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‘But suppose he did?’
‘If by any faint chance he did, would it matter?’
‘Yes, it would… You see I—’
‘My dear girl,’ Paul interrupted peevishly, ‘do you seriously believe there’s a cat in hell’s chance of him recognising you after all this time…?’
The honest answer was no. She had been less than nothing to the young Zane Lorenson. Until Rona had turned that cruel spotlight on her, he hadn’t even been aware of her existence.
‘If you really think there might be a problem, for goodness’ sake find some way of altering your appearance; get some glasses or something.
‘But I’m quite certain you’re worrying over nothing. In the last seven years you must have altered a great deal.’
She had.
In those days she had been just a gawky adolescent, a late developer, painfully shy and gauche, and still with the remains of a northern accent.
Then, goaded by Rona, and hopelessly in love with a man she had only seen from afar, she had set about changing her image.
Only to be laughed at and ridiculed by her stepsister who, at twenty-three, had been beautiful and glamorous and worldly.
But that hadn’t been the worst…
She pushed the memory—still unbearably shameful and humiliating even after all these years—away and tried to concentrate on what she had become.
To all intents and purposes she was now a cool, self-possessed young woman with dark glossy hair, a clear skin, a good figure, a polished manner and no trace of an accent.
No, in all truth, Zane Lorenson was hardly likely to recognize her.
But remembering how he had looked at her the last time they’d met—his set lips, the cold fury in those green eyes—she still didn’t want to take the risk.
‘I don’t want to have to see him again. I’m afraid…’ About to say, I’m afraid of him, unwilling to have Paul laugh at her, she changed it to, ‘I’m afraid I don’t like him. I’d simply hate to have to work for him.’
Paul’s fair face darkened. ‘I think in the circumstances that’s a very selfish attitude. After all, it wouldn’t be for long. As soon as you’ve got the information I want, you can make some excuse and leave.’
Her grey eyes beseeching, she begged, ‘Please, Paul, don’t ask me to do this.’
Such a heartfelt plea ought to have melted stone. But his expression hard, unrelenting, he said, ‘It’s not as if it’s that much to ask, and you’d do it for my sake if you really loved me.’
As, hating that look of censure, the feeling that she was letting him down, she wavered, he pressed, ‘Of course if you don’t there’s not much point in our getting engaged.’
‘I do love you.’
‘Then prove it.’
Finally giving in to the pressure, she agreed unhappily. ‘Very well, I’ll try.’
Triumphantly, he drawled smugly, ‘That’s my girl. I always knew you wouldn’t let me down.
‘Now just one thing, no one else must know, so don’t say anything to that flatmate of yours. Simply tell her you’ve got another job.’
She looked across at him, still worried about the plan. ‘I might not get it.’
‘Of course you will. It’s practically a cert.’
As a reward for toeing the line, he had taken her out and bought her an engagement ring.
With his red-gold hair and Greek god looks, his bright blue eyes and long curly lashes, the boyish smile that added to his charm, most women he came into contact with were bowled over.
Gail had been no exception.
He had called one morning to see David Randall, her ex-boss, and after years of thinking she would never fall in love again, she had done just that.
A small, privately owned company, Randalls had been highly successful, coming up with some brilliant ideas that seemed set to revolutionize their particular branch of electronics.
They had been on the point of putting the new ideas into practice when David Randall had had a heart attack which had made him decide to sell out and retire at the early age of fifty-five.
The Manton Group, which Paul owned, had made an offer for the company, but it had been a derisory offer in David Randall’s opinion.
As the negotiations dragged on, Paul had become a frequent visitor, often stopping by Gail’s desk to have a chat. When one day he asked her to have dinner with him, she had been both flattered and flustered.
From then on he had taken her out a good deal and, though he had been both romantic and ardent, unlike her previous boyfriend, he had made no attempt to take her back to his place or get her into bed.
This restraint, as well as his good looks and his undeniable charm, had set him apart and deepened her feelings for him.
