LITMIR.BIZ

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Lynne echoed derisively. ‘After what’s just happened in France?’ She snorted. ‘I’d say it’s out of the frying pan into a very hot fire. Oh God, I could murder Rad for this.’

      ‘If you really want to kill someone,’ Marin said, ‘Try a woman called Diana Halsay.’

      There was a silence, then Lynne said wearily, ‘Oh, bloody hell. Just when you think it’s safe to go back in the water…’ She sighed. ‘I thought she’d finally abandoned the chase where Rad was concerned.’

      ‘She has, in a way.’ Marin pushed away her empty plate. ‘Now she’s trying to convince her husband that Ja…’ She swallowed. ‘That Mr Radley-Smith is chasing her instead.’

      ‘So that the agency loses the Torchbearer business,’ Lynne said grimly. ‘My word, she must want her revenge very badly.’ She looked at Marin. ‘And, of course, Friday was the Torchbearer reception. It’s been in the diary for weeks. I should have remembered.’

      She paused. ‘But I assumed Jake would be taking Celia Forrest.’

      ‘She was ill.’

      ‘I don’t doubt it.’ Lynne pulled a face. ‘A condition brought on, no doubt, by the realisation that her application for the post of Mrs Radley-Smith, like so many others, has not been successful. She added cynically, ‘But she’ll get over it. One of his girlfriends told me that falling for Jake was rather like catching a virus—except that it was much easier to recover from once you’d got out of bed.’

      Marin’s face warmed. She said, ‘I can’t imagine why any woman would want him. He’s far too fond of his own way.’

      Lynne gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Well, he managed to persuade you to go to his party,’ she commented. ‘Why didn’t you say no, and go on saying it until he got the message?’

      Marin had a sudden memory of blue eyes lazily scanning her half-naked body. A voice saying, “We could always stay here together instead.”

      She thought—Because the alternative would have been so very much worse.

      Aloud, she said lamely, ‘He said he’d pay me. Very generously.’ She tried to smile. ‘It seemed like an offer I couldn’t refuse.’

      ‘As long as it was the only one.’ Lynne smiled back, but her eyes were serious. ‘And forget I suggested working for him. Once was clearly enough.’

      Marin moved restively. ‘Except it won’t be,’ she said in a low voice. ‘The Halsays have invited us to their house in the country next weekend, and this time he’s paying me four times as much to go with him, to keep up the pretence.’

      There was a silence, then Lynne said softly and succinctly, ‘Over my dead body.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Marin, you can’t afford to get involved with Jake, believe me. He’s out of your league, just as he was always out of mine.’

      She shook her head. ‘When I first started working for him, I could have gone overboard so easily, and don’t think I wasn’t tempted, but I saw the danger just in time and pulled back. Because I didn’t want to be one more notch on his bedpost, and you mustn’t settle for that, either. You’re worth so much more.’

      ‘But it’s not like that,’ Marin protested. ‘The whole thing is strictly business, I promise. Separate rooms, everything. It couldn’t possibly be anything else. I mean, look at me,’ she added, Adela Mason’s strident insults echoing in her mind.

      ‘I’m looking,’ Lynne said flatly. ‘And I see a sweet and conspicuously innocent girl. Who should not be spending even a moment, let alone two days and nights, with a major predator like Jake Radley-Smith.

      ‘Separate rooms?’ She shook her head again. ‘I’d prefer you in a separate universe. Because you would not be dealing with a fumbling amateur like that idiot in France.’ She paused. ‘Sweetheart, if you’re worried about money, then stop. I’ll match whatever he’s offering, and you can pay me back as and when you can afford it.’

      ‘When you’re saving for a deposit on a flat and a wedding?’ Marin bit her lip. ‘Lynne, it’s lovely of you to think of it, but he—Mr Radley-Smith’s already given me five hundred pounds and promised me another two thousand after the weekend.’ She saw Lynne’s eyes widen. ‘If Mrs Ingram fires me, I shall need it. And you couldn’t possibly spare that much.’

      ‘No,’ her stepsister admitted ruefully. ‘Probably not.’ She sighed. ‘But I still don’t like this—any of it.’ Her eyes glinted wrathfully. ‘And I shall have a few things to say to my esteemed boss tomorrow morning.’

      ‘No—please.’ Marin was aghast. ‘I made the agreement with him, and I can handle it. There are—ground rules in place.’

      She tried to speak more lightly. ‘And, after France, my sense of self-preservation has improved a hundred per cent. So you really don’t have to worry. Because I’m not a child any more.’

      ‘That,’ Lynne informed her drily, ‘is exactly the problem.’ And she got up to clear the table.

       Chapter Four

      MARIN FOUND IT difficult to sleep that night. She told herself it was because she was dreading the coming interview with Mrs Ingram, but in her heart she knew she was restless because she hadn’t been completely honest with Lynne.

      Or, for that matter, with herself.

      She turned over, punching irritably at her pillow. In retrospect, she now realised she’d been silly to think that, whatever the reason for it, she could remain totally immune to Jake’s company. Especially that kiss.

      I just wasn’t expecting it, she thought defensively. That’s all. Besides, I was off-balance from the moment he walked and caught me in that damned towel. And he made sure I stayed that way.

      But now that she knew his potential danger, she would be more on her guard.

      Besides, it was a house party, she reminded herself defensively. There would be other people around, and, for at least some of the time, Jake and Graham Halsay would be off talking business, so they wouldn’t be in each other’s pockets.

      As for the hours of darkness—well, she would just have to trust that the Halsays’ housekeeper would allocate the usual rooms, giving her privacy if not total peace of mind.

      But she couldn’t allow herself to think like that. From here on in, it was going to be strictly business. Forty-eight hours, she told herself. That was all. And when it was over she would never have to see him again, unless it was as a guest at Lynne’s wedding next year.

      Just two days and two nights and he would be out of her life.

      She awoke later than she’d planned the following morning, to find the flat empty and a note from Lynne on the kitchen counter. ‘You looked as if you needed your rest, it ran. I took some croissants and a loaf out of the freezer earlier, and there’s cereal in the cupboard. Also plenty of eggs. I’ll be back around six.’ And, heavily underlined, ‘Try not to worry.’

      Marin scrambled the eggs and ate them with grilled smoked bacon, followed by toast with cherry jam and some strong coffee.

      Then, dressed in a neat grey skirt and white blouse topped by a navy jacket, she set off for the Ingram Organisation.

      Tina, the office secretary, greeted her wide-eyed. ‘The phone line between here and France was burning up on Friday,’ she whispered, and nodded towards Wendy Ingram’s office door. ‘Go right in. She’s waiting for you.’

      Mrs Ingram was on the phone when Marin entered, nodding briskly and making notes on a pad in front of her. She gestured to Marin to take a seat then, her call over, she put down her pen and leaned back in her chair.

      ‘That’s quite a can of worms you seem to have opened,’

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