The Party Girl's Invitation (3 page)

The dark, drab velvet curtains had been replaced, along with the sombre flooring and wallpaper, and in their place, more of the bleached wood and some discreet pale linen blinds and colour washed walls. The room blended the old with the new effortlessly, boasting a bank of modern computer screens and high tech hardware, alongside the heavily framed traditional artwork and antique furniture. It was now a calm and functional place to work, without the oppressive seriousness which had dominated the space in her dad’s day.

She stepped into the room, heel tips tapping on the high sheen of the floor as she headed for the telephone, perched precariously on the end of the desk, on top of a large pile of files. As she passed the high backed leather chair and slipped in behind the desk, her eyes fixed on the silver letter opener, cast aside on the smooth glossy surface, and she picked it up curiously, her fingers tracing the distinctive embossed crest on the handle. She’d given this to her father for his birthday several years ago now, she’d purchased it at an auction house in New York with one of her very first pay cheques, strange that he hadn’t taken it with him when he left. It had always been kept in the heavy walnut box that housed his cigars, it hadn’t ever been used to her knowledge, odd to see it just discarded there, on the desk like that. Without thought, she moved to the top left-hand drawer of the desk, looking for the cigar box, giving the heavy brass handle a hefty tug, it always stuck and dad had never had it fixed.

The drawer shot forwards on well-oiled runners and catapulted the contents out all over the floor, paperclips, staples, pens and business cards rained out and spilled all over the floor in waves, strewn in all directions.

Crystal gave a dismayed howl, and fell to her knees in panic, what a mess. As she began frantically scrabbling on the floor trying to round up the tiny bits and bobs she glanced back over her shoulder in fright. What if the new boss was to walk in through that door right now, what would he think? A serious Harvard educated man, who drove a sleek expensive beast of a car like that? He terrified the life out of Jeremy, though he’d never admit it. Mark was a different kettle of fish. He’d always been the born leader, he was standing up quite well under the pressure, or so gran thought. She’d hinted that he was doing well, when they had stopped for a chat and a small bite of lunch together, earlier.

As she rummaged about, grasping indiscriminately at the stationery, she suddenly stopped, horrified. Her wildly groping fingers had settled around a small, luridly patterned and very distinctive box. Rocking back on her heels, she stared at the packaging; surely not? The box was unopened, and she turned it over, strangely fascinated by her discovery, unable to put it down. Strawberry flavour condoms, the mind boggled. How gross. Held like that in the palm of her hand, the package burned a hole where it touched. She squinted at the gaily patterned wrapper twice, just to make sure, and then, as the implications struck home, she rapidly stashed it back in the drawer beside the sticky notes and the business cards. What man kept such things in his desk drawer? From the reports in the papers and the accompanying grainy photos of the man, she wasn’t that surprised to find evidence of his appetites, but to come across them in the office, couldn’t the man wait till he got home?

She realised that Norma would be very disappointed in her behaviour, as she shoved the remainder of the paperclips and drawing pins back, haphazardly, any old fashion. She wished she’d left well alone now, but perhaps she’d got away with it, just this once, no harm done.

All the stuff was back in the drawer, though not necessarily where it had started, and her prime concern was to remove herself from the room as quickly as possible. She’d leave the phone call for now. If she left the bike here overnight, she wouldn’t have to push it and she’d get home much more quickly anyhow, why hadn’t she thought of that earlier, before she had got herself into this mess?

As she carefully closed the office door and made sure that the barrel clicked over twice, she noticed the photocopier standing just a few feet away in the corridor.

The tiniest germ of an idea popped into her head. What made her think of it, she couldn’t imagine, maybe it was the near hysteria of being caught red-handed in the boss’s office, or maybe it was just being left alone in a large dark building, but the thought reverberated around her brain, and she just couldn’t shift it, it was a brilliant trick. She peeked nervously along the corridor, would she dare? No Crystal, be sensible, please. She walked a few feet in the opposite direction, along the passageway to the tiny kitchen area, and threw her empty paper cup into the bin, decisively.

As she turned again and looked back along the hallway, the machine just stood there, in the darkness, winking at her, red light flashing. She hesitated, just for a moment, and wondered how she would go about it, if she did decide to do it. Another moment passed, and she glanced along the corridor again, just to make sure. There was obviously no one else around, and it would only take a moment, no harm would be done, no one would ever know. Temptation won, it would be a real hoot and her brother would hit the stratosphere, it was just too good an opportunity to miss, she sidled up to the copier, hand already reaching for her belt.

