On the arm of the big boss, she found herself being regarded with a kind of deference and respect that made her smile inwardly.
As they moved from group to group, pausing to talk to what Martin termed the ‘more interesting’ of his guests, he introduced her simply as ‘Miss Reynolds, an English colleague.’
When the conversation invariably turned to the current financial scene, with a flattering certainty that she knew what she was talking about, he drew her into each discussion, inviting her opinion and treating her as an equal.
It was heady stuff.
An evening she’d only looked forward to because Keir was taking her became stimulating and enjoyable, despite his continued absence.
Towards eleven, people began to drift away, and she found herself saying goodnight to Martin’s guests as though she was his hostess.
The party was coming to an end, with still no sign of either Cheryl or Keir. Oh, what on earth was keeping them? she wondered.
Apparently interpreting her anxious expression, Martin said, ‘It doesn’t look as if they’re going to get back.’
‘No.’ The monosyllable sounded forlorn, when she’d meant it to sound matter-of-fact.
‘In that case, I’ll be happy to see you home.’
Knowing he and his sister shared an apartment on Fifth Avenue, she refused hastily. ‘Thank you, but there’s really no need for you to go out of your way.’
As though she hadn’t spoken, he asked, ‘Where do you live?’
She told him, adding firmly, ‘I can easily get a taxi.’
‘I won’t hear of it. A promise is a promise. And you’ve been neglected enough for one night.’
Not by him, she hadn’t. Though she was a mere employee and he the host of a party thrown solely for business reasons, Martin had contrived to put her interests before business.
Whereas Keir…
Though she immediately snapped off the disloyal thought, a faint feeling of resentment was born.
A hand beneath her elbow, Martin queried, ‘Have you a wrap?’
She shook her head.
‘Then, let’s go.’
When she had been handed into his silver-grey, chauffeur-driven limousine, Martin climbed in beside her and asked, ‘Have you discovered New York by night?’
‘Not really.’ She had spent most evenings sitting in her room, waiting in case Keir might call.
‘Then you must see Times Square and the lights on Broadway.’
Sliding aside the glass panel, Martin gave the chauffeur her address, adding, ‘Drive down Broadway, will you, Carlson?’
To Sera, he explained, ‘Broadway follows an old Indian trail, so it’s the one street that mars Midtown Manhattan’s perfect grid system…’
During the journey he pointed out things of interest and talked easily, entertainingly, about the New York scene and the current musicals.
‘I take it you haven’t been to a Broadway production yet?’ he queried.
‘No, but I’m certainly hoping to. Is it difficult to get tickets?’
‘That depends on what you’d like to see.’
She named one of the latest shows, and was totally disconcerted when he said, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Oh, but I—I didn’t mean—’
Leaning over, he put a finger to her lips. ‘I know you didn’t. But it will be my pleasure.’
When they reached the Brownstone on Quarles Street, Martin got out with her.
A quick glance at the top floor showed that Keir’s window was still dark. So he wasn’t home yet.
Remembering Cheryl’s obvious interest in him, Sera felt slightly uneasy. She had discovered almost at once that, where men were concerned, the redhead was unashamedly predatory…
She became aware that Martin was standing waiting and held out her hand, saying formally, ‘Thank you for everything. You’ve been more than kind.’
He took her hand and tucked it under his arm. ‘I’ll see you up.’
‘But I live on the top floor and there’s no lift.’
‘Do I look that decrepit?’ he asked quizzically.
‘Of course not, but there really isn’t any need.’
‘Let me be the judge of that.’
He accompanied her up the steps and, when she’d let herself in, followed her across the brown-linoleum-covered hall and up the five flights of stairs, where traces of the evening’s cooking smells—greens, onions, garlic, pastrami—still lingered on the hot, stale air.
Turning to glance at him, she saw his nose wrinkle. ‘How on earth do you manage in a place like this?’ he asked with distaste.
