It Started With... Collection. Miranda Lee

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door then breezed right in, as was her habit these days.

      Justin was sitting at his desk with his nose buried in the morning paper.

      ‘So what do you think of Carl Toombs going broke like that?’ she remarked casually as she put his coffee down. ‘I was reading about it on the train on the way in. The papers are full of little else.’

      When he glanced up at her, he didn’t look too distressed. Just a bit distracted.

      Rachel’s agitation lessened slightly.

      ‘Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke,’ came his caustic comment.

      ‘I guess he’s not really broke, though,’ Rachel remarked. ‘People like that never are.’

      ‘Maybe not, but the media will hound him, wherever he goes. He won’t have a happy life.’

      ‘I pity the people who worked for him,’ Rachel went on, and watched his eyes.

      They definitely grew harder. And colder.

      ‘People who work for men like Toombs are tarred with the same brush. If you lie down with dogs, don’t complain when you get up with fleas.’

      Rachel was shocked by the icy bitterness in his voice. Shocked and dismayed. He wasn’t over Mandy at all. Not one little bit.

      Her phone ringing gave her a good excuse to flee his office before she said something she would later regret. She was quite glad to close the door that separated them.

      It was Alice, who’d seen the news about Toombs on a morning television programme.

      ‘There was no mention of Mandy,’ she said.

      ‘No,’ Rachel agreed.

      ‘She always did keep a very low profile. How’s Justin?’

      ‘Hard to say.’ Rachel didn’t want to get into the habit of gossiping about Justin to his mother. ‘Would you like me to put you through to him?’

      ‘Lord, no. No, I was just wondering. I also wanted to say again how lovely you looked yesterday, Rachel.’

      ‘Thank you, Alice. And let me say that was one fantastic spread you put on. You’re sure you weren’t trying to fatten me up?’ she joked just as the door from the corridor opened and the most striking woman Rachel had ever seen walked in. She looked like something you saw in the pages of the glossies. Long blonde hair. Even longer legs. Enormous blue eyes. Pouting mouth. A body straight out of an X-rated magazine.

      ‘Er—Alice,’ Rachel went on, trying not to sound as sick as she was suddenly feeling. ‘I…I have to go. Someone’s just come in…’

      Not just someone, of course. The one. The cruel bitch. The cruel but incredibly beautiful bitch.

      ‘Can I help you?’ Rachel asked frostily as hatred warred with fear. It was no wonder Justin hadn’t got over her. Who could ever compare with this golden goddess? She was the stuff men’s dreams were made of.

      Admittedly, she was wearing a tad too much make-up for day wear, especially around her eyes, and she was dressed rather provocatively, if expensively. Her camel suit had to be made of the finest leather—since it didn’t wrinkle—but it was skin-tight, with a short, short skirt and a vest top with cut-in arm-holes and a deep V-neckline. Her gold jewellery looked real, though, again, there was a bit too much of it for Rachel’s taste. Several chain necklaces, one of which was lost in her impressive cleavage. Dangling earrings. A couple of bracelets on each wrist. Even an anklet, which drew Rachel’s gaze down to the matching camel-coloured shoes, along with their five-inch heels.

      She looked like a very expensive mistress. Or an equally expensive call-girl.

      ‘I was told this was Justin McCarthy’s office,’ she said in a voice which would be an instant drawcard on one of those sex phone lines. Low and husky and chock-full of erotic promise. ‘Is that right?’

      ‘Yes. And you are…?’

      ‘I’m Mandy McCarthy, Justin’s ex-wife,’ she informed Rachel without a hint of hesitation. ‘And you must be Justin’s new PA,’ she added with a strange little smile.

      Rachel stiffened. ‘That’s right.’

      ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Yes, I see. Is Justin in here?’ she added, going straight over to Justin’s door and winding her long bronze-tipped fingers around the knob.

      Rachel was on her feet in a flash. ‘You can’t just walk in there.’

      ‘You’re wrong, sweetie,’ the blonde countered, her smile turning wry. ‘I can. And I’m going to. Please don’t make a scene. I need to speak to Justin alone and I don’t have much time.’

      ‘If you say anything to hurt him,’ Rachel ground out through clenched teeth, ‘anything at all…I’ll kill you.’

      She laughed. ‘You know, I do believe you would. Lucky Justin.’ And then she turned the knob and went right in.

      Rachel sank back down into her chair, ashen-faced and shaking.

      Justin couldn’t have been more shocked when the door opened and Mandy came in.

      ‘What the—?’ he muttered, automatically rising to his feet.

      ‘Sorry to drop in like this, Justin,’ she purred, shutting the door behind her. ‘I don’t think your girlfriend outside is too happy about it, but that can’t be helped. You can tell her after I’ve gone that I’m no threat to your relationship.’

      ‘Relationship?’ Justin repeated, his head reeling.

      ‘Don’t bother denying it. Charlotte told me all about you two.’

      It took Justin a couple of seconds to recall who Charlotte was.

      ‘I have no intention of denying it,’ he said coolly enough, pleased that he’d managed to find some composure.

      ‘She looks very nice,’ Mandy remarked and started to sashay across the room towards his desk. ‘Much nicer than me.’

      Justin couldn’t take his eyes off her, the way she was walking, the way she looked. This wasn’t the woman he remembered. Mandy had never dressed like this, or walked like that. Why, she looked like a tart! An expensive tart, admittedly. But still a tart.

      ‘I won’t take up too much of your time,’ she went on in a voice he didn’t recognise either. It was all raspy and breathy. ‘I have to leave for the airport shortly. I’m joining Carl overseas. Don’t ask me where and don’t look so surprised. You must have read the paper this morning, and you must have guessed I’d go with him. Mind if I sit down? These high heels are hell. But Carl likes me to wear them. He says they’re a turn-on.’

      She pulled up a chair and sat down, her skirt so tight she had difficulty crossing her legs. When she did, he had a better view than a gynaecologist. Thankfully, she was wearing panties, though he didn’t look long enough to check what type.

      Justin sank back down into his

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