The Valentine Child. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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God! What on earth are you wearing?’
Justin’s horrified cry broke into her reverie. She turned slowly around and spread her arms wide. ‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked as she pirouetted again, then stopped in front of him, grinning wickedly up into his stunned face.
He looked magnificent in a black dinner-suit, white silk shirt and black bow-tie—all elegant, sophisticated male—and for once Zoë thought she matched him. But, if the look in his dark eyes was anything to go by, maybe she was wrong. She saw the muscle in his strong throat move as he swallowed hard. ‘Justin?’ she queried.
‘Like it…? It’s indecent. You will give every man in the place a heart attack—me included.’ His dark gaze lingered on her shadowy cleavage. ‘Why not wear the romantic thing you wore on Valentine night?’ he suggested hoarsely.
‘Don’t be so staid,’ she teased, adding, ‘In any case, it’s too late to change now.’ She slipped her arm through his. ‘Let’s go down; we can’t keep our guests waiting.’
‘Wait.’ He closed his large hand over hers and turned her towards him. ‘I have something for you.’ His eyes dipped to her breast and then returned to her face. One dark brow arched sardonically. ‘Though I didn’t have a neckline like that in mind when I bought it,’ he said drily, slipping his free hand into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a long jewel case. He held it out to her.
She opened the box and gasped. ‘It’s unbelievable,’ she cried, her eyes dazzled by the blaze from a magnificent diamond choker set with sapphires falling like tear-drops all around—a perfect match for her engagement ring.
‘Happy birthday, Zoë.’
She looked up into her husband’s dark, serious eyes, her own filling with moisture. How could she have ever doubted that he loved her? she thought wryly.
‘I love it, Justin, as I love you. You darling man.’ And, reaching up, she kissed the highest point she could reach—his chin. He pulled back almost as though he was embarrassed by her show of emotion. ‘ Please put it on for me,’ she said in a voice that was not quite steady as she lifted the necklace from its bed of velvet and held it out to him.
He took it, his smouldering gaze intent upon her small face, then, moving behind her, fastened the necklace around her slender neck. Turning her back to face him, he said with arrogant certainty, ‘I knew they would match your eyes.’
She put a hand to her throat. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, her heart bursting with love.
“There is more,’ he said softly, a tender grin quirking the corners of his sensuous mouth as he delved once more into his jacket pocket and withdrew a smaller case. ‘From Bertie.’
She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. ‘How?’ she whispered, taking the proffered box.
‘He sent for the jeweller two months ago and chose it himself. I promised I would give it to you at the appropriate time.’
She opened the box and lifted out a delicate gold watch of startling beauty. The time markings on the face were etched in diamonds and the surround was encrusted in diamonds and sapphires. ‘I wish he could have been here,’ she whispered, fastening the watch around her slender wrist and raising tear-drenched eyes to her husband.
‘He is in spirit, love.’ Justin pulled her into his arms and gave her a quick hug. ‘Dry your eyes and let’s go.’
Ten minutes later Zoë, once again in control of her emotions, followed her husband into the formal drawingroom. ‘I feel guilty allowing you to arrange all this for me—the party, the caterers.’ She glanced at the watch on her wrist; any moment now the guests would be arriving. ‘The guests.’ And she stopped, her mouth falling open. She had forgotten to tell Justin…
‘Justin, I—er—I hope you don’t mind but—’ She
glanced at him leaning negligently against the French marble fireplace, the epitome of the sophisticated male animal, and hesitated.
‘But what?’ He arched one dark brow enquiringly.
‘You know when I worked at Magnum Advertising? Well, I have kept in touch with some of the staff—an
occasional lunch in town—and—’ she took a deep
breath ‘—a few of them are hiring a minibus and coming to the party,’ she finished in a rush.
‘Why not? Your uncle insisted on inviting everyone from the doorman at chambers to the Lord Chief Justice—a few more won’t matter.’ In two lithe strides he was beside her. ‘Stop worrying. It is your partyenjoy it.’
She took a deep breath to steady her fluttering nerves. ‘I’ll try.’
‘But for God’s sake don’t breathe like that in that apology for a gown!’ he exclaimed irritably, and would have said more, if the thunderous expression on his dark face was anything to go by. But at that moment the doorbell chimed…
AS ZOË stood in the huge old panelled hall with Justin at her side, his proprietorial arm around her waist, her doubts of the past few weeks vanished. She had never been happier as they greeted the constant flow of guests.
She welcomed Judge Master and his wife Mary with a kiss on their cheeks, while Justin looked indulgently on. She was not quite as enthusiastic with Sara Blacket and her husband, but soon she was having difficulty keeping track of who every one was.
Then, to her surprise, a tall, rangy stranger appeared, looking for all the world like a cowboy. She hesitated for a second, then let out a startled cry of joy. It had been seven years but there was no mistaking Wayne Sutton, the Texan. He had been a friend of her parents for years and she remembered him as being particularly kind to her when she was a child in California.
‘Wayne, I can’t believe it…’ She grinned up into his deeply tanned, handsome face. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I walked on water of course,’ he teased with masculine arrogance.
It would not have surprised her if he had. From being a rising young executive when her parents were alive he was now the head of one of the major studios in Hollywood, yet he couldn’t have been much over forty.
‘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