Finally the business deal had gone through and David Randall had left the company he had built up single-handed, satisfied that he had negotiated a fair deal for his employees.
But, as soon as Randalls was his, Paul had paid off staff and workers alike and closed the company down.
When, badly shaken, her liking and respect for Paul diminished, Gail had ventured to protest, he had answered that all the employees had received a generous cash settlement and most of them had been quite content.
‘But it isn’t what David intended,’ she insisted. ‘He spent a lifetime building up that company. He regarded his workers almost as family, and he wanted them all to keep their jobs—’
‘My dear girl, you ought to know by now that there’s no sentiment in business. Randalls was opposition we could well do without. A thorn in our side that had to be removed,’ he answered dismissively.
‘That wasn’t what you told David Randall,’ she said accusingly. ‘You gave him to understand that nothing much would change.’
Paul shrugged. ‘It was business, darling. He may have chosen to believe otherwise, but this was the best decision all round, I promise.’
Seeing she was still far from happy, and needing to keep her on his side for what he had in mind, he pulled her close and kissed her. ‘Now let’s forget all about work. If you really want another job, I’ll give you one. But I thought you might prefer to be Mrs Paul Manton…’
Paul wanted to marry her. Still besotted by him, in spite of all that had happened, she floated up to cloud nine.
‘But before we start planning the wedding, there’s something I want you to do for me…’
She had come down to earth again with a bump when he’d explained what it was he wanted her to do and, even with his engagement ring on her finger, her joy had been marred by the thought of what was in store.
‘This job you want me to apply for—’ she broached the subject with reluctance ‘—how shall I go about it?’
‘Don’t worry about that. I know Mrs Rogers, the woman who runs the employment agency that Lorenson uses. I’ll ask her to see you and recommend you for the position.’
Gail had found herself hoping that for once in his life Paul wouldn’t succeed in pulling strings and manipulating people.
But, with the kind of looks and charm that made slaves of the female sex, he had, and she had been asked to call and see Mrs Rogers.
The following day the agency had rung to say that an interview had been arranged.
Though pleased that everything had so far gone according to plan, Paul had complained bitterly about the earliness of the hour.
‘Lorenson wants you to be at his office at eight o’clock! Why the hell can’t he work nine to five like most people?
‘Well, you’ll just have to take care not to be late. The swine is a stickler for punctuality and you’ll need to look cool.’
Then, with a thoughtful glance at her face, ‘Perhaps I’d better pick you up.’
‘There’s no need to do that. I can make my own way there. I’ll get a taxi if necessary.’
After a moment or two’s consideration, he said decidedly, ‘No, it’ll be best if I come round and collect you.’
She had strongly suspected that it was in case she chickened out at the last minute.
Whatever his reason, he had picked her up on the dot of seven fifteen, so now here she was, on her way to be interviewed for the position of PA to a man she had hoped never to have to see again.
Talk about being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, she thought miserably. If she didn’t get it, Paul would be furious with her. If she did, she would be in an invidious position…
‘We’re almost there.’ His voice broke into her unhappy thoughts. ‘Lorenson’s offices, as well as his own private apartment, are in the Clairmont Building on Lower Arlington Street. But, just to make certain no one spots you getting out of my car, I’ll drop you at the corner.’
When they reached their destination, he drew in to the kerb and issued his last instructions. ‘Now don’t forget, try not to look flustered whatever you do, or all this planning and preparation will be wasted.
‘And don’t breathe a word about me. Lorenson would soon be on his guard if he picked up any suggestion that we know each other.’ His gaze held a warning and Gail looked away as he continued, ‘When the interview’s over and you’re well away from Lorenson’s offices, you can give me a quick call and let me know for sure if you’ve got the job.’
Gail hesitated, still uncertain and unsure. ‘But suppose one of his staff is doing the interviewing and is just compiling a short-list?’
‘According to Mrs Rogers, Lorenson doesn’t work that way. The people he wants on his own staff he always interviews personally, and usually he makes an on-the-spot decision.’