As she levered herself into shot, concentrating hard and taking care not to expose too much flesh in the wrong places, reaching backwards for the ‘start’ button, a deep voice drawled from the other end of the darkened corridor “Not the usual activity for a cat burglar, I would have thought?”

Galvanised into action, and rigid with horror, unable to stop the inevitable, her hand came crashing down on the green ‘copy’ button as if in slow motion. The light from the flash lit up the corridor, as the laser passed smoothly under the glass top and returned back again, firing up the mechanism inside the case. Perched as she was, on one cheek, she was unable to regain her balance and as she squirmed to right herself, the sound of steps moving nearer, panicked her into urgent action. It was only a split second, between her agitated wriggling, and the movement that caused her to topple forwards, to land flat on her face, jeans around her knees and bare bottom sticking up, in the middle of the corridor, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

She’d not moved an inch before both arms were grasped from behind, just above the elbows, and she was hauled unceremoniously to her feet. As she was spun around, still struggling, she came nose to nose with the owner of those beautiful grey eyes she’d admired on the train. Since he still had hold of one arm, she dived for her jeans with the other.

“A bit late for that, I would have thought,” he drawled, teeth flashing in the shadows. Then he looked back along the corridor, to the darkness at the other end of the building and instructed, “No problem, Bernard, I’ve got this all under control, you can go on home now. Sorry for dragging you out tonight, it seems I’ve found the source of the alarm. She doesn’t look too dangerous, I’ll deal with this one myself,”

“Righto, Sir,” he coughed, politely. “Night, Miss,” he called, respectfully, as he beat a hasty retreat. Had the elderly caretaker recognised her, she wondered. His wife was the cleaner at the vicarage, if he went home and told her what he’d just seen, it would be all around the village by breakfast time. Great start, Crystal. Could this get any worse?

Cheeks flaming, she brazened it out, lifting her chin a fraction. This situation called for a bit of poise. With determination she raised her eyes slowly, and locked her gaze with his. So, what was he going to do now? He’d seemed much more powerful, older, on the train. The suit was gone, and he looked like he had been on his way out for the evening. Was he going to lecture her, or call the police? She didn’t think so. No harm had been done after all, and considering the contents of his desk drawer, there was no point in being prudish with her, she thought. Though, he didn’t know she’d been in there, of course.

Words were beyond her capabilities. She stayed silent, what would she say anyway, he must have a sense of humour surely? It was only a prank. His hair was dark against the collar of his shirt, and up close his face showed the first signs of a five o’clock shadow, short dark bristles poking through the pores of his skin to form a fine, rough stubble.

He searched her face for remorse, and found none. She looked even younger now, in this light. What was she doing here? He had a horrible feeling that he knew.

“OK, out with it. What were you up to in my office?”he demanded, as he watched her drag the jeans up over slim thighs, scantily adorned by a lurid pink ‘winnie the pooh’ thong, which left more skin exposed than it covered.

Crystal thought fast. So he knew she had been in there then, after all. Must have had the alarm system repaired too, now why hadn’t she thought of that? The truth was usually the best policy, but his proximity was playing havoc with her powers of reasoning. The proficient publicist, who had addressed audiences in their thousands the world over, stuttered and spluttered and gazed wide-eyed at the man in front of her, and managed a garbled “I was looking for a phone.”

“And the photocopier? Looking for a bathroom perhaps?”

Her cheeks flamed. “Don’t be silly. I was taking a picture of course.”

He grasped the black and white image from the hopper, and held it up to the light. “So you were,” he drawled. “Not bad. Cute. Nice angle.”He traced the cheeks of her bottom on the paper with a forefinger, eyes narrowed.

Crystal made a grab for the paper, which he effortlessly moved out of range. “My paper, my photocopier, I think you’ll find, therefore my picture. Thank you very much.” His eyes glittered with amusement, and his mouth quirked, against his better judgement. This one was worse than the brother, how would he cope with two of them around, he wondered.

Mortified, she made another dive for the paper. Sending a copy of her bare bum to Jeremy as a joke was one thing, but leaving it in the hands of his boss was quite another. The action brought her into full body contact with her tormentor, and as their torsos collided he took a deep breath. The lazy grin subsided, and an animal light lit his eyes as his jaw clenched and he let go her arm to grasp her bodily around the waist. Too close, he realised swallowing hard, too soon.

Whoa, her pulse flared and she could suddenly feel every button on his shirt as her breasts flattened against his chest and her body moulded itself to his frame. Her mouth formed the perfect ‘o’.

