To Be A Bridegroom

‘Perhaps it’s the little boy with your gym-slip?’ he suggested sardonically. ‘I think you should answer it, Stazy,’ he said as the intercom buzzed once more, putting down his empty champagne glass. This evening hadn’t turned out quite as he would initially have liked it to, but maybe it was better this way. ‘If only to tell the person to go away,’ he said as the intercom buzzed again—and this time went on buzzing; the person was obviously keeping their finger on the button. ‘They’re very persistent for someone who has made a mistake,’ he murmured interestedly.

Stazy claimed she knew no one in England, and so it followed that no one should know her either, but the names of the people occupying the apartments were clearly marked beside the entryphone buttons downstairs; it was very unlikely someone had got the wrong apartment. Yet Stazy still seemed reluctant to acknowledge that intercom...

‘Would you like me to—?’

‘No!’ She hastily cut off his offer, putting down her glass and moving towards the entryphone—which all the occupants of the apartments had.

His entryphone had saved Jordan several times in the past, when he had a woman in his apartment with him and another one was downstairs calling to come up; it was much easier to make excuses to the woman he was with when she couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation!

That Stazy didn’t even want him to hear her replies in the conversation which followed was obvious as she looked at him pointedly, obviously wanting him to leave before she answered the call.

Jordan’s answer was to stroll over to the window, his back turned towards her, but he was completely aware of what was happening in the room behind him, Stazy’s reflection on the window in front of him. She was glaring at him, seemed deeply irritated with him. But she had piqued his interest now; he had no intention of leaving until she had answered that call. Besides, they hadn’t yet finished discussing the work she was going to do for him...

‘Yes?’ Stazy spoke agitatedly behind him into the receiver. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded exasperatedly. ‘No, you can’t! Zak, I said no,’ she added more firmly. ‘I’m not even going to ask how you found me, I’m just telling you to forget it again—’ There was a slight pause, while Zak obviously argued his case. ‘Zak, I don’t care if you have nowhere else to stay. You can sleep on the streets for all I care—but you aren’t staying here!’ She slammed down the receiver, her uneven breathing easily heard in the otherwise silent room.

Jordan kept his gaze focused out of the window, although he was looking at none of the beauty of London at night lit up by hundreds of lights; his attention was all inwards. Stazy had said she knew no one in London, and yet she obviously knew this man Zak. Well enough, from what Jordan had gathered from the conversation, for the other man to think he could stay here in her apartment with her!

Who—or what—was this Zak to Stazy?

CHAPTER THREE

STAZY glanced across the room to where Jordan stood so still and quiet in front of her window. What on earth must he be thinking? She had just finished telling him of some of the ridiculous situations she had found herself in since her move here, and now she had some man calling up from downstairs asking if he could stay in her apartment with her! And Jordan had just offered her a job, too...!

Damn Zak. He had no right to just turn up here uninvited like this. He—

She jumped nervously as her doorbell rang. It was too much of a coincidence, too soon after Zak’s call from downstairs...

How had he got into the apartment building? Because she didn’t doubt that it was him standing outside her front door. Or that he wouldn’t go away again until she had answered it!

As Jordan turned around, dark brows raised questioningly, she knew he wasn’t going to leave just yet, either. Men!

‘Do you want me to answer it?’ Jordan offered smoothly. ‘I could always send him on his way for you,’ he offered.

She didn’t doubt that he would try. Or that Zak would resist. Wonderful, just what she needed—a fight on her doorstep! Somehow she didn’t think so; she had come back to England in the first place to get away from all of that.

She shook her head. ‘I’ll go. But I definitely think the security here needs looking into,’ she said before striding off to answer the door.

This hadn’t been a good evening so far, and with Zak’s arrival it was deteriorating rapidly. Still, she supposed she and Jordan were about even in the complication stakes; that woman Stella had turned up in his life earlier—although his arrival here a short time ago seemed to imply she had been rapidly despatched again!—then there had been the man she’d recognised at his brother’s wedding, and now Zak had arrived! How had he found out where she was living...?

