To Be A Bridegroom. Carole Mortimer

whipped quickly round to face him, two bright spots of angry colour in her cheeks. ‘My work speaks for itself,’ she bit out tautly.

      Jordan had the distinct impression she wanted to tell him—and his offer of work—to go to hell. But she wasn’t going to do so. Again, something held her back...

      ‘It does.’ He nodded in agreement. ‘You’ll need to see the apartment, of course—’

      ‘Isn’t it exactly the same as this one?’ She sipped her champagne now, looking at him over the glass’s rim.

      Those eyes. So clear a blue. Like a Canadian mountain lake he had once seen. And this girl/woman was as fresh as that mountain lake...

      Jordan shook his head to rid it of those thoughts. He was offering her work, for goodness’ sake! ‘Exactly like this one,’ he confirmed tersely. ‘When can you start?’

      She raised her palms in a gesture of resistance. ‘I’ll need ideas from you before I start to put anything together—’

      ‘I thought interior designers were the ones with the ideas,’ he cut in. ‘Isn’t that the reason they’re the interior designers? Don’t you present me with ideas, we discuss them—and then you get on and do exactly what you want to do?’

      Those blue eyes narrowed at what had been his deliberately derisive tone. ‘Jordan, I have a feeling you’re playing games with me—’

      ‘I never play when it comes to business, Stazy,’ he assured her softly. ‘You—’ He broke off as the security intercom buzzed; downstairs someone needed admittance. And then it sounded again. ‘Hadn’t you better answer that?’ he prompted Stazy as she made no effort to do so.

      She still did not move. ‘Obviously someone has made a mistake; I don’t know anyone in London.’

      Then it was strange that she had come to live here, Jordan could have said. But didn’t. It was part of the enigma that was Stazy Walker, he decided. Best not to get too involved.

      ‘Perhaps it’s the little boy with your gym-slip?’ he suggested sardonically. ‘I think you should answer it, Stazy,’ he said as the intercom buzzed once more, putting down his empty champagne glass. This evening hadn’t turned out quite as he would initially have liked it to, but maybe it was better this way. ‘If only to tell the person to go away,’ he said as the intercom buzzed again—and this time went on buzzing; the person was obviously keeping their finger on the button. ‘They’re very persistent for someone who has made a mistake,’ he murmured interestedly.

      Stazy claimed she knew no one in England, and so it followed that no one should know her either, but the names of the people occupying the apartments were clearly marked beside the entryphone buttons downstairs; it was very unlikely someone had got the wrong apartment. Yet Stazy still seemed reluctant to acknowledge that intercom...

      ‘Would you like me to—?’

      ‘No!’ She hastily cut off his offer, putting down her glass and moving towards the entryphone—which all the occupants of the apartments had.

      His entryphone had saved Jordan several times in the past, when he had a woman in his apartment with him and another one was downstairs calling to come up; it was much easier to make excuses to the woman he was with when she couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation!

      That Stazy didn’t even want him to hear her replies in the conversation which followed was obvious as she looked at him pointedly, obviously wanting him to leave before she answered the call.

      Jordan’s answer was to stroll over to the window, his back turned towards her, but he was completely aware of what was happening in the room behind him, Stazy’s reflection on the window in front of him. She was glaring at him, seemed deeply irritated with him. But she had piqued his interest now; he had no intention of leaving until she had answered that call. Besides, they hadn’t yet finished discussing the work she was going to do for him...

      ‘Yes?’ Stazy spoke agitatedly behind him into the receiver. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded exasperatedly. ‘No, you can’t! Zak, I said no,’ she added more firmly. ‘I’m not even going to ask how you found me, I’m just telling you to forget it again—’ There was a slight pause, while Zak obviously argued his case. ‘Zak, I don’t care if you have nowhere else to stay. You can sleep on the streets for all I care—but you aren’t staying here!’ She slammed down the receiver, her uneven breathing easily heard in the otherwise silent room.

      Jordan kept his gaze focused out of the window, although he was looking at none of the beauty of London at night lit up by hundreds of lights; his attention was all inwards. Stazy had said she knew no one in London, and yet she obviously knew this man Zak. Well enough, from what Jordan had gathered from the conversation, for the other man to think he could stay here in her apartment with her!

      Who—or what—was this Zak to Stazy?

      CHAPTER THREE

      STAZY glanced across the room to where Jordan stood so still and quiet in front of her window. What on earth must he be thinking? She had just finished telling him of some of the ridiculous situations she had found herself in since her move here, and now she had some man calling up from downstairs asking if he could stay in her apartment with her! And Jordan had just offered her a job, too...!

      Damn Zak. He had no right to just turn up here uninvited like this. He—

      She jumped nervously as her doorbell rang. It was too much of a coincidence, too soon after Zak’s call from downstairs...

      How had he got into the apartment building? Because she didn’t doubt that it was him standing outside her front door. Or that he wouldn’t go away again until she had answered it!

      As Jordan turned around, dark brows raised questioningly, she knew he wasn’t going to leave just yet, either. Men!

      ‘Do you want me to answer it?’ Jordan offered smoothly. ‘I could always send him on his way for you,’ he offered.

      She didn’t doubt that he would try. Or that Zak would resist. Wonderful, just what she needed—a fight on her doorstep! Somehow she didn’t think so; she had come back to England in the first place to get away from all of that.

      She shook her head. ‘I’ll go. But I definitely think the security here needs looking into,’ she said before striding off to answer the door.

      This hadn’t been a good evening so far, and with Zak’s arrival it was deteriorating rapidly. Still, she supposed she and Jordan were about even in the complication stakes; that woman Stella had turned up in his life earlier—although his arrival here a short time ago seemed to imply she had been rapidly despatched again!—then there had been the man she’d recognised at his brother’s wedding, and now Zak had arrived! How had he found out where she was living...?

      Zak grinned at her confidently when she opened the door; tall, blond, with laughing blue eyes, he looked completely unabashed by his intrusion. ‘Stazy!’ His joyful cry was accompanied by his dropping his suitcase in order to pick her up in a bear-hug and swing her round in the hallway.

      It was very difficult to remain angry with someone who looked so pleased to see her, and who could lift her up in his arms so easily she might have been a child!

      Stazy gave him a rueful grin. ‘Put me down, you clown.’ She punched him playfully on the shoulder. ‘And then could you explain to me exactly how you got up here?’ she added reprovingly, sure that it hadn’t been done legitimately. ‘Please don’t say you used the elevator! ’ She was fully aware of just how aggravating this man could be.

      ‘Okay, Staze.’ He put her down, still grinning, his American accent much more noticeable than her own. ‘It was really easy.’ He bent down to pick up the suitcase. ‘I pressed the button for Apartment 4, told the lady that answered that I was the guy in Apartment 7, J. Hunter, and that I had forgotten my key to get into the building. It worked.’ He shrugged. ‘I saw