years,’ she supplied tightly. Andrew was still nowhere in sight.
‘God!’ he groaned, very pale, his eyes the yellow of a cat's. ‘Children?’
‘One,’ Jessica nodded. ‘A little girl.’
He put a hand up to his brow, all teasing gone now. ‘I—You didn't tell me you were married!’
‘You didn't ask.’ She had at last spotted Andrew. He was coming towards them, and fortunately he didn't look angry at all, smiling his most charming smile as his arm slipped about her waist.
‘Here you are, darling,’ he said in a softly chiding voice. ‘I've been looking everywhere for you.’
By the smell of his breath he had done most of his looking at the bar! ‘I've been looking for you too, darling.’ The last was added for the benefit of the man called Matthew, letting him know once and for all to leave her alone.
‘Your wife has been in safe hands, Baxter,’ he remarked tautly, his mouth twisting as he looked at Andrew.
‘Jessica hasn't been bothering you, sir?’ Andrew asked anxiously, all his earlier contempt gone from his voice.
Sir? Jessica stiffened. This man must be one of Andrew's bosses! Oh God, she hadn't said anything that could have upset him, had she?
‘Not at all,’ Matthew replied easily, his eyes narrowed. ‘Although we haven't really had the opportunity to introduce ourselves properly.’ He looked expectantly at Andrew.
‘My wife Jessica,’ he instantly introduced. ‘Jessica, this is Matthew Sinclair, the owner of Sinclairs.’
Not just one of Andrew's bosses—the boss!
SHE should have known, should have guessed by Andrew's charming manner just now, that the man she knew simply as Matthew was someone important. No, not just someone important, he was the man Andrew most wanted to impress. And he had been flirting with her shamelessly.
She looked up at Andrew. ‘I thought that was John Sinclair?’
It was Matthew who answered her. ‘I am John Sinclair, but so was my father. I prefer to use my second name rather than be called Young John Sinclair.’ His mouth twisted derisively.
Jessica looked at him with new eyes, no longer seeing the man who had tried to pick her up a few minutes ago, now seeing the authority that was second nature to him, his autocratic bearing. He was everything the wealthy owner of Sinclair's should be, Sinclair Office Supplies having tentacles all over the world, and she should have seen that in him from the first.
‘Your wife had just promised me a dance,’ he told Andrew. ‘That is, if you have no objection,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘No, of course not,’ Andrew answered, as Jessica had known he would, flushing his pleasure that Matthew Sinclair had chosen his wife out of all the other females in the room; most of them were just waiting for the owner of the firm to notice them.
‘Jessica?’ Matthew Sinclair quirked a questioning eyebrow at her.
‘I——’ She broke off her refusal as Andrew's fingers bit painfully into her waist. ‘I would love to,’ she amended, knowing she would never hear the end of it if she turned this man down. Andrew would surely never forgive her. And those threats of divorce earlier had sounded genuine enough.
They were the cynosure of all eyes as they stepped on to the dance floor, the fast disco-sound giving way to a slow love song, couples moving naturally into each other's arms as they swayed together to the music.
‘I couldn't have chosen better myself,’ Matthew murmured as the theme from Love Story became audible. He slowly pulled her into his arms, making no effort to hold her formally, as one would have expected between employer and employee's wife, his hands resting possessively on her hips as his body moved sensually against hers, his temple resting lightly against hers.
Jessica at once felt panic, and pushed at his shoulders. ‘Please—don't do that,’ she said awkwardly, feeling his tension even in her inexperience.
Matthew looked down at her with puzzled eyes, dancing slightly away from her now. ‘You must have been very young when you married,’ he said gruffly.
She nodded, not looking at him. ‘Eighteen.’
‘Do you love him?’
Her lashes fluttered nervously, and she looked hastily away from probing tawny eyes. ‘Of course I love him,’ she answered sharply, too sharply, realising how defensive she sounded. ‘Andrew is my husband,’ she added simply.
‘For better, for worse?’ Matthew scorned tightly.
‘Exactly.’
‘Jessica——’
‘I think the music has stopped, Mr Sinclair.’ She moved away from him.
He made no effort to leave the dance floor, attracting several curious looks. ‘You want me to take you back to Andrew?’ he asked huskily.
She knew there was much more significance behind the words than appeared on the surface. And this had to stop now. Not even for Andrew and the sake of his promotion would she put up with this man's familiarity.
‘Yes, I would,’ she replied stiltedly. ‘And isn't it time you returned to your wife?’
‘I don't have a wife, Jessica,’ he told her deeply. ‘Unlike you, I was patient.’
‘Patient …?’ She shook her head. ‘I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean.’
‘No,’ he sighed, ‘I can see you don't. And I'm not in a position to tell you, not any more. Come on, I'll take you back to your husband.’
‘Thank you,’ she nodded coolly.
Matthew's hand on her elbow was impersonal as he guided her back to Andrew's side. ‘Maybe I could borrow your wife for another dance later?’ he said with stilted politeness.
‘Of course, sir,’ Andrew agreed eagerly, without even consulting her. ‘Jessica would like that,’ he added enthusiastically.
‘Jessica,’ Matthew nodded abruptly before leaving them.
Andrew dragged her over to a vacant table near the bar. ‘I don't know how you did it,’ he said excitedly, ‘but you certainly made a hit with Sinclair!’
‘Don't be silly, Andrew.’ She looked away, blushing unconsciously, noting that Matthew Sinclair was now dancing with a tall black-haired woman, her voluptuous figure shown to advantage in the green gown she wore, the two of them dancing even closer together than he and Jessica had. She turned back to Andrew. ‘I merely met him outside—in the corridor.’ She didn't want to tell him she had gone into the wrong room, he would only berate her for her stupidity. ‘He—he offered
