Veronica was co-producer of his television show as well as having her own weekly spot on it. And Veronica Gardiner was something else again—impossibly sexy-looking on some nights and yet on others managing to look just like the kind of girl no man would mind taking home to meet his mother.
A woman for all seasons, Sasha thought a trifle enviously. But as it had turned out, Veronica hadn’t quite made it with Heath’s, mother, who could on occasions be just as impatient, autocratic and haughty as her son.
‘Useless, bloodsucking leech? Sasha had heard Stephanie Townsend remark once.
‘But she’s so brainy!’ Sasha had been moved to reply in surprise. ‘I mean, it’s like a meeting of two great minds. And it isn’t as if she’s not good-looking.’
‘Two great minds!’ Stephanie had snapped with so much viciousness Sasha had blinked. ‘My foot!’ Her employer had gone on, ‘What he needs is someone who’d give him a couple of babies, a bit of cheek and some sane, down-to-earth common sense. I can’t see Veronica doing that. She’ll probably opt out of having babies altogether for fear she’d ruin her figure.’
Not that his mother had burdened Heath with her feelings on the subject of Veronica. Not that it would have made any difference if she had.
‘And that reminds me,’ said Sasha as she stood up and finished tidying her desk. ‘Just why am I filling in for Veronica tonight? Perhaps … of course! She must be out of town. Or something like that.’
But as she sat beside Heath on the long drive to town, all thoughts of Veronica Gardiner had fled from her mind, chased away by a good old-fashioned dose of the sulks. I mean, she thought, he didn’t even think of asking me himself! His mother had to suggest it before he bulldozed me into this assignment. But if you try and refuse either of them anything, you only end up appearing incredibly churlish and stubborn. Why do I put up with it?
And the fact that she was travelling in a superbly comfortable, high-powered luxury car that was probably the envy of every other motorist on the road didn’t cool her sense of injury. In fact it made her more annoyed than ever, and she compressed her lips into a tight line as Heath guided the car along with unspoken contempt for everyone else on the road and at such a wicked speed that they reached Paramatta in little short of record time.
. ‘Am I going too fast for you?’ he asked with a sideways glance at her taut features.
‘Not at all,’ she replied politely. ‘If I’m going to be smashed to pieces, I’m sure it’s better not to have time to see it coming.’
‘Why don’t you unclench your fists, then,’ he said lazily. ‘Before you stop the circulation completely and your fingers drop off.’
Sasha narrowed her eyes and stared straight ahead, her mouth set anew in a grim, angry line.
Heath laughed at her quietly. ‘I’ve never seen you so angry before, Blossom,’ he said softly.
That did it, she found. Blossom was her father’s pet name for her, and he’d used it for as long as she could remember. As did most other people who knew her. But now at nearly nineteen it sounded slightly incongruous even on her father’s lips, she sometimes thought, let alone Heath’s, and whenever he used it teasingly, she couldn’t help thinking of a gurgling baby.
And without giving herself time to think further, she rounded on him and said furiously, ‘Don’t call me that! And yes, I am angry. In fact I’m furious, and I think you’re one of the most self-opinionated men I’ve met! I didn’t enjoy being told that dress didn’t suit me. I didn’t enjoy your comments on how young and innocent I am, as if I’m some silly schoolgirl still, and I didn’t like being yanked off at a moment’s notice, so I’m not only angry, I’m well and truly piqued. Added to this,’ she went on bitterly, ‘I’m not exactly jumping for joy at the prospect of this evening, because everyone knows I’m your mother’s secretary and I’m only filling in. But what’s worse, I’m sure it doesn’t stop them from speculating whether little Sasha Derwent isn’t secretly hopelessly in love with you like every other female seems to be. In fact …’ She trailed off suddenly and unclenched her fists.
‘Go on,’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘In fact I feel a whole lot better,’ she confessed with some surprise, and couldn’t help smiling at Heath’s bewildered expression.
He blinked deliberately. ‘Say that again, Sasha? You lost me somewhere along the line.’
‘Never mind,’ she said lightly.