‘It’s not really so bad,’ she defended the Brownstone. ‘In fact, I’m quite enjoying living here.’
She refrained from adding that, when Keir was with her, it was as close to heaven as she was every likely to get.
‘Didn’t personnel give you any help?’ Martin questioned.
‘Yes. They went to a great deal of trouble.’
‘It doesn’t look like it to me. I’ll have to see if they can’t come up with something better.’
‘Prices in New York are high,’ she pointed out quietly. ‘I couldn’t afford anything better.’
For a moment he looked angry and she realized that, when he’d set his mind on something, he wasn’t used to being thwarted.
Then he shrugged and suggested with a smile, ‘In that case, you’ll have to try asking Cheryl for an increase in salary.’
When they reached her door, Sera thanked him again. ‘I really am very grateful for everything.’
His pale blue eyes on her face, he suggested, ‘In that case, there’s something you can do for me.’
Watching her freeze, he told her crisply, ‘No, it’s not what you’re thinking. When I do take you to bed, the last thing I’ll be looking for is gratitude, believe me.’
‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered, feeling foolish. ‘What is it you want me to do?’
‘Tomorrow I’m having lunch with Ralph Kessler and his wife. It’s part social and part business. Cheryl, who usually joins me on these occasions, is tied up.
‘I need someone with me who’s intelligent enough to cope with the business side if they both want to talk business, and pleasant enough to carry off the social side if Mrs Kessler just wants to talk. In other words, I’d like you to act as my hostess.’
‘I’d be happy to,’ she agreed, still kicking herself for her previous blunder. Then hesitantly she said, ‘But I really haven’t anything suitable to wear.’
He brushed that off as an excuse. ‘Don’t worry, wear anything. Oh, and don’t bother to go into the office in the morning. I’ll pick you up here at about eleven.’ Then coolly he said, ‘Goodnight, Sera.’
‘Goodnight,’ she answered and, in something of a daze, watched him turn and descend the stairs two at a time.
She had been subconsciously on her guard, half expecting him to try to kiss her, her instincts telling her that, despite knowing about Keir, he had more than a boss/employee relationship in mind.
But perhaps, lacking experience in such matters, she’d totally misread things?
Then recalling his, ‘When I do take you to bed…’ she knew her instincts had been right.
Well, it was only a business lunch she’d committed herself to and, from now on, she’d be doubly careful.
While she took off her make-up and cleaned her teeth in the tiny cramped bathroom, she listened for any sounds of Keir returning, but heard nothing.
When she finally donned her nightie and got into bed she left her light on, hoping that when he did come he would know she was awake, and knock.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN Sera surfaced slowly, reluctantly, her light was still on, but made tawdry by the sunshine filtering through the curtains. She felt disturbed and anxious without knowing precisely why.
It took a minute for her head to clear enough to recall the previous night. It had been after two before she’d fallen into an exhausted s
leep and, still, Keir hadn’t returned.
Glancing at the simple watch she wore on a plain black strap, she saw that it was almost ten-thirty, and Martin was coming to pick her up at eleven.
Stumbling out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and, leaving her own door slightly ajar, went to knock on Keir’s.
There was no answer. Had he been and gone? Or hadn’t he returned at all?
But even someone as dedicated as he didn’t work all night. So what had he been doing?
Unbidden, a picture of Cheryl’s striking face and body flashed into Sera’s mind.
With a sudden pang she remembered what Keir had said after they had made love. ‘If it was just a casual affair, with no commitment on either side, it wouldn’t be a problem…’
At the time she hadn’t thought about his words too closely, hadn’t envisaged that he might apply them in other ways.
He’d made no promises about being faithful to her, and she’d asked for none. She had simply thought that, if he loved her, everything would be all right.
But would it?
Cheryl had more than enough sex appeal to light up Broadway, and very few scruples. If she made it plain that she fancied him…well, Keir was a red-blooded man…
Heart-sick, Sera turned away from his door and hurried back to her own room to shower and get ready for when Martin arrived.