Zak grinned at her confidently when she opened the door; tall, blond, with laughing blue eyes, he looked completely unabashed by his intrusion. ‘Stazy!’ His joyful cry was accompanied by his dropping his suitcase in order to pick her up in a bear-hug and swing her round in the hallway.

It was very difficult to remain angry with someone who looked so pleased to see her, and who could lift her up in his arms so easily she might have been a child!

Stazy gave him a rueful grin. ‘Put me down, you clown.’ She punched him playfully on the shoulder. ‘And then could you explain to me exactly how you got up here?’ she added reprovingly, sure that it hadn’t been done legitimately. ‘Please don’t say you used the elevator! ’ She was fully aware of just how aggravating this man could be.

‘Okay, Staze.’ He put her down, still grinning, his American accent much more noticeable than her own. ‘It was really easy.’ He bent down to pick up the suitcase. ‘I pressed the button for Apartment 4, told the lady that answered that I was the guy in Apartment 7, J. Hunter, and that I had forgotten my key to get into the building. It worked.’ He shrugged. ‘I saw it in a movie once.’ He grinned his satisfaction at his success, having followed Stazy through to the sitting room as he gave his explanation. ‘I didn’t—Ub-oh, am I interrupting something?’ He came to a halt as he spotted Jordan standing near the window, and the bottle of champagne and two glasses still on the table.

Stazy could see exactly the thoughts that were going through Zak’s head—and probably so could Jordan. But Zak couldn’t have been further from the truth, no matter how damning the evidence!

Jordan stepped forward, holding out his hand in greeting to Zak. ‘J. Hunter,’ he introduced dryly. ‘The “guy in Apartment 7”,’ he tacked on deliberately so that there would be no mistake on Zak’s part. ‘And the J stands for Jordan,’ he supplied.

The two men were of similar age, similar height too, but there the similarity ended; Zak brimmed over with boyish good humour, while Jordan was much more reserved as the two men shook hands.

‘Sorry about that.’ Zak grinned unrepentantly. ‘But Stazy can be damned awkward when she wants to be,’ he said affectionately.

‘The word is private, Zak,’ she put in before Jordan could add anything to that—one way or the other! ‘Jordan Hunter, meet Zak Prince. And vice versa.’ She resented having to make this introduction at all. One—or both!—of these men had to leave! But one looked like being her employer for the foreseeable future, and the other one—! That suitcase Zak had brought in with him looked distinctly ominous!

‘Prince.’ Jordan repeated the name slowly, his expression thoughtful as he looked at Stazy.

She watched him warily. What was he thinking? Did he know—? Had he realised—?

He turned to Zak. ‘We were discussing the merits—or otherwise—of princes earlier,’ he explained. ‘The fairy-tale kind,’ he amended softly.

Stazy had said she hadn’t kissed a prince yet that hadn’t turned into a frog! Well, it was true—literally—Zak was chief frog!

‘Need I say more?’ She looked irritatedly at the blond giant who had invaded her apartment so effectively.

Jordan smiled at the joke. ‘I’m sure you have a lot more to say to this particular Prince,’ he drawled. ‘And that you would probably prefer to say it when I’m not around! Tomorrow is Sunday,’ he continued consideringly. ‘Will you be able to start work on Monday?’

She blinked at his directness. Of course she could start on Monday—her diary wasn’t exactly overflowing with work, as she had already told him. But—

‘Get some ideas together,’ Jordan ordered as he walked confidently to the door. ‘And we’ll discuss them Monday evening when I get back from work.’ He glanced across at Zak as the other man made himself comfortable on one of the bean-bags before sitting forward to top up the champagne for himself in one of the glasses. ‘At my apartment,’ Jordan stated hardly. ‘I’ll expect you around seven-thirty.’

Stazy walked with him to the door. ‘I’m sorry about Zak,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I—He—’

‘You don’t owe me any explanations, either, Stazy,’ He reminded her of her own comment to him earlier in the evening.

