Chapter One #2
‘Morning.’ Sylvie tried not to notice the way his dark grey suit, crisp white shirt, and red-and-black-striped tie highlighted the unusual blue of his eyes.
How was it even possible to have such attractive eyes?
A light ice blue with a dark outline around the iris, as if someone had meticulously defined it with a fine black felt-tip marker.
His height and commanding presence made the waiting room shrink to the size of a shoebox.
Standing, his head was dangerously close to the light fitting.
Six foot four with broad shoulders and a trim figure, Jack Wilde was arrestingly, ravishingly, pulse-trippingly handsome.
His jaw was square, his nose long and straight, and when he smiled two dimples appeared either side of his sensual mouth and laughter lines crinkled his eyes at the corners.
His teeth were so white they showcased his tanned complexion like an advertisement for toothpaste and outdoor sports.
She had rarely seen him without a day or two of stubble, which gave him an arrantly masculine look that was heightened by his loosely styled wavy jet-black hair.
So loosely styled, it looked like he had just combed it with his fingers.
It gave him a rampantly rakish air that, compared to him, made the male models in sexy aftershave ads look like altar boys.
Speaking of aftershave, she could smell an alluring hint of his cologne, a woodsy and country leather combination that made her nostrils flare to take more of it in like a forbidden drug.
Sylvie forced her eyes away from his wide-spread, strongly muscled thighs but holding his gaze was even more challenging.
Every time she tried, something hit her in the chest like a Taser beam.
Zzzttt. There was a confident, some would say arrogant, gleam in his eyes that irked her considering their history.
He knew he could win because he had already done so, while she was the underdog and had to summon as much confidence and determination as she could to go into battle with him again.
But her biggest battle was fighting her attraction to him.
She wasn’t the sort of woman to develop a crush.
She had never been in love in her life and didn’t intend to go down that path anytime soon.
And yet… Jack Wilde made her feel things she had never felt before.
Tingles of lust that stirred her blood into a feverish flood in her feminine flesh.
How could a sensible no-nonsense professional woman such as herself be reduced to these primal urgings?
Was it her long stint of celibacy? Had she left it too long between drinks, as the saying went?
Her last so-called ‘drink’ had turned her off dating for months. Six to be exact.
‘Where’s your client?’ Jack asked, taking the seat opposite her, his languid laid-back pose a stark contrast to her stiff upright posture.
‘Running late with the school run. Where’s yours?’ Her tone was clipped and businesslike—no idle chit-chat for her. Jack Wilde was the enemy and she must not forget it, no matter what her wayward body thought.
Jack pushed back his sleeve to glance at his designer watch. ‘Should be here any second.’ He flashed her another heart-stopping smile. ‘How’s business?’
‘Booming,’ Sylvie said with a pert lift of her chin and a glacial stare. ‘Yours?’
‘Same.’
The door opened and Hugo Winters came in bringing with him an air of agitation that was palpable.
He was a short man in his fifties who looked like he had had one too many business lunches.
Although he was wearing a designer suit, it did nothing to hide his considerable paunch, the buttons of his jacket straining against the fabric so much Sylvia was expecting one to pop off and ping across the room like a missile.
His complexion was ruddy as if he was constantly in a state of emotional dysregulation.
He had balding greying brown hair that he tried to disguise by sweeping a longer side portion across the bald spot that only drew more attention to it, like a coffee scroll had landed on his head.
The comparison between clock-stopping handsome, gym-toned Jack Wilde and his client was like a virile thoroughbred stallion with an overweight and bad-tempered Shetland pony.
Sylvie wondered what her client had ever seen in Hugo Winters, but love was blind as they say.
She, on the other hand, had twenty-twenty vision when it came to men.
She was a card-carrying member of the most-men-are-bastards club. And she planned to stay that way.
‘Edwina’s late as usual,’ Hugo muttered without bothering to greet either Jack or Sylvie.
