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Not that she needed the extra calories after the mountain of food she'd consumed at Nick’s, but chocolate didn't count, especially of the liquid variety. Besides, the way she was feeling, she needed comfort food and this was it.
Nick had been right, damn him.
She had behaved like a country virgin, the exact way she used to act around him ten years earlier, jumping like a cane toad whenever he glanced her way; which had been often.
Though that hadn't been the catalyst for her downing a vat of hot chocolate. The cause of her chocolate craving had come when he'd looked at her as if he wanted to gobble her up and come back for more. Several times.
As for that almost-kiss…yikes. She'd deflected it with a pathetic line about needing to concentrate, but he hadn't been fooled. She'd seen the knowing glint in his toffee eyes, the smirk that played around his kissable lips.
She'd wanted that kiss so badly she'd almost tasted it, yet had done the smart thing and fobbed him off. She wasn't interested in making this marriage real. She had a successful career waiting for her in London, a fabulous promotion to win, good friends, and a great apartment. Everything a girl could want.
But what if she wanted more?
If she did, Nick Mancini wasn't the guy to give it to her. His life was a world apart from hers.
His business was here, hers was in London.
His heritage was here, she'd always craved to escape her family.
He didn't want a real marriage, a small part of her did.
Huh? Where had that come from?
Sighing, she took a comforting sip of the creamy hot chocolate, savouring the mini marshmallows melting on her tongue.
Unfortunately, as fabulous as her life in London was, there was one thing lacking and that was a real relationship. Not some casual fling, not some short-term dating, and not some modern equivalent of 'being involved'—meeting once a week for a regular meal and sex. She'd tried these options and found them infinitely depressing.
No man had come close to matching what she'd felt for Nick, what she’d once had with Nick.
And therein lay her problem.
'Just freaking great,' she muttered, hitting the delete key on several emails and wishing she could erase her feelings for Nick as easily.
She'd been back a few days and had already reverted to her old ways: thinking about him constantly, wondering what he thought of her, hoping he felt half of what she did.
Pathetic.
The last email in her inbox effectively distracted her from thinking about Nick. Her boss had given her leeway to complete this job, so why send her an email with 'Tight Timeline' in the subject header?
Clicking on the email, she quickly scanned the contents.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Tight Timeline
Hi Brittany,
How's my number one marketing guru enjoying her trip Down Under? Working hard, I hope.
I know we left your timeline fairly open for this pitch but there's been a change in plans.
Looks like Sell is expanding the NYC office sooner than we thought and they want me to head it up ASAP, which means my job here needs to be filled within three months.
To be fair to all prospective candidates, we'd need your pitch presented in eight weeks.
Hope this is viable. If not, contact me.