He stared down into her flushed upturned face for one heartbeat, a muscle working in his cheek as his eyes bored into hers, the heat in his belly was not lazy humour now, it was serious and personal. She was just too damned close.

He jerked roughly, and moved a more reasonable gap between them, firmly setting her back on her feet. He swallowed hard, momentarily stuck for words. ‘Shit’.

Crystal was mute, a high flash of colour stained her cheekbones, her heart was racing fit to burst. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to.

Finally, he broke the silence, “Missing twin, Crystal, I presume?”

Crystal nodded.

“I see, and tell me Crystal, do you always go around making use of other people’s possessions, or is this a first in my case?” he drawled, lazy humour returning as his pulse slowed a little.

“Oh no, it’s definitely a first,” she choked out, still rattled.

“Did you make your call?” he asked politely, as he watched her fingers stumble to button up the flies on the jeans, there was not much room for imagination there. His palms itched to touch the fabric, it looked soft and warm, and he mentally restrained himself.

“No, I had a few problems there,” she replied honestly. The last thing she wanted was him checking the office drawer tonight. She scrabbled in her pocket and drew out the keys.“I’ll just leave these with you, and be on my way then, I was just about to lock up.” She wished he’d just go now, and leave her alone.

“Hurrumph.” He took the bunch of keys from her outstretched palm and jangled them on the fingers of the other hand, he was still holding the photocopy, it didn’t look like he was going to give that back tonight.

She took it as her opportunity to leave, and took a step in the direction of the back door.

“How did you get here?” he asked.“There’s no car out the front.”

“I cycled, this afternoon, the bike’s at the back door. Night,” she returned, as she strolled as nonchalantly as she could manage along the corridor, hips swaying in their natural rhythm, relief causing her voice to catch and her pulse to flip as she headed for sanctuary.

“Uh, huh. No way, missy. You’re not walking home along that pitch black lane tonight on your own, in that get-up. Your gran would have a fit.”He rolled back the cuff on the slim fitting knitted polo shirt, and inspected his watch. “I’ve missed my date now anyway,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Go and sit in the reception area, while I re-set the alarm and secure the building, I don’t want to be called back out here again tonight, that’s for sure.”

Crystal thought back to the woman at the station, so he wasn’t married then, after all. Unless he was a two-timing bastard too, came the ugly thought, you never could tell with the sophisticated types. As she gazed temptingly at the doorway at the other end of the corridor, eager to make her escape, he fixed her a stare.

“Don’t even think about it, you’re coming with me, and that’s final,” he growled. “You’ve caused me enough trouble for one night.”

Chapter 2

An ‘Extraordinary’ Meeting

Crystal rolled over, and squinted at the clock. The flowery bedspread, sprigged with roses and forget-me-nots was unfamiliar, as was the alarm clock thoughtfully placed on the bedside table. As her eyes began to focus and adjust to the half-light she peered blearily at the bright red digital display. It was early yet, just another five minutes. Phil’s face swam in front of her eyes, rapidly superimposed by another dark haired vision, his expression both guarded and amused with full lips parted to reveal even white teeth and grey-blue eyes lazily appraising.

She groaned, as her whereabouts and the details of the previous night, slowly trickled through her sleep-addled brain. Foggy as her recollection was, she just knew she had made a complete arse of herself, in more ways than one. If Bernard didn’t go home and spill the beans, Maisie Tyler was sure to do it for him.

Jazz, he’d introduced himself in the car, had insisted on driving her right up to the front door. The silver grey Aston was just a little pretentious and he may as well have announced their arrival from the rooftops, one blip of the throttle and all of the lights in the row of three cottages had flicked on in unison. Maisie hadn’t even bothered to be discreet; she’d pulled back the blinds and peered out into the night quite openly. And then there was Bernard, had he gone home and regaled his wife, Maude, with the news that she was back in the village again, and half naked in the Boss’s arms, that would make a wonderful story, that would.

Of all the people to catch her, it had to be him. He could tell a yarn, could Bernard. There was many a time, when he’d pull up a bar stool in the ‘Dog and Duck’, and sucking on that smelly old pipe of his, he’d push his cap back on his head, scratch thoughtfully on his forehead, and begin one of his tales. On a cold winter evening, Crystal, still under-age in those days, would sit with her college friends, drinking whatever they could persuade the ‘over 18s’ to buy them, and listen to him tell his stories.

The log fire would be stoked up, and crackling in the grate, and Bernard would have them out at sea, on one of his ferries, or in the galley of a posh private yacht in the Caribbean, he’d seen a lot of the world, had Bernard. From time to time, Maude would look up from her knitting, in the ‘lounge’ next door, and tell him off, ‘for talking such twaddle’, but it didn’t stop him. The stories were embroidered, from one year to the next, but every now and then, a new tale would emerge, always quite shocking, encouraging ribald laughter from the men playing darts down at the other end of the bar.

