The Determined Husband

The men might do business together, she realized, but they were far from liking one another.

Smiling a little, Martin asked blandly, ‘So, how are you settling in, Sera?’

‘Quite well, I think.’

‘And you like New York?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Have you had a chance to see much of it?’

Before Sera could answer, Cheryl gave her brother a swift, conspiratorial glance and, stepping forward, slid her hand through Keir’s arm.

‘If you can spare a few minutes, there’s someone I think you should meet. His name is Roberto Canelli. Though I only met him myself a few days ago, I happen to know he’s been looking for a suitable site to relocate his business.’

Turning to Sera, Keir asked, ‘I hope you don’t mind?’

Well aware that business was the be all and the end all of the evening, she answered valiantly, ‘No, of course not.’

He gave her a swift, grateful smile and promised, ‘I’ll try not to be too long.’

‘Canelli’s about to complete a deal with Bensons,’ Cheryl warned, ‘so if you have anything that might interest him, you’ll have to move fast…’

A moment later, feeling rather lost, Sera watched as they walked away and disappeared into the throng.

Cheryl was very tall for a woman, almost six feet in her high heels, and with their two heads close together, one so smooth and bright, the other so dark and curly, they made a handsome couple.

‘As you’ve just arrived, you won’t have eaten yet?’ Martin’s voice broke into Sera’s thoughts.

‘No,’ she admitted.

‘Then, while we get to know each other, shall we go and see what the buffet has to offer?’ A hand at her waist, he led her through to the adjoining room.

As she might have expected, the tables held an excellent and varied selection of food, while above the hum of conversation glasses clinked and champagne corks popped.

With a gallantry she found slightly embarrassing, Martin insisted on helping her to a selection of hors d’oeuvres before serving himself.

A lot of the top men from the world of finance were gathered by the buffet, standing in little groups of twos and threes, making new contacts and cementing old ones over smoked salmon canapés and glasses of vintage champagne.

While they ate, Martin pointed out several whose names were synonymous with wealth and power, and told her amusing anecdotes about each.

Sera was laughing at one of them when Keir appeared at her side. She turned to him eagerly.

His expression curiously tight, he told her, ‘Signor Canelli is interested in a site near SoHo that’s just recently come on the market. He’d like to take a look at it straight away, so Cheryl has kindly offered to drive us down there. Will you be all right?’

Her heart dropping like a lead weight, Sera said, ‘I’ll be fine.’ Then trying not to sound anxious, ‘Have you any idea how long you’ll be?’

‘It’ll depend on the traffic, I’m afraid.’ Giving her hand a squeeze, he assured her, ‘But I’ll be as quick as I can.’

‘If you don’t happen to make it back,’ Martin said smoothly, ‘I’ll see Sera gets home safely.’

‘Thank you, but I expect to be back.’ Keir’s voice was only just civil.

It was obvious that he wasn’t happy about leaving her with Martin Rothwell. But business came first.

His face set, he turned and walked away.

Treating the other man’s reappearance as an unwanted intrusion, Martin asked cheerfully, ‘Now then, where were we?’

For the next twenty minutes or so, while they stood by the buffet, he plied her with delicacies and, though he himself drank little, made sure her glass was kept topped up.

Giving her his undivided attention, he asked her a string of questions. Where did she live…? What did she like most about New York…? How did she think life in the States compared with life in England?

He seemed genuinely interested in her answers, and she found him surprisingly easy to talk to.

One of his comments made her ask, ‘Do you know England well?’

‘Fairly well. We have English ancestry and both Cheryl and I have spent some time over there. After leaving college I lived in London for almost three years…’

Despite his charm, he was known to be a hard-headed businessman, and Sera expected him to excuse himself as soon as the meal was over, rather than waste any more time on one of his own employees.

But, even when they’d finished eating and their coffee cups were empty, he remained by her side.

Aware that he would need to mingle with his guests, she put down her cup and said politely, ‘Thank you, Mr Rothwell, that was most enjoyable,’ and made to leave him.

‘Don’t go…’ he put a restraining hand on her arm ‘…and out of the office please call me Martin.’ Seeing the look on her face, he said teasingly, ‘Go on, try it. It’s not that difficult. Martin.’