‘But I do mind! I had no idea I was subjecting you to these tortures. And I’m sorry for being so critical
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she interrupted. ‘As a matter of fact I threw it out,’ she added grudgingly.
He frowned. ‘The blue dress?’
‘Uh-huh. I took a pathological dislike to it this morning.’ She glanced at him and smiled again at his look of perplexity.
‘Does this mean you’re coming or not?’ he asked quizzically at last.
‘Of course. Now I’ve had my say I’m perfectly resigned to it. But it’s going to cost you a dress,’ she said easily.
He grimaced wryly and quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘On one condition—that I choose the dress?’ He gave her a lilting smile.
‘Sure!’ she said unwisely, quite carried away by the sensation of having had her say.
They drove the last few miles in a companionable silence.
Sasha didn’t feel quite so companionable, however, at roughly eight-thirty that evening when she was in the dress. The dress.
She stared at herself in the mirror of the bedroom that was normally reserved for her use in the elegant harbourside flat that Heath and his mother shared when they were in Sydney. Sasha often stayed at the flat with Stephanie and kept a small selection of clothes there for the occasional rush trips to town, such as this one, that she made with Stephanie.
It was a superb dress. She couldn’t deny it. The smoky, bluey-grey colour reminded her of a thundercloud and its silky textured lines clung to her figure as if it had been made for her. It was the design that bothered her. The bodice was sleeveless with the front and the back gathered into a tiny Peter-Pan collar, thus exposing most of her shoulders and slashed beneath the arms to the waist. In some ways, she noticed as she turned this way and that, it looked surprisingly demure, but in others, when she lifted her arms and the soft, pearly flesh of her sides was exposed, it was cunningly revealing.
‘Why did I let myself get talked into letting him choose it?’ she muttered to herself. ‘Why didn’t I at least look at it before this?’
Because you didn’t have time, Sasha, she reminded herself. What with getting Heath ready for his show and then being lured into going to watch it recorded, you just didn’t have time.
Sasha shrugged impatiently and yanked her wardrobe door open, but as she very well knew, there was nothing in it that could be worn tonight.
I should have known! she thought. I should have known when I asked him about it this afternoon and all he would say was that he’d taken care of it. I should have known …
‘Heath!’ she called imperatively as she opened the bedroom door and stalked out. ‘Heath!’
‘At your service, ma’am … oh!’ He emerged from his bedroom at the same time and they all but collided in the passageway.
‘Well now,’ he said as he put out a hand to steady her.
”Well now,’ she repeated steadily as his eyes flicked over her. ‘I conceded that the blue dress might not have been me, but this isn’t either!!
‘But it’s more than you, Sasha!’ he told her as he linked his fingers round her wrist. ‘The colour suits you and it fits …’
‘What there is of it,’ she interrupted tartly. ‘Anyway, I haven’t the right kind of bra to wear with it. If there is a right kind. Oh!’ She stamped her foot and coloured suddenly as his eyes came to rest on her bosom. She pulled her wrist free of his grasp and brought her arms up to fold them angrily across her chest.
‘It’s not the kind of dress you wear a bra with, Sasha,’ he sa
id gravely but with a wry quirk to his lips. ‘And despite what they might have told you at that very select private school you attended, Blossom, it’s no crime not to wear a bra. A lot of women do it, a lot of very respectable ones too.’
‘Well, they shouldn’t,’ she said through her teeth then bit her lip angrily as he dissolved into silent laughter. ‘I despise you, Heath Townsend,’ she said in a low fierce voice.
He raised his eyebrows quizzically, his eyes still alive with silent laughter which incensed her so much that she raised one hand unthinkingly to slap him, but this made him look more amused as with a deceptive languor he caught her arm mid-air and pinioned it to her side.
‘What you need is a drink, Sasha,’ he said gravely as she turned scarlet with rage and mortification. ‘Come,’ he added, and propelled her into the lounge and sat her down in a silk upholstered armchair.
He poured her a sherry and one for himself. ‘Now,’ he said, drawing up a chair opposite her, ‘let’s examine this clinically, shall we? This dress is perfect for you. The colour highlights your pale, perfect skin, and it makes your hair a true, deep auburn. It also matches your eyes almost exactly—I never realised what beautiful eyes you have, Sasha,’ he added seriously.