Of course she didn’t. This was business, after all. Although a part of her suspected that hadn’t been Jordan’s intention when he’d come to her apartment half an hour ago! Perhaps it was as well Zak had arrived when he did...

‘Seven-thirty Monday evening,’ she acknowledged briskly, closing the door firmly behind Jordan once he had left.

Now she must go and tackle Zak. Because he wasn’t staying here. No matter what sort of persuasion he might try to use!

‘Zak, will you get out of that bathroom right now!’ Stazy banged loudly on the bathroom door in accompaniment to her demand. ‘I’ve been waiting almost an hour to take my shower,’ she cried furiously.

‘Calm down, Stazy,’ he soothed in a completely unruffled voice. ‘You aren’t due at Jordan’s for another half an hour yet.’

So much for making Zak leave, she told herself. As she had known he would from the onset, Zak had wheedled his way into persuading her to let him stay, just until he got fixed up with a hotel. Which, as Stazy knew only too well, would probably never materialise; Zak liked his home comforts, someone always there—usually for him!

Stazy had made it clear that his ‘someone’ wasn’t going to be her; if he was staying in England for any length of time, at her apartment, then he could do his share of the chores and cooking. His share of the cooking yesterday had comprised taking her to the nearest fast-food restaurant for Sunday lunch, assuring her that she could have the chicken or the ribs when she’d protested she didn’t even like burgers. As a change it had been fine, but as a staple diet—Zak’s staple diet, if left to his own devices!—it just wasn’t good enough.

‘Move it, Zak,’ she told him in a strained tone. The last thing she needed was to be stressed out when she went to see Jordan. Besides, it was her bathroom!

Apart from getting to know her in her apartment, Jordan hadn’t seen her doing business yet, and she wanted to make a good impression. He might have reconsidered things since Saturday, and decided he didn’t want his place redecorated after all...

‘I mean it, Zak.’ She rattled the door handle impatiently. This was worse than when she had lived at home and had to fight her three brothers for the use of one of the two bathrooms. ‘If you aren’t out of there by the time I count to five, you can start looking for somewhere else—’ She broke of her tirade as the bathroom door was opened from the inside, and Zak stood there enveloped in a cloud of steam, with one towel draped about his neck, and another one—thank goodness!—draped about his waist and thighs. ‘I hope you haven’t used all the hot water,’ she grumbled as she strode past him into the now overheated bathroom. ‘Zak—!’ she gasped as she looked around.

‘I’ll clear the mess up later,’ he hastily assured her at her dismayed wail. ‘You aren’t the only one with somewhere to go this evening, you know,’ he defended as she turned to glare at him angrily.

‘Spare me the details,’ she snapped. ‘Just go away and leave me to—’ She broke off as the doorbell rang.

‘I’ll get it,’ Zak told her hurriedly, obviously glad of the excuse to escape. ‘You just carry on with your shower.’

He had gone before Stazy had time to stop him. And it had been the internal bell. Which could only mean one person... Jordan had changed his mind about the decorating. Damn it. She needed that job. She certainly wasn’t about to crawl back home, having failed in what she set out to do. It was—

‘Jordan,’ Zak told her with a grin as he strolled back down the hallway, using the towel that had been draped about his neck to dry off his hair after his fifteen-minute shower.

‘Well?’ Stazy finally said when the tension of waiting for him to continue became too much for her; she had known it was Jordan, but what did he want?

Zak blinked innocent blue eyes. ‘I thought you were in a hurry to take your shower?’

‘I am,’ she ground out between gritted teeth. ‘What did Jordan want?’ As if she couldn’t guess.

She had regaled him on Saturday with those two tales of confusion concerning her profession, and now Zak had answered the door to him wearing only a towel—two towels, to be exact. Jordan probably thought she was a high-class call-girl!

‘Oh, that,’ Zak replied, unconcerned. ‘He said could you make it seven forty-five instead of seven-thirty? He’s only just got in from work, and he would like to take a shower.’

