CHAPTER TWO
WEAR your sexiest dress, Marc had told her. She didn’t own any sexy dresses, although she had several she had bought to go on business trips with Reed, when acting as his hostess was often necessary; classically designed dresses that were suitable for any occasion. She had taken the black dress she wore tonight the last time they went away together, and for all the notice Reed had taken of her the material might just as well not have clung to her every curve so that the minimum of underwear could be worn beneath it.
Reed just didn’t see her as a woman, only as his secretary. And she had loved him from the moment he had arrived at the office building in answer to the night security man’s call that night not quite seven months ago. He had seemed amused by the mistake she had made then, had taken her out to dinner so that they could conduct the interview. After only managing to get four interviews in the two months she had been in London, and only being short-listed for one of those, she had found Reed’s relaxed way of interviewing her highly enjoyable.
She had told him about her family, being her parents’ only child, talked confidently of her last two jobs, her five years at the bank and the three months as a family helper to a widower and his three children, had shrugged off his surprise at the complete change of career she had made by telling him she had quickly realised it had been a mistake. He had told her how he sympathised with that, how after moving to America with his English mother, American father, two sisters and a brother at the age of ten he had been urged by his father to enter into a sporting career but had found the excitement of high finance much more to his taste. They had talked like old friends, and at the end of their meal Darcy had been so bemused by him that she had left the table wearing only one shoe! That had been when she had told him, in her embarrassment, about the dozen unmatched shoes in her wardrobe, because of her habit of slipping off her shoes while she ate and forgetting to put them both back, always feeling too embarrassed to go back to the restaurant and ask for her left shoe back! After meeting his mother today she was surprised Reed had still given her the job after she had told him that!
She knew for certain the love she felt for him would never be reciprocated.
And in the meantime there was Marc. Five years younger than Reed, at thirty, he was also much less intense; their dates were always fun and entertaining, Marc accepting the way she occasionally forgot things with a casualness that spoke of tolerant affection. She hoped it wasn’t more than that, because Reed occupied all of her heart.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked with suspicion as Marc kept turning to grin at her as he drove.
‘My apartment.’
‘Your apartment!’ Her eyes were wide.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed with relish. ‘I’m going to throw you down on the bed and have my wicked way with you!’
‘Marc …?’
‘You should see your face!’ He laughed at her nervousness. The open-necked brown shirt and fitted trousers he wore were casual but smart. ‘You’re so easy to tease,’ he chuckled. ‘I can assure you I don’t intend having an audience the first time I make love to you.’
‘Audience? But— First time you make love to me …?’ she repeated in a squeaky voice, as the second part of his statement was absorbed.
This time he gave a shout of laughter. ‘Fun to be with, too,’ he told her warmly. ‘After spending the day with women who take their clothes off for me as soon as they get in the door, your naïveté is totally refreshing!’
She knew that a lot of the work Marc did was for magazines and advertising, that very often it involved scantily clad women parading about his studio most of the day. In fact, the first time she had taken some papers down to Marc’s studio from Reed, a model wearing only a pair of bikini briefs had answered the door! She had run back upstairs to tell Reed she thought his photographic partner was making blue movies on the side! Reed had found that very funny, accompanying her back down to the studio, to be greeted by the same model as Reed explained Marc was doing a publicity layout for the briefs. No one had explained—and she hadn’t liked to ask—why the model wasn’t wearing a bra!
She did know that Reed had been very friendly with the model, that he was on the same terms with a lot of the models Marc used, hence his nickname of Reed the Rake. Reed did seem to be an advocate of ‘safety in numbers’, dating no woman exclusively in the almost seven months Darcy had known him.
‘Marc, if this is your surprise——’
‘You would rather pass,’ he mocked self-derisively. ‘No wonder Reed finds you easy to have around; you’re probably the only woman in his near vicinity that he hasn’t been to bed with!’
Darcy flushed, the statement evoking her own fantasies of being in bed with Reed, fantasies that she knew would never come true. ‘My relationship with Reed is purely business, you know that,’ she said stiffly. ‘We work well together.’ Usually!
‘Hey, I’m not complaining.’ He punched her playfully on the chin. ‘Reed would be a difficult man to follow. In fact, I don’t think I’d even try!’
Not for the first time she wondered why it couldn’t have been this man she fell in love with. He was so much less complicated than Reed, had a wickedly attractive sense of humour, was handsome enough to have been one of his own male models. And he took care of her with an easy familiarity she hadn’t known since she left home. But all she could feel for him was liking, or the love of a friend, a good friend.
‘Then why are we going to your apartment?’ she persisted.
‘Wait and see, birthday girl.’ He drove the car into the underground car park beneath his apartment building. ‘But try and look a little less like I’m kidnapping you!’
She was still badly shaken from the events of this morning, and wasn’t being very good company for Marc; she forced a bright smile to her lips. Whatever Marc’s surprise was, it couldn’t be that bad!
At least Marc had had the decency to warn her to look her best, although after ten minutes of meeting people she barely knew Darcy decided she hated surprise parties, especially ones given for her. She had met most of the people before because she knew Marc, but even so none of them were actually good friends of hers. But Marc, at least, seemed pleased with his surprise.
‘Can we expect an announcement tonight or is Marc going to wait until you get to the church before telling you about that, too?’
Darcy turned sharply at the sound of that mocking voice, forgetting the drink she held in her hand as it slopped precariously over the side of the glass, only narrowly missing the front of Reed’s pale green silk shirt as he stepped back out of its way.
She swallowed hard, hadn’t realised he was here until this moment. ‘Your mother?’ she croaked incongruously.
He swept a mocking glance over the gathering, the beautiful men and women standing around talking in relaxed groups, the drink flowing freely as loud music blared from the new stereo unit Marc was so fond of. ‘I don’t think she would quite fit in here, do you?’ he drawled softly, his gaze returning to her.
‘No,’ she acknowledged ruefully, knowing she didn’t exactly ‘fit in’ either.
Reed frowned at the slightly lost look that had come over her face. ‘If you don’t stand up for yourself now, Darcy,