‘I … well, thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘It’s just that …’ She gestured helplessly.
‘You’ve never worn such a sophisticated dress before?’ said Heath acutely. ‘But that’s where you’re wrong. It has a touch of sophistication and a touch of almost… primness,’ he reached and fingered the Peter-Pan collar as he spoke, ‘which is very proper and becoming for someone your age. And it’s not as if it reveals your breasts at all only … well, much less of you than one would see in a bikini. You know, Sasha,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘I think you spend far too much time in the company of old fogies.’
She couldn’t help smiling faintly at this. ‘Your mother would hate you for saying that,’ she murmured.
‘Do you think so? I think she’d probably agree if she ever took the time to think about it,’ he said humorously.
They laughed quietly together at that, then Sasha drained her glass and set it down carefully. ‘Well, if you’re sure it looks all right,’ she said uncertainly.
‘I’m quite sure. You look very attractive, young and fresh and lovely, and I can guarantee no one will leap on you and try to rape you because you aren’t wearing a bra.’
She lifted her eyebrows. ‘That sounds like a double-edged compliment,’ she said wryly. ‘But I didn’t think they would anyway.’
‘Well, what did you think as a matter of interest?’ Heath queried as he refilled her glass.
Sasha flushed, but managed to say evenly, ‘I’m not quite as old-fashioned as you imagine, Heath.’ She pondered for a moment as she watched the amber liquid in her glass and then shrugged and grinned up at him. ‘I only said what I did about bras because you made me cross. But I suppose I’m sort of at the crossroads—about clothes. I really feel that I want to spread my wings and try out some daring fashions, but since I was obviously unsuccessful with the blue dress, I couldn’t help wondering if this dress might not have the same effect. You know, make me look as if I was trying to be a mature woman of the world when I’m really only a mixed-up kid most of the time.’
He stared down at her for a long moment. Then he said quietly, ‘I don’t think you’re a mixed-up kid at all. Just one of the nicest ones I know. And all women agonise over their clothes.’ His lips twitched faintly. ‘You’d be surprised! But whatever you wore, Sasha, no one could mistake you for anything but a surprisingly sane, thoroughly nice, well-brought-up …’
‘Virgin,’ she finished for him, and grimaced. ‘Thank you, you’ve set my mind utterly to rest.’ She rose and walked to the door, but turned at the last moment and added with a rueful grin, ‘And thank you for not adding that I’m about as exciting as homemade apple pie and cream—so far as men go, I mean. I won’t be long.’
She didn’t see the slight frown that came to his eyes as she left the room.
The dinner party came as something of a surprise to Sasha. It was held in a private function room in one of Sydney’s best hotels and wasn’t the large gathering she expected. In fact it was a celebration of the second complete year of Heath’s television programme and as far as she could see, in a rather shortsighted way since she’d elected not to wear her glasses, she was one of the very few people present not involved in the making of the programme.
This seemed to surprise a few other people, she noted.
But one of the bigger surprises of the evening didn’t come until after they were all seated at the large horseshoe-shaped table. It was then that the ornate double doors of the room opened with a flourish and Veronica Gardiner stood there on the arm of a strange man. And the whole gathering sat up and did a discreet double-take.
Sasha felt Heath tense beside her and she looked up at him bewilderedly. But it was George Smythe, the programme’s director, a genial-looking man with a chubby face but a cold, sharp wit, who answered the unspoken question in Sasha’s eyes.
He said from his seat opposite her, ‘I knew it! Our co-producer, despite what she said, couldn’t resist this little bunfight, could she? And doesn’t she ever love making an entrance! I really don’t know how you put up with her for so long, Heath. Professionally yes, but privately …’ He shrugged and let his sotto voce words hang in the air, quite unperturbed at the smouldering look Heath cast him.
It wasn’t far from the double doors to the head of the table, but it took Veronica all of five minutes as she stopped at each person in turn and introduced her companion to everyone. And as she moved with that peculiar sinuous walk that was almost her trademark, her golden dress glittered in the candlelight beneath her magnificent, straw-fair hair, and Heath’s eyes took on a strange glitter of their own.
