Valentine's Day. Nicola Marsh

best of times. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Rush?’

      ‘Zander.’ He glanced at her sideways. Then, ‘How are you doing, anyway?’

      What a question. Rejected. Humiliated. Talked about by eight million strangers. ‘I’m great. Never been better.’

      His neat five o’clock shadow twisted with his lips. ‘That’s the spirit.’

      Well, wasn’t this nice? A walk in the forest with a total stranger, making small talk. Her feet pressed to a halt. ‘I’m so sorry to be blunt, Mr Rush, but what do you want?’

      He stopped and stared down at her, his eyes creasing. ‘That’s you being blunt?’

      She shifted uncomfortably. But stayed silent. Silence was her friend.

      ‘OK, let me get to the point...’ He started off again. ‘I’m here in an official capacity. There is a contract issue to discuss.’

      She knew it.

      ‘He said no, Mr Rush. That makes the contract rather hard to fulfil, don’t you think? For both of us.’ She hated how raw her voice sounded.

      ‘I understand—’

      ‘Do you? How many different ways do you hear your personal business being discussed each day? On social media, on the radio, on the bus, at the sandwich shop? I can’t get away from it.’

      ‘Have you thought about using it, rather than avoiding it?’

      Was he serious? ‘I don’t want to use it.’

      ‘You were happy enough to use it for an all-expenses-paid wedding.’

      Of course that was what he thought. In some ways she’d prefer people thought she was doing it for the money. That was at least less pathetic than the truth. ‘You’re here for your pound of flesh—I get that. Why not just tell me what you want me to do?’

      Not that she would automatically be saying yes. But it bought her time to think.

      Grey eyes slid sideways as his gloveless hands slid into his pockets. ‘I have a proposition for you. A way of addressing the contract. One that will be...mutually beneficial.’

      ‘Does it involve a time machine so that I can go back a month and never sign the stupid thing?’

      Never give in to her mother’s pressure. Or her own desperate need for security.

      His head dropped. ‘No. It doesn’t change the past. But it could change your future.’

      She lifted her curiosity to him. ‘What?’

      He paused at an ornate timber bench and waited for her to sit. Old-school gallantry. Even Dan didn’t do old school.

      She sat. Curious.

      ‘The media is hot for your story, Georgia. Your...situation has sparked something in them.’

      ‘My rejection, you mean?’

      He tilted his head. ‘They’ll be interested in everything you do. And if they’re interested, then London will be interested. And if London is interested, then my network will want to exploit the existing contract however they can.’

      Exploit? He was happy to use that word aloud? She tried not to let her surprise show.

      ‘Georgia, under its terms they could still require you to come back for follow-up interviews.’

      Her stomach crimped. ‘To talk about how very much I’m not getting married? How I suddenly find myself alone with half my friends siding with my ex?’ And the other half so determinedly not talking about it. ‘Not exactly perky radio content.’

      He shook his head. ‘It’s what they could ask. But I have a better idea. So that the benefit is not all one-way.’

      She waited silently for his explanation. Mostly because she had no idea what to say.

      ‘If you agree to seeing the year out, EROS is willing to redirect the funds from the engagement, wedding, and honeymoon to a different project. One that you might even enjoy.’

      She frowned. ‘What kind of project?’

      He took a breath. ‘Our listeners have connected with you—’

      ‘You mean your listeners feel sorry for me.’ Pity everywhere she looked.

      ‘—and they want to see you bounce back from this disappointment. They want to follow you on your journey.’

      She ignored that awful thought and glared at him. ‘Really? You see into each of their hearts?’

      His scoff vibrated through his whole body. ‘We spend four million pounds a year on market research. We know how many sugars they each have in their coffee. Trust me. They want to know. You’re like...them...to them.’

      ‘And how is me working through my weekends in a lab going to make good radio? Because that’s how I planned to get through this next year. Low profile and lots of work.’

      ‘I’m asking you to flip that on its head. High profile and getting back out into the sunshine. Show them how you’re bouncing back.’

      Honesty made her ask in a tiny voice, ‘What if I don’t—bounce back? What then?’

      Something flooded his eyes. Was it...compassion? ‘We plan to keep you so busy you won’t have time to wallow.’

      Wallow? Anger rushed up and billowed under her coat. But she didn’t let it out. Not directly. ‘Busy with what?’ she gritted.

      ‘Makeovers. New clothes. Access to all the top clubs... You name it, we’ll arrange it. EROS is making it our personal business to get you back on your feet. Total reinvention. And on your way to meeting Mr Right.’

      She stared at him, aghast. ‘Mr Right?’

      ‘This is an opportunity to reinvent yourself and to find a new man to love.’

      She just stared. There were no words.

      It was only then he seemed to hesitate. ‘I know it feels soon.’

      She blinked.

      He frowned. Scowled. ‘OK, I can see that you’re not understanding—’

      ‘I understand perfectly well. But I refuse. I have no interest in reinvention.’ That wasn’t entirely true—she’d often dreamed about the sorts of things she might have done if she’d grown up with money—but she certainly had no interest in a manufactured man-hunt.

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because there’s nothing wrong with me, for a start.’ Hmm...defensive much? ‘I’m not in a hurry to have you tally up my apparently numerous deficiencies and broadcast them to the world.’

      He stared at her. ‘You’re not deficient, Georgia. That’s not the point of this.’

      ‘Really? What is the point? Other than to tell women everywhere that being yourself is not sufficient to catch a good man.’

      Something her gran had raised her never to believe. Something that was starting to look dangerously possible.

      ‘OK, look... The point of this is ratings. That’s all the network cares about. This promotion was mine and it went arse-up and so it’s my mess to tidy. I just thought that we could spin it so that you can get something decent out of it. Something meaningful.’ Sincerity blazed warm and intense from his eyes. ‘This is an opportunity, Georgia. Fully paid. To do anything you want. For a year.’

      She couldn’t even be offended at having her life so summarily dismissed. Arse-up was a pretty apt description. She sighed. ‘Why would you even care? I’m nobody to you.’

      He glanced away. When he came back to her his eyes were carefully schooled. ‘I feel a certain amount of responsibility. It was my promotion that ended your relationship.