JACQUELINE BAIRD - The Valentine Child

‘Let me look at you,’ Wayne drawled provocatively and, casually pulling her out of her husband’s arms, he held her hands wide and gave her a long, lingering scrutiny. ‘You’re more beautiful than your mother ever was. How about becoming a film star—?’

‘Hands off!’ Justin cut in, hauling her back to his side. ‘The lady is spoken for, Wayne.’ The two men held each other’s gaze, sizing each other up rather like two stags at bay.

Zoë’s puzzled eyes shot from one to the other. ‘You know each other?’

‘Wayne and I spoke on the telephone last week,’ Justin said curtly. ‘And he is here tonight in his capacity as the executor of your trust fund. Nothing more.’

‘No business tonight, Wayne.’ She deliberately spoke to the Texan, not at all happy with Justin’s tone of voice. She reached up and kissed Wayne’s cheek. ‘I should scold you,’ she teased. ‘To think that you’ve spoken to my husband and yet not once have you got in touch with me!’ She pouted, flirting outrageously.

‘Hey, honey, that’s not true. Surely you got my Valentine’s cards? Damn it! I paid the agency in London enough for the service. I knew you would miss not getting one from your dad, so I kind of took his place.’

Her smile faltered. All these years it had been Wayne and not Justin…‘Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, Wayne; I appreciated the gesture; I just forgot.’ She felt the colour rise in her face and quickly changed the subject. ‘But come on; you’re here to enjoy yourself— bar’s second door on the left and there’s champagne everywhere.’ She indicated the hovering waiters balancing trays loaded with glasses of champagne.

‘Whatever you say, gorgeous.’ Wayne winked. ‘Now, let me find the bourbon.’ And he walked off towards the bar.

Justin’s skin darkened with colour. ‘There was no need to kiss the man.’

‘Why, I do believe you’re jealous!’ Zoë teased. She was stupidly hurt to discover after all these years that the cards had not come from Justin, but she was determined not to show it.

‘It’s that damned dress,’ Justin bent down to murmur in her ear. ‘Every time you reach up, I have palpitations in case you pop out the top.’

She glanced up, her eyes clashing with his. His show of possession was flattering, and she laughed out loud, her humour restored. To the people watching, the stern barrister’s responding laughter came as something of a shock.

For the rest of the introductions Zoë relaxed easily in her husband’s hold, until she felt Justin tense, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on her waist. She shot him a sidelong glance; his rugged features were set in an impassive mask. She looked back to the couple in front of her. She knew the man, Bob Oliver, a junior partner in the law firm; her glance shifted to his red-headed companion, and immediately she knew the reason for Justin’s sudden tension. Janet Ord had been his companion at Zoë’s eighteenth birthday…

‘Bob and Janet, how nice to see you again; it must be three years.’ She tried to lighten the atmosphere. She was Justin’s wife and she wanted to show him that she was adult enough to realise that it was only to be expected that eventually she would bump into one of his old girlfriends. The law, and those who pursued it in England, comprised quite an insular community.

‘Good to see you, Bob—Janet.’

She heard Justin’s voice, cool and clipped, and wondered at the unmistakable frostiness in his tone. But at that moment the busload of friends from Magnum Advertising arrived, and she forgot all about Justin’s peculiar reticence with his junior partner and Janet. A few hours later she was to remember and wonder how she could have been such a fool…

She looked around the crowded room, her blue eyes shining like stars. The party was going brilliantly; the caterers had done a superb job on the buffet and the large formal dining-room was subjected to a constant stream of guests. In the small ballroom, opened for the first time in years for the occasion, an enthusiastic quintet played a good mixture of popular and rock music.

‘Quite a triumph,’ Justin murmured, turning her into his arms and grinning down at her. ‘Though I should be angry with you. You never mentioned the pipsqueak Nigel was one of your guests.’

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