small. He wants something with enough room to entertain. And have guests to stay overnight.’
Lucille refrained from saying that he only needed one bed for that. Or was he into orgies?
‘How many bedrooms?’ she asked.
‘Three at least, I’d say, to be on the safe side.’
‘And what budget are we looking at?’
‘Money is no object.’
Naturally not, Lucille thought caustically. Men like Val Seymour thought they could buy anything they wanted.
And mostly they could.
‘In that case, I don’t see any problem. There’s a beautifully appointed and serviced apartment ready for leasing in a new building just a short walk from the Casino. One of the reasons it hasn’t been snapped up so far is that the owner has an exorbitantly high rental on it. But, if money is no object, Mr Seymour should be settled on the superb slate terrace, sipping a cocktail with his current lady-love, before the sun sets on Sydney Harbour.’
Erica chuckled. ‘You do know Val.’
‘His reputation does precede him,’ Lucille said drily.
‘Mmm. He is gorgeous, though. If I were only ten years younger…’
She’d probably be sleeping with both Seymour men, Lucille conceded. Her boss was a woman of the world, all right. But Lucille did admire her for the way she’d survived—and succeeded—after her divorce. The only thing that surprised Lucille was that Erica still liked men so much. Or was it just the sex she liked?
‘I gather darling Val’s actually ladyless at the moment,’ Erica went on, rather confirming Lucille’s suspicion that Flame had chosen the father over the son. ‘So I’d watch him this afternoon, if were you. Max’s son is not the sort of man to sleep alone for long, and you’re a very good-looking woman, Lucille.’
A cold little laugh bubbled up from her throat. ‘Thank you, but I don’t think you have to worry about me falling for Val Seymour’s rather over-used charms.’
‘Don’t be so sure. You haven’t actually met him, have you?’
‘No. But I’ve seen photos. I already know he’s very handsome.’
‘Not the same as seeing the real thing in the flesh, darling. Believe me. Now, how soon can you be here to pick up Don Juan for an inspection?’
‘I thought he was going to take it, sight unseen.’
‘Just a sec. I’ll go into the lounge-room and ask…’
Lucille hung on for a good thirty seconds before Erica came back on the line.
‘No, he says he always likes to see something first-hand, before he puts his money down.’
Lucille didn’t doubt it. She wondered if he had potential girlfriends strip naked before he took them out. After all, the man was used to the very best. No point in wasting good money on dinner if the afters didn’t rate a perfect ten.
‘I’ll have to get the keys from the agent first,’ she said, and glanced at her watch. It was a quarter to two. ‘Shall we say two-thirty?’
‘Two-thirty okay, Val?’ Lucille heard Erica ask.
‘Can’t she make it sooner than that?’ came back the impatient reply. ‘I thought you said your office was only up the bloody road.’
‘It is. Can you get here any quicker, Lucille?’
‘No, I can’t,’ she returned with superbly controlled cool. ‘Tell Mr Seymour he’ll just have to wait. Give him time to calm down and find some better language.’
Erica was laughing as she hung up, but frowning when she opened the front door to Lucille at a quarter to three.
‘Not many women keep Val Seymour waiting this long, you know. He’s about to burst a boiler.’
Lucille shrugged. ‘It wasn’t deliberate. The council’s digging up the top of your road. Only one-way traffic. Sorry.’
‘Never mind. I tried to improve his ill-humour by telling him that you were a ravishingly beautiful blonde, recently divorced, and not dating anyone that I knew of.’
Lucille was taken aback. ‘Why on earth did you do that?’
‘Why not? You’re divorced, darling, not dead. Time to get back in the saddle, don’t you think? And who better to ride than a man like Val Seymour?’
Lucille shuddered. She couldn’t think of anything more revolting.
‘You know, I was like you for simply ages after my divorce,’ Erica persisted, ‘but then I met darling Max and he showed me that men and sex could actually be fun. Something I’d long forgotten.’
Lucille could not believe she was having this conversation. She’d never exchanged intimate confidences with her boss and didn’t want to now.
But neither did she want to offend her employer. Erica probably meant well.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly. ‘But as it so happens, I simply can’t stand the playboy type. They represent everything I detest in the male sex.’
‘No, darling, you’re wrong there. They represent everything you detest in a husband. But as a companion and lover, a playboy is simply the best. Men like Max and Val know how to give a girl a good time, both in bed and out. They know all the right moves, as well as all the right restaurants. They don’t mind spending money on you, either. For divorcees like you and me they’re ideal.’
‘Thank you for the advice, Erica,’ Lucille said, trying not to sound too annoyed, ‘but I’m not interested in taking any lover just yet. It’s much too soon.’
Erica’s hard blue eyes softened a fraction. ‘Fair enough. He must have been a right bastard, that husband of yours. Come on, then, let’s go get the impatient Mr Seymour out of here. He’s pacing again, and when Val paces, he practically wears grooves in the carpet.’
Lucille was only too happy to do just that, and terminate this irritating conversation. Bad enough that Michele was pushing her to date. Now her boss was suggesting she sleep with some over-sexed womaniser just for the fun of it!
Lucille couldn’t see any fun in sleeping with a man she didn’t respect. Even if she was interested in having a sex life, she wouldn’t be seen dead as some playboy’s pet! She’d choose a decent and more discreet lover, who wouldn’t expect her to perform on cue simply because he spent swags of money on her.
Gritting her teeth, Lucille followed her boss inside, leaving the front door open behind her for a quick exit.
The lower floor of Erica’s home was split-level and open plan: vast expanses of white-walled rooms, black-beamed ceilings and deep red carpet. Lucille trailed after Erica across the acre of foyer to where several curved steps led down into a huge sunken lounge-room.
When
