Sophie Weston - The Bedroom Assignment

‘Oh that’s Harry Brown and his friends. He’s Zoe’s brother.’

‘Zoe?’

‘She lives here. It’s half her party.’

‘Well, she certainly gives a great bouncer service,’ he said. ‘The guys out there have a technique that makes your average killer shark look like Miss Hospitality.’

‘She’s very efficient,’ said Suze demurely. ‘In fact—well, never mind. Have you got my contract?’

‘Have you got my research assistant?’ he countered.

‘Maybe.’

She was looking naughty, he thought. Or it could be a trick of the whirling light.

He said, ‘This isn’t a game, Susan. I’ve got a major speech to give at the Communications Conference in Venice next month. And there isn’t a single note or reference to build on.’

‘Come and let me find you a drink,’ Suze said soothingly. ‘And you can tell me how you let it get away from you.’

‘Something soft. I’m driving,’ he said absently. ‘It happened because I delegated, and the wretched girl hasn’t done a thing.’

Suze opened the fridge. ‘Juice or water?’

‘Water, please.’

He wandered round the kitchen. The lighting was better than in the drawing room disco, but it was still clearly a room decked out for a party. There were candles and trailing greenery everywhere, and someone had sprayed ‘Sixteen Again’ on the mirror in gold paint.

‘How old is your friend?’ Jay asked, recoiling.

Suze poured water into a big wine glass for him.

‘Twenty-three. But she says everyone should be sixteen at a party.’

‘Original!’

Suze laughed and gave him the glass.

‘She’s not as daft as she sounds. She has her reasons. Now, let me have a look at that contract.’

He gave her the envelope.

‘It’s a long shot, I know. If you can’t help, then I’ll call the bigger agencies on Monday.’

Suze was running her eyes down the job description. ‘Hmm? You know the other agencies aren’t as creative as I am.’

‘No, but they have more people on their books.’

She looked up. ‘You don’t want more, Jay. You want the right one. And I may just have her for you.’

He was intrigued. ‘May just? That doesn’t sound like you.’

Suze grinned. ‘Well, she’s thinking about it. I need you to help me convince her.’

Jay sighed. ‘And how do I do that?’

‘Do I need to tell the great PR guru?’ mocked Suze. ‘Charm her. Challenge her.’ She added kindly, ‘You can do it!’

There was a pregnant silence. ‘The bigger agencies are so much easier,’ said Jay plaintively.

She laughed aloud. ‘But not nearly so much fun. Now, listen, we’ll need to do a double act…’

Zoe had been going upstairs when she heard the altercation at the front door. She had turned, intending to go and see if she needed to intervene. Harry and his friends could sometimes take their bouncer duties a bit too seriously, she knew.

So she had been halfway down the stairs when she saw him.

He was wearing dark trousers of some sort, and a wonderful shirt in sunset colours. Silk, she was sure. You would not have got that purity of colour in any other material. Zoe could not afford silk, but that did not stop her dreaming over it in the shops. She knew the way the material moved on the body, catching the light in a thousand different ways. As the man had stood there, arguing with Harry and his suspicious mates, she’d been almost dazzled by that sheen, that hint of gold, those little wasp stings of tangerine and apricot and purple among the principal colour.

What sort of man came to a suburban party in flame-coloured silk?

And then she’d looked at his face.

And stopped dead. Her heart had seemed to contract in her breast.

He hadn’t been looking at her. He had not even seen her. If he had, he wouldn’t have known her. But somehow—she knew him. She always had. Though she did not know his name.

She knew the face, though. The proud carriage of the head, like a Mogul Prince. The deep, deep eyes. The sculpted ascetic mouth, with its eloquent self-discipline and its alluring hint of passion suppressed. The energy. The fire. Banked now, certainly, but fire nonetheless. Oh, yes, she knew that face all right.

Zoe had retreated a step, backing round the corner into the shadows. She’d felt cold and very serious, as if she had just come face to face with her future.

Oh, wow! That’s all I need.

It was ridiculous, of course. Nobody believed in love at first sight. It was an adolescent fantasy. A myth.

A myth like the twenty-three-year-old virgin? said a voice in her head ironically.

Well, all right, maybe it wasn’t exactly a myth. Maybe it was pheromones. Maybe it was the party. They had a habit of lowering your inhibitions, parties! It was not important, anyway. It was not a feeling you could rely on.

It still gave you a hell of shock, thought Zoe ruefully. She felt as if she had walked into a wall.

Who on earth was he?

You don’t want to know, said that voice in her head. There was a distinct warning note in it.

And it was right. Of course it was right. If she had to come face to face with the man she’d probably be as tongue-tied as a new teen with a pop idol whose poster she had had on her wall for years. That was about the level of substance to her feelings.

She did not want to have to deal with fantasies she should have outgrown ten years ago, Zoe told herself. She wanted to have a good time. That was what tonight was all about. Forget her money worries! Forget her non-existent career and her life on hold! Dance and have fun!

She would dance and have fun if it killed her, she resolved grimly.

So she had resumed her journey to her bathroom. And before she’d come downstairs again, she’d splashed water on her face so vigorously that she’d had to rebuild her makeup from scratch.

Suze took Jay back to the drawing room. Now that he’d had time to adjust, he saw it ran the depth of the house, from the street to the garden. At the far end the French windows were open to the night air. He moved towards them gratefully, picking up the rhythm of the dance as he went. Beside him Suze gyrated, a lot less rhythmically.

‘She’ll be here somewhere. When last seen she was listening to a man in a checked shirt talk about megabytes.’

Jay bent his head to her. ‘Why?’ he said simply.

‘Zoe takes being a hostess seriously. She does ten minutes per no-hoper.’

Suze was twining herself round him sinuously as they walked. It would have been sexy if she hadn’t been scanning the room all the time and talking nineteen to the dozen. Jay smiled at her with affection. God bless Susan, who didn’t fancy the pants off him and wasn’t going to break her heart over him.

‘You’re a star,’ he said, taking her hand and dancing her powerfully through a little knot of wild arms and bouncing shoulders.

‘Love it when you butter me up,’ said Suze, unmoved by his touch.

They got to the windows.

‘Maybe she’s in the garden,’ said Jay, with a longing look at the tall shadows of trees and laurel hedges.

‘Maybe.’ But Suze was not looking outside. He felt her jump under his hand. ‘Ah, there she is.’ She raised her arm above her head and waved vigorously. ‘Zo! Over here!’

He looked into the shot darkness, with its shifting shadows of dancing bodies, and at first he saw nothing. Then the woman started to come towards them through the bopping crowd and he held his breath.

She was tall and graceful as a willow. As she got closer he saw she had a cloud of wild hair. He had no idea what colour. He could not tear his eyes away from her mouth. Her lips would have been voluptuous anyway, but she had painted them what looked like a dark purple. It was an aggressive colour, anyway. The whole image was aggressive. But he looked and looked, and saw vulnerability behind the image. More, there was a quivering sensitivity that their owner was trying hard to deny.