It Started With A Proposition. Miranda LeeЧитать онлайн книгу.
asked.
‘A labourer.’
‘A labourer?’ Kerry repeated disbelievingly. ‘You prefer a labourer to Chad Stedley?’
‘Gino was very smart,’ Jordan defended, ‘and a darned good cook.’
‘Well, bully for him,’ Kerry said dismissively. ‘Marry Chad and you can go out to dinner every night. Or hire your own personal cordon bleu chef. Look, I don’t care if this Gino was Einstein and Casanova rolled into one! You have to move on, girl. You can’t let some old flame spoil your future. And your future is becoming Mrs Chad Stedley. If you want my advice, as soon as Chad rings you tell him you’ve thought about it and your answer is yes, yes and triple yes!’
Jordan scooped in a deep breath, then let it out very slowly. ‘I wish it were that easy.’
‘It is that easy.’
Was it?
Jordan could see the sense of Kerry’s arguments. Regardless of what she’d felt for Gino, he was past history. If you looked at things logically, to let her memory of him spoil what she could have with Chad was stupid.
Jordan was a lot of things. But stupid was not one of them.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m being silly. I’ll do exactly as you said,’ she decided, and felt instantly better.
Hadn’t she read somewhere that any decision was better than no decision at all?
That was right. It was.
Kerry rolled her eyes. ‘Thank goodness for small mercies. The girl has finally seen some sense. Look, everyone’s starting to leave now. It’s not my turn to help clean up, so how about we go have a celebratory drink together somewhere swanky? I don’t fancy going home to an empty place just yet.’
‘I’m not really dressed for swanky,’ Jordan said. Unlike Kerry, whose red woollen wrap-around dress would look just as good in a nightclub as it did in the office.
‘You can say that again,’ Kerry said drily, as she gave Jordan’s navy pin-striped trouser suit the once-over. ‘Next time we go clothes shopping together I’m not going to listen to any more of your “I’m a lawyer, I have to dress conservatively” excuses. Still, if you take down your hair and undo a couple of buttons of that schoolmarm blouse, you just might not stick out like a sore thumb. We’ll pop into the Ladies’ and fix you up when we get there.’
‘Get where?’
‘How about the Rendezvous Bar? That’s less swanky since they refurbished it.’
Jordan’s top lip curled. ‘It’s also gaining a reputation as a pick-up joint.’
Kerry grinned. ‘Yeah, I know.’
Jordan’s eyebrows lifted skywards. ‘You’re incorrigible, do you know that?’
‘Nah. More like desperate.’
‘Oh, go on with you,’ Jordan said. ‘A girl as pretty as you will never be desperate.’
Kerry beamed. ‘I do so love spending time with you, Jordan. You always make me feel good about myself. Want to go clothes shopping tomorrow?’
‘Sorry. No can do. I have to work.’
‘On a Saturday?’
‘More like all weekend.’ She still hadn’t finished her closing address for the Johnson case. Not to her satisfaction, anyway.
Kerry wagged a finger at her. ‘All work and no play makes Jordan a dull girl.’
‘Which is why I agreed to go for a drink with you,’ Jordan replied as she took her friend’s free arm. ‘So stop picking on me, woman, and let’s get the hell out of here.’
GINO clicked off the phone, amazed by what Cliff Hanson had just told him.
Apparently Jordan had left her office building at ten past six and walked with a female friend towards Wynyard Station. The man tailing her had presumed she was going to catch a train home. Instead, she and her companion had turned into the Regency Hotel and they were, at this very second, sitting in the bigger of the two hotel bars, having a drink.
The amazing part was that the Regency was where Gino himself was staying.
For the second time that day fate had placed Jordan on a path which could have crossed with his.
This time, however, he wasn’t in ignorance of the fact. Which was why he’d ordered Hanson to tell his operative to sit close to the door and keep an eye on Jordan till he could get down there.
Adrenaline coursed through Gino’s veins as he swept up his wallet from the bedside table and slipped it into the breast pocket of his leather jacket. For a split second he hesitated, worried over what would happen when he confronted her after all these years.
Would she be pleased to see him? Or not?
Impossible to gauge how she might react. She’d loved him and he’d hurt her, no doubt about that.
Jordan was not a girl to easily forgive and forget. That he did know.
At the same time, their love affair had been ten years ago—a long time to nurse a broken heart or bitterness.
Gino scowled as he whirled and headed for the hotel room door. He’d cross those bridges when he came to them, because nothing short of death was going to stop him from going down there right now and talking to her.
Still, he was glad he’d had time to shower and change from the sleek Italian business suit he’d been wearing earlier today. Casual clothes were more in keeping with the Gino Jordan had once known, not the Gino he had become.
Which is what, exactly? he asked himself during the lift ride down to the ground floor.
A man who’s forgotten what it’s like to have fun, that’s what.
A man weighed down by responsibility towards his family.
A man about to ask a girl he doesn’t love to marry him.
An Italian girl.
If only he hadn’t made that rash promise to his father on his deathbed.
But he had, and there was no going back.
Those last words echoed in Gino’s head as he stepped from the lift and headed for the bar in question.
No going back
What he’d once shared with Jordan was gone. If he was strictly honest, it had never been real. He’d been living a fantasy. A sexy Shangri-la which had disappeared the moment he’d received that call about his father’s illness.
All that was left was a guilty memory, plus the ghost of pleasures past.
Tonight he would face that guilty memory and hopefully lay its ghost to rest.
A bouncer stood at the door to the bar, giving Gino a sharp look as he approached, but not barring his way inside.
The room was huge, with a dark blue carpet underfoot, disco-style lighting overhead, and a glitzy central bar. There were several different sitting areas, but most of the bar’s patrons were clustered near the far left corner, where a three-piece combo was playing soul music.
Only a smattering of people were sitting at the tables in the area nearest the entrance, which was currently designated a no-smoking section.
Gino located the operative without any trouble—an innocuous-looking guy of around thirty, who’d blend into most crowds.
‘She’s over there,’ he said, as soon as Gino sat down, nodding towards a table located on the edge of the dance