Girl in a Vintage Dress. Nicola Marsh

her at a time like this, she flipped open the folder.

      ‘This is a very basic outline of the week, which I’ll flesh out later…’

      The rest of her pitch faded into oblivion as he leaned towards her to look at the folder, his shoulder brushing hers and setting off a bunch of internal fireworks that rocketed and pinwheeled and spiralled until she was dizzy.

      This out of control physical reaction to a guy who embodied everything she didn’t like was crazy, a purely hormonal reaction for a girl who hadn’t had a date in a while. Okay, a long while.

      Whatever the reason, it didn’t make this any easier and, gritting her teeth against blue-eyed, wicked, smiling, rich rogues, she rattled the paper and stabbed her finger at the first point.

      ‘The gist of the hen’s party is pampering for the bride-to-be, including manicures, pedicures, facials, massages, makeovers. Then I throw in deportment lessons, etiquette, dance and home-style cooking classes.’

      Chase snorted and she raised an eyebrow.

      ‘The thought of Cari in the kitchen, let alone cooking anything beyond microwaving a frozen dinner is mind-boggling.’

      ‘She doesn’t cook at all?’

      Lola never understood how anyone couldn’t at least scramble eggs or make a basic chicken salad. She loved the warmth of a well-used, well-loved kitchen: the aromas, the fresh herbs, the spices, the fun of throwing stuff together and creating a delicious surprise.

      Guess that explained why she’d been the size of a blimp growing up and her mum and sister never ventured to the fridge for more than to grab iced water and a lettuce leaf.

      Chase grinned and once again her heart performed some weird dance ritual halfway between tap and mambo.

      ‘Cari’s a take-out kind of gal.’

      He pointed at her presentation. ‘So the cooking? This I’ve got to see.’

      Her heart did a final pirouette and sank into the splits as she realised what that meant.

      ‘You’ll be at the house?’

      A slight frown creased his brow and she silently cursed her abrupt question complete with horrified undertone.

      ‘We’ll see. I have enough work here to keep me busy so I’ll be staying in town most likely.’

      The guy had two houses? She could barely afford the mortgage on one. Another reason why she was here—the thought of her precious two bedroom Californian bungalow a street away from Go Retro being ripped away from her was too much to bear.

      She’d put it up as collateral when she’d gone from leasing the Errol Street storefront to buying it as an investment in her business and now that interest rates were on the rise and consumer spending was down and Go Retro wasn’t doing so well…

      Panic flared, lurching from the darkest recesses where she clamped down on it on a daily basis, doing everything in her power to make Go Retro a roaring success and saving her business, her livelihood and her home.

      ‘I’ve got a penthouse not far from here, but get away to the Mount Macedon house when I can.’

      ‘Great.’

      Her response sounded forced and before he could pick up on it, she rushed on. ‘I’ll need to know if there are any food allergies, that sort of thing.’

      He nodded and slipped his trusty smartphone from his jacket pocket, tapping away at the miniature keyboard with his thumb.

      ‘Onto it.’

      His rudeness grated—stupid darn technology—and she wanted to rattle him.

      ‘With the itinerary I’ve planned, including two six-course dinner parties, I might need to stay over two nights out of the seven.’

      As if he’d care. He’d be ensconced in his glass tower in the city, giving her carte blanche to his mansion at Mount Macedon. And while his blasé attitude to his wealth annoyed her, she had to admit she couldn’t wait to check out his country mansion.

      ‘I’ll make sure to be there those nights,’ he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief and, to her mortification she blushed, only serving to increase his amusement as his mouth curved into a teasing smile.

      Great, now he’d think she couldn’t handle a little light-hearted flirtation.

      The problem wasn’t the flirting as much as the guy doing it. For a woman who hated his lifestyle and all it stood for—superficiality at its finest—she sure wasn’t averse to the man himself.

      Gathering her documents along with her wits, she shoved them back into the folder and stood.

      ‘Well, that’ll do for the preliminaries. I’ll email you something more formal next week.’

      ‘Sounds good.’

      He stood and glanced at his watch. ‘I need to be somewhere.’

      Bristling at his careless dismissal, she squared her shoulders.

      ‘I’ll get out of your way then.’

      Her frosty tone raised both his eyebrows.

      ‘Actually, if you’re not doing anything I’d love you to join me.’

      If the sofa wasn’t pressing against the back of her knees she would’ve crumpled into an embarrassing heap.

      Speechless, she searched her brain for a polite refusal, something to mask her total shock he’d actually asked her out.

      ‘There’s some fashion designer/modelling agency launch, might be good PR for you to meet some people? They’re always looking for a new angle for these shindigs, could be good for your business.’

      His phone beeped and he cast a quick glance at it and grimaced.

      ‘Plus you’ll be doing me a huge favour seeing as I’ve just heard the media will be there and if I turn up to these things single they’re always writing gutter rubbish about me the next day.’

      ‘When you put it that way, how can a girl refuse?’

      Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him and he shot her an apologetic glance while tapping a response on that infernal phone.

      ‘Look, I really think it’ll be a beneficial business opportunity for you and I offered to introduce you to suitable contacts as part of our deal.’

      Hitting send on his phone, he finally gave her his full attention and, as the impact of those startling blue eyes and sensual lips curved, she almost wished he’d return to his phone.

      ‘As for helping me out of a tight spot by being my date for a few hours, consider it your good deed for the day.’

      Hating how he’d railroaded her, she folded her arms. ‘Maybe I’m not feeling so charitable today.’

      With his eyes crinkling adorably at the corners, he leaned towards her and she held her breath, bombarded by an incoming sexy male she had no hope of handling.

      ‘Come on, Lola. My reputation is in your hands.’

      She snorted, the corners of her mouth tugging into a reluctant smile. ‘I have a feeling your reputation was shot long before I came along.’

      ‘Ouch.’

      He clasped his hands to his heart while hers gave a suspicious twang; enough of a wake up call to never take anything he said seriously. Chase schmoozed for a living, knowing the right thing to say for any occasion.

      However much he turned on the charm she had to realise it was as natural to him as breathing and not read too much into it, something she’d been guilty of before. Sometimes having dreams of a white picket fence and home cooked meals and a bundle of adorable kids wasn’t so helpful, especially when smooth-talking guys like Bodey who she dated more than a few times started to look