wanted to marry her. Still besotted by him, in spite of all that had happened, she floated up to cloud nine.
‘But before we start planning the wedding, there’s something I want you to do for me…’
She had come down to earth again with a bump when he’d explained what it was he wanted her to do and, even with his engagement ring on her finger, her joy had been marred by the thought of what was in store.
‘This job you want me to apply for—’ she broached the subject with reluctance ‘—how shall I go about it?’
‘Don’t worry about that. I know Mrs Rogers, the woman who runs the employment agency that Lorenson uses. I’ll ask her to see you and recommend you for the position.’
Gail had found herself hoping that for once in his life Paul wouldn’t succeed in pulling strings and manipulating people.
But, with the kind of looks and charm that made slaves of the female sex, he had, and she had been asked to call and see Mrs Rogers.
The following day the agency had rung to say that an interview had been arranged.
Though pleased that everything had so far gone according to plan, Paul had complained bitterly about the earliness of the hour.
‘Lorenson wants you to be at his office at eight o’clock! Why the hell can’t he work nine to five like most people?
‘Well, you’ll just have to take care not to be late. The swine is a stickler for punctuality and you’ll need to look cool.’
Then, with a thoughtful glance at her face, ‘Perhaps I’d better pick you up.’
‘There’s no need to do that. I can make my own way there. I’ll get a taxi if necessary.’
After a moment or two’s consideration, he said decidedly, ‘No, it’ll be best if I come round and collect you.’
She had strongly suspected that it was in case she chickened out at the last minute.
Whatever his reason, he had picked her up on the dot of seven fifteen, so now here she was, on her way to be interviewed for the position of PA to a man she had hoped never to have to see again.
Talk about being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, she thought miserably. If she didn’t get it, Paul would be furious with her. If she did, she would be in an invidious position…
‘We’re almost there.’ His voice broke into her unhappy thoughts. ‘Lorenson’s offices, as well as his own private apartment, are in the Clairmont Building on Lower Arlington Street. But, just to make certain no one spots you getting out of my car, I’ll drop you at the corner.’
When they reached their destination, he drew in to the kerb and issued his last instructions. ‘Now don’t forget, try not to look flustered whatever you do, or all this planning and preparation will be wasted.
‘And don’t breathe a word about me. Lorenson would soon be on his guard if he picked up any suggestion that we know each other.’ His gaze held a warning and Gail looked away as he continued, ‘When the interview’s over and you’re well away from Lorenson’s offices, you can give me a quick call and let me know for sure if you’ve got the job.’
Gail hesitated, still uncertain and unsure. ‘But suppose one of his staff is doing the interviewing and is just compiling a short-list?’
‘According to Mrs Rogers, Lorenson doesn’t work that way. The people he wants on his own staff he always interviews personally, and usually he makes an on-the-spot decision.’
Gail’s heart sank. She had held on to the faint hope that it might be one of his minions she would have to see, and that said minion would prefer some other candidate, thus giving her a let-out. But it seemed it wasn’t to be.
Urgently in need of reassurance, she asked, ‘When shall I see you? Lynne will be out tonight if you want to come round for a meal.’
‘Once Lorenson knows where you live, it might not be safe.’
Trying to keep the tell-tale tremor out of her voice, she suggested, ‘Well, couldn’t we meet in the park, or at a restaurant, or something?’
But, instead of softening, those eyes, blue as summer skies, looked at her dismissively. ‘It’s too big a risk. We can’t afford to jeopardise our chances by possibly being seen together.
‘After you’ve let me know the score it would be better if we don’t have any contact until you’ve something to report.’
‘Oh,’ she said blankly.
‘When you have, you’d better give me a ring at the office and we’ll meet up somewhere.’
He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Now don’t forget how much this means to me. Good luck.’
Feeling slightly sick, her stomach full of butterflies, Gail unfastened her seat belt, opened the door and got out.
Already the air was warm and the summer sunshine bright, glancing off the bodywork of passing cars and gleaming on pavements still damp from the early morning shower.
As the Jaguar drew away, she lifted her hand but, a slight frown on his good-looking face, Paul was staring straight ahead.
Opening her bag, she took out the pair of cheap low-strength reading glasses she’d bought in the local chemist and put them on.
Then bracing herself, she walked the short distance to the Clairmont Building, with its handsome Georgian façade, and through the imposing main entrance.
The clock above the reception desk showed it was ten minutes to eight, so she was in good time.
As, her heart beating fast and her legs feeling oddly shaky, she started to cross the marble-floored lobby, she caught sight of herself reflected in one of the long gilt-framed mirrors.
Wearing a smart charcoal-grey suit and an off-white blouse, her small heart-shaped face outwardly calm, her dark hair in a smooth coil, she looked every inch the cool, efficient businesswoman.
No one would have guessed at her inner turmoil as she approached the desk and gave her name to the pretty blonde receptionist.
‘You’ll find the office complex on the second floor, Miss North. If you would like to go straight up, Mrs Bancroft, Mr Lorenson’s secretary, will be waiting for you.’
When Gail stepped out of the lift on the second floor she was greeted by an attractive middle-aged woman with bobbed iron-grey hair.
‘I’m Claire Bancroft. If you’d like to follow me, Miss North…’
As Mrs Bancroft led the way along the carpeted corridor to another lift, she remarked, ‘Mr Lorenson is in his apartment this morning. He likes to keep the interviews he conducts informal.’
Entering a four digit code into a small panel, she added, ‘This is his private lift.’
The lift took them up to the top floor, where they emerged
