he certainly hadn't, although she thought she had got her feelings of uninterest over to him now. ‘He isn't acting that way with his partner now either,’ she pointed out dryly.
Andrew looked towards the dance-floor, easily locating Matthew Sinclair and his partner. ‘Don't be ridiculous, Jessica—that's Lisa,’ he scowled.
Jessica's eyes widened as she looked at the other woman with new eyes. Yes, she would be the sort of woman who appealed to Andrew, her sexuality oozed from every pore in her body.
And it was just like Andrew to be jealous of Matthew Sinclair's attention to his mistress, and consider the same attention shown to his wife an asset!
Lisa—or Alicia, to give her her real name—was strikingly beautiful, in her early twenties, with a figure any model would envy, except perhaps that her bust was a little too full to suit their slenderness. And she certainly didn't look as if she minded having Matthew Sinclair's arms about her; her own arms were entwined about his neck as they moved slowly in time to the music.
Andrew was scowling heavily now, his anger deepening as Matthew Sinclair and Alicia went to the bar together once the music had stopped. ‘Excuse me,’ he mumbled, and stood up, making his own way to the bar. After buying himself a drink he sauntered over to join the other couple.
Jessica turned away to hide her shame. He was making himself so obvious, making a fool of himself.
‘Hello there, love,’ greeted a cheery voice. ‘All alone, are you?’
She looked up into the face of a man who had obviously had too much to drink already, a man in his forties, very overweight, an alcoholic flush to his flabby cheeks. And he seemed to have singled her out for his inebriated attention. ‘No, I'm not alone,’ she told him in her coldest voice. ‘My partner will be back in a moment,’ although by the look of Andrew he wasn't going to leave Alicia's side for some time to come, and Matthew Sinclair was noticeably absent from their group now.
‘Not if he's Andrew Baxter, he won't.’ The drunken man pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Randy Andy, we call him in the office.’ He gave a suggestive laugh, his expression leering. ‘That's because he is.’ The man leant forward over the table, breathing beer fumes all over her. ‘Randy, I mean.’
Jessica had stiffened at his insulting tone. ‘The—nickname you have for Andrew is of no interest to me.’ She stood up. ‘If you'll excuse me …’ She had no idea where she was going, just away from this man.
‘Hey, not so fast!’ His hand came out and caught her about the wrist, surprisingly strong. ‘If you don't want to talk about Rand—er—Andy, then we won't. I can understand you being annoyed with him, he shouldn't really have bothered to bring one of his little friends when he already has Alicia,’ he chuckled. ‘You can be my little friend if you like.’
The idea nauseated her. ‘Andy brought his wife with him this time,’ she snapped. ‘Now, would you take your hands off me?’
He let go of her as if she had burnt him. ‘Cold little bitch, aren't you?’ he glared his dislike. ‘No wonder Andy says you're frigid! You should give the man what he wants——’
Jessica didn't wait to hear any more, but turned to rush out of the room, her face deathly white. Andrew had talked about her to that man, had discussed their sexual differences with a total stranger. God, she could just imagine the crudeness of that conversation, the ribald remarks! Did everyone in that room know she didn't sleep with her husband?
‘Jessica!’
She stopped her mad flight at the sound of that familiar voice, and turned to find Matthew Sinclair striding down the corridor to join her.
He grasped her forearms, searching her pale features. ‘Jessica, are you all right? Did Taylor insult you?’ he demanded in an angry voice.
‘Taylor?’ she echoed dully. Did this man know of her marital difficulties too? If he did then Andrew bringing her here tonight was a waste of time.
‘The man you were talking to——’
‘I wasn't talking to him, he was talking to me.’ She blinked back the tears.
‘Jessica …’ Matthew groaned.
‘Please, let me go.’ She shook off his hands, regaining her composure with effort. ‘Mr Taylor didn't insult me, he—he's just a little drunk, I think.’
Matthew nodded grimly. ‘More than a little. I'll get someone to take him home.’
Jessica would have liked to go home too, but Andrew had disappeared from the hall by the time she got up to leave—and Alicia was noticeably absent too.
‘Come with me,’ Matthew said tersely, leading her over to the lift.
Jessica hung back. ‘I—Where are you taking me?’
His mouth twisted into a smile, his tawny eyes hard. ‘Just somewhere away from this noise,’ he mocked.
That ‘somewhere’ turned out to be his office on the top floor. He took her through the spacious adjoining sitting-room, switching on the lights to move to the drinks cabinet. ‘Brandy, I think,’ he murmured, pouring some into a glass before handing it to her. ‘Where was your husband while all that was going on?’ he snapped in a harsh voice.
‘He—he stepped outside for some air,’ she invented, sipping the brandy, and instantly beginning to choke as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat.
Matthew came forward to pat her gently on the back. ‘Good grief, girl,’ he said impatiently, ‘anyone would think you'd never drunk brandy before!’
‘I haven't,’ she choked, tears wetting her cheeks.
He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘How old are you? Ah yes, twenty-five,’ he answered his own question. ‘But you don't like to socialise.’
It was a statement that didn't really require an answer, so she didn't proffer one.
‘Your husband likes to—socialise,’ he continued, his mouth twisting contemptuously.
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged huskily.
‘But you don't?’ he persisted.
‘No.’
‘You didn't attend the dance last year with your husband, did you.’
Jessica evaded his eyes. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’ he rasped. ‘Office parties are notorious for starting—affairs.’
She looked up now, meeting his probing gaze unflinchingly. ‘Are they?’ she asked uninterestedly.
‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘Why weren't you here last year?’
Jessica looked down at her hands. ‘My little girl was ill,’ she mumbled, knowing she would have done her best to get out of it even if Penny hadn't been ill, as she had tried to this time, to no avail. ‘I—stayed at home to take care of her.’
‘But your husband didn't
