‘Ho, yus?’ said Molly, roused. ‘Well, you really got the gold medal for the way you handled Banana, didn’t you?’
Zoe had just come back into the office. Jay caught sight of her. There was no doubt about it. The woman would be trouble on wheels if he gave her half a chance. But she moved like a dancer. He liked that. Pure aesthetic appreciation, he assured himself.
‘What?’ he said absently.
‘Banana Lessiter? Remember? She used to work here until she clearly did something unexpected. We were asking ourselves where you had buried the body. Weren’t we, Zoe?’
Arriving, Zoe stopped dead, startled. Jay gave her a wide, charming smile.
‘Barbara has moved on to follow a new interesting career opportunity,’ he said fluently. He was still smiling at Zoe. ‘How does your first day feel?’
‘Fine,’ she said warily. She did not trust men who smiled straight into your eyes. Especially when that smile could charm birds off the trees and they knew it. And when they had told you that hating them was your unique selling point. Did Jay want to test exactly how immune she was to him? ‘So far I’m doing just fine.’
Oh, yes, she would certainly do fine, thought Jay. He was giving her the full wattage and all she did was stand beside her desk and narrow her eyes at him. At a comparable stage in her employment Barbara Lessiter had started leaving crucial buttons on her shirt undone. And Barbara Lessiter was not alone. Zoe Brown was definitely a find.
So why did he feel annoyed? Even outraged? He did not want her to melt when he looked at her, after all.
He pulled himself together. ‘Have you looked at the file? Do you know what you’re doing yet?’
Abby had guided Zoe through more than the ladies’ rest room and her predecessor’s files. In the last two hours Zoe had read every speech Jay had made to the industry this last year. He seemed to make a lot of speeches.
‘‘‘Advertising stimulates the appetite. Public relations focuses a spotlight’’,’ Zoe chanted.
Jay raised his eyebrows. ‘Quoting me already?’
‘Seems like a good idea,’ said Zoe with composure.
He grinned. ‘They’ve been telling you I’m a despot.’
Molly raised her eyes to the ceiling eloquently.
‘Don’t worry, Moll. I can take it,’ he told her comfortably. And, to Zoe, ‘I prefer to think of myself as an oligarch. An enlightened oligarch, of course. What I say goes. But what I say is reasonable.’ He looked round at the others. ‘Right?’
There was a chorus of ironic agreement. Jay’s grin widened.
‘And to prove how enlightened I am, you can ask Banana Lessiter to the next office party,’ he said generously. ‘And I won’t say a word.’
But he said several words when Tom Skellern cornered him in his office a week later.
‘I’m in love,’ he announced exuberantly.
Jay grinned. Tom was an old fashioned chivalrous knight under his dark glasses and designer suiting. ‘Congratulations.’
‘With Zoe Brown. The new girl.’
Jay stopped grinning. He did not like that at all.
He said warningly. ‘Tom, you know the rule. Just because you’re up for a directorship—’
‘That’s why I’m in love,’ said Tom impatiently. ‘I’ve been doing the Hyder-Schelling tests on her. And she’s perfect.’
‘Why on earth have you been doing recruitment tests on Zoe Brown? We’ve already recruited her.’
‘Yes, but just to do your dogsbodying for Venice.’ Tom sat on the corner of his desk, suddenly serious. ‘If we’re going into this merger, we’ve got to boost our in-house research and response capacity. Otherwise Karlsson will swamp us. I’ve been roughing out a profile—and Zoe Brown fits it to a tee.’
Jay’s eyes narrowed. ‘Does she know you’ve been doing psychological tests on her?’
Tom was hurt. ‘Of course. And not just her. All the girls. They thought it was fun.’
Jay was still not happy. He sighed, and said with palpable reluctance, ‘Okay. Show me what you’ve got.’ He held out his hand for the sheets.
Tom stabbed a finger at the top one.
