Page 41 of Fighting Mr. Knight

“That’s me. The other bridesmaid,” I reply stiffly.

“This is Bonnie, Michelle,” Jack corrects her.

Michelle and I never really spoke last night, so there’s no need for awkward hugging. “Lovely to meet you, Michelle.”

I give Kate a quick hug and then turn to Jack and Michelle.

“Jack.” I pull my lips back from my teeth in an attempt to smile. “I look forward to working on theMotor Worksfactory for Lexington.”

Before he can respond, I turn on my heels and grab Nisha.

“Aren’t you going to have any breakfast?” she asks, as I march us out the door.

“Nope. Not hungry.”

“I know I wanted us to leave quickly, but slow down a bit,” she grumbles as I jog towards the car, dragging her along as if we’ve stolen half the castle’s valuables.“Hey, when you weretalking to Kate in the breakfast room, I saw the tech tycoon Danny Walker eying you up. I repeatDanny Walker.”

“What?” I scoff. “Isn’t he with the hotshot lawyer Tristan Kane’s sister? Wise up, Nisha.”

“I mean it, he looked interested. He kept looking over.” She pants, trying to meet my stride. “Hold up, woman. I’m not training for a marathon, and I had a skinful last night.”

I slow down a fraction. “They have young kids.”

“These rich guys have their baby mamas and women on the side. I didn’t say you shouldgothere.”

The car beeps open as I point the key fob at it. Heavy footsteps churn the gravel behind us.

Oh, shit.

Just as I pull the car door open an inch, a hand covers mine and a deep voice says, “Wait.”

I tilt my head over my shoulder, my pulse quickening. My back is against the chest of the guy I’m running from.

Jack leans forward, his breath hot on the nape of my neck. “Somebody’s eager to get away. Where’s the fire?”

His hand is still on mine, caging me between the car and him. I’ve never seen Nisha move so quickly as she leaps into the passenger’s seat.

I turn to face Jack, backing towards the car. “I want to beat the traffic,” I reply in a level tone.

“It feels like you’re running away from something.” He towers over me, cocky grin in place. “I’ll see you for dinner this week. Does Tuesday work?”

Arrogant ass. I never actually said yes to the date. And apparently, I’m interesting enough to spend a Tuesday with, while the Michelle Allards of the world, everyone’s type, gets him on a weekend.

Be cool.

Big client. Most interesting project ever. Senior architect title. Get the fuck out of Bradshaw Brown.

Leave your emotions out of it.

“Sorry, busy Tuesday,” I say more bluntly than I intended.

“Wednesday.”

“Perhaps the team and I could arrange a working lunch?” I smile helpfully. “We can do it in Canary Wharf, near the office. I’ll talk to your PA. I’m sure the partners and Max would love to attend.”

His forehead creases. “We’re back to playing this game? Okay, next Friday or Saturday night if you’re busy during the week.”

“I can’t do next weekend,” I reply flatly.

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