Page 7
I stand. Sit. Then stand again. That gets his attention.
“Is there something you’d like to say?”
It’s clear whatever I might want to say is going to be unwelcome. I suck in a breath.
“Yes, actually.” He probably already thinks I’m an idiot, so I might as well get this off my chest. “About my presentation. I’m very sorry I was late. That’s not how I usually perform. My alarm didn’t go off. Which meant I was late. I hate being late.” His dark blue eyes are intense on my face. No trace of humour or warmth. Which makes me nervous. “But it was the third of the third, you see, and then the meeting was moved to conference room three, and, well …” I stumble to a halt, cursing how my nerves have triggered a severe case of blurtigo, which is one of my anti-super-powers. I sound like an idiot.
“The third of the third?” He’s understandably non plussed.
My cheeks burn, but there’s no escaping an explanation.
“Yes. Three is a very unlucky number for me.”
His lips press into an even tighter line.
I take a breath, stupidly planning to make this clusterfuck worse and tell him why, but he holds up a hand.
“I don’t require an explanation, thank you. Your manager emailed and assured me yesterday was out of character. Please don’t give it another thought.”
“It’s just, I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to look at what I emailed you.”
His eyes close so briefly it’s possible I imagined it. Along with the slight sigh.
“Yes. I was able to take a look last night.”
This is like pulling teeth.
“Only, if you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them. Or provide any additional documents you might need to make a decision.”
Again with the closed eyes. Perhaps he’s shutting them so I can’t see how hard he’s rolling them.
“Ms Baker.” Oh dear, that’s not a good sign. A minute ago I was Louise. “I arrived in the country less than forty-eight hours ago. There is a great deal for me to get my head around. I assure you, I’ll let you know if there is anything more I require.”
I scooch to the front of my chair and lean forward, my bottom lip clamped between my teeth to stop the wobble that’s threatening. Now would probably be the time to keep my damn mouth shut, but this means too much to me.
“I understand. Truly. But I would very much appreciate the opportunity to discuss my proposal properly.”
With a huff, Jasper Spencer-Jones leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. Not a good sign.
Abort. Abort, my amygdala screams. Too late, answers the prefrontal cortex. You’ve got this, my hypothalamus, who is well known as an optimist, says.
“You have three minutes.”
He’s got to be kidding, right? Except the look on his face is anything but humorous.
I take a deep breath and once again drag up my courage. I know my stuff. I spent weeks on this presentation. Agonised over every word and figure. Even though I’ve faced scepticism, to put it mildly, from the managing director, I know it’s a solid plan. Now I just have to hold it together long enough to convince the buttoned-up suit, who is giving every indication he’d be happy to see the back of me, that I’m worth a shot. That my plan is worth a shot.
Oh, and manage not to leak any bodily fluids onto him while I’m doing it.
Chapter Four
Jasper
The last thing I need this morning is Louise Baker sitting opposite me looking all kinds of edible while she reminds me how brilliant her proposal is. And how unintentionally funny she is.
I had to clamp my lips together so hard I stopped the blood flow, when she mentioned her superstition around the number three. Surely it can’t have anything to do with what happened to my shoes when we first met? Because if my calculations are correct, she would have been three.
The look on her face when I gave her three minutes? Priceless. Okay, maybe it was a little bit mean to tease her like that, but I just couldn’t help myself.