Gail’s heart sank. She had held on to the faint hope that it might be one of his minions she would have to see, and that said minion would prefer some other candidate, thus giving her a let-out. But it seemed it wasn’t to be.
Urgently in need of reassurance, she asked, ‘When shall I see you? Lynne will be out tonight if you want to come round for a meal.’
‘Once Lorenson knows where you live, it might not be safe.’
Trying to keep the tell-tale tremor out of her voice, she suggested, ‘Well, couldn’t we meet in the park, or at a restaurant, or something?’
But, instead of softening, those eyes, blue as summer skies, looked at her dismissively. ‘It’s too big a risk. We can’t afford to jeopardise our chances by possibly being seen together.
‘After you’ve let me know the score it would be better if we don’t have any contact until you’ve something to report.’
‘Oh,’ she said blankly.
‘When you have, you’d better give me a ring at the office and we’ll meet up somewhere.’
He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Now don’t forget how much this means to me. Good luck.’
Feeling slightly sick, her stomach full of butterflies, Gail unfastened her seat belt, opened the door and got out.
Already the air was warm and the summer sunshine bright, glancing off the bodywork of passing cars and gleaming on pavements still damp from the early morning shower.
As the Jaguar drew away, she lifted her hand but, a slight frown on his good-looking face, Paul was staring straight ahead.
Opening her bag, she took out the pair of cheap low-strength reading glasses she’d bought in the local chemist and put them on.
Then bracing herself, she walked the short distance to the Clairmont Building, with its handsome Georgian fa?ade, and through the imposing main entrance.
The clock above the reception desk showed it was ten minutes to eight, so she was in good time.
As, her heart beating fast and her legs feeling oddly shaky, she started to cross the marble-floored lobby, she caught sight of herself reflected in one of the long gilt-framed mirrors.
Wearing a smart charcoal-grey suit and an off-white blouse, her small heart-shaped face outwardly calm, her dark hair in a smooth coil, she looked every inch the cool, efficient businesswoman.
No one would have guessed at her inner turmoil as she approached the desk and gave her name to the pretty blonde receptionist.
‘You’ll find the office complex on the second floor, Miss North. If you would like to go straight up, Mrs Bancroft, Mr Lorenson’s secretary, will be waiting for you.’
When Gail stepped out of the lift on the second floor she was greeted by an attractive middle-aged woman with bobbed iron-grey hair.
‘I’m Claire Bancroft. If you’d like to follow me, Miss North…’
As Mrs Bancroft led the way along the carpeted corridor to another lift, she remarked, ‘Mr Lorenson is in his apartment this morning. He likes to keep the interviews he conducts informal.’
Entering a four digit code into a small panel, she added, ‘This is his private lift.’
The lift took them up to the top floor, where they emerged into a quietly luxurious hallway. Opening the nearest door, Mrs Bancroft said, ‘Please come in, Miss North…’
Gail found herself ushered into a large sunny room with an off-white and mint-green decor and an ornate plaster ceiling. To the left, a door into a neighbouring room stood slightly ajar.
Between two sets of windows was a desk with an impressive array of the latest electronic equipment and a black leather chair.
Apart from the businesslike desk, the room was furnished as a lounge.
‘Perhaps you’d like to take a seat?’ Mrs Bancroft suggested with a friendly smile. ‘Mr Lorenson knows you’re here. He’ll be with you in a minute or so.’
When the other woman had gone, too nervous to sit and cravenly grateful for even this short breathing space, Gail looked around curiously.
Along with some lovely antique furniture, there were a couple of comfortable-looking couches, several soft off-white leather armchairs and a large round coffee table.
A thick-pile smoke-grey carpet covered the floor and on either side of a beautiful Adam fireplace, which was filled with fresh flowers, there were recessed bookcases, their shelves overflowing.
Considering how very strongly she had felt about Zane Lorenson, aside from his appearance, she had known hardly anything about the man himself, what he was really like, what his tastes were.