He’d been a boson, on one of the cross channel ferries for many years throughout his long and colourful career, and he’d seen quite a lot, or that’s what he’d have you believe, anyway. They had ribbed him, repeatedly, for making half of it up, but you could never be sure.

She rumpled a hand through her long hair, and tried to comb out the tangles with her fingers, it needed a decent cut. It was unfortunate that gran and Jazz didn’t see eye to eye on many things, mostly to do with the factory but then she’d known that anyway. So, it was inevitable, really, that her gran had not been amused to peer out of her sitting room window, and be presented with a very clear vision of Jazz snogging her granddaughter in the front seat of his posh sports car last night. The worst thing was, he’d probably only done it to annoy her, and Crystal had fallen right into his trap, snap, like a moth to a flame.

It had only been a quick peck, to be honest, hardly worthy of comment. She’d had guys trying to stuff their tongues down her throat at black tie premieres before now, unwelcome attentions, at that. If she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her, he’d really not have got that close.

Her mind did a double-take, so why had she let him then? That was the real question. She cast around for an answer. It wasn’t like her at all. She’d been off kilter ever since she’d got that phone call in LA early yesterday morning, reactive, really. It hadn’t taken much to check her facts, tragic that she’d not felt it necessary to do some investigating earlier. She could have saved herself a whole heap of heartache, but then in that case, she’d never have taken the assignment in America in the first place.

There lay the answer, to her current dilemma though. Obviously, she had jetlag. Yes, that was it, jetlag. Everyone said it messed with your mind, and she’d only flown in eighteen hours ago, and she’d not stopped since she touched down.

She closed her eyes, as she remembered the feel of his skin on her own, she’d wanted Jazz last night, badly. In truth, he was even more gorgeous close-up; those muscles had rippled firm and smooth under her palms, as he’d moved in close. In the restrictive confines of the car, she’d grasped perfectly formed, warm and corded biceps, through the thin fabric of his shirt.

She’d been an easy target, fragile and vulnerable following the debacle in the office, but to her utter dismay it had not been her who’d called a halt to events last night, the poor guy had almost had to peel her off his lap by the end of that kiss. With a delicious tremor she boldly remembered the feel of his lips on hers, hot and seeking but still powerful and in control. No gentle lover, Mister Jazz Silver, this was a man who liked to take what he wanted.

She’d been beyond the point of coherent thought, when he’d slowly trailed the very tip of his tongue around the innermost edges of her lips before easing his mouth away from her own. Sure that he’d been about to delve in and plunder her mouth with new and abandoned passion, she’d been intensely frustrated when he merely quirked an eyebrow and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, using just enough pressure to set the blood tingling again.

“So, now we both know,” he’d muttered, somewhat cryptically, his voice deep and slightly harsh.

As she’d grasped wildly for the back of his neck, encouraging more intimacy, he’d merely laughed and shaken his head. “Much as I might like to take you up on your offer, gorgeous, I don’t really think now is the time, or the place,” he’d added softly, looking over her shoulder to the row of cottages beyond, and their rapt audience, peering out into the night.“Your gran will burn me at the stake, if I don’t take you in, right now,” he’d smirked as he ran a hand through his hair.

She’d automatically followed his gaze, and picked up his amusement, squirming in her seat. Smug bastard; while she’d been drowning, lost in sensation, he’d been putting on an x-rated show for the neighbours. Bitterness clouded her vision. Just when would she learn? One part of her wanted to drag him back down in the seat, and rip all of the clothes from his body, regardless of the consequences, while her more rational mind ached to slap that smug expression from his face, for all time.

In the end, he’d almost had to haul her out of the car. Her legs had turned to jelly and she had the strangest feeling that she’d said some pretty inflammatory things, in the heat of the moment with frustration running high. Provocative things, tempting things, bold words which she’d not used in a long time. He hadn’t looked as shocked as she’d expected, more self-satisfied actually, a well guarded smile twitched at the edge of his mouth.

In a bid to halt her outrageously wanton behaviour, he’d pulled her up close, so close that she could feel the heat of his body along the whole length of her own. As she’d gasped in surprise, he’d taken the initiative and instructed firmly, “Crystal, leave it. Enough is enough, the timing is wrong and you’re not getting your own way tonight, unfortunately.”The words may have been forceful and his tone imperative, but his voice had dropped an octave as he’d taken the full force of her body. She’d shamelessly writhed a little closer, sliding up against sinew and muscle, her purpose transparently clear.

