Homespun wisdom. Just the sort of thing her mother would come out with.
Her mother…
Fran’s smile faded before it had had a chance to start. She was going to have to call her parents tonight and admit to them that she was a failure. Not only was she the only one of their children not to get a degree, now she was the only one who didn’t have a decent job. And it went right with the territory of not being their real child, anyway—the only one of the four Marsden children who was adopted.
She sighed. ‘I lost my job today.’
‘I’m sorry. That’s tough.’
It wasn’t his fault. And he was right—it felt good to unburden herself. Lose some of the sick feeling of failure. ‘My boss decided he wanted a new challenge, so he sold the business to go travelling for a year and to work out what he wanted to do with his life.’ She shrugged. ‘A competitor bought the business. And you really don’t need two office managers when you’re merging two companies and need to cut your running costs. So one of them has to be made redundant.’
‘So you’re an office manager?’
‘Was.’ She pulled a face. ‘Ah, ignore me. I’m whining.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’ll find something else. It’s just that I really loved my job—and there aren’t that many opportunities in the market because there aren’t many voiceover studios around.’
He looked interested. ‘What does a voiceover studio do?’
‘Record jingles for radio stations, produce radio advertising and audio books, and do audio special effects—you know, like horses’ hooves or fireworks going off on bonfire night, that kind of thing.’
‘So you get all the famous actors and actresses coming in?’
She smiled. ‘They’re not always household names—but, yeah, I’ve booked a few in my time.’
‘You were in charge of booking?’
‘I didn’t make the final decisions on who we booked for each job,’ Fran said, ‘but I made suggestions and I did the organising. I made sure everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing and when.’ And she’d fitted in, right smack in the middle of things. She’d belonged. And that, to her, had been way more important than her admittedly good salary. ‘We had a sales guy handling the sales side of things, a sound manager to do the technical stuff, and my boss did the copywriting and most of the schmoozing.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m going to miss it. Horribly. But, hey, life moves on. I’ll get over it. Find something else.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Sorry. I’m making you really late.’
Gio shook his head. ‘It’s really not a problem, Fran. My evening’s my own. Though I do need to clean the machines so they’re ready for tomorrow morning—so, if you don’t mind me sorting that out while we’re talking, come and sit by the bar.’
Fran looked at him properly for the first time. Gio Mazetti would get a definite ten on the scale of gorgeousness. Olive skin, dark straight hair that flopped across his forehead and which he’d obviously pushed back with one hand at various times during the day because it stuck up in places, a sensual mouth—and the most stunning eyes. With his colouring and his Italian name, she’d expected them to be dark brown. Instead, they were blue.
A mesmerising deep, almost midnight, blue.
She followed him to the bar.
‘So when do you finish?’ he asked.
That was what had knocked her for six. ‘It all happened today and I cleared my desk this afternoon. I’m on five months’ gardening leave, as of now,’ she said.
‘Five months is pretty generous,’ he commented, starting to strip down the coffee machine.
‘I worked at the studio for five years, so I guess the terms are one month for every year I spent there,’ she explained. ‘But the terms of my leave also mean that I can’t contact any of my former clients during those five months.’
‘So if you go to a competitor, you can’t take your contacts with you.’
He’d hit the nail right on the head, and Fran’s spirits took another nosedive. ‘In five months’ time, my contacts will be out of date, because things change so quickly in advertising and radio and publishing. And that’s assuming I can get another job in a voiceover studio—as I said, it’s not that huge an industry, so even in London there aren’t many openings.’ She shrugged. ‘On the plus side, my skills are transferable. I dunno. Maybe I’ll try some of the advertising agencies, see if I can work on the client management side. If that doesn’t break the terms of my gardening leave, that is.’