Though she did know many seniors liked to rise early. Her granddad used to be up at six every morning like clockwork, a hangover from his military days. But she really would’ve appreciated a heads-up. Brushing the rogue strands from her face and wiping the sleep from her eyes, she rushed from the bedroom and through to the entryway.

More pounding. It was borderline demanding now and Hannah’s heart started to race with worry that maybe there was some sort of emergency in the building.

She had a sudden vision of Ed being wheeled out on a stretcher after a heart attack or a bad fall or something. Pictured emergency crews lined up in the hallway, trying to revive him, and she felt her blood surge with panic. Maybe it wasn’t a visit at all, maybe Ed needed help and the paramedics wanted her to provide something crucial?

‘Coming, coming!’ she called out.

Reaching the door, she put her eye to the peephole – after all, she was a single woman living alone in New York. Regardless of the top-notch security and doormen in the building that prevented randomers on the street from wandering in and accessing the uppermost floors, you could never be too cautious.

However, as she focused her vision to see who was on the other side of the door, Hannah felt the little hairs on the back of her neck rise, realizing that the peephole was blocked – as if someone was purposely shielding themselves from her vision.

Her bare arms chilled with goose pimples and trepidation and she glanced at the locks on the door – the chain was engaged and the deadbolt turned to its correct position.

‘Who is it? The peephole is blocked – and I’m not answering if I don’t know who’s there,’ she called out.

And then she heard laughter. Familiar laughter.

‘Relax, it’s me.’

Her heart jumped into her throat as she realized she knew that voice and she looked back through the spyhole, this time with disbelief and no small measure of confusion.

On the other side was a tanned, blond and ridiculously handsome man holding a bouquet of roses.

Chapter 50

WARD

Ward had watched that damn clip at least ten times – hell, probably more like twenty. It had inspired a whole new range of emotions in him, mostly anger-related. Right from the get-go it was clear that Hannah had been extremely uncomfortable – and Kendrick clearly hadn’t given a damn that he’d put her on the spot. The opposite actually. He’d relished her discomfort.

Jealousy too, because there was no denying the fact that she and that dickwad were indeed a couple. And finally, confusion.

Because upon checking the Lotus PR client list and Kendrick’s own Wikipedia bio, it was apparent that the golfer was a company client.

So much for professional boundaries . . .