Sophie Weston - The Bedroom Assignment

He found that he was not surprised she spent ten minutes with every no-hoper under her roof.

‘Gorgeous,’ he said, almost to himself.

Suze certainly didn’t hear.

The woman’s skin was milk-pale beneath an outrageously revealing black chiffon shirt. Under it, he could see a black bra in some shiny material. One thin strap was falling off her shoulder under the transparent sleeve. It was somehow more seductive than nakedness would have been. He felt as if he had been doused in ice water.

That graceful walk, that skin, that mouth…

Hell. Sixteen again, with a vengeance. Sixteen again, and hungry as a male animal for his conquest.

‘Down boy,’ said Jay grimly.

Suze had heard that, all right. ‘What?’ she said, startled.

‘That is your candidate for my research assistant?’ said Jay in disbelief.

‘My friend Zoe. Yes. So?’

‘Your friend?’ This got worse and worse.

‘Yes.’ Suze faced him. ‘And she really needs this job, too, though she may not want to admit it. So go carefully, right? You could be the answer to the maiden’s prayer.’

Jay groaned. ‘Have you even heard of political correctness?’ he said. He was racked by his baser instincts. The only possible solution was to laugh. ‘Maiden’s prayer, for heaven’s sake!’

‘I’m a traditionalist,’ said Suze, unmoved. She reached out an arm and hauled her friend between them. ‘Zoe, this is the man you’ve just got to meet.’

So what’s wrong with this one?

Zoe suppressed a sigh and smiled resolutely at the tall man standing next to her friend. As far as she could tell in the disco lighting he looked all right. Heck, he looked as tall as her prince from the hallway. But he had to have some mega problem or Suze would never have called her over. The party had got to the stage where you didn’t make introductions.

‘Hi,’ she yelled, trying to make herself hear above the dance beat and only half succeeding. She fluttered her fingers at him. ‘Zoe Brown.’

He did not seem to realise that that meant she had not caught his name. He looked bored. Dark as the devil, sleek as a seal just out of the water, and bored.

No-hopers didn’t usually look bored. They looked sulky or wary or too eager to please. And they couldn’t believe their luck when a babe like Zoe stopped by.

The tall dark man did not seem to notice that she was a babe. In fact he did not take his eyes off Suze. He looked as if he’d been sandbagged.

‘Hi.’ It sounded strangled.

Suze smiled and turned her shoulder on him. ‘Zoe, meet your fate.’

He looked startled.

Not nearly as startled as Zoe, though. As he bent his head she realised who he was. The deep, deep eyes. If they went somewhere where the light was normal that shirt would be flame-coloured. And silk. Definitely not a no-hoper.

And Suze said he was her fate?

‘What?’ she said, temporarily forgetting that they would not hear her. After all, she could not hear herself. She took hold of Suze’s arm and shook it hard to get her attention. ‘What—did—you—say?’ she mouthed with great care. Her eyes burned with indignation.

Suze’s naughty smile widened.

‘Nine to five for the next four weeks,’ she mouthed back.

‘What?’

Suze sighed visibly. She looked up at the ceiling. The rotating light balls, hired for the party, were making a great success of turning the Edwardian mouldings into a starship re-entry burst. She shrugged and waved them both to the French windows, with great traffic policeman gestures.

There were no speakers in the garden, at least. Between the incessant beat and the noise of the party it was not exactly silent, but at least you could hear what people were saying. Not that most people came out here to talk. There were several couples, dancing or lying on the grass, heads close, not talking.

Out in the dark, where no one could see, Zoe flinched. Performance Zoe took her to task. So what else is new? No point in minding. That’s what people do at parties.

She even did it herself sometimes. Only she just did it for the look of the thing. Then sidled out later, when she could. Not that anyone noticed her sidling out. If anyone were to suggest that popular Zoe Brown had never gone beyond a kiss in the dark, her friends would split their sides.

She did not want them splitting their sides tonight. Not in front of the Mogul Prince. Performance Zoe took control.

‘’Scuse me,’ said Zoe, shimmying past a couple gazing fixedly into each other’s eyes and shifting from foot to foot in a rhythm that was at least three tracks ago.

She made for the orchard terrace, pounding up the uneven York stone steps with the sure-footedness of long practice. The others followed.

Zoe turned, hands on her hips, ready for confrontation.

The smooth-as-a-seal man was already on to it, though. He had obviously decided to stop being bored. Suze was beginning to look alarmed.

Suze’s father was a judge. Nobody ever alarmed Suze.

The man said with dangerous quietness, ‘Want to explain, Susan?’

Well, it sounded dangerous to Zoe. In fact the hair came up on the back of her neck at the deep drawl.

‘Er…’ said Suze, floundering.

She never floundered, either. She was as quick on her feet as Zoe. In fact Zoe had learned her ‘Evasive Manoeuvres For When the Conversation Gets out of Hand’ from Suze in the first place. And Zoe was the best.

‘I’ve been conned, haven’t I?’ said the tall dark man in a level voice. ‘I want a professional job. And you think you can unload one of your ditzy friends.’ His eyes skimmed Zoe briefly. ‘No offence.’

‘Ditzy friend?’ she gasped.

Suze sent her an exasperated look before returning to her main opponent. ‘Chill out, Jay. I’m doing my best—’

‘I need someone to work,’ he said intensely. ‘Not a filing clerk in a micro skirt.’

‘Zoe can hack it.’ Suze waved a hand. ‘Zoe can do anything.’

The man swung round on Zoe and she swallowed hard. In the flickering light of the summer candles he looked about ten feet tall.

Ten feet tall and mad as a hornet was not the ideal prospective employer. Thank you, Suze.

She said furiously, ‘I never agreed—’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Nor did I. A research assistant able to work on her own initiative?’ he asked pleasantly, not taking his eyes off Zoe. ‘I don’t think so.’

Zoe stiffened. ‘I beg—your—pardon?’

‘I know what she can do,’ snapped Suze. ‘Zoe and I used to go to school together.’

His eyes were unreadable in the dark, but his whole stance said he didn’t believe a word of it.

‘Oh, yes? And when did St Bluestocking’s start turning out unskilled filing clerks?’

Zoe flinched all over again.

Plenty of people thought she was wasting her university education by doing temporary jobs in a variety of offices. Only last week her father had taken her out to lunch and tried to probe, delicately, when she was going to get a real job. But no one had actually told her to her face that she was unskilled. Or implied that she was a thing of no worth because of it.

She forgot the passionate mouth and the mogul silk. She decided he was all ten feet tall hornet man. And she hated him.

She said clearly, ‘I’m temping while I consider my options.’

It was true, too. Only—she had been considering her options for two years now and was no nearer finding a solution. She was not going to admit that to hornet man, though.

He looked her up and down. She could not see his face but she could feel the hard, swift appraisal. He took a couple of step towards her, lithe as a panther padding around its prey, assessing whether it was worth the effort of the chase or not.