Perfect Stranger Read Free Page A

look at my phone. There was a missed call from Louisa and several new voicemails. After spending most of the previous evening with her, I hoped she’d for once taken my advice, and gone back to London.
    As I sat through yet another data-filled set of slides, my mind arced back to Kate. Had she received the flowers yet?
    I rarely acted on impulse. Every action was planned and considered, but this was different. Her chocolate-brown eyes were warm and friendly, softening her sharp businesslike appearance and attitude. Kate intrigued me.
    When I finally left the conference suite, I saw her sitting at the bar across the foyer, and I hesitated. She looked stunning. A shimmering top clung to every curve, and I couldn’t drag my gaze from her long legs. She faced the opposite way, toward the windows, a drink in hand.
    I wanted her.
    The realization hit me like a punch to the solar plexus. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Recovering my composure, I forced myself to stroll toward the bar area. I tried to look casual, but when she turned and smiled at me, I was a goner.
    Several thoughts jostled for attention. She was alone. She might be waiting for me. I needed to find out what the fuck Louisa was doing and if I was free tonight. And I had to ditch my colleagues.
    One of my executives, Antony, paused by my side. “You joining us for dinner?”
    My gaze strayed back to Kate and the elegant foot swinging against the barstool. Hell. Even if Louisa was still here, I’d find a way to have a drink with Kate. Just a drink? With some effort, I summoned a polite response for Antony. “I already have plans. Enjoy your evening.”
    “You too.”
    He walked off, and I dug out my phone and dialed the voicemail. A few steps to the right was an alcove, and I ducked in there while I listened to my messages. Work. More work. Marcus asking a work question. And then, thank Christ, Louisa. She returned to London.
    My time was my own.             

2.2 Kate
    I settled at the bar and found a position with a good view of the entrance to the conference suite. With a bottle of champagne on ice, and a glass of soda water in front of me, it was just a case of waiting. Sure enough, the doors eventually opened and disgorged a group of delegates. In their dark suits and with their noisy chatter, they reminded me of a flock of starlings.
    Jordan came out of the conference suite, locked gazes with me, and then disappeared from sight, phone pressed to his ear. I’d give him quarter of an hour, and if he didn’t return, I’d take the champagne back to my room and admit defeat.
    I’d only waited a couple of minutes, when he strolled into the bar area and headed straight for my stool. “Hey, Birthday Girl.” His lips curved in the start of a smile, and my stomach cartwheeled in delight.
    He was here. I’d been so caught up in my shitty day that I’d forgotten how gorgeous he was. Six foot tall at least, he was built like an athlete. His profile was lean and strong, the mouth full and sensuous, and his slate-gray eyes sparkled under the bar lights. The business suit fit him like a dream. Why were there no men like this at home? The city was full of either football fanatics, sporting Manchester City shirts, or students in ragged jeans and hoodies.
    I dragged my thoughts under control, tamped down the introverted part of me that wanted to run back to my room, and managed to smile without looking like an idiot. If I pretended he was a business associate or a customer, I’d be fine. I could breeze through that.
    “Thank you for the flowers. They were a lovely surprise. Won’t you have a drink with me?” I lifted the champagne from its bucket, to underline my invitation.
    “Thanks. I will.”
    The barman materialized and opened the bottle before pouring two glasses. I longed to look cool and relaxed, as though chatting to gorgeous men in bars was a normal pastime for me. I took a sip of the champagne and tried to figure out what to say