a darling woman underneath her tough-bird exterior. But she does have a big mouth. Puts her foot into it occasionally. She’s also going through a gypsy-cum-gothic stage in her wardrobe, which can be a bit startling. If she’d dressed me tonight I’d have been wearing black leather trousers, with a full-sleeved white silk shirt, topped off with a scarlet cummerbund. I’d have looked like a camp pirate from the Caribbean.’
Lisa laughed, her lovely blue eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘If there’s one thing you could never look, Jack, it’s camp. But I’m glad this Helene didn’t dress you tonight. What you’re wearing is superb. That suit must have cost a small fortune.’
‘It did. And I would think that little number you have on didn’t come cheap. I wish you’d let me pay for it, Lisa. You shouldn’t be out of pocket because you did me the favour of being my pretend girlfriend for the night.’
Chapter Nine
LISA found herself piqued by that word, pretend.
Yet she should have been reassured.
So why wasn’t she?
Female vanity, she supposed. Or was it something else, that faint hope she’d been harbouring that at last she was becoming a normal woman, sexually?
During the drive down, that startling incident with her nipples had stayed at the back of her mind, as had the heat which Jack had generated in her when he’d taken her arm. Despite finally relaxing in his company and enjoying their conversation very much, she’d begun secretly hoping that he would make a pass when he brought her home, just to see how she would react.
The word ‘pretend’ indicated that Jack wasn’t about to try anything. His insistence that she come and clean his study had not been a sign of personal interest. He just wanted his study cleaned. He didn’t fancy her one bit.
Lisa wished now she’d accepted his offer to pay her double.
Paying for her dress, however, was still out of the question.
‘Don’t start that again, Jack,’ she said with a cool glance his way.
The trouble with practised womanisers, she decided, was that women fell easily for their superficial charms.
When Jack came round to open the passenger door and reach his hand down towards her, Lisa smothered a groan of dismay.
There really was no option but to accept his help. Still, Lisa delayed as long as possible, swinging her feet out of the car first, her bag clutched tightly in her left hand. Finally, she put her clammy right hand into his outstretched palm, plastering a plastic smile on her face as she glanced up into his.
‘Thank you,’ she said with stiff politeness whilst her heart hammered away behind her ribs.
‘My pleasure,’ he returned, his fingers closing tightly around hers as he pulled her up onto her feet.
Lisa had a few seconds of respite when he dropped her hand and attended to locking up the car. But no sooner had she managed to calm her pulse rate a little than he slid his arm around her waist.
Naturally, she froze.
‘Don’t panic,’ he murmured. ‘Just window-dressing.’
Just window-dressing, Lisa thought almost bitterly as he propelled her towards the restaurant door. What an apt phrase to describe her! For years she’d acted like a mannequin, designed and dressed to look attractive, but not a flesh and blood woman.
No wonder Jack didn’t fancy her.
‘Jack! Jack!’
The owner of the voice came rushing over to them, a tall, skinny, black-haired woman dressed in the weirdest black clothes. There were lots of layers and beads, and her make-up was extremely pale and heavy, except for her bright red lipstick. Once closer, Lisa could see she was at least in her fifties.
‘Helene,’ Jack muttered under his breath. ‘Have patience.’
‘So!’ The agent’s beady black eyes glittered as she looked Lisa up and down. ‘I knew you wouldn’t come alone. Not Jack Cassidy.’
‘I decided it wasn’t wise to go into the lion’s den without a shield by my side,’ he said drily.
Helene cackled. ‘It’s a bit like that with you at these dos, isn’t it? You’re a brave woman, love,’ she directed at Lisa. ‘Our Jack here gets swamped by fans wanting his autograph. And a lot more of him if they can get it,’ she added with a wicked wink.
‘I can imagine,’ Lisa replied somewhat ruefully.
Helene laughed. ‘Jack, do introduce me to this delightful creature.’
‘This delightful creature is Lisa, Helene. Lisa, this is Helene, my brilliant agent.’
‘Heavens to Betsy! A compliment as well as a classy girlfriend! My cup runneth over! Hello, my love,’ she directed at Lisa. ‘You’re going to wow them in the States. You are taking her with you next year, Jack. Don’t tell me you’re not or I’ll have a pink fit right here and now.’
‘I’d love to take her with me,’ Jack said, pulling Lisa even closer to his side. ‘But Lisa has a company to run and a son to raise. I don’t think she can get away for a trip to the States, can you, darling?’
Lisa knew it was just pretend. Just window-dressing. Especially the darling bit.
But from the moment Jack’s side pressed hard against hers, everything inside her began to go to mush.
‘I’ll have to see,’ she heard herself say whilst she struggled to stop the amazing meltdown which was currently threatening her entire body.
‘Make her go with you, Jack,’ Helene insisted.
‘I’m afraid I can’t make Lisa do anything she doesn’t want to do,’ he said with a wry laugh. ‘She’s very strong-willed.’
Lisa almost laughed as well. Rather hysterically.
‘Do what Hal did in your second book, Jack,’ Helene advised. ‘Kidnap the girl and keep her your prisoner till she says yes to everything you want.’
‘I just might do that. But first, shall we go inside? Helene, look after Lisa for me for a couple of minutes, will you?’
‘Will do,’ the agent replied. ‘Come along, lovely Lisa. We’ll go in and find our table. I did ask for one of the smaller ones, knowing Jack’s distaste for making idle conversation with people he cares nothing for. Hopefully, we’re not stuck in some ghastly corner.’
They weren’t stuck in some ghastly corner. There were no real corners, the main body of the restaurant being semicircular, with huge windows overlooking the harbour. They had, probably, the best table in the house, very close to a window, with a great view of the bridge and the opera house. The table itself was round, covered in a crisp white tablecloth with matching serviettes, extremely expensive crystal glasses and a most spectacular, candlelit centre-piece. The carpet under-foot was a deep blue, and the overhead lighting very subdued.
‘Golly,’