‘She’ll be here in a minute or two,’ Sylvie said, unintimidated by Hugo’s boorish manner. ‘Please take a seat. Nasreen will call us in soon.’
‘Don’t know why we have to go through this yet again.
It’s pointless because I’m never going to agree to Edwina’s demands.
’ Hugo grumbled and plonked his bulk into one of the waiting-room chairs.
Sylvie found herself holding her breath, hoping the antique chair could accommodate him without splintering into pieces.
She caught Jack’s glinting gaze and felt a wave of heat course over her cheeks because she was seriously tempted to giggle.
She never giggled. Not in front of clients or colleagues and certainly not in front of her enemy.
She didn’t want to share any sort of camaraderie with him.
She wanted to keep her distance—a professional distance so she could get through this case without being sidetracked by Jack Wilde’s alluring charm.
‘Let’s see if we can come to some agreement this time so you don’t have to pay your lawyer hundreds and thousands of pounds,’ Sylvie said, doing her best to avoid Jack’s amused gaze, but it took a mammoth effort.
Just then a flustered Edwina came stumbling through the doorway, her face flushed, her chin-length bobbed blond hair looking like it had just been through a wind tunnel.
She brushed it back from her face and clutching her tote bag like a shield against her body, said, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. Mimi wasn’t keen on going to school and it took me ages to talk her into going and then I had to stay with her to—’
‘You’re way too soft with her,’ Hugo said with a contemptuous look that matched his tone. ‘If you’d been firm with her in the first place, you wouldn’t have to fuss over her like she’s still three years old instead of thirteen.’
‘Well, at least I don’t shout and swear and threaten her,’ Edwina shot back.
Sylvie mentally rolled her eyes. It was like déjà vu listening to these two argue. Her parents had bickered non-stop pre- and post-divorce. She suspected if they still had contact with each other, they would continue to fight over which way the breeze was blowing.
Jack said nothing but she sensed him taking in the dynamic, assessing who had the balance of power in the relationship and how he would act in the best interests of his client.
Sylvie had enough experience to know not all relationships were as they seemed on the surface.
It took time to get to know your client and hear their story, but it was also important to save a part of your mind for the other party’s version of events just to make sure you were not being manipulated or hoodwinked in any way.
Thankfully, the mediation counsellor Nasreen came out of her consulting room before World War Three began and invited them in with a brief formal smile. ‘Good morning, please come in.’
Sylvie moved past Jack, who was waiting for her to precede him, and her arm accidentally brushed against his suit jacket.
Even through layers of fabric, a lightning zap of energy passed from his body to hers, sending her senses into free fall.
Even though she was wearing heels, he towered over her, and she knew she would end up with a crick in her neck if she looked up at him for too long.
She stared ahead, schooled her features into her professional mask of confident competence, and entered the mediator’s office with firm footsteps and a straight spine.
You’ve got this. Saying it in her head was not as powerful as saying it aloud but she needed to believe she could beat Jack-damn-his-gorgeous-bedroom eyes-Wilde.
Jack breathed in the flowery scent of Sylvie Rathbone as soon as she entered the mediation room. Every time he saw her, he noticed something different about her. She had chestnut hair that she had pulled back in a tight bun which gave her an elegant ballerina vibe she probably hadn’t intended.
She was always a little stiff and formal around him, which amused him immensely.
She was a rare creature in that she didn’t fawn over him as most women did and he liked it.
He liked it a lot. It was refreshing to be in the company of someone who didn’t see him as a potential lover.
It ignited the thrill of the chase in him.
A primal urge to see if he could win her over.
He could feel the stirring of it deep in his groin—the pulse of lust that was triggered by her aloof and cool manner around him.
But he had noticed the way her nutmeg-brown eyes drifted to his mouth and to his legs while they were sitting opposite each other.
He felt the crackling tension in the air, an invisible current that zapped him as she brushed against him.