Catching sight of herself in the spotted mirror, Sera saw she looked pale and depressed, and made herself up with care before coiling her black silky hair into a smooth knot.
Having nothing more suitable, she put on a white blouse, a charcoal-grey skirt and jacket, and grey leather court shoes. She had just picked up her bag when there was a knock at the door.
Perhaps it was Keir.
She rushed to open it and was disappointed to find Martin standing there.
Seeing the light die out of her face, he asked shrewdly, ‘Were you expecting someone else?’
‘No.’
He quirked a sandy brow. ‘Then, you don’t like my tie?’
Making an effort, she answered lightly, ‘On the contrary, I love it.’
‘In that case, I may never change it.’
Watching twin dimples appear as she smiled, he asked, ‘Ready to go?’
Indicating her suit, she queried, ‘Will this do?’
He pursed his lips. ‘It’s smart, but too office-like for this kind of semi-social occasion.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t have anything more suitable.’
‘That can soon be remedied. We’ll stop off at Barron Conté.’
‘No,’ she said sharply.
His pale blue eyes turned cold. ‘We would be merely purchasing the right clothes for the job. If you were an office cleaner and the company supplied you with an overall, I take it you would have no objections?’
‘No, but—’
‘This is a matter of business. You’re doing a job for the company for which you’ll get paid and for which you need to be stylishly dressed. You don’t have to keep the clothes if you don’t want to.’
She bit her lip. Perhaps this kind of thing was the norm? Maybe she was making a fuss about nothing?
‘What do you say?’
‘Very well,’ she agreed unwillingly. ‘If there’s enough time.’
‘There’ll be plenty of time.’ He smiled his satisfaction. ‘We’re not meeting the Kesslers until one o’clock.’
If lunch wasn’t until one, why had he come to pick her up so early? Unless he’d had this in mind from the start?
Suddenly, recalling how last night he’d said ‘Don’t worry, wear anything’, she knew he had, and felt a sudden apprehension, a growing suspicion that she was being manipulated.
‘Buy whatever you need,’ Martin ordered when they reached Barron Conté and dropped Sera off, ‘and charge it to the company. Price is no object.’
Warily she asked, ‘But what kind of thing would be most suitable?’
‘I’ll leave that to your good taste. But get a complete outfit, including undies.’
Not on your life, she thought. Buying undies had an implication that was unacceptable. The only clothes and accessories she was prepared to buy were the ones that would be visible and were strictly necessary.
‘Now I’ve some business to see to. I’ll pick you up in about an hour,’ Martin added.
Some fifty minutes later, her own clothes packed in a black and gold striped box, Sera emerged from the famous Fifth Avenue store and climbed into the waiting limousine.
She was still dressed in a suit, but the cut, the design, and the raw silk made it a far cry from the one that she had been wearing.
His glance running over her, Martin said with undisguised admiration, ‘You look a million dollars…’
With the sheerest of stockings and a pair of handmade shoes, she felt a million dollars.
‘Though I’d prefer it if you didn’t wear this. It doesn’t go with the outfit.’ Before she could guess his intention, he picked up her left hand and, slipping off her ring, dropped it into his pocket.
Sera held out her hand, saying as levelly as possible, ‘I’d like my ring back, please.’
Seeing the angry sparkle in her green eyes, he retrieved the ring and dropped it into her waiting palm.
‘Thank you.’ She put it carefully into her purse.
‘Not an engagement ring, surely?’ he enquired.
‘A memento…’ Wasn’t that what Keir had called it? She had thought of it as an engagement ring but, looking back, she knew Keir hadn’t. All he’d said was, ‘It might be as well not to keep it on too long. It will probably turn your finger green.’
And, when she’d told him she would chance it, he’d added, ‘One day, hopefully in the not too distant future, I’ll buy you something a great deal more expensive from Tiffany’s.’
A casual promise to be kept or ignored.
Nothing binding, whatever she’d read into it.
