Fired by Her Fling Read online

  Ugh! This morning got worse and worse. Now it looked as if she was going to have to sit in a room and watch her bad-tempered judge and juror chomp his way through breakfast nectar while her own stomach shrivelled to nothing—right before she was unceremoniously fired.

  ‘God, he sounds like a monster,’ she muttered, looking at Claire beseechingly, hoping for some little titbit to prepare her for what lay in wait behind the conference room door.

  ‘He probably just got out of bed the wrong side today,’ Claire said, shrugging one shoulder. She leaned in closer to Lula and dropped her voice. ‘He’s younger than I was expecting and much better-looking.’ From the twinkle in her eye, Lula could tell Claire was a little awestruck.

  ‘I thought he was in his sixties? Jez told me their fathers are friends from their University days,’ Lula said, frowning at the inconsistency. She’d never seen Claire swoon over anyone past the age of thirty-five, let alone someone old enough to be her grandfather.

  ‘This guy’s his son. The father’s on his honeymoon somewhere in deepest Asia so the son’s stepped in to take your meeting. He runs the family business up in Scotland, I think. Didn’t you see the mailshot everyone was forwarding around the other month with a picture of the two of them? I thought Flora was going to have an orgasm right there in her chair when she saw it.’

  ‘No, I didn’t see that one.’ Lula sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes, not in the mood for joking around when her whole body felt strung out with tension. ‘I should have been told someone else was taking the meeting,’ she muttered, irritation making her voice croaky.

  Bloody Jez. He’d probably kept her in the dark deliberately to back-foot her.

  Claire dropped her smile and nodded in agreement. ‘That’s our illustrious leader for you; not exactly a great disseminator of information.’

  ‘Except when he’s being “wronged”; then you can’t shut the man up,’ Lula stated, not even trying to hide her bitterness.

  Claire knew all about Jez and his philandering, manipulative ways and she’d been working on the broadcast assistant’s desk when he’d come in and told Lula he was giving her show to Darla.

  ‘Good luck in your meeting,’ Claire said, resting a hand gently on Lula’s shoulder and giving her a supportive smile.

  Lula got the impression a lot of the staff members were on her side, even if most of them hadn’t said anything directly to her for fear of word getting back to Jez and losing their jobs too, but the thought gave her a tiny surge of courage.

  ‘Hey, perhaps this guy will give Jez the old heave-ho and step into the breach himself?’ Claire added, gazing longingly at the closed conference room door. ‘I have to say, despite the crankiness, I wouldn’t mind him sticking around here for a bit. Total eye candy.’ She wiggled her eyebrows, gave Lula one last smile, then turned and walked off to deliver the food to the man in question.

  Lula sighed and rubbed at the corners of her temple where the pain had concentrated. Great. Now she was facing a sex god boss with a bacon sandwich. Could things get any worse?

  * * *

  Tristan wasn’t exactly at his best and brightest.

  After tossing and turning for hours, he’d woken early that morning, his head spinning with dreams about Tallulah, and even pounding away on the running machine in the hotel gym hadn’t relieved any of the frustration that still clung to him.

  He’d arrived at the radio station at eight-thirty, eager to get this mess wrapped up and back to some real work, expecting to catch Jez straight after he’d finished presenting his Breakfast Show.

  Apparently Jez had had other ideas though, skipping out straight after his show finished, leaving word that he had another meeting to attend before he could see Tristan.

  It had not improved Tristan’s temper. The guy knew how to take liberties, that was for sure.

  To pass the time before his meeting with Tallulah, he’d looked round the station and chatted to some of the staff—who seemed friendly and happy with how Jez ran things there—and was now stationed in the migraine-inducing canary-yellow conference room, attempting to answer some emails before she turned up.

  He was barely able to concentrate on what he was doing as flashes of the night before kept interrupting his thoughts. Every time he remembered something else she’d said or done to entice him to sleep with her, his frustration levels rose another notch.

  She’d totally played him.

