at the embarrassingly late age of eighteen months. Embarrassing for her mother, that was, Rachel thought grimly. She had been brought up on stories of how mortified her mother had been in producing such an ugly duckling. Or perhaps cuckoo in the nest was a better description. Lisa and Claire, her sisters, with only fifteen months between them, had always been inseparable, and she’d grown up feeling the odd one out in more ways than one. It wasn’t until she’d met Jennie and Susan in the first week of university that she’d come to understand the meaning of true friendship and support from members of her own sex. The three of them had gelled instantly; it was her misfortune the other two were quite stunning.
Her forehead creased as she sipped at her wine, her gaze now inward looking. What would Freud say about her choice of friends? That she was unconsciously trying to right the wrongs of her childhood or that she’d been programmed to purposely seek out friends who would overshadow her? She mentally shook her head at the path her thoughts had taken, suddenly annoyed with herself and the self-psychoanalysis.
She and Jennie and Susan were genuine, rock-solid friends and had been from the first—it was as simple as that.
‘I’d better see to the dinner.’ Jennie jumped up in the next moment, flashing Rachel a smile as she added, ‘Thanks for putting it on, Cinders.’
‘Cinders?’ Zac’s eyes shot to Rachel’s face. ‘Why Cinders?’
As Zac immediately homed in on the nickname, Rachel could have kicked Jennie, who’d already sailed out of the room. It was Susan who said, a little uncomfortably, having seen Rachel’s glare, ‘It’s just a pet name, that’s all.’
‘But Cinders?’ There was a note in his voice that told Rachel he wasn’t going to let this drop.
Silently calling Jennie every name under the sun, Rachel sighed before saying resignedly, ‘I’ve two older sisters, that’s all.’
‘And you don’t get on with them? Or are they ugly?’
Rachel stared hard at Zac and he stared back. She could tell he was trying to keep a straight face in view of her antagonism. ‘I get on with them just fine and they are far from ugly.’ The understatement of the year, she thought wryly. She had been foolish enough to follow her sisters to the same university and within days some wit had dubbed her Cinders, a tongue-in-cheek play on the fairy-tale. Somehow the nickname had stuck and within a couple of weeks everyone had forgotten her real name. Even Jennie and Susan had adopted it, but she knew with them it was said with warm affection. And she didn’t mind. Normally.
The handsome brow wrinkled. ‘Then why—?’
She shrugged as she rose to her feet. ‘Lisa and Claire are outstandingly beautiful; I suppose someone thought it was clever. I’ll just give Jennie a hand with the dinner.’
She left before he could make a comment.
Chapter Two
RACHEL found dinner a trying affair. But not Jennie and Susan. They positively sparkled. In fact, Susan seemed to have completely forgotten she was on the verge of becoming engaged to her long-standing—and extremely patient—boyfriend, Henry. Rachel liked Henry and she didn’t think he’d appreciate Susan’s fluttering eyelashes as she gazed at Zac.
Still, it was none of her business.
She told herself this during Jennie’s delicious shepherd’s pie—that was another thing about Jennie, she was a fabulous cook—and also during dessert, which was equally fabulous. By the coffee and mints stage of the meal, her eyes felt gritty and her head ached. She had never felt so tense in the whole of her life. The trouble was, she was aware of Zac Lawson in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Even when her eyes weren’t directly on him—and she’d taken care that was the case for most of the time—she found herself registering every slight movement, every turn of his head or quirk of his lips. It was annoying and irritating but her nerves seemed sensitised to a humiliating degree in his presence. And for the life of her she didn’t know why.
She had said very little throughout the meal but the other three had more than made up for her lack of conversation. She didn’t think anyone had noticed her quietness, so it came as a shock when Zac turned to her, coffee cup in hand, and said softly, ‘So, Rachel, I know Jennie’s a fashion buyer and Susan works in a lab—what do you do?’
She tried to get beyond the fact that she felt the golden gaze was drawing her in and answer coherently. ‘I’m in marketing.’
He nodded. ‘Enjoy it?’
‘Very much.’ Her voice emerged in a husky croak and she quickly cleared her throat. ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything else.’ Of course, she might have to if Jeff sacked her and wouldn’t give her a reference after today’s fiasco.
‘What sort of thing are you involved in?’ he asked, as though he really wanted to know and wasn’t just being polite. Then again, he’d been equally interested in Jennie and Susan. He was clearly a man who could make the woman he was with—or in this case talking to—feel she was the only one who mattered. Giles had been the same. That type mostly were, she supposed.
She gave a brief—very brief—outline of her job and then rose to her feet before he could pursue the conversation. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I’ve got a headache,’ she said, her gaze sweeping the three of them, ‘and I think I’ll turn in. It was nice meeting you, Zac.’ She allowed her eyes to rest on him for the merest moment but it was enough to cause a quiver inside as the handsome face surveyed her. ‘I hope your business here goes well and the trip is successful,’ she added politely.
‘Thank you, Rachel.’ His voice was velvet smooth, but his eyes declared he was fully aware of the real reason she was retiring to her room and found it faintly amusing.
Well, he could laugh at her all he wanted but she did have a headache and she was blowed if she was going to sit there and endure another minute of his company. Her back stiff, hackles rising, she gave him an arctic smile and left the room as Jennie leaned forward and lightly touched his arm, bringing his attention back to her. ‘You must come to dinner again tomorrow if you’re free, Zac. You could come every night while you’re here, as far as we’re concerned. Isn’t that right, Susan?’
She didn’t wait to hear his reply, shutting the door on their tiny dining room-cum-study and standing in the hall for a moment as indignation swamped her. If that man was coming here every night, then she’d be eating out for the next three weeks. And this was her home as much as Jennie’s—her friend should have consulted her before making such a sweeping statement.
Rachel was feeling ashamed of herself even before she reached the bedroom and her penance was to lie tossing and turning and straining her ears. She heard the others leave the dining room and go into the sitting room then some music filtered through, along with the low buzz of conversation and laughter. Giggly, we’re-hanging-on-your-every-word laughter from Jennie and Susan, and a deep, rumbly male laugh now and again that made every nerve and sinew in her body stretch.
It was the longest two hours of her life before she heard the front door open and close, and then a few minutes later Jennie tiptoed into their room. A little while later, Jennie’s steady regular breathing told Rachel her friend was fast asleep; likewise Susan, as the muted snores through the wall proclaimed. Not for the first time she wondered how someone as ethereal and beautifully delicate as Susan could produce such a sound.
She must have drifted off to sleep eventually