‘Just a memento.’ Though her voice wasn’t quite steady, she managed a smile.
Their destination proved to be Rands, a quiet, exclusive restaurant just off Madison Avenue. They had been waiting in the foyer for only a short time when Martin’s guests arrived.
Ralph Kessler was a quiet, unassuming man, while his wife, a plump, well-dressed blonde, proved to be friendly and garrulous.
As soon as the two men settled down to a business discussion, Amy Kessler began to talk about clothes. ‘I just love your suit,’ she said admiringly. ‘The material’s beautiful and I simply adore that shade of lilac.’
She was explaining in detail what colours suited her best and how she coordinated her wardrobe, when Sera, happening to glance up, froze.
Sitting across the room, at a table for two, were Cheryl and Keir. Though they were partly shielded by an ornate grille, there was no mistaking that dark, well-shaped head and the bright, red-gold one.
They were leaning towards each other, talking intimately, and while Sera watched, feeling as if she was slowly bleeding to death, Cheryl put out her hand and Keir took it.
Tearing her gaze away, Sera made an effort to focus on Amy Kessler’s carefully made-up face, but all she could see was Keir holding Cheryl’s hand and gazing into her eyes.
Suddenly realizing that the blonde had stopped talking, and guiltily aware that she hadn’t heard a word, Sera took a chance and asked, ‘So, do you have a favourite colour, Mrs Kessler?’
‘Oh, pink, without a doubt.’ Amy was under way again. ‘It’s such a flattering colour. As I keep saying to Ralph, now I’m not twenty any longer…’
When, unable to stop herself, Sera eventually let her eyes stray to the table where Cheryl and Keir had been sitting, it was empty.
As soon as lunch was over, Ralph Kessler excused himself on the grounds that he had a three o’clock meeting. ‘It’s been most pleasant,’ he said cordially.
‘Most pleasant,’ his wife echoed, beaming at Sera.
‘Then, we must do it more often,’ Martin
said as they all shook hands and the Kesslers departed, arm in arm.
‘A very successful meeting,’ Martin commented. Pouring Sera and himself more coffee, he added, ‘Though you may not think it, Amy Kessler is a shrewd business-woman, while her husband is one of the cleverest men on the stock exchange. He has an unerring instinct for how the market will move, so he’s also one of the richest. He once told me that the only reason he bothered to keep making money was that his wife enjoyed spending it.’
‘They seem fond of one another.’ Her mind on what she’d seen earlier, Sera said the first thing that came into her head.
‘I believe they are. They’ve been married for more than twenty years. Which must be something of a record in this day and age.’
‘You sound a shade cynical.’
‘My own marriage—admittedly I was young at the time—lasted six months. I was so blinded by Linda’s beauty it took me that length of time to realize she was a self-centred little tramp with neither character nor brains.’
Not knowing what to say, Sera finished her coffee in silence.
‘Now, what are you doing for the rest of the day?’ Martin asked as he rose to pull out her chair.
‘I’m going straight to the office. I can get changed there and—’
Martin shook his head. ‘It’s almost two-thirty. I can’t see the point of going in so late on a Friday afternoon.’
‘Oh, but Miss Rothwell might—’
‘Cheryl won’t be there. She was coming to Pine Cove with me, but I had a brief word with her earlier and she told me she has other plans for the weekend… Her latest man, I gather,’ he added casually as they crossed the foyer. ‘They’re going to have a romantic away-from-it-all break in the Catskills.’
Shock hit Sera like a blow to the solar plexus and she was forced to sit down abruptly on one of the gilt chairs.
Her heart seemed to have stopped beating and her lungs refused to function. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe, as though she was suffocating.
After making it clear that he had no time for a relationship with her, Keir was taking Cheryl away for the weekend.
Of course, it would be different, Sera reminded herself bitterly, a purely physical thing between two sophisticated people. The kind of non-relationship that Keir had said wouldn’t be a problem.
The Determined Husband Page 4