Had he been even the slightest bit tempted? With a heavy sigh, she rearranged the pillows on her bed and pushed her hair back, out of her eyes. He was impossible to read. She was not an inexperienced child, but that was how he’d made her feel last night. In the cold light of day it felt as if he’d been playing with her, and she was furious to realise that she’d let him. Besides which, he was not even her type, too much testosterone, too clean and polished.

She picked at the remains of the scarlet varnish on her nails and frowned, she was ‘off’ overbearing and bossy men for the moment. An image of Phil swam before her eyes. All she had to do was imagine him, and he appeared at will. She recalled him lazily ordering room service, so that they wouldn’t have to bother getting out of bed or dressing for dinner, on one of the many ‘romantic’ surprise weekend breaks that he’d treated her to. Dressed for the office, in the latest designer suit that he’d always had specially tailored on Rodeo Drive, or barking orders at one of the newest graduate trainees. He considered it his sole prerogative to reduce all but the most thick-skinned of recruits to tears, within days of their joining the company. He could be very cruel, when it suited him.

She’d stood up to him, he’d never managed to bulldoze her in the office, and he’d like that. He’d called her his British bulldog. She wondered what he’d make of her now, if he could see her. Broken and shattered.

The best thing she could do now was put her head down and get on with her life; that was why she was here, after all, to put the past behind her, and figure out what the future held. No more distractions. Not that Jazz would be beating a path to her front door now, after her behaviour last night. The looks he’d passed her on the train hadn’t been exactly encouraging and now she’d merely reinforced his suspicions and behaved like a total floozy.

Another flake of varnish hit the quilt cover.

It was his own fault, he’d started it. He shouldn’t go around kissing people like that. One delicate kiss had turned into a torrid flash of passion, he’d unleashed the hundred mighty demons which she’d held, tamped down hard, since Thursday morning. The tentative hold that she held over her emotions had broken, releasing dammed up frustration, anger and fury, all in one go. He’d backed off quickly enough, but she’d definitely come on too strong with him. It was like her safety valve was broken, or something. She’d never set out to ensnare a man before; she’d never needed to.

She stared up at the ceiling feeling wretched. She’d have to try and avoid the man now, she’d never be able to look him in the face again. She searched the room for answers and found none. Dawn was breaking and she could just make out the blu-tac on the ceiling, where Jeremy had ‘pinned up’ her dream catcher for her, when mum and dad had died. She felt their loss and her own frailty quite keenly for a second or two then she smiled, he did nice things for her sometimes, her brother, when he wasn’t teasing her.

The day stretched ahead of her, and every day ahead of that, she needed a plan. Apart from choosing the costumes, she could do as she pleased today, for a start, there was not much to do around here in the village. Clothes shopping, she decided, was an absolute necessity, she’d filled out a bit in some places since her college days, and although there were several odd bits of clothing hanging around in her gran’s chest of drawers, most of them wouldn’t do up over her bust. Phil had forked out for those, readily enough, it was the only decent thing he’d given her, apart from the Maserati, of course, but she’d thrown the keys to that back at him as she departed. He’d probably already had it valued and sold, knowing him, tight sod. He’d be hard pushed to get her tits back though, they were definitely attached and had always been for her own benefit, not his, and they were staying.

She could hear movement in the room next door, gran was up already then. The walls to the cottage were thick and sturdy, and the building itself was huge, having once been two properties that had been knocked into one, many years ago now, but there wasn’t a lot of privacy, staying with your gran. Considering she was supposed to be an invalid, she’d had a list of complaints as long as your arm, by the time Crystal had made it in through the front door last night. She was late for her meal, what had she been doing at the factory so late, and why was Jazz bringing her home? And that was only for starters. The possibility of the scruffy old bike being stolen in the night, the inconvenience to ‘poor’ Norma and whatever would the neighbours think, being seen out with Jazz, had all been scrutinised. Couldn’t she be a bit more circumspect with her behaviour? Gran’s tightly knit grey perm had quivered with outrage, at the thought of the neighbours.

As a pillar of the local community, and chairwoman of the bridge club at the ‘Primrose Manor Country Club’, gran took her responsibilities very seriously indeed. There was a lot to be said, for coming back home, but she’d forgotten about the almost microscopic interest everyone took in everyone else’s behaviour. There was very little malice in it, of course, but it would upset her gran, if she caused too much scandal. She would have to behave herself for sure.