Sophie Weston - The Bedroom Assignment

Not that he could see much in the candlelit dark. Maybe her long, soft hair as it waved loosely about her shoulders in the night breeze. Or the glittery black see-through stuff of the shirt that left her shoulders visible and her slim midriff exposed. Enough to realise that she looked as cool as Suze, anyway.

And that, of course, was the trouble. She looked as cool and confident as any other girl here. More confident than most, maybe, especially when she was wearing these soft glove-leather trousers that hugged her slim hips and turned Suze green with envy.

She looked just fine. It was only inside that she knew she wasn’t. Wasn’t confident. Wasn’t fine. Wasn’t normal.

And wasn’t going to admit to any of it. Well, not in front of hornet man. She stuck her chin in the air and glared at him. And took a decision.

‘You can stop looking me up and down as if I’m livestock. You get my time nine to five, starting Monday morning,’ she told him crisply. ‘And that’s all your money buys you. Friday nights aren’t in the package.’

Suze drew in an audible breath.

He was taken aback. His head went back as if she had driven a foil straight at his chest.

Then he said dryly, ‘That sounds like St Bluestocking’s, all right.’

Zoe was still angry. ‘So apologise.’

Suze gave a soft whistle. But the man said slowly, ‘For what?’

‘For looking at me like that.’

‘Aren’t you being a bit over-sensitive?’ He was amused.

Amused! Zoe decided she wanted blood.

‘If I am, then you won’t want me to work for you, will you?’ she said with shining amiability.

‘I never said—’

She shook her head. ‘You know what over-sensitive people are like,’ she told him earnestly. ‘A real strain. Especially if management isn’t geared up to cope. So disruptive in a small office. Much better if we just call it quits now.’

And just see if Suze can get you someone else by Monday morning, you jerk.

She thought he would backtrack fast. But he didn’t. He looked at her for a long moment. In quite a different way this time.

Then he said, ‘What makes you think that the office is small?’

Zoe gave a rather good start of surprise. ‘Isn’t it?’ she asked, all artless confusion. ‘I just thought if they let someone like you hire the staff they wouldn’t be big enough to afford a proper human resources manager.’

Suze sucked on her teeth audibly.

But the man did not say anything for a moment. Then, ‘I—see. Yes, I can follow your reasoning there.’ His voice was tinged with unholy amusement.

For some reason Zoe suspected he had scored a point there, though she could not quite see what it was.

She said, ‘I really don’t think I should take the job if you’re not sure about my temperament…’

He laughed aloud. ‘I think you’ll cope.’

‘Oh, but I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable—’

‘Yes, you would,’ he interrupted. ‘And I don’t blame you, either.’

That disconcerted her. ‘Is that an apology?’ she said suspiciously.

‘I suppose it is.’ He sounded surprised at himself. He swung round on Suze, a silent spectator for once. ‘I apologise to both of you. I shouldn’t leap to conclusions. Sorry, Susan.’ He made her an odd, formal little bow, then looked at Zoe. ‘And sorry Ms Bluestocking, too. I’ll see you on Monday morning. No more snide remarks, Scout’s honour.’

‘Thank you,’ said Zoe. She meant to sound dignified, but even to her own ears it came out just plain sulky.

Suze sent her a quick, worried look. Hornet man did not notice.

‘That’s settled, then,’ he said cheerfully. ‘So now I’ll be on my way.’

Suze didn’t like that. ‘Going on to another party, Jay?’

He laughed. ‘Weekend in the country. And I’m not going to get there until after three in the morning at this rate. I’m not going to be popular.’

‘She’ll wait up for you,’ said Suze dryly.

But she did not say it very loudly, and Jay Whoever-he-was, running lightly down the steps and back among the partygoers, did not seem to hear.

Zoe let out a long, shaky breath and leaned against the trunk of the apple tree. Her legs felt as if they were made of cotton wool. Gently vibrating cotton wool.

‘Tell me it’s not true,’ she begged. ‘Tell me I haven’t just signed up with Captain Blood!’

Suze was watching the slim dark figure find his surefooted way down the terraces and disappear into the house. ‘Captain Blood?’ she echoed absently.

‘He looked me up and down as if I was in a corsair slave market.’

Suze jumped and re-engaged attention. ‘You watch too many old movies. Jay Christopher is no pirate.’

‘Then why does he prowl like one?’

Suze gave an incredulous laugh. ‘He doesn’t. You’re just saying that because you fancy him.’

Zoe jumped as if her friend had turned the garden hose on her. ‘You’ve got to be joking. Why would I fancy him?’

‘Everyone does,’ said Suze simply.

‘Can’t imagine why,’ Zoe muttered.

‘Get real, Zo. You saw the man. He’s lethal.’

‘He’s rude and arrogant.’

‘He can afford to be arrogant. You didn’t seem to clock it, but that was the man himself. Jay Christopher of Culp and Christopher Public Relations.’ There was a faint question mark in Suze’s voice.

Zoe pushed her hair back. ‘So?’

‘The Big Cheese. The one the financial reporters write the big profiles of.’

Zoe refused to be impressed. ‘You know me. I don’t read the financial pages.’

‘He hangs out in the sports section as well. To say nothing of the gossip columns. Olympic medallist. One of the long-distance races. You must remember him.’

But Zoe shook her head. ‘You know me. No competitive edge.’

Suze almost danced with frustration. ‘You must remember. No one rated him. And then he just came from nowhere and took the medal.’

A chord in Zoe’s memory started to vibrate very gently. She had a vague picture of an old television news bulletin—a tall, proud figure with remote eyes, in spite of his heaving chest and sweat soaked running gear.

Well, the eyes were right. Though that flame-coloured silk suggested that he had not broken out into a sweat in long while.

‘Maybe I do remember,’ she said.

‘He set up his public relations agency with Theodora Culp, the business journalist. Now it’s one of the best in London. Theodora’s gone back into television, of course, so Jay runs it single-handed.’ Suze laughed. ‘And you thought he was a human resources manager.’

‘I told him he was a bad human resources manager,’ Zoe reminded her. For some reason it felt like a small triumph. Because she had been fighting back, she supposed, not melting into a warm puddle of sub-teen lust at his feet. She would have died rather than admit it, but Suze was not the only one who fancied Jay Christopher.

‘He won’t care. Jay’s not mean. And he knows how good he is.’ Suze was thoughtful for a moment. ‘They say one of the big international advertising agencies is sniffing round Culp and Christopher at the moment. If Jay sells out he’ll be making himself some serious money.’

But if Zoe was unwillingly attracted to the tall man with the remote eyes, she did not give a hoot about serious money. She did not have to say so. Her expression said it all.

‘You’ve got to admire him,’ Suze urged. ‘He did it all on his own. His grandfather’s a brigadier, and terribly well connected. But Jay wouldn’t let him help out, even when the business was just two men and a dog to begin with. Jay would have every right to be insufferably pleased with himself. But he isn’t.’

‘No?’ Zoe was sceptical.