  Abandoning his emails, he stood up and paced around the room, glancing out of the window to stare blankly towards the thronging streets of Covent Garden below.

  The most infuriating thing was that he’d genuinely liked her.

  A lot.

  Recalling how she’d made him laugh last night gave him a hollow ache in his chest, followed swiftly by a low sensual pull deep in his pelvis as his thoughts moved onto how she’d pushed him against the wall and run her tongue all over him, her cool hands stroking him to fever pitch...

  Damn it. He really needed to stop thinking about her in that way. He was supposed to be conducting a serious interview with her in a minute and he needed to keep things professional.

  For the sake of his pride, if nothing else.

  He ran a hand carefully over his hair, smoothing a few rogue strands back into place, then sat back in his chair, stretching out his tense back and shoulders. He wasn’t going to let her get to him again with those pseudo-innocent eyes and soft pouty lips. Or the sweet intoxicating way she smelled. Or the way she moved that spectacular body of hers...

  His thoughts were interrupted by one of the staff members bringing in the breakfast he’d requested and placing it reverentially onto the table in front of him.

  He smiled at her. ‘Thanks.’

  Her cautious nod and tentative returning smile made him frown as he watched her leave the room. Perhaps he’d been a bit fierce with them all this morning? He wasn’t exactly in the best mood to meet new people. Or maybe they were worried about their own positions here. After all, it looked as though it had been a while since anyone had audited the station—Jez had been pretty much left to his own devices—and, in his experience, the staff didn’t like it when new people were introduced to the equation. It usually meant change.

  He’d take a look at the accounts as well while he was here, so he could satisfy himself he’d done a thorough job. He hated leaving loose ends.

  Looking down at the food he’d ordered, he realised he wasn’t actually hungry any more. Pushing it to one side, he checked the time on his phone.

  Right on cue, there was a knock on the door and it opened slowly to reveal the woman he’d not stopped thinking about since she’d walked out of his hotel room a few hours earlier.

  Tallulah’s face was pale in contrast to the dark circles around her eyes and her hair was pulled back into a severe twist, perversely making her seem younger and more vulnerable than the woman he remembered.

  He couldn’t let that cloud his decision, though. In fact, she’d probably deliberately chosen that look to appeal to his soft side.

  He shifted in his chair as his stomach plunged and twisted at the memory of her soft side pressed against him.

  ‘Hello, Tallulah. Come in.’ He gestured towards the seat next to him, keeping his movements firm and steady.

  She was staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open as though her greeting had caught in her throat.

  Was she really going to pretend to be surprised to see him here? Did she have the gall?

  ‘Tristan?’ Her voice came out in a breathy whisper and she dipped her chin and cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder before stepping into the room and closing the door. Turning back, she held out her hands as if she couldn’t believe it was him sitting there. ‘What—?’ She shook her head, conjuring up a stunned smile. ‘What are you doing here?’

&
nbsp; Apparently she did have the gall.

  ‘You’re really going to pretend you didn’t know who I was last night?’

  She frowned, her cute button nose wrinkling in apparent confusion. ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘You lied to me. You said your name was Louise.’

  Colour flooded her cheeks and she parted her lips and let out a sharp huff of breath, doing a great job of looking abashed.

  He crossed his arms. ‘So what is it? Louise or Tallulah?’

  She shifted in those ludicrous heels of hers and cleared her throat again. ‘It’s Tallulah.’ Catching his eye, she gave him a cautious smile. ‘I know, with an awesome name like Tallulah Lazenby you’d think I’d be taller,’ she joked, clearly hoping to draw a smile from him.

  When he didn’t respond she walked over to where he was sitting, stumbling a little in her heels, and perched on the chair next to him, splaying her hands, which appeared to be trembling, on the table. ‘My friends call me Lu or Lula, but it’s short for Tallulah—which I only use for my professional persona.’

