How to Bag a Billionaire - Page 65

‘No. You don’t.’

‘Yes, I do. I am determined things are going to change. I’ve even got myself a job in the mother and baby store in town, and I love it.’

And over the two months since Olivia’s return from the disastrous Masterson Mission she had come to see that Jodie meant every word.

Memories threatened. Adam’s sinful smile—the real one that she had believed was for her and her alone. His eyes—shades of brown, glinting with mischief or dark with desire. His touch. When would her body stop craving it?

‘Livvy? Tea’s up.’

Olivia blinked the thoughts away and focused on the present, accepted the steaming mug with an attempt at a smile. She needed to banish Adam from her brain or at least wean herself off the man. Allow herself a hundred memories today and ninety-nine tomorrow.

Her mum’s blue eyes studied her way too thoughtfully.

‘How did last night go?’ Olivia blurted. ‘At antenatal class? I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it, but—’

‘Sweetheart, I told you—it’s fine. I get that you needed to see a client. It’s no biggie. The class went well. Really well, in fact.’

Jodie opened her mouth and then closed it again, turned away so that her highlighted bob swung forward to hide her expression.

‘Mum, are you sure everything is OK? You do know you don’t have to move out of here?’

Jodie swung back round. ‘Olivia Louisa Evans. We are not having this conversation again. I am appalled with myself for not realising long ago how wrong it was that you have been paying the extortionate rent on this place.’ Her lips curved into a loving smile. ‘Plus, I adore my new place. It’s way more suitable for Bubs and me. There’s a park. Local shops. It’s a real community. Anyway, you’re still contributing to the rent.’

‘Mum. I’ve explained. I’m not contributing. You’re earning the money. Consulting at Working Wardrobes counts as a job.’

It had turned out that whilst Olivia had been away her stand-in had gone AWOL. It had been Jodie who had stepped into the breach; Suzi, love her, had the clothes sense of a horse.

Her mother had done an amazing job.

There came a lash of guilt. If Jodie had been wrong to accept Olivia’s help, Olivia had been wrong not to be honest with her mother. Had been wrong in so many of the assumptions she had made about Jodie. Turned out some people did change.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked as Jodie shrugged herself into her chic lime-green raincoat.

‘Milk,’ Jodie said. ‘I’ve run out of milk. I’ll just pop out.’

‘I can go.’

‘No. It’s good exercise for me.’ Jodie tied the belt loosely around her waist. ‘See you later, Livvy.’

Five minutes after the door had clicked shut behind her mum the doorbell chimed. Sighing, Olivia switched the Hoover off. Many things had changed about Jodie, but housework still wasn’t her forte. There was enough dust gathered behind the sofa to fill a skip. Olivia swiped a hand across her brow and grimaced as she glanced in the mirror. The postman was in for a bit of a shock.

She pulled the door open and shock impacted her, dropped her chin kneewards. ‘What are you—?’

And why now? If ever she had been stupid enough to hallucinate Adam turning up unannounced, the vision had not included Olivia dressed in an old apron, with a scarf over her head, looking like a demented version of a fifties housewife.

Deep breath.

‘Adam. What are you doing here?’ She half closed the door and stepped forward, holding the handle behind her back.

‘I’m here to see you. Didn’t Jodie mention it?’

Just great. Maybe her mum was retaliating against Olivia’s foolhardy jaunt across the world to find a man her mother had already identified as a waste of space.

‘No. She didn’t mention it.’

‘Ah. Well, she knows I’m here. So can I come in?’

‘No.’ Just this glimpse of him was half killing her; no way was she letting him inside.

Dark blue jeans moulded to muscular thighs, and his reggae T-shirt stretched across the expanse of his chest and brought back a flood of memories she’d kept at bay for weeks. His dark hair was longer than she remembered, and it glinted with raindrops from the intermittent spring showers that were plaguing Bath.

Adam sighed. ‘I’m not going anywhere, Olivia. So you have two choices. You can let me in. Or I can pick you up, sling you over my shoulder and carry you inside. Your choice. Three seconds.’

For an insane heartbeat Olivia was tempted to hold her ground; a tremor weakened her legs at the thought of being thrown over Adam’s shoulder.

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