Jordan hadn’t changed his mind. Well, until Zak had opened the door to him a couple of minutes ago, wearing only a couple of towels, he hadn’t...

‘He isn’t the only one,’ she told Zak determinedly, grabbing the towel draped about his neck. ‘See you later.’ She closed the bathroom door firmly in his face.

A lot later, she hoped. With any luck Zak would have left for wherever he was going by the time she finished her own shower, leaving her to get ready to face Jordan in peace and quiet.

Quiet. It was something she had learnt to value the last three months. At home there had always been so much going on, people constantly around. But since she had moved here she had become used to doing what she wanted, when she wanted, and that included whether or not she spent time with others!

Though it had been the desire to be around people that had involved her in Jordan Hunter’s life on Saturday . . . !

But she had won herself a job from that. At least, she hoped she had.

It was seven forty-five exactly when Stazy rang the doorbell of the apartment next door. And she was, she hoped, dressed for the part, her pale blue blouse tucked neatly into the waistband of navy blue striped trousers. Businesslike, but the fitted style of the blouse and trousers was also feminine. After all, Saturday evening when she’d worn the clinging blue dress she had been out on a date; this evening was work.

Although she wasn’t too sure of that once Jordan had opened the door and invited her in, and she saw the dining-table set for two, with candles flickering on it, the other lighting in the room subdued.

‘I thought we could eat first,’ Jordan told her lightly as she frowned across the table. ‘Unless you’ve already eaten?’ he enquired at her dismayed expression.

No, she hadn’t already eaten, had been too nervous. She’d thought she would make herself a sandwich or something after she got back. Food was something else she didn’t have to worry about too much now that she lived on her own; there were no rigid times for meals any more, there was no one else to answer to...

She might not have eaten yet this evening, but sitting down to a candlelit meal with Jordan Hunter was hardly businesslike! Especially as he looked more handsome than ever tonight, wearing a black shirt and fitted denims.

‘Don’t look so worried,’ he teased. ‘This isn’t another variation of the little boy and his bedroom theme! And I can see for myself that you aren’t wearing red underwear! ’ Those golden eyes looked at her assessingly.

Stazy looked down self-consciously at her blouse. It was made of silky material, not exactly see-through, but a red bra would certainly be visible through the lightcoloured material. And Jordan had taken the time to notice that fact in the two minutes since she’d entered his apartment!

That and the candlelit dinner were what bothered her.

Jordan laughed softly as she still looked reluctant. ‘It’s just a Chinese takeaway,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll blow out the candles and turn up the lights if you would feel more comfortable?’

She was being silly. It was only a meal. And they could discuss some of her ideas as they ate. ‘No, this is fine,’ she told him briskly, putting down the list of ideas she had brought in with her. ‘I’ll help you serve the food.’

It wasn’t ‘just’ a takeaway as Stazy knew it: chicken noodle soup first, followed by three Chinese meat dishes, with bamboo shoots and rice, and to follow there was sticky-toffee bananas and apples. Jordan opened a bottle of deliciously cool, crisp white wine to go with it.

‘I’m too full to work now I’ve finished this,’ Stazy warned Jordan as he made them coffee.

He sat back down in the chair opposite hers. ‘I owe you an apology for Saturday evening. I behaved very badly—’

‘Of course you didn’t,’ Stazy protested. ‘I had a good time.’

‘Is that why you left so suddenly?’ Jordan returned quickly. ‘Because you were having such a good time?

No, that had been for another reason completely. She had thought back to Saturday evening a couple of times during yesterday and today, and she had almost decided she must have been mistaken about the man she had thought she’d seen at the reception. Almost...

‘Jarrett explained to me that marriages tend to make you uptight,’ she replied easily.

‘Did he indeed?’ Jordan murmured dryly. ‘I see you have a house-guest,’ he added softly.

He caught her completely off-guard with this sudden change of subject!

She had been in the process of sipping her coffee, but she almost choked on it at that moment. She certainly didn’t need to ask whom Jordan was referring to!

‘Zak can be hard to get rid of,’ she acknowledged frankly.

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