Best Friend...Future Wife. Claire Baxter

      That afternoon, Della flicked through one of the media kits Jason had piled on a table near the entrance to the large room. As well as her media release, he’d included background details on the Dermont products, a piece on the company’s contribution to the state economy, a fact sheet regarding a proposed project to clean up the production process—if Tom Dermont ever approved the expenditure—and other bits and pieces. They’d hired a large conference room at a city hotel and sent out the media advisory notes. Now all she could do was hope Tom stayed away as he’d promised in their phone call.

      Dan Barlow entered the room, and she hurried over to him. ‘Thanks for agreeing to do this, Dan,’ she said.

      ‘Not a problem. Glad to help.’

      She chatted to Dan for several moments then, as she swung around, doing a speedy check of chairs available for the stream of media representatives coming through the door, she spotted Luke. He caught her eye as he took a seat in the back row, and his smile made her empty stomach go into freefall. She made her way to the back of the room.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, standing close behind his chair.

      He twisted to face her. His gaze drifted from the top of her head to her toes and back up to her face. A blatant inspection. She had to stop herself gasping out loud. He’d never looked at her like this before.

      ‘I like the way you dress for work,’ he said. ‘Very smart, but not too corporate. There’s still a touch of the old Della there.’

      Absurdly pleased, she smoothed down her tailored black skirt, straightened her silk shirt and lifted her chin. ‘I’m glad to see an improvement in your clothes.’

      In fact, he looked incredible, treading the line between smart and casual in his olive-green combat trousers and a white, short-sleeved shirt. Clean-shaven, he’d also had a haircut.

      ‘You haven’t said what you’re doing here,’ she said.

      ‘Just checking out the local news scene.’

      ‘You’re not working, are you?’

      He shook his head.

      ‘Then, how did you even know this was happening?’

      He hesitated. ‘I still have contacts in the local media.’

      ‘Oh. Of course.’ She glanced at her watch. Running late was not an option with the evening news crews facing broadcast deadlines. ‘I’d better go. Time to start.’

      ‘Sure. See you tonight.’

      ‘Not tonight. I’m going out with Lyn, remember?’

      He nodded.

      Della walked calmly to the front of the room. She should have known he wouldn’t be able to stay away from a media conference like this. Renowned all over the world for his hard-hitting exposés of exploitation and corporate greed, he was a media favourite here in his home town. Of course he still had contacts, and as soon as he got in touch they’d fill him in on the biggest story of the day.

      She glanced Luke’s way from time to time—and each time she did he caught her. A raised eyebrow, a wink, a cheeky half-smile. She had to force herself not to look in his direction again or she’d burst out laughing and wreck the media conference, not to mention her own reputation as a self-possessed professional.

      She lost sight of him in the mass exodus, and by the time she’d dealt with the debriefing, prepared the action plan for the next few days and returned to her office, the adrenalin high she’d been on all day started to subside. She scanned the messages strewn across her desk, and sighed when she spotted one from a client in the wine industry. She’d have to delegate the remaining work on their annual report or it wouldn’t be ready in time for the printing deadline.

      Her mobile phone beeped and she read the text message on the screen:

      ok for tonight. be here @ 6. lyn

      With mixed feelings, she cleared the screen. She enjoyed any time spent with Lyn, but tonight was going to be tough.