Crystal Balls Read Online Free Page A

Brian,” I offer, already flirting outrageously. “Not that my assessment of you is that of an idiot of course,” I add quickly,
invisibly smacking my head against the nearest wall. “Although there are plenty of them around.” What am I on?
    Thankfully he appears distracted and I watch him deftly remove his suit jacket, placing it and his overcoat carefully over the stool I had positioned for him, right opposite me. Great! Where
the hell does he think he’s going to sit now?
    I watch as he grabs a spare stool from the table behind him, dragging it along the floor to our table, placing it inches away from me. His knees brush against mine as he sits heavily and a bolt
of reality hits me. It’s him. The man everyone wants to work with. The man with the Midas touch. The god of couture construction. And here is me. A failed actress trying to turn a small
business into a high-street brand and completely unqualified to do it, apart from a burning drive so powerful it draws bile to the back of my throat. I suddenly become aware of his masculinity,
observing the size of his smooth hands, broad chest and distinguished face, which until now had only been witnessed from a distance. Next to him I feel slight in frame and slightly meek, if
I’m honest.
    Come on, Tina, you’re going to have to do better than this. You never get a second chance to make a first impression.
    “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here, Tina?” he says plainly.
    I shake my head, scared to speak for fear of another faux pas.
    “I’m not a great fan of formality – reminds me of the days when I had to beg, borrow and steal from the bank manager!” He shudders and then grins. “If I can avoid
putting someone else through that intimidation then I make it my mission.”
    Cocky bugger. Me? Intimidated? Erm?
    I watch him watching me, observing my determined face and clearly witnessing the sharp change in my expression.
    “Unless of course you’d prefer to be intimidated, Miss Harding?” he mocks outrageously, cocking his head to one side. He looks at me with a mischievous glint in his
eyes.
    Fascinated for a moment by his ability to be so expressive, I lose myself in his gaze. How could that face intimidate anyone? Yes, he must be in his mid-forties but he really is in immaculate
condition and forty is the new thirty after all.
    His tanned, smoothly shaven skin emphasises his perfect bone structure and square jaw-line. Full lips protect a set of white teeth which must have seen the benefit of cosmetic dentistry over the
years. They look too faultless to be natural. I’m speaking from personal experience, having undergone painful episodes of pulling, filing and refitting myself.
    Sitting up straight, I twist around on my stool until my entire body is facing his like for like. It’s called mirroring. I learned it at drama school.
    “Mr Steen, you couldn’t possibly intimidate me,” I tease back, raising my eyebrows in a gesture of humour but never losing that vital eye contact.
    “Is that so, Miss Harding? In that case I’m beat!” He winks at me. “Then let’s get straight down to business.”
    While I have impressed myself with my ability to appear both fierce and flirtatious, my new positioning has made it impossible for me to see my well-devised notes. Shit. Second dilemma of
the day. Do I revert back to my pre-rehearsed angle giving him a side profile, albeit a pretty decent one, but potentially displaying signs of retreat, or do I continue to face him head on and wing
it?
    You couldn’t have worked any harder on your preparation, Tina. It’s now or never. Wing it!
    Smiling confidently but quaking inside, I nod to Brian, giving permission to commence the interview, although I am tempted to return his wink to see if, like me, he finds it patronising yet
arousing at the same time. Conscious that I have tucked and untucked my hair from behind my ear twice in the last ten seconds, I place my hands on my lap, neither