other words it was simply a device to escape being pressed into joining the lady for dinner instead?’
‘I’ve already got a dinner date. With you.’ And he dropped the cellphone he’d been using into his pocket. ‘What next?’
‘Coffee,’ she said as, cut off from retreat, she took the stairs up to her office, cursing herself for not having thought of inviting the author to join them. She glanced back over her shoulder and found her eyes were on a level with his. They were dark as pitch and just as unfathomable. ‘You wouldn’t be able to walk away so easily if you were running the show.’
‘When I’m running the show, Miss Claibourne, I’ll pay someone else to play clown. I’d offer you the job, since you enjoy it so much, but somehow I don’t think you’d want to work for me.’
Ignoring his comment about playing clown—but mentally filing away the fact that he planned on putting in a manager to use against him—she said, ‘It would make better sense to leave things the way they are.’
‘For you, maybe. Not for me. But you already know that.’
Yes. She knew. While her father had been running the store he’d been able to do whatever he wanted and all Jordan Farraday could do was stand by and watch. He wasn’t going to leave things the way they were because he wanted that power for himself. Just for the sake of it? Or did he already have plans that he knew she wouldn’t like?
‘What time does your next party turn arrive?’ he asked, interrupting this disturbing chain of thought.
‘I wouldn’t let our celebrity chef hear you describe him as a party turn. Not when he’s got a knife in his hand.’ She ran her swipe card through the security lock and swept through the door and down the corridor, stopping by Sally’s office to ask for coffee and check for messages. ‘And schedule a meeting for me with the training manager, will you, please? As a matter of urgency. That woman in the nursery department didn’t cope well today.’
‘She’s just acting manager, isn’t she? While the manager is on holiday?’
‘Yes, and I’m afraid it showed. We need to make sure everyone knows how to deal with these one-off emergencies. We can’t rely on Mr Farraday to be around to take charge and hold hands next time.’ She glanced up, challenging him to admit it. Disconcertingly, he smiled, and for a moment she couldn’t think what she’d been going to say next. ‘And…um…’
‘The hospital?’ Sally prompted, flirting dangerously with an I-told-you-so smile.
‘Check and see how our mother-to-be is doing. As soon as we’ve got a result I’ll want flowers, and a basket of baby stuff in an appropriate colour. And a nice big C&F teddy. It’ll look good in a photograph if they’re prepared to do a PR piece. I’ll want a photographer with me this evening when I visit—with luck we’ll catch them on an emotional high that they want to share with the rest of the world.’
‘I’ll get onto it. We need to finalise the details of the retirement party for Maureen Derbyshire too, when you’ve got a minute.’ And she turned to Jordan Farraday. ‘Don’t miss it, JD. It’s going to be quite a party.’
‘I fear Mr Farraday finds our small concerns rather dull, Sally,’ she said, before he could respond. Then, turning to him, ‘You wouldn’t understand, Mr Farraday, but when Maureen leaves it’ll be the end of an era. She started work here on the day she left school. Fifty years ago.’
‘Then she must have known my grandfather.’
Damn! She hadn’t thought of that. Point scoring off JD Farraday was going to be tricky. But she smiled and said, ‘Yes, I imagine so.’
‘I’m sure she’d be thrilled if you could find time to join us,’ Sally said, innocent as a baby. ‘It’s on Thursday evening. In the Roof Garden Restaurant.’
‘I’ll be there,’ he said, his gaze never leaving India’s face, mocking her as if, despite her secretary’s invitation, he understood that she didn’t want him popping up all over the place. ‘On the understanding that India saves the first dance for me.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘I CAN’T believe how young she is,’ India said as they left the hospital early that evening. ‘Or maybe I’m just getting old.’
‘That must be it,’ Jordan said. She glanced at him sharply and his eyes creased into the kind of smile designed to make a woman go weak at the knees. He was teasing her, she realised. Which was unexpected and had to be against the rules in a situation like this. But then Jordan Farraday undoubtedly made up the rules as he went along. ‘What did you have to offer to get her to do those publicity shots?’
‘That’s confidential.’ She’d taken a photographer with her, hoping to catch the new parents in a mood to share their news with the world. They had been. For a price. She and the new mother had done their deal in the man-free environment of the nappy-changing room. Serena hadn’t wanted her boyfriend to know the details either. ‘Between her and me.’
He raised his brows. ‘That much?’
‘She may be young, but she’s not stupid.’
‘Are you suggesting that she stage-managed the whole thing?’
‘That she waited until the contractions were well established before taking a turn around the nursery department, you mean? That’s very cynical of you, Mr Farraday. I was suggesting nothing of the kind. Simply that she understands the value of publicity.’ She glanced up at him. ‘You looked quite something with the new baby in your arms.’
‘You pay and I get the publicity. It hardly seems fair.’
‘The cost comes out of the PR budget,’ she reminded him, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. Jordan Farraday was winning the publicity war hands down. First with the author, then making a hit with the celebrity chef, when he’d asked the kind of questions that made the man look like a towering culinary intellect. And then Serena had insisted he be the one to hold the baby. ‘And Claibourne’s gets the publicity.’
‘In this instance it would seem that it’s the “& Farraday” who’ll get all the newspaper coverage.’
She shrugged as if it made no difference. ‘It’ll make a nice story,’ she said. She’d like to believe his colleagues in the City would be ragging him about it for days, but had to admit that the prospect was unlikely. They’d more likely be awestruck by his ability to cope in the kind of crisis they’d never want to be anywhere near.
They’d taken a black cab to the hospital, to avoid the hassle of finding somewhere to park, and Jordan grabbed one now that was dropping off passengers. He spoke to the driver, then joined her in the back of the cab.
‘Will we have the pleasure of your presence at the store tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘Today isn’t over yet.’
‘That’s true,’ she said, remembering the files in the boot of her car. ‘I’ve got a load of paperwork to get through tonight.’
‘Anything an interested shadow can help with?’
‘No,’ she said,
