curious looks and murmured remarks following them. She was aware too that the couple awaiting them at their table didn’t share that general fascination and curiosity. Martin looked bemused and sullen, and Erica was plainly furious, although she was smiling graciously enough.
Muttering an excuse, Ashley grabbed her bag, and made her way to the refuge of the powder room. Luckily it was deserted, and she sank down on one of the padded stools in front of the mirror and stared at herself. Her eyes looked twice their normal size, and she hadn’t a scrap of colour left. She touched the bare, swollen outline of her mouth with fingers that shook slightly.
Jago had made no concessions at all, either to the passage of time which had separated them, or to the fact they were in a public place. His behaviour, by any standard, was unforgivable. She opened her bag, fumbling a little as she retrieved her compact and lipstick and tried to repair some of the damage he had wrought, while shame and anger built up inside her.
How dare he behave like that! she raged inwardly. His arrogance was appalling. But so, honesty reminded her, had been her own reaction.
She couldn’t go back in the dining room, she thought restlessly, to face the stares and speculation, and Jago’s silent triumph. She would have to get a message to Martin, telling him she had a headache and wanted to go home.
But when she emerged, she found Martin waiting for her.
She pinned on a smile. ‘Ready to go?’
‘More than ready.’ His voice was pettish, and she smothered a sigh. His hand gripped her elbow almost painfully as they walked to the car park, but he said nothing more until they were in the car, and on their way.
Then, ‘What was that all about?’ he wanted to know restively.
‘Do we have to discuss it now?’ Ashley stared in front of her.
‘I’d say so. I don’t appreciate being made to look a fool in public.’
‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think that was the main intention.’ Ashley bit her lip. ‘Jago was trying to—prove a point, and he chose a rather drastic way of doing it, that’s all.’
‘Old acquaintances, he said.’ Martin’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘It seemed more than that to me.’
His tone demanded an explanation. Ashley hesitated for a moment, then said reluctantly, ‘As it happens, Jago Marrick was the man I was engaged to a couple of years ago.’
‘Good God!’ Martin, always the most careful of drivers, actually took her eyes off the road to gaze at her while he assimilated the information. ‘I hadn’t the slightest idea …’
Ashley sighed. ‘I thought someone would probably have mentioned it.’
‘I suppose everyone assumed you would have told me yourself.’ Martin sounded injured. ‘Didn’t you think I’d want to know you’d been—involved with one of our top clients?’
Ashley looked down at her interlaced fingers. ‘Frankly it was a period of my life I preferred to put out of my mind altogether. Jago was in America, and Giles Marrick could have lived for another thirty years, as far as I knew.’ She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘But what does it matter, anyway? It’s over, and has been for a long time.’
After a long pause, Martin said carefully, ‘A casual observer tonight might query that.’
Ashley forced a smile. ‘I think tonight was a cross between Jago’s idea of a joke, and his wish to tell the world there’s no longer any bad feeling between us.’
‘And is that the case?’
She bent her head in affirmation, trying to push out of her mind the memory of that cynically passionate kiss, and her unsought reaction to it.
He said judiciously, ‘Well, it’s never easy to get over these things, as I know to my cost. Were you very much in love with him, darling?’
‘I’m not sure I even knew what love was,’ Ashley said tonelessly.
He seemed content with that, and to her relief, didn’t insist on accompanying her into the flat as she had half-feared. He accepted her excuse that she was still dog-tired after her flight, and went off, promising tenderly to phone her the next day.
Ashley fell into bed like an automaton, but still she couldn’t sleep. She lay for what seemed like hours, staring into the darkness. Didn’t she have enough problems? Jago’s re-entry into her life was a complication she didn’t need.
Or perhaps the trouble she felt brewing through him was simply a figment of her overcharged imagination. He had his own life and responsibilities now, with Erica not the least of them, judging by tonight’s showing. He wouldn’t have time, let alone the inclination to bait his ex-fiancée.
Surely their lives could run on parallel lines, never crossing the path of each other. And on this comforting reflection, she finally dozed off.
She was woken the next morning by the prolonged ringing of her doorbell. Groggily, she pushed back the covers and grabbed for her robe, trying through the clouds of sleep to remember if the milkman needed paying.
As she opened the door, she stiffened, her whole body taut with outrage as she recognised her visitor.
‘You again!’ she exclaimed furiously, and tried to slam the door in his face, but Jago was too quick for her. His arm clamped round her waist, lifting her totally off her feet as he stepped into the narrow hall. As he set her down again, the door was already closed behind him.
Ashley gritted between her teeth, ‘There’s really no end to your presumption! May I know how you discovered my address—or have I the same little bird to thank?’
Jago tutted. ‘You sound very crotchety, my sweet. I don’t think late nights agree with you. Are you alone, or should I lurk discreetly in the sitting room while Witham makes his escape?’
‘If there’s any vanishing to be done, you’ll do it,’ she said tersely. ‘Get out!’
‘When I’ve said what I came to say.’ The hazel eyes looked her over mockingly. ‘Or did you think last night was all there was to it?’
‘It seemed more than enough for me,’ Ashley snapped. She caught sight of the long case clock in the corner. ‘My God,’ she said falteringly, ‘it isn’t even eight o’clock yet! What the hell …’
Jago produced a carrier bag, ‘I thought we’d have a working breakfast,’ he said briskly.
‘You thought what?’ Words failed her.
‘A working breakfast,’ he repeated kindly. ‘They have a lot of them in the States. I’m supplying the food.’
‘Well, don’t expect me to cook it. I never eat breakfast anyway.’
‘Then you should.’ He gave her another more searching look, and her hands moved instinctively to tighten the already secure sash of her robe. ‘It occurred to me last night, you can’t afford to lose any more weight. Will you show me where the kitchen is, or shall I find it by trial and error?’
‘You’ll