‘Look. Look at that score. She’s total woman. She nurtures. She plans. She budgets. She takes her time to react. She thinks logic is not wholly reliable. She daydreams. She reads romance. Hell, she even knows how to cook— look…‘‘to make a bread and butter pudding, butter slices of bread on both sides, whisk two whole eggs and a yolk in a pint of full cream milk—’’’
‘Give it here,’ said Jay, whipping it out of his hand. ‘You’ve been doing it again, haven’t you? Slipping the Tom Skellern Ideal Wife Test in with the multiple choice questions.’
Tom laughed. ‘It’s important that they show initiative. Any monkey can tick multiple choice.’
‘Tom—’
‘Look, we agreed that we needed a really female female, didn’t we? Especially if we’re going to take this merger thing seriously. All those kooks in Karlsson are high on ambition and the need to prove they can drink more beer than we can. That’s not the market.’
‘It’s a big segment of the market.’
‘But not all. Don’t the nurturers and the dreamers get a vote any more?’
‘And you think Zoe Brown is a nurturer and a dreamer?’ Jay said slowly.
‘I know she is. The Hyder-Schelling tests cannot lie. Besides,’ he added wickedly, ‘she brightens the place up. Have you seen the red boob tube yet?’
Jay threw the sheets down. ‘I’m not employing a woman because you want to go to bed with her bread and butter pudding. And that’s final.’
Zoe saw a lot of Jay. Every time he came back into the office, from Brussels, or Manchester, or even a trip just down the road to Westminster, he summoned her into his office.
‘Poppy and Isabel will put you top of their hit list,’ teased Molly. ‘The Battle of the Blondes escalates.’
For once Zoe did not laugh, though normally she enjoyed Molly’s cynicism as much as anyone. And she was responsible for dubbing the inter-office rivalry the Battle of the Blondes, after all.
‘It’s nothing personal. It’s just because I’m working on this speech, of course,’ she told them seriously at Patisserie Pauline. ‘It’s only ten days away now. He’s in a flap about it.’
‘A flap? Jay?’ Molly shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
But Abby shook her head. ‘He’s probably feeling guilty. It’s a big honour to be asked. He should have done it months ago. Banana really let him down there.’
Zoe was intrigued by the woman about whom she had heard so much.
‘What was she like?’ she asked.
Abby shrugged. ‘Used to be Molly’s assistant. Did the music business, mainly. Wasn’t here long. I didn’t know her well.’ She thought about it. ‘Very hip. Very temperamental.’
‘What do you think, Moll?’
‘I think she should have kept her hormones in her handbag,’ said Molly crisply.
Yet the girl who turned up at the private room in the Pacific Grill Rooms for Molly’s surprise party didn’t look temperamental. She didn’t look like a case of galloping hormones, either. She wore designer rags that left some surprising bits naked to the air, and she was as tottery as a young antelope on her massive heels.
Zoe could not help herself. ‘That’s the man-eater?’ she said, astonished.
‘That’s the one,’ said Abby. ‘Wouldn’t think it to look at her, would you?’
The antelope had eyelashes that would have made Bambi sick with envy. She cornered Jay and used them to great effect.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Zoe.
Jay got the antelope a drink, made his excuses and walked away. Banana was the only woman in the world Zoe had ever seen pout prettily. Mind you, that could have been the wide innocent blue eyes that went with it.
Innocent. Huh! I bet she knows more than I do about just about everything.
The antelope stopped pouting and looked round for
company.
‘Hi,’ she said, descending on Abby and Zoe. ‘What a horrible boss you have.’ She sounded envious. ‘Still, at least he forgave me enough to let me come.’
She was also the only woman Zoe had ever known to drink a margarita and chatter breathlessly at the same time. How did she do that?
‘What did you do to him, Banana?’ asked Abby. She was no gossip, but she was as intrigued as everyone else.
The antelope was not offended. She shrugged. ‘Waited till everyone had gone home. Went into his office with a bottle of champagne and some cushions.’
She finished her cocktail and replaced the empty glass with a full one from a passing waiter. She did not stop talking. She did not even look at the tray. Just identified the slim glass stem by touch alone.
Experience, thought Zoe in unwilling admiration. Drinks, men—she can handle the lot.
‘Hey, you only live once,’ Banana went on. ‘That’s what I told him.’
Abby shook her head, mock astonished. ‘How did he manage to hold out?’