  She stared down at the table. ‘I didn’t mean to lie to you; I just thought it would be fun to pretend to be someone else for the evening, so I didn’t correct you when you called me Louise.’

  Her gaze flicked up to meet his. Her eyes were wide and she was doing a damn good impression of looking mortified at being caught out. ‘Believe me, I had no idea it was you I was meeting with today. Jez didn’t tell me your father couldn’t make it.’

  That sensuous voice of hers was evoking the deep sexual ache he’d been battling to ignore since she walked in, only increasing his edginess.

  Was she telling the truth? He was disturbed by his inability to tell. It wasn’t like him to feel this ruffled and he sure as hell didn’t like it.

  Sighing, he leant back in his chair, away from her stupefying presence. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what to believe, Tallulah.’

  She looked at him as though he was crazy. ‘You think I deliberately lied to you?’ Her disdain made the hairs on the back of his neck rise and his blood pump faster.

  Marcy had acted in exactly the same way towards him once when he’d accused her of cheating on him—months before she finally admitted she had actually done the dirty and was leaving. His gut feeling had been bang on that time.

  Perhaps Tallulah realised she’d been rumbled and was trying to brazen it out by appearing outraged by his suggestion in order to force him to back down.

  Not going to happen.

  ‘It’s quite a coincidence that we met last night, though. And that you were so keen to sleep with me.’

  Her face flushed bright red, but she still managed to give him an are-you-for-real? look. ‘I seem to remember you being just as keen on the idea.’

  He stared back, maintaining cool eye contact. Her gaze slid away from his and he felt validated by her retreat.

  Gotcha.

  ‘Anyway,’ she muttered, ‘you know what they say: life is stranger than fiction.’ Her gaze moved to the bacon sandwich on the table next to her and he caught the flash of longing on her face, before she carefully blanked her expression.

  ‘You hungry?’ he asked, motioning towards his food. He wondered whether she’d have the balls to try and take his food as well as his pride.

  She frowned and glanced up at him, her gaze raking his face for signs of a trap. ‘Why? Are you offering me your breakfast?’ she asked, clearly suspecting he’d set a booby trap and she’d be ejected straight out of the building if she made so much as a move towards it.

  He felt the corner of his mouth twitch into an involuntary smile and had to fight to pull back his stern expression. He shrugged. ‘If you want it. Judging by the size of those glasses of wine you downed and the way you exerted yourself last night, I’m guessing you probably need it right about now.’

  She leaned forwards in her chair, her eyebrows pinched together and her gaze steady. ‘I don’t normally do things like that, you know. It was only because it was Laura’s birthday and I promised to go and I hate letting people down when I’ve promised something.’

  ‘Even though you had this meeting today?’

  She sighed and sat back, turning to stare out of the window. ‘I know, it was unprofessional, but I was nervous about today and then I met you and couldn’t drag myself away.’ Her gaze flitted back to his and Tristan could have sworn her pupils dilated.

  She reached out a hand towards him, but he drew away quickly. The last thing he needed was for her to touch him when his whole body ached to pull her out of that chair and into his lap. She was clearly trying to use the connection she’d forged with him last night to get herself out of trouble and he needed to be careful.

  He crossed his arms against his chest in a show of defensiveness and nodded again to the food in front of her.

  ‘If you want it, it’s yours, Tallulah. Go ahead. Help yourself.’

  ‘You like your power games, don’t you?’ she said, catching on to his pointed sarcasm and narrowing her eyes.

  ‘Power games?’ He paused and thought about it. It was a test, of sorts. Would she sit there and tuck in, showing a devil-may-care attitude? Or would she refuse to touch it on principle?

  The ball was in her court.

  ‘It’s just a sandwich, Tallulah,’ he said, raising a derisive eyebrow and waiting for her move.

  Their gazes locked and he found himself inappropriately turned on by engaging in this battle of wills with her. He was acutely aware of how intensely focused she was on him, as if she was trying to read his innermost thoughts. It was as if nothing but him existed in the world at that moment and it reminded him of how it had drawn him in the night before.

