Far From Perfect by Portia Da Costa Page B

was looking more and more uneasy by the minute.
    “I said it would be you. I…I’m not feeling too hot, Anna. Last night’s champagne, you know.” Lydia gave her an almost pleading look, rubbing her ample middle for effect.
    “Okay. I’ll go.”
    Anna felt a strange fluttering sensation in her own stomach all of a sudden. Not from champagne—she’d barely drunk any—but from lack of sleep, appalling emotional tension and an uneasy gut feeling of disquiet.
    “Attagirl, Anna. It’s a huge opportunity for us. It could lead to long-term contracts too. Really set us up.”
    Yes, we do need this , thought Anna, and as many other deals like it as we can get. If we’re to justify me refusing a funding offer from Nick we’ve got to snatch every opportunity that comes our way.
     
    Around twenty minutes later, Anna was staring at a depressingly bland print hanging in the foyer at Deighton Industries. The overly made-up receptionist had gestured to a long sofa against the wall, explaining that someone would be down to meet her in a moment, but Anna felt too edgy to relax. This was an important meeting, but it was more than that. Her over-taxed ESP was pinging with warning messages.
    At the sound of lift doors opening, it was an effort to turn around. And when she did, why was it not the slightest surprise to see who was walking towards her?
    “Welcome to Deighton Industries, Miss Felgate,” said Nick, an impossibly smug expression on his golden face as he extended his hand for an innocuous businessman’s greeting. “I’m so glad you could spare me some time. Won’t you come this way?” A heartbeat later he was beside her, long, determined fingers planted squarely in the small of her back to guide her towards the claustrophobic cage of the lift compartment.
    “Thank you, Signor Lisitano, I can manage,” she shot back, darting ahead to escape the incendiary pressure of his fingertips. Clean through her clothes, they felt like firecrackers against her skin. Heat migrated through her body with a terrifying speed and settled in all the zones that were still reacting to the night before.
    As the lift doors enclosed them, she turned on him.
    “If you’d wanted to speak to me, Nick, you could just have called. I’m sure Lydia’s given you my number.” She faced him boldly, because it was no good cowering and hiding. She couldn’t undo what was done—she just had to live with it.
    “And would you have answered?”
    His illuminated sapphire eyes steady and challenging, Nick leant back against the lift compartment’s wall and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. He was wearing another superb suit today, a dark business three piece with a dazzling white shirt that turned his Mediterranean tan molten. In contrast to the tousled curliness of last night, his amazing hair was faultlessly groomed, every gleaming strand combed back neatly from his smooth, broad brow line.
    He was a corporate god, charming, urbane, immaculate—and totally unstoppable.
    “Anna?” he prompted, and to her horror, Anna realized she’d just been standing there ogling him. Drinking him in like a draught of crystal water in a desert.
    “No…probably not. I…I needed a bit of breathing space from you.”
    And she needed it now. More than ever. The lift compartment was minute and the scent of Nick’s cologne and the lingering imprint of his fingertips on her back were doing abominable things to her composure.
    “Just as I thought,” he remarked as the lift shuddered to halt and mercifully the doors slid open, “So I was obliged to take measures.” He made a swift gesture, clearly with the intention of settling his guiding hand on her back once more, but Anna shot ahead like a rabbit from a trap, cursing at herself.
    When would she ever learn it was fatal to let Nick know he was getting to her?
    “So as usual you use sneaky tricks to get what you want,” she snipped back, stomping into the middle of the office he’d directed her