‘You tell me,’ said Banana, unaware of mockery. ‘I think he must be afraid of his emotions. Or women.’
Abby choked. Even Zoe, who had only a few weeks’ acquaintance with Jay Christopher to judge by, boggled a bit.
Banana noticed that she was being teased at last. ‘Well?’ she challenged them. ‘Well?’
Abby flung up her hands. ‘Pass. I’d have said that Jay was pretty enthusiastic about women. But maybe he’s overcompensating.’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous,’ Banana said loftily.
The party was getting noisy. The band was setting up. Banana reached for her third margarita, gave them both a vague smile, and limboed off in the direction of Tom Skellern.
Abby looked after her with amazement. ‘What is she like? Cushions and champagne! I’m surprised Jay didn’t have a seizure laughing at her.’
‘Er—yes.’
‘You wouldn’t think she was a kid on her first date. Someone should tell her that grown-up men like to do their own hunting.’
Zoe tensed. Here we go again, she thought. Performance Zoe, you’re on stage again.
‘And not get their prey too soon,’ she said lightly.
They exchanged world-weary looks and Abby laughed. Another one successfully convinced, thought Zoe, wondering why she bothered.
Yet it was so easy. That was the interesting thing about really sophisticated people. They had their own rules. If you were used to living a lie anyway, you picked up what new people expected fast. There was not a single person at the Culp and Christopher party who would have noticed that there was any difference between Zoe Brown and themselves.
Except Zoe Brown.
She danced and circulated and laughed at the in-jokes tirelessly. She was pleased with her performance.
Jay even congratulated her. ‘You,’ he told her, doing that full spotlight smile thing again, ‘are one of my better discoveries. Come and dance with me, Discovery.’
He took her onto the floor for an energetic bop. He did not touch her—much. But he made her feel as if she was dancing with an expert. And that she was an expert, too.
When the music modified into a slow dance he returned her to a stool at the bar and summoned the overworked barman. By sheer force of personality, as far as Zoe could tell.
‘That’s a good trick,’ she said dryly.
His eyes glinted. ‘Isn’t it? He knows a good customer when he sees one. What are you drinking?’
‘Fizzy water,’ said Zoe firmly.
She was intending to stay with Suze in her Kensington pad tonight. That meant going home on the night bus. She had stopped swigging alcohol an hour ago. The bus was fine, but you needed your wits about you, given the way it swayed as it whipped through the traffic-free streets. She had slept through the stop outside Suze’s elegant street several times before she’d learned that. These days she paced her party drinking carefully.
He did not try and talk her out of it. He gave the order, asking for a glass of red wine for himself, she saw.
‘Abby tells me you put this party together on your own,’ he told her. ‘Good work.’
Zoe accepted the compliment without excitement. ‘I have a younger brother and sister. I can do parties.’
And how true that was! Well, other people’s parties anyway.
He did not pick up that there was anything wrong. He said enthusiastically, ‘You certainly can. And Molly didn’t suspect a thing.’
On the dance floor Molly di Paretti was slow-dancing dreamily with the man she was going to marry. She looked as if she belonged in his arms, and they both knew it.
‘She looks happy, doesn’t she?’ Zoe hadn’t meant to sound wistful. Hadn’t known she even felt wistful until she heard some note in her voice that shouldn’t have been there. Not if she was having this great time that she was telling herself she was.
Jay must have heard it, too. He cocked his head.
‘Don’t go broody on me, Discovery,’ he said in mock alarm.
Zoe pulled herself together. ‘Broody? Me? Nonsense. I’m a party girl.’
He laughed, clearly convinced. And delighted about it.
His next words told her why. ‘Yes, Suze told me your men don’t last long. Never felt the urge to pair-bond?’
Zoe did not allow herself to wince. She said carefully, ‘I just like to keep my options open.’
‘You’re a girl after my own heart.’
‘So I hear,’ she said acidly.
He might have turned down Barbara Lessiter. He might outlaw inter-office relationships. But everyone knew that he was a serial flirt. Even if the battling blondes hadn’t been willing to pour out all the gossip Zoe would have worked it out from his press cuttings.
