in an indifferent gesture.
‘But as you can see, there aren’t any,’ he observed, his dark gaze sweeping the car park. ‘Come on, I’ll take you back. You can warm your cold feet in the Ferrari.’
Cassandra’s blood boiled. ‘You’re despicable!’
‘Yes, so I’ve been told,’ he agreed, without rancour. ‘Now, stop looking so outraged, and get in the car. Believe me, my ardour has been satisfactorily doused.’
If she hadn’t felt so furious with him, Cassandra knew she could have seen the funny side of this. The trouble was, in spite of everything, he was still the most disturbing man she had ever met, and if he had not made her feel so insignificant, she might well have given into his sensual attraction.
To her relief, Chris had not returned when she got back to the office, and glancing at her watch she was amazed to discover it was only a little over an hour since she had left. Somehow it had seemed so much longer than that, and her face was still burning as she seated herself at her desk.
Jay had not spoken on the journey back to the studio, and after depositing her in Chandler Mews, he had driven away without a backward glance. She wondered what he was thinking, what interpretation he had put on her behaviour, and wished she understood herself what it was she really wanted.
By the time Chris came back, she had herself reasonably in control, but the bright flags of colour in her cheeks attracted his attention.
‘You look busy,’ he remarked, no doubt imagining the heat she was displaying was due to honest toil. ‘Didn’t you go and get a sandwich? Don’t start missing meals. You’re just beginning to lose that lean and hungry look.’
‘Well, thanks!’ Cassandra tried to adopt a humorous tone. ‘I’ll bear that in mind when I’m tipping the scales.’
‘There’s no fear of you doing that,’ he retorted, lighting the inevitable cigarette. But then, with unexpected perception, he added: ‘You haven’t been having a fight with somebody, have you? You look a bit hot and bothered.’
‘I forgot to open the windows,’ replied Cassandra, hiding behind the hornrims of her spectacles. ‘Did you have a pleasant time at the Black Swan? I don’t know how you can eat pies every day of the week.’
‘Oh, I vary them with sandwiches,’ Chris answered airily, taking his seat and picking up his pencil. ‘And if you’d ever tasted June’s cooking, I guarantee you’d welcome the change.’
Cassandra’s laughter was not forced. ‘You exaggerate,’ she exclaimed. ‘Nowadays, anybody can learn to defrost a beefburger or put a tray of chips in the oven.’
‘Want to bet?’ Chris grinned across at her. ‘So—why don’t you invite me round to your flat and show me how a proper meal should taste?’
Cassandra looked at him for a moment, then shook her head, bending over her desk. ‘You’d better finish off that layout for the kitchen,’ she said, avoiding any further complications. ‘I want to drive down to the house tomorrow afternoon, and I’d like to take the designs with me.’
‘Okay.’
Chris shrugged, taking his dismissal without rancour. They had had many such exchanges since they began to work together, and so far Cassandra had found no difficulty in keeping their relationship on an impersonal basis. But she couldn’t help wondering how he would react if she told him what Jay Ravek had said to her, and while the inclination to avail herself of his sympathy was attractive, she knew she could be inviting a far more explosive situation.
The telephone rang in the middle of the afternoon and she let Chris answer it, stiffening when he held the receiver out to her. ‘That man,’ he mouthed, frowning at her look of consternation. ‘You know—the accountant I told you rang this morning.’
‘Oh!’ Cassandra’s sigh of relief aroused a look of curiosity in Chris’s eyes, but he said nothing, just handed over the receiver, and resumed his calculations as she spoke into the mouthpiece.
‘Mrs Roland?’ Paul Ludlum’s voice was young and attractive. ‘I hope I’m not ringing at an awkward time, but I did ring you earlier.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call.’ Cassandra was contrite. ‘I—er—it’s been quite a hectic day.’
She made a face at Chris’s disbelievingly raised eyebrows, and listened with assumed concentration to what the accountant had to say. Obviously, the fact that his father and Mike’s had been friends gave a certain partiality to his tone, and in spite of her misgivings, he seemed to think she could well afford professional advice.
‘I’d like to call and look over your books,’ he ventured at last. ‘When would that be convenient? I don’t want to interfere with your working schedules.’
‘Oh—–’ Cassandra shrugged her shoulders, and put her hand over the mouthpiece so that she could speak privately to Chris. ‘He wants to come and look at the books,’ she said, looking anxious. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea?’
‘Sure,’ Chris nodded. ‘Tell him to come tomorrow, while you’re down at Windsor. I guess I could manage to show him round.’
Cassandra nodded. ‘Oh, good.’ She removed her hand, and spoke to Paul Ludlum again. ‘Would tomorrow morning be all right?’
‘Tomorrow morning? Yes, I think I could manage that. Around eleven?’
‘Around eleven,’ Cassandra repeated in agreement, then rang off before she could change her mind.
‘What’s your problem?’ Chris demanded, as she chewed unhappily on the end of her pencil. ‘We’re going to need an accountant, Cass. You can’t keep on burning the candle at both ends.’
‘Hardly that,’ she grimaced.
‘No. But you do work in the evenings, when you should be out enjoying yourself.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Cassandra was sardonic. ‘Chris, I don’t honestly think I was cut out for enjoying myself.’
‘What rubbish!’ Chris was impatient. ‘Look, just because Mike made your life a misery—–’
‘Let’s not talk about that, Chris.’
Cassandra interrupted him, but Chris was determined to be heard. ‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘I know he’s dead, and you don’t want to say bad things about him, but let’s face it—he wasn’t the man to make you happy.’
Cassandra went to plug in the kettle. ‘Maybe it was my fault,’ she mumbled, her back to him, smarting from the remembrance of her lunch with Jay Ravek. ‘Maybe I don’t—well—–’
‘Well—what?’
‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Maybe I attract the wrong kind of men.’
‘What—–’ muttered Chris, swearing under his breath, but Cassandra heard him and shook her head.
‘I mean it. Perhaps the kind of man I really need isn’t attracted to me.’
‘Oh,
