âSTEPH, youâre late. Itâs gone seven. Youâre normally back by six. What happened?â Annette asked roguishly. âDid that gorgeous boss of yours want you to work late?â
âCanât stop to chat now,â Stephanie apologised to her flatmate as she hurried through the small sitting room. âJakeâs picking me up in half an hour.â
âJake?â Annetteâs eyebrows lifted. âDo you call him that at work? Catch me daring to call my boss anything other than Mr James.â
Stephanie was too used to Annetteâs curiosity about her relationship with Jake to make any comment. Initially, when she arrived in London, she had lived alone, but after⦠but Jake had suggested when she started appearing heavy-eyed and exhausted in the office after her nightmare broken nights that she get a flatmate.
Annette was pleasant enough in her way; a secretary like herself, working for the chairman of a large insurance company. She had a fiancé who was in the army and whom she saw at irregular intervals. Yes, Annette would have been the ideal flatmate if it wasnât for her constant curiosity about Jake.
âWhereâs he taking you tonight, then?â
Sighing, as she stripped off her neat office suit and blouse, Stephanie responded through her half-closed bedroom door, âThe première of the new Blaize Dartford film.â
âWow! That should be really something. The love scenes are supposed to beâ¦â
Almost automatically, Stephanie shut her ears against the end of Annetteâs comment, dismayed but not surprised to see that her hands were shaking as she finished undressing.
In their small bathroom she showered quickly, automatically avoiding any confrontation with her own naked reflection. Back in her room, she opened her wardrobe and selected the cocktail suit she planned to wear for the evening. The matt black fabric with the velvet detailed embroidery on it was the perfect foil for her pale skin. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders in deep rich chestnut waves. For work she always wore it in a neat coil. Her wardrobe held few clothes but what there was was good. Working as Jakeâs secretary-cum-personal assistant, she felt she owed it to him to dress the part. As the senior partner in a very prestigious London firm of estate agents, he came in daily contact with the wealthy, and, as Stephanie had soon learned, looks and appearance did count. During the two years she had worked for him she had cultivated an air of cool remoteness which put off those male clients who were, initially, too familiar. She was well aware of the nickname they had given her in the outer office. The âIce Maidenâ they called her, but she didnât care. They were not to know that she had deliberately chosen to encase herself in an unthawable protective shell. Only Jake knew that, and why. Jake⦠She glanced at her watch. Twenty-past seven, and Jake was always on time.
Her suit looked dressy, and yet formal, her long slim legs encased in pale tights, the delicacy of her ankle bones enhanced by the slender-heeled shoes she was wearing.
Deftly applying her make-up, she stood back critically to study her handiwork. Her eyes were a deep rich hazel that sometimes turned emerald, her face a delicate oval with high cheek bones and a small straight nose.
It was too late to do anything with her hair other than let it curl loosely on to her shoulders. Perfume was something Stephanie never wore, just as she never applied more than a bare trace of soft, pink lipstick to the ripely full curves of her mouth.
âUmm. I wish I was tall and leggy,â Annette complained when Stephanie emerged into their sitting room. âWhat is it with you and Jake?â she enquired curiously. âYou work for him, he takes you out, you seem very close, and yet he dates other women⦠glamorous ones, too.â
âJake is my friend and my employer,â Stephanie cut in sharply. As always, when Annette questioned her like this, she could feel the self-defensive antennae prickling warningly. It was true though. Jake was her friend, and her employer⦠and so much more that could never be said⦠she was tied to him with bonds that no one who had not shared her experience could understand. Jake knew more about her than another living soul. He had been there when⦠He had been the one who had helped her to build up her life again. He knew and understoodâ¦
âAnd not your loverâ¦?â the disbelieving comment penetrated Stephanieâs thoughts.
âNo⦠not my lover.â She made the denial instinctively, her whole body registering a cold shudder she couldnât hide.
Annette frowned. âSteph, whatâs the matter? You obviously like him, you must do, and heâs one hell of an attractive man. You wouldnât see me turning him down, and yet when I suggest there might be something physical about your relationship, you look as sick as though Iâd suggested something obscene.â