Sasha swallowed and moved uncomfortably in her chair as waiters fluttered about inserting two extra chairs among the diners almost exactly opposite Heath and herself. She discovered her palms were moist with tension as Veronica and her escort came inexorably closer, and she wished fervently that she had trusted her first instincts which had told her to have nothing to do with this party. I was right, she thought numbly. At least, I had some sort of premonition. They must have quarrelled …
Then Veronica and the tall dark man with her were standing directly in front of them and Veronica’s strange hazel eyes were clashing with Heath’s as she said huskily, ‘Sorry we’re late, darling. As you know, I wasn’t going to come, but then I thought, why not? Have you met Brent Havelock? Brent, this is Heath Townsend and George Smythe, and …’ She glanced at Sasha as if seeing her for the first time, then her beautiful eyes narrowed fleetingly and a slow smile started at the corners of her elegantly chiselled lips. ‘Oh dear,’ she said lightly, and cast Heath a look of sparkling impudence. ‘Dear me,’ she murmured, and turned to her escort. ‘Brent, this is Sasha Derwent. She’s a perfect little pet, besides being Heath’s mother’s secretary.’ She turned back to Sasha. ‘How are you, poppet? I must say Heath’s surprised me. I quite expected some wildly exotic, gorgeous creature who’d outshine me and put me very firmly in my place. But it’s only you, darling. Although you’re growing up, Sasha! The last time I saw you, you still had those braces on your teeth. I hope Heath’s paying you overtime, darling,’ she added playfully.
Sasha sat numb and frozen as the entire room fell silent beneath the strange resonance of Veronica’s husky voice.
CHAPTER TWO
It was an abrupt movement beside her that brought Sasha to life. Heath’s hand had shot forward to curl around the stem of his champagne glass and although she was never quite sure how she knew it”, his intentions flashed through her mind like a neon light and she moved as swiftly, as he had to put a strongly restraining hand over his to stop him from dashing the contents of his glass in Veronica’s face.
‘How are you, Veronica?’ she said at the same time in a voice that surprised her because it
was so calm and steady. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages. Oh!’ She looked round and at the same time exerted more pressure on Heath’s hand, which had moved convulsively beneath hers. ‘You’re just in time for the first course,’ she remarked brightly as a waiter placed a prawn cocktail before her. ‘Do sit down. And you, Brent—may I call you Brent?’
And almost as if at an invisible cue everyone began talking rather feverishly, and after a small hesitation Veronica drew out her chair.
George flashed Sasha an acute, admiring glance as her hand slackened and finally left Heath’s in as unobtrusive a gesture as she could make it.
But Heath stared down at the prawn cocktail that had been set before him with a muscle jerking in his jaw and such a blank expression that Sasha trembled anew as she visualised the tiny prawns in pink sauce slipping and sliding down Veronica’s decolletage, and she sent George a glance of entreaty. But it didn’t happen, because Heath visibly changed gear then and even began to smile.
‘Brent Havelock,’ he said to the prawn cocktail. He raised his devastating dark blue gaze slowly. ‘It’s good to see you,’ he said finally, and before Sasha’s bewildered gaze the two men shook hands across the table.
‘Heath,’ said Brent Havelock, his ruggedly handsome, tanned face set in lines of constraint. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve been away for so” long.’
‘Sure,’ said Heath. ‘It’s good to see you back. How are you?’
Sasha felt her chest muscles relax as Brent sat down. Then she caught sight of Veronica’s expression which was, to put it mildly, venomous. But in an instant, as Veronica became aware of Sasha’s glance, the venom was wiped off her lovely countenance and Sasha relaxed all over again and drank half a glass of champagne before she had realised what she had done.
A swift, sideways peep at George’s face, which registered a comical ‘phew’ of relief, caused her to drink the other half in celebration, and it wasn’t for another ten minutes at least that the feeling of elation that had engulfed her at successfully defusing an explosive situation began to wane.
Perhaps Love Page 2