The Determined Husband. Lee Wilkinson
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slowly over her, from her elegant knot of hair to her matching sandals. He raised her hand to his lips. ‘My love, you look enchanting,’ he said huskily.
Thrilled by the endearment, she asked, ‘You don’t think the neckline’s too daring?’
‘No…’ His eyes on the longest loop of the chain, which disappeared into her cleavage, he added ruefully, ‘Though it’s daring enough to raise my blood pressure several notches.’
Seeing the lick of flame in his dark blue eyes, she waited, hoping he would suggest staying at home. When he didn’t, she said prosaically, ‘If we’re going on the subway, I’d better get a coat.’
He shook his head. ‘You won’t need one. It’s a hot night, and all this finery calls for a taxi.’
When they reached the Plaza Hotel, off Fifth Avenue, the party was in full swing. People were standing in groups sipping champagne while they laughed and talked, and the air was filled with the scent of French perfume and the sweet smell of success.
Glancing around the large, handsome room at the assembled company, Sera saw that nearly all the women were dressed in top designer clothes and displaying enough precious stones to fill Aladdin’s cave. While the men, along with their immaculate evening clothes, wore that unmistakable air of confidence and authority that wealth brings.
Though knowing herself to be underdressed, with her off-the-peg sheath and simple chain, Sera held her head high. While Keir was by her side, she was well content.
She might be out of place in this glittering throng, but he certainly wasn’t.
He was a man who could, without effort, establish moral ascendancy over his peers, easily holding his own amongst the rich and powerful, and several covert glances told her that a lot of the women there envied her of her escort.
She found herself wishing that she could have fitted in better for his sake; she didn’t want him to feel ashamed of her.
As though guessing her feelings, he tucked her hand through his arm and, with calm assurance, led her over to their host and hostess.
Cheryl, her red-gold hair like a shining helmet, was wearing a dramatic dress of shimmering jade green. She had all the striking gauntness of a model, and there were diamonds around her neck and in her ears.
Her brother, looking relaxed and debonair, was impressive in immaculate evening clothes.
Though she had worked in the same set of offices for some weeks now, Sera had never actually met Martin Rothwell, only catching a distant glimpse of him from time to time.
She knew he was in his early thirties, a year younger than Cheryl, who had once playfully described him as ‘my baby brother’.
At close quarters he looked even younger and, seeing brother and sister standing together, Sera realized for the first time how very alike they were.
Both were tall and well-built, with the kind of red-gold hair that was often called ginger—though Cheryl’s was several shades darker than her brother’s. They both had pale blue eyes, the kind of skin that freckles easily, a short nose, and a long upper lip.
There, the resemblance ended.
Martin Rothwell had a rather heavy face with flat cheeks and a squarish jaw, while Cheryl’s face was a smooth oval with prominent cheekbones.
They were very good-looking in their own way, and Martin had the reputation of being a charmer where women were concerned.
‘Sutherlands, glad you could make it,’ he said expansively, and held out his hand.
Watching them together, Sera noticed that, though Keir was a good six feet and broad-shouldered, Martin was equally tall and considerably heavier.
The two men shook hands. Neither smiled.
‘You’ve met my sister, of course?’
‘Miss Rothwell,’ Keir murmured politely, taking the proffered hand.
‘Oh, Cheryl, please.’
Turning to her brother, whose light eyes were fixed on Sera’s exquisite face, Cheryl said, ‘I don’t think you’ve actually met Sera Reynolds, my new PA? Sera’s only been here a few weeks. She’s from the London branch.’
‘I can see I’ve been missing out.’ Taking her hand, Martin smiled at her and, all at once, Sera could see why he had that reputation for charm.
His clasp was cool and firm and he held her hand rather longer than was strictly necessary before releasing it.
By her side, she sensed rather than felt, Keir stiffen slightly, and saw by the gleam in Martin’s eye that he had noticed and was pleased by that instinctive reaction.
The men might do business together, she realized, but they were far from liking one another.
Smiling a little, Martin asked blandly, ‘So, how are you settling in, Sera?’
‘Quite well, I think.’
‘And you like New York?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Have you had a chance to see much of it?’
Before Sera could answer, Cheryl gave her brother a swift, conspiratorial glance and, stepping forward, slid her hand through Keir’s arm.
‘If you can spare a few minutes, there’s someone I think you should meet. His name is Roberto Canelli. Though I only met him myself a few days ago, I happen to know he’s been looking for a suitable site to relocate his business.’
Turning to Sera, Keir asked, ‘I hope you don’t mind?’
Well aware that business was the be all and the end all of the evening, she answered valiantly, ‘No, of course not.’
He gave her a swift, grateful smile and promised, ‘I’ll try not to be too long.’
‘Canelli’s about to complete a deal with Bensons,’ Cheryl warned, ‘so if you have anything that might interest him, you’ll have to move fast…’
A moment later, feeling rather lost, Sera watched as they walked away and disappeared into the throng.
Cheryl was very tall for a woman, almost six feet in her high heels, and with their two heads close together, one so smooth and bright, the other so dark and curly, they made a handsome couple.
‘As you’ve just arrived, you won’t have eaten yet?’ Martin’s voice broke into Sera’s thoughts.
‘No,’ she admitted.
‘Then, while we get to know each other, shall we go and see what the buffet has to offer?’ A hand at her waist, he led her through to the adjoining room.
As she might have expected, the tables held an excellent and varied selection of food, while above the hum of conversation glasses clinked and champagne corks popped.
With a gallantry she found slightly embarrassing, Martin insisted on helping her to a selection of hors d’oeuvres before serving himself.
A lot of the top men from the world of finance were gathered by the buffet, standing in little groups of twos and threes, making new contacts and cementing old ones over smoked salmon canapés and glasses of vintage champagne.
While they ate, Martin pointed out several whose names were synonymous with wealth and power, and told her amusing anecdotes about each.
Sera was laughing at one of them when Keir appeared at her side. She turned to him eagerly.
His expression curiously tight, he told her, ‘Signor Canelli is interested in a site near SoHo that’s just recently come on the market. He’d like to take a look at it straight away, so Cheryl has kindly offered to drive us down there. Will you be all right?’
Her heart dropping like a lead weight, Sera said, ‘I’ll be fine.’ Then trying