sorry,’ Helen said abruptly as she looked quickly away. ‘I—it's been a difficult day for me.'
He continued to look at her for several long, tension-filled minutes, and then he relaxed slightly, his mouth twisting derisively. ‘Not the least of it being my coming here.'
She began to breathe normally again as he moved away. ‘Not the least,’ she acknowledged tautly. ‘And as it seems we shall be seeing you this evening—–'
‘Greg, too,’ he put in softly, raising innocent brows as she gave him a quelling look.
‘Greg, too,’ she repeated in a carefully controlled voice, hoping Emily hadn't decided to invite other ‘guests’ she didn't know about; she was going to have to sit down and have a serious talk with her daughter, and about so much more than the repercussions of that ridiculous announcement in the newspaper this morning—although God knew that was serious enough! ‘As you will both be joining us for dinner this evening, that seems as good a time as any to discuss the engagement announcement,’ she dismissed, wanting to put an end to this conversation; usually so calm and in control, she always changed when Zack was around.
‘And how quickly you can get a retraction printed,’ Zack drily guessed what she hadn't yet had a chance to say.
Grey eyes met his coolly. ‘But of course.'
‘Of course,’ he echoed tautly, moving to the door. ‘We'll see you later, then,’ he taunted, pausing with his hand on the door-handle. ‘Oh, and, Helen—just be grateful that no one added to the confusion by announcing the daughter of Mrs H. Neilson was to marry the son of Mr Z. Neilson!’ And with that last mocking parting shot he left, the bell over the shop door ringing seconds later to show that he hadn't lingered outside.
Mrs Neilson; she had hardly been that long enough for the ink to dry on their marriage certificate! She had certainly had no difficulty reverting back to the name of Palmer after their separation.
There was the briefest of knocks before Sonia put her head round the side of the door. ‘Everything OK?’ she frowned.
Evidence of just how brief her marriage to Zack had been was that this woman, with whom Helen had worked for almost two years, had no idea of its existence! She and Zack had already been separated when she took Sonia on as her assistant, and there had been no reason since that time to mention that she had once been married—was still technically married—to their landlord.
But at least that last fact gave her an excuse to explain Zack's presence here at all. ‘Just checking up on his investment,’ Helen dismissed with a shrug.
Unfortunately that seemed to alarm Sonia rather than reassure her, probably because Zack hadn't deemed it necessary to pay them a visit in the previous two years!
‘Problems?’ She came into the office and closed the door behind her, inviting confidences if Helen wanted to give them. ‘There's nothing wrong with the lease, is there?'
Ironically it was this shop that had first caused her to be involved with Zack's family at all. ‘No,’ she answered ruefully. ‘I think we may as well close up for the day, don't you?’ she suggested brightly.
As this was the first time she had ever known Helen to suggest closing up early, Sonia looked even more concerned.
‘If anyone asks why—–’ Helen's mouth twisted wryly ‘—tell them it's my daughter's eighteenth birthday!'
Sonia's frown instantly cleared. ‘Oh, God, yes, I'd forgotten. You'll want time to get ready to go out tonight,’ she realised, hurrying off to begin the closing-up process for over the rest of the weekend.
Helen's smile faded, her depression returning with a vengeance once she was alone again. She had been looking forward to this evening for a long time, to quietly celebrating her daughter's coming-of-age, and now it had taken on an air of oppression which she found totally demoralising.
Another thing she found totally depressing was the thought of wearing her reliable black gown to go out in. It was over five years old, and while it had classical lines and was obviously of good quality she had worn it on several occasions in Zack's company in the past. And the last thing she wanted was to start the evening feeling at a disadvantage. Damn him!
It was only four-thirty now—good God, it had seemed a lot longer than twenty-five minutes when Zack was actually here!—so there was another hour before most of the dress shops in the area would close.
Stubbornness, at feeling forced into the position of needing to look her best tonight, and pride, because as she had no real choice about being in Zack's company she had to look her very best, for her own sake, both warred within her.
But not for long! Stubbornness had never got her very far where Zack was concerned, and her pride was one of the few things she had left.
‘I'll be back in time to lock up,’ she assured Sonia as she rushed through the shop on the way out to her car.
She was slightly above average height, slender, a standard size ten, so should have had no trouble finding something for a quiet family celebration.
And yet nothing she tried on in the first two shops looked right. As usual, she was convinced that when she saw the right dress she would know it was the one. Unfortunately, she never did, which was why she had held on to her reliable black for so long! And tonight, when she didn't have time to dither, was no exception; nothing transformed her into the regally confident beauty she would have liked to be.
It was ridiculous anyway, she scolded herself impatiently as she pulled a thin blue woollen dress over her head and smoothed its softness down over her hips. Who was she hoping to impress? Certainly not Zack; he had made his opinion of her more than obvious over the years. And she was tired, and hot, and totally fed up with the whole stupid—–
She knew without question that this dress was the one!
She had looked up uninterestedly to her reflection in the mirror on the changing-room wall, and was stunned by the transformation that the just-above-knee-length dress made. Oh, she didn't look regal, nor especially confident or beautiful; what she did look was—sexy!
On the hanger the thin cashmere dress had looked unimpressive, but Helen had been attracted to the royal blue colour, if nothing else, and the sales assistant, seeing at least a spark of interest, had encouraged her to try it on.
The short style showed off a long expanse of her slender, shapely legs, the soft wool moulding gently, if not exactly clinging, to the curves of her body. The sleeves reached down to her wrists, the neck softly encircled her throat, and yet there was an underlying sensuality about the way the dress moved with her, and it made her hair appear almost black, her eyes no longer grey but seeming to take on a reflective blue.
‘I'll take it,’ she decided before she had a chance to talk herself out of it.
The sales assistant looked relieved, and Helen couldn't exactly blame her; it was almost five-thirty on a Saturday night, after all.
She had bought the dress, even been persuaded into buying a pair of sheer Lycra tights to wear with it, and was driving back to lock up her own shop when reaction set in; she had never, ever bought anything that actually made her look sexy. Businesslike, smart, hopefully attractive, but never sexy.
Her