  She played well, but she sure as hell was not going to win this.

  * * *

  Lula’s heart beat so hard against her chest she thought it might escape at any second and run wildly around the room shouting, She can’t take the pressure; her head’s about to explode! She needed to keep calm and maintain some sort of composure here, but being this close to Tristan again was addling her already exhausted brain.

  And she wanted to eat that bacon sandwich, so much, but she was afraid she’d look weak and lose the game and he’d hand her a P45 and wave her on her way without a second thought. On the other hand, perhaps she needed to woman up here and show him she wasn’t intimidated by his game-playing. To convince him she wasn’t a liar or a manipulator like Jez.

  Her reputation was on the line.

  Resting her elbows on the arms of the chair and clasping her hands together in front of her, she considered her next move. The sensible thing to do was to brush aside her little white lie last night and bring the conversation back to her issue with Jez.

  ‘Look, can we put aside what happened yesterday for now and focus on the reason for this meeting?’ she said with as much composure as she could muster.

  Tristan sat back in his chair and stared at her for a moment, one assessing eyebrow raised, before gesturing for her to continue.

  She nodded her thanks and took a deep breath to try and even out her erratic breathing, fixing him with what she hoped was an emphatic-looking gaze.

  Don’t let me down now, brain.

  ‘Jez has been subjecting me to sexual harassment for months. Recently he withdrew his promise to give me the Breakfast Show—which he currently hosts and should have moved me onto ages ago—because I wouldn’t sleep with him.’

  There was no need to mention the little ‘slip-up’ of already having slept with him—just because she’d given in once, it didn’t mean she was obliged to again. She had a horrible feeling it might weaken her position if Tristan knew she’d already succumbed to Jez’s advances, but most of all she was embarrassed to admit how weak-minded she’d been. She didn’t want Tristan to think she was just some easy lay. It w
ould taint the memory of the incredible night they’d had together.

  She leant forwards in her seat. ‘I deserve to be given that show on my own merit. I’m damn good at what I do, but when I made it perfectly clear I wasn’t going to be blackmailed into sleeping with him he took me off my Drivetime Show too.’ Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence and she cleared her throat and looked away from him, blinking away the hard pressure behind her eyes. This was no time for tears, but the mixture of stress, lack of sleep and confusion about how she felt about seeing Tristan again were playing havoc with her state of mind.

  She longed for him to smile at her like he had last night. Just the quirk of a lip would do—anything, to break the icy atmosphere that had formed between them. But Tristan only nodded, his face devoid of expression.

  ‘How long have you wanted the Breakfast Show?’ he asked, his gaze averted as he picked up the tablet next to him and tapped something into it.

  His sudden lack of attention made her go cold. She was losing him. ‘Since I started working here. Hell, since I first started working on the radio. It’s the best gig at the station. At any station.’ Her voice sounded panicky and she took another calming breath before continuing. ‘Jez promised me he’d stand aside and let me take over six months after I joined Flash, but he’s hung on and hung on. He loves the status it gives him, but he can’t run a show for toffee. He makes the station look amateurish.’ Her voice had become louder and harsher the more she talked and she ended in a rush, her brow furrowed in a painfully tense scowl.

  Damn her runaway mouth.

  The way Tristan was silently studying her now was unnerving. There was no longer any sign of the playful, trusting man she’d been so intimate with only hours ago.

  A tic jumped in her eye and her temple throbbed in time to its beat as she waited nervously for his response.

  ‘I can see that you’re very ambitious, Tallulah.’

  The way he said it made it sound so seedy. The slow sinking feeling in her stomach told her he’d already made his decision and it wasn’t to her benefit.

  ‘The trouble is, Jeremy seems to be doing a good job here and he’s made it perfectly clear he’s not prepared to work with you any longer. He thinks you’re disruptive and apparently you regularly turn up for your shift late. He suspects you’ve been drunk on at least one occasion whilst performing on-air.’