Mr. Loverman. Mary Lyons
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since both her parents had died, when she was only sixteen, Laura had become used to talking over problems with her older sister. However, confiding the truth about her feelings for Jack had merely resulted in Amy’s practical, level-headed advice that she should leave the firm as soon as possible and get a job in another agency. ‘After all, love, what’s the point in giving yourself a whole load of grief?’ she’d said.
Unfortunately, and despite knowing that her sister was right, Laura hadn’t been able to bring herself to follow such a sensible course of action. However, over the past two years she’d always taken the greatest care to conceal the true depth of her feelings, both from her friends and workmates as well as her employer.
It hadn’t been an ideal situation, of course, but she was certain that she’d managed to convince everyone that she had no romantic interest in her boss. And there’d certainly been no problem when she’d accompanied Jack to other film locations, in such diverse places as Arizona, Spain and the Ukraine. So why had everything suddenly gone completely haywire in Tahiti...?
‘In fact, once he’s calmed down, I’m sure that Jack will see that he’s treated you very badly.’
‘Hmm...?’ She raised her head, looking blankly at Amy for a moment. ‘I’m sorry...I was miles away,’ she confessed with a heavy sigh.
‘I was just saying that it’s not the end of the world. Of course, you shouldn’t have lost your temper, but sooner or later Jack is bound to realise that he is mostly to blame for what happened today.’
‘Fat chance!’ Laura gave a derisory snort of grim laughter. ‘Even if he does eventually forgive me—and I’m quite certain that he never will—I still don’t have a job. And not much prospect of getting another one, either,’ she added glumly. ‘If only I hadn’t bought that smart, glamorous apartment in Soho! Even if Jack does give me a generous pay-off, without regular employment I’ll never be able to keep up the mortgage payments. Maybe...’ she looked hopefully around the large, superbly equipped kitchen ‘...I could come and work for you...?’
‘No way!’ Amy laughed and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, love. You know I’ll do anything I can to help, but you’ve never been interested in cooking, and it’s a bit too late to start now. Besides, there’s a world of difference between messing around in your own kitchen and catering full-time for businessmen’s lunches in the City.’
‘Yes, I know. But...’
‘The idea is a complete non-starter,’ her sister said firmly. ‘I can handle the amount of work I’ve got at the moment, mainly because it fits in so well with the children’s school timetable. But, if I took you on, I’d also have to expand the business in order to pay you a living wage. Which in turn would mean spending less time with the boys. And, quite apart from my own feelings, I also know that Tom wouldn’t be at all happy about the situation.’
‘You’re quite right,’ Laura agreed quickly, ashamed of having been so selfish and only concerned with her own problems. Amy’s husband, Tom, was a very kind and easygoing, if somewhat absent-minded history professor at London University. But even he could be expected to cut up rough if his small sons began to see less of their mother.
‘However, I can probably help out with your mortgage—for a few months, anyway.’
‘Don’t be silly!’ Laura protested. ‘I wouldn’t dream of letting you do anything of the kind. I was just worried about what was going to happen in the future, that’s all.’
‘Well, I think you ought to keep on working in your own profession. You’ve been really happy and successful at looking after your clients. So why turn your back on the theatrical world just because you’ve had a row with Jack Wilder?’
‘Because I’m quite certain that he’ll do his best to see I’m blacklisted,’ Laura told her grimly. ‘I know Jack—he never forgives or forgets an injury. Just look at what happened to Donald Hunt,’ she added as she slipped off the stool and made her way to the door.
‘Donald Hunt?’
Laura shrugged. ‘It’s ancient history now, of course, but he was one of Jack’s original partners in the agency—together with their accountant, David Martin, who died in a car crash some years ago. Nobody knows exactly what went wrong between Donald Hunt and Jack. However, it’s rumoured that there was an almighty bust-up because Donald had a torrid affair with Melissa Grant, who was Jack’s wife at the time.’
‘I never knew that Jack had been married to Melissa Grant!’ Amy exclaimed in amazement. ‘She’s a wonderful actress, of course—and stunningly beautiful. Isn’t she starring in that award-winning play at the National Theatre? We’ve been trying to get hold of some tickets, but it’s completely sold out for the next three months.’
‘Yes, well...dear Melissa—who may be beautiful, but is said to be a first-class bitch, and has just left her fifth husband—was apparently married to Jack for only a very short time before becoming fatally involved with Donald. The story is that Jack not only divorced his wife and dissolved the partnership but also made certain that no other agency would give Donald Hunt a job.’
‘Are you sure about this?’
Laura shrugged. ‘Well, I must admit that I don’t know the full facts. But it seems that fairly soon after Donald and Jack split up Donald inherited a fortune from his father—who’d apparently been a big cheese in the building-construction business. However, the real moral of this story is: if he hadn’t had a family business to fall back on, Donald would have been left high and dry—totally up the creek without a paddle. So I don’t think my future is looking too bright and hopeful—do you?’
‘Oh, come on! I simply can’t believe that Jack would be that vindictive,’ her sister protested. ‘There’s a world of difference between pinching another man’s wife and two people having a row in the office.’
Laura brushed a weary hand through her hair. ‘I hope you’re right. But the theatrical world is a very small one and absolutely riddled with gossip. In fact, while it’s only a few hours since I was sacked, I’m pretty sure that by now the quarrel between Jack and myself will be common knowledge. So I reckon my chances of being able to join another agency are just about zilch!’
‘I think you’re being far too pessimistic. What you need is a good night’s sleep,’ Amy told her firmly. ‘You’ll be feeling much more positive in the morning. In fact, I’m quite certain your fears are groundless, and that it won’t be long before you’re inundated with offers of work.’
I hope to goodness that Amy is right, Laura thought glumly, waves of tiredness and resentment sweeping over her weary body as she slowly made her way back to her own apartment. Unfortunately, after having been so callously dumped by that louse Jack Wilder it now seemed all too likely that he would turn nasty.
If so, she wouldn’t just have lost both the man she loved and a job she’d really enjoyed—it was beginning to look as if she might lose the roof over her head as well.
CHAPTER TWO
WITH a sigh of relief, Laura plunged the mop back into its bucket of soapy water. Leaning against the open doorway of the kitchen, she gazed with considerable pride and satisfaction at the bright, shiny worktops and gleaming ceramic-tiled floor.
She had spent all day spring-cleaning her apartment from top to bottom, and it had been a shock to discover how much she’d seriously underestimated the exhausting, sheer hard work of those women who stayed at home, looking after their homes and families.
‘They definitely deserve a gold medal for valour!’ she muttered, wearily brushing the damp locks of hair from her brow as she turned to wander slowly through the large, airy and now sparkling clean rooms.
She’d always longed to live in a warehouse apartment, and had jumped at the chance of buying a new loft conversion in the centre of Soho. It had been really more than she could afford, of course, but, after spending a day frantically