The Baby Verdict. CATHY WILLIAMS
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a meal and read for half an hour. Any law books would have to wait for another day.
The thick, mahogany door was slightly ajar, so she knocked and pushed it open without waiting for a reply. The room, obviously his secretary’s, was empty. Jessica glanced around it, unconsciously noting that it was larger than most of the top directors’ offices she had been into in her lifetime, if a little lacking in character. A comfortable, functional room that spoke of high-octane efficiency and an ability to get on with the job without distraction.
She strode purposefully towards a further interconnecting door, knocked and, without thinking, pushed it open. He had been expecting her, hadn’t he?
Obviously not, because he was not alone, and his companion was not a fellow senior worker who might have popped in for a five-minute chat. Not unless his fellow senior workers resembled Barbie dolls.
‘I—I’m sorry,’ Jessica stammered, embarrassed, ‘I had no idea that I was interrupting...’
‘Come in.’
Bruno looked not in the least disconcerted by her abrupt arrival. His female companion, however, clearly didn’t welcome the intrusion. She turned from where she was half sitting on his desk and looked at Jessica with no attempt to disguise her annoyance.
‘You could have knocked,’ was her opening line. Her voice, high and girlish, matched the rest of her. She was the perfect male fantasy package. Jessica acknowledged that without a trace of envy. Petite, curvy, with full breasts bursting out of a tight-fitting, long-sleeved top, a skirt that was short enough to leave little to the imagination, and high shoes, which had been discarded. The blonde hair hung in curls past her shoulders and her face was angelic, even if the expression on it wasn’t.
‘I didn’t expect...’ Jessica began, not quite knowing where to go from there.
‘You never said that your so-called meeting was with a woman!’ the girl accused Bruno, pouting.
‘I think it’s time you left, Rachel,’ he said, patting her arm to encourage her off the desk.
‘But we need to talk! You promised!’ She wriggled unhappily off the desk and stepped into her shoes. Her face was a mixture of frustration and pleading.
‘Perhaps you could come over to my place when you’re finished here.’ She turned to Jessica. ‘You won’t be long, will you?’
‘No, I don’t plan—’
‘Close the door behind you after you leave, Rachel,’ Bruno interrupted, swerving back behind the desk and tapping into his computer.
Oh, charming, Jessica thought Was this how he treated all his women? She edged into the room, uncomfortably watching as the dismissed blonde stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her, then she sat down facing him and placed a sheaf of papers on the desk between them.
‘I won’t keep you,’ she said icily. ‘I had rather planned one or two things this evening...’
‘Oh, really? What?’ He looked up from the computer with a mildly curious expression.
This was not what she had expected. Fool that she was, she had anticipated some sort of apology, if only for the sake of politeness.
TV, a microwave dinner and an early night did not seem the appropriate admission. However, she could not bring herself to tell an outright lie. Instead, she said, ‘I need to consult a couple of references in some law books at home...’
‘Another fascinating hobby of yours, is it?’ The blue eyes glinted with sardonic humour. ‘I shudder to think what your dull moments are comprised of.’
Oh, what a keen sense of humour, she thought acidly, excuse me if I don’t fall off my chair laughing.
How could she have forgotten quite how irritating the man was?
‘I’ve read every detail of the case that’s being put forward,’ she said, ignoring his remark completely and tapping the sheaf of papers on the desk. ‘And I’ve highlighted the areas we particularly need to concentrate on.’
He obligingly picked up the lot, scanned through them, replaced them on the desk and asked her if she had eaten.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Have you eaten? Had dinner? Consumed food within the last three hours?’
‘I know what you mean,’ Jessica snapped, ‘I just have no idea why you’re asking.’
‘It’s late. I think we might just as well go out for a quick bite. We can go through all this tomorrow when we’re feeling more alert.’
‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’ But he didn’t seem to be. She watched, bewildered, as he strolled across to the two-seater sofa by the bookshelf, picked up his jacket and slung it on, followed by a camel-coloured trenchcoat.
‘There’s a good Italian just around the corner. I can always get a table there.’ He stopped to look at her. ‘Coming?’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Jessica spluttered, getting to her feet and feeling utterly manipulated as she shoved all the paperwork back into her briefcase. ‘With all due respect, this has been a pointless exercise for me.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he mused, eyebrows raised, ‘a meal out is surely more fun than looking up a few legal references...’
‘I would say that depends entirely on the company involved,’ she muttered stiffly.
‘If it’s any consolation, we’ll talk business for the duration of the meal. How about that?’ His phoney, soothing tone of voice got on her nerves even more, and she took a few deep breaths and controlled her temper.
‘I’m not dressed for a meal out,’ she pointed out, because a wayward thought had suddenly crossed her mind: she didn’t want to be alone with Bruno Carr unless there was the reassuring presence of files, desks and computers around.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He gave her a leisurely look. ‘I’m sure Gino has witnessed the sight of a working woman in a suit before. This is the twentieth century, after all, as you were so adamant about pointing out the last time we met.’
He opened the door, stood aside, and she brushed past him with a lofty expression. Diplomacy is the better part of valour, she told herself on the way down in the lift. She was doing this because he was her boss and refusing point-blank was hardly a tactful manoeuvre. If any other man had treated her with such high-handed arrogance, she would have dismissed him on the spot.
That was a comforting thought.
They walked quickly and in silence to the restaurant. In this part of London, there were fewer people about. There were no trendy boutiques to attract the shoppers and not enough fashionable clubs to entice the young and the beautiful.
It was also too cold for dawdling. Within ten minutes they were at the restaurant, which was surprisingly full with an after-work crowd, but the proprietor immediately recognised Bruno and showed them to a table in the furthest corner of the place.
It occurred to Jessica that his girlfriend, or lover, or whoever the small, well-endowed blonde was, would not be impressed to find that his important business meeting had translated itself into a meal at the local Italian.
A suspicious thought began playing at the back of her mind, but she lost it as they were handed menus and the dishes of the day were explained with elaborate, Mediterranean flamboyance.
She had meals out with girlfriends on a fairly regular basis, but it had been a while since she had had a meal out with a man, and against all better judgement she found herself sneaking glances at Bruno as he contemplated the menu in front of him and ordered a bottle of white wine.
It was a unique experience to walk into a room and know that female heads were surreptitiously turning in their direction as they watched and assessed from under lowered lashes. She did not have the immediately captivating face of someone who