A Will, a Wish...a Proposal. Jessica GilmoreЧитать онлайн книгу.
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“If you want to hold my hand, Ellie, then all you have to do is take it.”
Max stopped and turned to face her. There was a simmering heat in his eyes. She gaped, trying to formulate some response, to deny it. But she was mute.
“But, Ellie?” There was a roughness to his voice, as if he was trying very hard to sound calm.
She held his gaze despite the weakness in her knees, the tremors shivering through her. Despite the fear she was making a mistake, the urge to retreat was almost as strong as the urge to surge forward. “Yes?”
“If you do, then I will kiss you. Maybe not here, in front of all these people, maybe not as we walk, but sometime, at some point, I will kiss you. And you—” his eyes dropped to her mouth, an almost physical caress “—you’ll kiss me back. Are you ready for that, Ellie?”
A Will, a Wish…a Proposal
Jessica Gilmore
A former au pair, bookseller, marketing manager and seafront trader, JESSICA GILMORE now works for an environmental charity in York. Married with one daughter, one fluffy dog and two dog-loathing cats, she spends her time avoiding housework and can usually be found with her nose in a book. Jessica writes emotional romance with a hint of humor, a splash of sunshine and a great deal of delicious food—and equally delicious heroes.
To Jo, Rose and Sam—
the best godmothers any girl could ask for! Thank you for all the love and support you give my girl, she is very, very lucky to have you (as am I!). Love you all very much, Jessica x
Contents
‘WHAT ON EARTH were you thinking?’ Max Loveday burst into the office and shook the printed out press release in his father’s direction. True to form his father’s chair was turned away from the desk, allowing the occupant to face the window. Apparently the view over the city ‘inspired’ him.
‘What on earth is DL Media going to do with a dating app?’
More pertinently, where exactly were the millions of dollars his father had apparently paid out for the app going to come from? In the last year every budget had been squeezed and slashed to accommodate his father’s spending spree; there was no more give in the entire company.
Steven Loveday swivelled the black leather chair around and looked at his son, his expression as guileless as that of a three-month-old baby. It was, Max reflected, the expression he always wore when he was up to something.
And he usually was.
‘Max? What a lovely surprise.’
Steven’s voice was as rich as molasses and just as smooth. The kind of voice that oozed authority and paternal benevolence, as did the warm brown eyes and wide smile. It was a shame he didn’t have the business acumen to match the veneer.
‘When did you get back from Sydney?’
As if Max hadn’t dropped him an email the second he had landed. He tightened his grip on the press release.
‘Two hours ago.’
‘I’m touched that you rushed over to see me but there was no need, dear boy. Take the rest of the day off.’
His father beamed at him as if he was giving Max a great treat.
‘Why don’t you go and visit your mother? Have you heard from her at all?’
‘I can’t take the day off.’ Max refused to be diverted. He held up the piece of paper his PA had pressed into his hand the second he had walked into DL Media’s headquarters. ‘What on earth is this? Why didn’t you consult me?’
His father leaned back and stared at him, his chin propped on his steepled hands. It was a look he had probably seen in a film: the wise patriarch.
‘Max.’ There was steel in his voice. ‘I know your grandfather gave you a lot of leeway, but can I remind you this is my company now?’
Just.
Max held a third outright, his father another third. But, crucially, the final third, the controlling share, was held in trust by his father until he retired. Then it would go to Max. If there was a company left by then. Or if Max didn’t ask the board for a vote of no confidence first...
‘Grandfather did not give me a lot of leeway.’ He could feel the paper crumple, his grip tightening even more as he fought to control his temper. It was so typical of his father to reduce all his years of hard work and training to some sort of glorified work experience. ‘He trusted me and trusted my judgement.’
As he never trusted you... The words were unsaid but hung in the air.
‘Look, Dad, we have a five-year plan.’ A plan his father seemed determine to ignore. ‘A plan that kept us profitable through the financial crisis. We need to focus on the core business strengths, not get distracted by...by...’ Max sought the right diplomatic words. Shiny new toys might be accurate, but they were unlikely to help the situation. ‘By