The Bedroom Assignment. Sophie Weston
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from foot to foot in a rhythm that was at least three tracks ago.
She made for the orchard terrace, pounding up the uneven York stone steps with the sure-footedness of long practice. The others followed.
Zoe turned, hands on her hips, ready for confrontation.
The smooth-as-a-seal man was already on to it, though. He had obviously decided to stop being bored. Suze was beginning to look alarmed.
Suze’s father was a judge. Nobody ever alarmed Suze.
The man said with dangerous quietness, ‘Want to explain, Susan?’
Well, it sounded dangerous to Zoe. In fact the hair came up on the back of her neck at the deep drawl.
‘Er…’ said Suze, floundering.
She never floundered, either. She was as quick on her feet as Zoe. In fact Zoe had learned her ‘Evasive Manoeuvres For When the Conversation Gets out of Hand’ from Suze in the first place. And Zoe was the best.
‘I’ve been conned, haven’t I?’ said the tall dark man in a level voice. ‘I want a professional job. And you think you can unload one of your ditzy friends.’ His eyes skimmed Zoe briefly. ‘No offence.’
‘Ditzy friend?’ she gasped.
Suze sent her an exasperated look before returning to her main opponent. ‘Chill out, Jay. I’m doing my best—’
‘I need someone to work,’ he said intensely. ‘Not a filing clerk in a micro skirt.’
‘Zoe can hack it.’ Suze waved a hand. ‘Zoe can do anything.’
The man swung round on Zoe and she swallowed hard. In the flickering light of the summer candles he looked about ten feet tall.
Ten feet tall and mad as a hornet was not the ideal prospective employer. Thank you, Suze.
She said furiously, ‘I never agreed—’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Nor did I. A research assistant able to work on her own initiative?’ he asked pleasantly, not taking his eyes off Zoe. ‘I don’t think so.’
Zoe stiffened. ‘I beg—your—pardon?’
‘I know what she can do,’ snapped Suze. ‘Zoe and I used to go to school together.’
His eyes were unreadable in the dark, but his whole stance said he didn’t believe a word of it.
‘Oh, yes? And when did St Bluestocking’s start turning out unskilled filing clerks?’
Zoe flinched all over again.
Plenty of people thought she was wasting her university education by doing temporary jobs in a variety of offices. Only last week her father had taken her out to lunch and tried to probe, delicately, when she was going to get a real job. But no one had actually told her to her face that she was unskilled. Or implied that she was a thing of no worth because of it.
She forgot the passionate mouth and the mogul silk. She decided he was all ten feet tall hornet man. And she hated him.
She said clearly, ‘I’m temping while I consider my options.’
It was true, too. Only—she had been considering her options for two years now and was no nearer finding a solution. She was not going to admit that to hornet man, though.
He looked her up and down. She could not see his face but she could feel the hard, swift appraisal. He took a couple of step towards her, lithe as a panther padding around its prey, assessing whether it was worth the effort of the chase or not.
Not that he could see much in the candlelit dark. Maybe her long, soft hair as it waved loosely about her shoulders in the night breeze. Or the glittery black see-through stuff of the shirt that left her shoulders visible and her slim midriff exposed. Enough to realise that she looked as cool as Suze, anyway.
And that, of course, was the trouble. She looked as cool and confident as any other girl here. More confident than most, maybe, especially when she was wearing these soft glove-leather trousers that hugged her slim hips and turned Suze green with envy.
She looked just fine. It was only inside that she knew she wasn’t. Wasn’t confident. Wasn’t fine. Wasn’t normal.
And wasn’t going to admit to any of it. Well, not in front of hornet man. She stuck her chin in the air and glared at him. And took a decision.
‘You can stop looking me up and down as if I’m livestock. You get my time nine to five, starting Monday morning,’ she told him crisply. ‘And that’s all your money buys you. Friday nights aren’t in the package.’
Suze drew in an audible breath.
He was taken aback. His head went back as if she had driven a foil straight at his chest.
Then he said dryly, ‘That sounds like St Bluestocking’s, all right.’
Zoe was still angry. ‘So apologise.’
Suze gave a soft whistle. But the man said slowly, ‘For what?’
‘For looking at me like that.’
‘Aren’t you being a bit over-sensitive?’ He was amused.
Amused! Zoe decided she wanted blood.
‘If I am, then you won’t want me to work for you, will you?’ she said with shining amiability.
‘I never said—’
She shook her head. ‘You know what over-sensitive people are like,’ she told him earnestly. ‘A real strain. Especially if management isn’t geared up to cope. So disruptive in a small office. Much better if we just call it quits now.’
And just see if Suze can get you someone else by Monday morning, you jerk.
She thought he would backtrack fast. But he didn’t. He looked at her for a long moment. In quite a different way this time.
Then he said, ‘What makes you think that the office is small?’
Zoe gave a rather good start of surprise. ‘Isn’t it?’ she asked, all artless confusion. ‘I just thought if they let someone like you hire the staff they wouldn’t be big enough to afford a proper human resources manager.’
Suze sucked on her teeth audibly.
But the man did not say anything for a moment. Then, ‘I—see. Yes, I can follow your reasoning there.’ His voice was tinged with unholy amusement.
For some reason Zoe suspected he had scored a point there, though she could not quite see what it was.
She said, ‘I really don’t think I should take the job if you’re not sure about my temperament…’
He laughed aloud. ‘I think you’ll cope.’
‘Oh, but I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable—’
‘Yes, you would,’ he interrupted. ‘And I don’t blame you, either.’
That disconcerted her. ‘Is that an apology?’ she said suspiciously.
‘I suppose it is.’ He sounded surprised at himself. He swung round 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