Every time he gave a speech he got his photograph in the paper. In every photograph, as far as she could see, he was escorting a different woman. All beautiful, all elegant. And all different.
According to Isabel of Human Resources, he had just dumped the latest girlfriend, too. Apparently she was a television gardening expert who was unusually gorgeous and had been getting stacks of fan mail ever since she’d walked into a hosepipe spray by mistake.
Poppy, bristling with secretarial discretion, had said that she did not know anything about that, implying the reverse.
Isabel had ignored her. ‘She asked him for a commitment and he walked. She’s absolutely broken-hearted,’ she’d told the ladies’ rest room.
Poppy had sniffed. ‘Probably just had her head turned by the publicity. They never lived together, you know.’
Then she’d looked annoyed with herself for having betrayed so much.
‘No, he never lets a woman get that close,’ Isabel had agreed, restraining her triumph, but only just. ‘Doesn’t even stay the whole night, they say.’
Silence had fallen. They’d all shivered. The sheer aridity of it had chilled them all. Poppy and Isabel had exchanged half-ashamed glances, their rivalry momentarily overtaken.
Every woman there was thinking the same thing, thought Zoe. Every single one of them was thinking, There but for the grace of God go I.
So now she looked at Jay with unflattering steadiness.
‘Hey,’ he said mock alarmed. ‘I’m no Bluebeard. I just don’t make promises I can’t keep.’
Zoe recognised that. She nodded. ‘Nor do I,’ she said fairly.
‘There you are, then. We’re the same, you and I.’
She bit back self-mocking laughter. If only he knew! ‘I doubt it.’
‘Oh, but we are. And the world envies us. It’s the twenty- first century metropolitan dream.’
‘Life as one long party?’ she said sceptically.
He said coolly, ‘Recreational sex and no responsibilities. That’s what everyone wants really. The pair-bonders—’ he nodded at Molly, now rubbing her cheek against her George’s shoulder ‘—are the oddballs.’
Zoe looked across at them almost angrily. ‘Is it being an o
ddball to be honest about your feelings?’
Jay studied her curiously. ‘I don’t tell lies about feelings. I—’
She snapped her attention back to him. She was shaking with an odd sort of grieving anger. ‘Set the rules?’ she supplied sweetly. ‘No sex in the office. No commitments outside it. You’re the sort of man who thinks that if he doesn’t stay the night he’s made the terms of the contract clear.’
His eyebrows twitched together.
‘You’ve been listening to gossip,’ he said, perfectly pleasantly. But suddenly he wasn’t laughing any more.
Zoe could have kicked herself. But she was not a liar. Well, not about that sort of thing. And she was not a coward, either. She lifted her chin.
‘Is gossip wrong, then?’
There was a pause. The party noises screeched on all around them. But Zoe had the distinct impression Jay was not hearing them. His high cheek-boned face looked suddenly pinched, as if he were cold. Or in pain.
‘No,’ he said at last, curtly.
She spread her hands. Case proved, they said, as clearly as words.
That was when Banana Lessiter staggered out of the gyrating crowd and made an unsteady beeline for Jay.
‘Oh, Lord,’ said Jay under his breath.
‘I don’t know what you’re worried about,’ Zoe said maliciously. ‘I don’t think she’s into pair-bonding in a big way. She doesn’t even work for you any more.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ said Jay. He looked harassed. But the acid-bitten look had gone. ‘Sorry, but you’re on your own in this one. I’ve fought her off twice so far this evening. This is where the true gentleman takes evasive action.’
Smooth as an eel, he slid among the dancers. By the time Banana got to the bar he was not even visible in the crowd.
‘Where’s he gone?’ she demanded, slurring a little.
‘Evasive manoeuvres,’ said Zoe truthfully.
‘But I wan’ him to dance with me.’
‘I think he sort of guessed that.’
The girl looked at her, uncomprehending. ‘Dance,’ she said, and smacked her fist on the bar. ‘Dance. Dance. Dance.’ With every thump of her fist she swayed a little bit further from the vertical.
The Millionaire's Virgin (Mills & Boon By Request) Page 40