The Street Where She Lives. Jill Shalvis

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      She looked up warily as Martin Payne came towards her, the jovial smile on his face nothing like his anger with her earlier today. ‘Ah, Miss Adams,’ he beamed, ‘I trust Jake has told you that our little misunderstanding is to be forgotten?’

      ‘He did mention it.’

      ‘Such a silly misunderstanding,’ he continued. ‘You only had to tell me that you'd already agreed to come to the party with Jake and all of that unpleasantness could have been avoided.’

      So that was how he had done it! ‘I don't think——’

      ‘I felt slightly ridiculous when he explained the circumstances behind your refusal.’ He smiled as he realised he was allowing anger to enter his voice. ‘I hope you'll be able to forget any unpleasantness that may have occurred between us. It was all a complete mistake.’

      ‘Yes,’ she agreed uncertainly, not at all sure of his sudden changes of mood. And she was a little curious as to why Jake had told this man she was spending the evening with him, although she realised this was probably what had saved her job; Martin Payne wouldn't want to antagonise anyone close to Jake Weston.

      ‘Of course I don't know how you managed it,’ he added curtly, obviously not completely cowed.

      Stacy stiffened. ‘Don't you?’ she queried softly, looking past him to the tall imposing figure of Jake as he made his way back to her side, a drink in each hand.

      Martin Payne flushed as he followed her line of vision. ‘Mm—well, perhaps I do,’ he muttered. ‘But for your sake I hope you never anger him as you did me this afternoon. He would make a much more formidable adversary that I ever would.’

      She already knew that! She smiled at the director. ‘I don't envisage anything like that happening.’

      ‘I wouldn't count on it. People like Jake can be very temperamental.’

      Jake arrived at her side, smiling down at her as he handed her her drink, a completely charming smile directed at her, only at her. And it had the desired effect; she felt as if her legs were turning to jelly and there was a strange butterfly sensation in the pit of her stomach.

      He turned to look at the director, his smile fading. ‘Martin,’ he nodded curtly.

      ‘I—er—I just came over to tell Miss Adams that it will no longer be necessary for her to leave tomorrow.’ Martin Payne was obviously just as overwhelmed by this man as she was. ‘And to apologise for the misunderstanding.’

      Jake nodded. ‘I had already told her, but I'm sure she appreciated your telling her personally.’ Stacy felt herself stiffen as he put an arm possessively about her waist. ‘Stacy was rather upset about it all,’ he added.

      ‘I'm sure she was,’ the older man looked uncomfortable. ‘Would you like me to introduce you to some of the other people here now?’

      ‘I don't think so,’ Jake refused, his hand on her waist seeming to burn where it touched. ‘Stacy and I can manage just fine on our own.’

      ‘But, Jake, this is all——’

      ‘I said we can manage,’ Jake cut in. ‘Stacy can introduce me to anyone I care to meet, can't you, honey?’

      ‘Er—yes, I suppose so.’

      The director shrugged. ‘Okay then,’ he accepted defeat in the face of such obstinacy. ‘But I think Paul would like to meet you again.’

      ‘I'm sure he would,’ Jake snapped, his mouth a thin straight line. ‘But that's the one person I don't think Stacy would like to introduce me to. And I certainly don't appreciate men of his type trying to force young girls into going out with him.’

      ‘I'll—er—I'll see you later, then.’

      Jake was looking down at Stacy. ‘Perhaps, Martin. Perhaps.’

      It was a disgruntled Martin Payne who finally left them, and Stacy wondered at Jake for daring to talk to him in that way. After all, he was one of the leading directors in the world, and Jake had more or less dismissed him.

      She looked up at Jake, moving out of the hold he had about her waist. ‘That isn't going to make you very popular,’ she warned.

      He looked unperturbed. ‘I'm not out to win any popularity contests.’

      ‘Perhaps that's as well,’ she sipped her drink. ‘Mm, my favourite drink, Martini and lemonade. Did your informant tell you that too?’

      He grinned at her, his eyes deeply blue. ‘I don't have an informant. I guessed about your drink, and as for the other—well, I just asked Payne why he'd dismissed you.’

      She looked surprised. ‘And he told you about Paul Forbes?’

      ‘Not exactly.’

      ‘But you worked it out,’ she said knowingly.

      ‘Knowing Paul as I do, yes.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘You know him?’ she asked almost accusingly.

      ‘Slightly.’

      Her mouth compressed. ‘I see.’

      ‘I don't think you do. Let's sit down and we'll talk about it.’ Without waiting for her answer he led her over to a secluded table, well away from everyone else and in the dimmer lighting. He pulled out a chair for her to sit down and then sat at her side, his arm resting along the back of her chair.

      Stacy was very aware of the warmth of his arm against her bare skin, the velvet material of his jacket pleasurably caressing her back. She sat forward to avoid the intimacy of that touch. ‘You were saying you know Paul Forbes.’ She couldn't even bring herself to look at him, she was so aware of him.

      Why should he be interested in her anyway? There were plenty of much more beautiful women here tonight who would be only too pleased to be with such a distinguished, attractive man. And yet he had chosen her.

      He gently pushed her back in the seat, leaning forward himself to prevent her moving again. Now Stacy felt hemmed in by him, unable to look anywhere else but at his dark compelling face, the expression in his eyes not one she cared to analyse.

      ‘I did say I know Paul, but not in the way you mean. I know him slightly, but I know of him better. His reputation for liking young girls is well known. Although in your case I can't exactly blame him.’

      ‘Well, I can,’ she said angrily. ‘He's disgusting!’

      ‘I agree,’ he drawled. ‘But then you shouldn't be so damned beautiful.’

      She blushed fiery red. ‘He didn't want me because of my looks, he wanted me because I don't want him.’

      Jake sat back, crossing one leather-clad foot over the other. ‘Feminine logic?’

      ‘If you like,’ she said stiffly. ‘If I showed an interest in him he wouldn't want me. I have a friend who thinks he's fantastic, but adoration isn't what he wants. Oh no, Paul Forbes likes his women unwilling.’

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