LITMIR.BIZ

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with a wrought iron balustrade.

      With a bit of luck, Mr Radley-Smith might think she’d taken advantage of his momentary inattention to disappear completely, she told herself, relishing the coolness of the orange juice against her dry throat.

      But escaping from him out here was not proving as successful as she’d hoped. Instead, Marin found she was reviewing everything Lynne had ever said about him.

      She knew for instance that, even without the company, he was a millionaire in his own right with a place in the country as well as a flat in Chelsea.

      ‘Is he married?’ she’d once asked, and Lynne had laughed.

      ‘No, my pet, nor ever likely to be. Rad seems to have a sixth sense that warns him whenever the lady of the moment starts hearing wedding bells and—bingo—suddenly he’s not really around any more. It’s invariably done with a great deal of charm, but it’s still over.

      ‘And, of course, he spends quite a lot of time abroad, which helps.’

      Before Marin had gone to work for the Ingram Organisation, Lynne had offered to see if there was anything suitable going at the agency.

      ‘You might find it more interesting than being a glorified temp,’ she’d urged, but Marin had shaken her head with determination.

      ‘No,’ she’d said. ‘It’s not for me.’

      So, perhaps I have a sixth sense too, she thought as she finished her orange juice. Although it had seemed to go on the blink outside in the corridor, just now, or she’d have dodged.

      Her haven was suddenly not as warm as it had been, either. A slight breeze had got up since sunset, and with a faint shiver she turned to go back inside.

      Only to find her path firmly blocked.

      The tall woman confronting her might be wearing the ubiquitous black, but her dress screamed French design, its severe lines relieved by the virtual collar of diamonds round her creamy throat. In her late twenties, she was reed-slim, like most of the other females in the room, and her blond hair was swept up into the kind of careless style that takes hours to achieve.

      She was beautiful, with green eyes under impossibly long, mascaraed lashes, but there was no warmth in the glance surveying Marin.

      And her tone was equally cold. ‘Excuse me, but do you mind telling me who you are? I wasn’t aware you were on our guest list for the evening.’

      ‘She’s with me, Diana,’ Jake said easily as he appeared out of nowhere, walking to Marin’s side and sliding an arm round her waist to draw her closer against him. ‘Her name’s Marin Wade. Darling, this is our hostess, Mrs Halsay.’

      ‘I should have known, of course.’ Mrs Halsay gave a musical laugh. ‘Jake’s invitations always say “and partner.” His social life changes so rapidly, it’s safer that way. So do forgive my lack of recognition.’ She favoured Marin with a smile as radiant as it was brief, then turned back to Jake. ‘Tell me, my sweet, where did you find this charming child?’

      Jake shrugged. ‘Let’s just say that we found each other.’

      Diana Halsay pouted at him. ‘But how wicked of you to let her wander off alone, with so many potential predators hovering.’

      ‘Don’t concern yourself on that score,’ Jake drawled. ‘Our separation was purely temporary, and I was extremely careful not to lose sight of her.’

      ‘Well,’ she said, sending another smiling glance in Marin’s direction accompanied by the merest flicker of an eyebrow, ‘If you neglect her again, I’m sure she’ll find some delicious way to punish you. Now, take her off and feed her, my darling, and make sure you introduce her to all the people who are dying to meet her.’

      For a moment, a slim hand burdened by a platinum wedding-ring and a diamond cluster as spectacular as her necklace rested on his sleeve, then she was gone.

      ‘“Charming child,”’ Marin repeated woodenly. ‘Not a description ever applied to her, I’ll bet.’

      Jake’s mouth twisted. ‘In thirty years’ time, sweetheart, you’ll remember her words with a sigh of nostalgia. And, as hunger seems to be making you peevish, come and eat.’

      Marin hung back. ‘I’d prefer to do that at home.’

      His brows lifted mockingly. ‘Cocoa and a sandwich?’

      She lifted a defiant chin. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

      ‘Where would you like me to begin?’ he murmured. ‘Besides, your evening’s work isn’t over yet, so you need to keep your strength up.’

      Led over to the buffet and made to choose, Marin found herself with a plateful of poached salmon, lobster mayonnaise and shrimp vol-au-vents, accompanied by a selection of exotic salads. And, in spite of her protests, a glass of champagne.

      ‘One of humanity’s greatest inventions,’ Jake said, watching with faint amusement as she took a cautious sip. ‘A wine that can be drunk at any hour of the day—or night.’

      She said stonily, ‘I’ll just have to take your word for that, Mr Radley-Smith,’ and went on with her supper.

      When that was finished, she—met people. It would have been hard not to do so, she reflected, as her companion seemed to know everyone in the room. And all of them, apparently, wanted to know her too.

      With Jake’s arm draped casually round her shoulders, her tongue should have been glued to the roof of her mouth, but she actually found herself responding to the friendly overtures coming her way, and making shy conversation instead of feeling as awkward and self-conscious, as she usually did in these situations. She could even withstand the speculative glances from some of the other girls.

      My ten minutes of fame, she thought ironically, as Jake Radley-Smith’s latest squeeze. If only they knew!

      One of the last people to approach them was the Torchbearer Insurance chairman, Graham Halsay. He was a tall man, slightly overweight, handsome with a florid complexion.

      ‘Ah—Rad. Good to see you. Yes, very good.’ There was a kind of awkward joviality in his voice. ‘I feel we need to get together over the campaign for Torchbearer’s new household policies, but my diary is full for the whole of next week.’ He paused. ‘However Diana has invited some people down to Queens Barton at the weekend, and I wondered—hoped that you might join us too.

      ‘The pair of us could hammer out a few things in private, which would also give us a get-out from my wife’s interminable sporting-contests.’

      He gave a quick bray of laughter, then looked at Marin. ‘And of course Diana absolutely insists that you bring your Miss—er—Wade with you. She found her quite delightful.’

      Marin tensed, and felt the warning pressure of Jake’s hand on hers.

      He said, smiling, ‘Thank you, Graham. We’d both be delighted. I’d love Marin to see the house, and the gardens must be looking fabulous.’

      ‘Well, that’s splendid,’ Graham Halsay said a mite too heartily. ‘First class, in fact. Really look forward to seeing you next Friday evening—both of you.’

      Marin stood in silence, watching him go. When he was out of earshot, she said huskily, ‘So what excuse do I invent—summer flu or food poisoning? If I blame the lobster mayonnaise, he may feel too guilty to ask any questions.’

      Jake’s mouth was set in a hard line. He said brusquely, ‘No excuse will be necessary. I accepted the invitation on behalf of us both, and we will be spending next weekend at Queens Barton together. Let that be clearly understood.’

      ‘No way.’ Marin, startled, tried to pull her hand free and failed.

      Jake leaned forward, his mouth smiling as he trailed a fingertip down the curve of her cheek, his eyes like chips of ice. His lips brushing her ear, he whispered, ‘This is not

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