you can either sit in a locked room and shiver. Or take the risks. And learn СКАЧАТЬ