The Bedroom Assignment. Sophie Weston
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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.
‘Well, not normally. You did seem to rub him up the wrong way.’
Zoe bristled. ‘It’s mutual.’
‘I could see that. Never seen a man wind you up so fast in my life. And plenty have tried. You’re always Miss I Can Cope.’
If only you knew.
But she didn’t say that. Why didn’t she say that? She wanted to get rid of this false image that her best friend had of her, didn’t she? So why the heck did she flick back her hair, strike an attitude and go into the performance Suze expected?
‘I still am. I got that man to apologise.’ She even sounded complacent.
Megabyte Man would say I need a hard drive diagnostic.
‘Yes. I suppose it’s all right.’ Suze sounded doubtful. ‘It will be fine,’ Performance Zoe said breezily. ‘I’ve worked for some stinkers in my time. Now I’ve broken his resistance Mr Successful will be a piece of cake.’
Suze just looked at her.
Zoe’s chin came up another ten degrees. ‘So?’ she challenged. ‘You don’t really think I can’t handle him? Do you? Me?’
Suze put her head on one side. ‘How long have we been friends?’
‘Nineteen years,’ said Zoe, literally.
‘Then believe me. You really, really can’t handle Jay Christopher.’
Performance Zoe snorted. She had a wide repertoire of dismissive noises.
‘I know you. I know Jay Christopher.’ Suze shook her head wisely. ‘Take my advice. You don’t want to go there.’
‘And why not?’
‘Don’t forget—I know all your ex-boyfriends, Zo.’
Even Performance Zoe was silenced.
Suze shook off her unaccustomed seriousness. ‘Come on. The night is young. We’ve got some serious partying to get in before dawn.’
She was not wrong. And Zoe was the life and soul of it. She danced with Megabyte Man, and Lauren’s boring accountant, and Alastair, whom she had made miserable five months ago, and who now had a brilliant French girlfriend. She danced on her own. She draped her arms over the shoulders of her sister Artemis and Suze and did an untidy high-kicking routine.
As the sky began to lighten only the long-distance party animals were still there.
‘Come on,’ said Zoe, finding a fast song about a rodeo cowboy. ‘Line-dance.’
They lined up and went into the rapid routine that they had worked out last Christmas. Amid raucous insults and much giggling, they managed to keep up for a bit. But in the end too many of them went right