‘Martin,’ she echoed uncertainly.

‘Not bad. All you need is a little more practice.’

His hand lingered on her arm as he queried, ‘As you’ve been in New York such a short time you can’t know many people here?’

‘No.’

‘Then let me introduce you to a few.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not really dressed for it.’

His pale blue eyes on her face, he said, ‘As far as I’m concerned, you’re quite perfect.’

Disconcerted, she stammered, ‘Th-thank you, but Keir might be back soon, and I—’

‘If he does turn up, I’ll reluctantly hand you over. Until then, let’s circulate.’

He offered her his arm and, feeling she had no option, she took it.

Uncomfortable at first, after a while and rather to her surprise, Sera began to relax and enjoy a novel experience.

On the arm of the big boss, she found herself being regarded with a kind of deference and respect that made her smile inwardly.

As they moved from group to group, pausing to talk to what Martin termed the ‘more interesting’ of his guests, he introduced her simply as ‘Miss Reynolds, an English colleague.’

When the conversation invariably turned to the current financial scene, with a flattering certainty that she knew what she was talking about, he drew her into each discussion, inviting her opinion and treating her as an equal.

It was heady stuff.

An evening she’d only looked forward to because Keir was taking her became stimulating and enjoyable, despite his continued absence.

Towards eleven, people began to drift away, and she found herself saying goodnight to Martin’s guests as though she was his hostess.

The party was coming to an end, with still no sign of either Cheryl or Keir. Oh, what on earth was keeping them? she wondered.

Apparently interpreting her anxious expression, Martin said, ‘It doesn’t look as if they’re going to get back.’

‘No.’ The monosyllable sounded forlorn, when she’d meant it to sound matter-of-fact.

‘In that case, I’ll be happy to see you home.’

Knowing he and his sister shared an apartment on Fifth Avenue, she refused hastily. ‘Thank you, but there’s really no need for you to go out of your way.’

As though she hadn’t spoken, he asked, ‘Where do you live?’

She told him, adding firmly, ‘I can easily get a taxi.’

‘I won’t hear of it. A promise is a promise. And you’ve been neglected enough for one night.’

Not by him, she hadn’t. Though she was a mere employee and he the host of a party thrown solely for business reasons, Martin had contrived to put her interests before business.

Whereas Keir…

Though she immediately snapped off the disloyal thought, a faint feeling of resentment was born.

A hand beneath her elbow, Martin queried, ‘Have you a wrap?’

She shook her head.

‘Then, let’s go.’

When she had been handed into his silver-grey, chauffeur-driven limousine, Martin climbed in beside her and asked, ‘Have you discovered New York by night?’

‘Not really.’ She had spent most evenings sitting in her room, waiting in case Keir might call.

‘Then you must see Times Square and the lights on Broadway.’

Sliding aside the glass panel, Martin gave the chauffeur her address, adding, ‘Drive down Broadway, will you, Carlson?’

To Sera, he explained, ‘Broadway follows an old Indian trail, so it’s the one street that mars Midtown Manhattan’s perfect grid system…’

During the journey he pointed out things of interest and talked easily, entertainingly, about the New York scene and the current musicals.

‘I take it you haven’t been to a Broadway production yet?’ he queried.

‘No, but I’m certainly hoping to. Is it difficult to get tickets?’

‘That depends on what you’d like to see.’

She named one of the latest shows, and was totally disconcerted when he said, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Oh, but I—I didn’t mean—’

Leaning over, he put a finger to her lips. ‘I know you didn’t. But it will be my pleasure.’

When they reached the Brownstone on Quarles Street, Martin got out with her.

A quick glance at the top floor showed that Keir’s window was still dark. So he wasn’t home yet.

Remembering Cheryl’s obvious interest in him, Sera felt slightly uneasy. She had discovered almost at once that, where men were concerned, the redhead was unashamedly predatory…

She became aware that Martin was standing waiting and held out her hand, saying formally, ‘Thank you for everything. You’ve been more than kind.’

He took her hand and tucked it under his arm. ‘I’ll see you up.’

‘But I live on the top floor and there’s no lift.’

‘Do I look that decrepit?’ he asked quizzically.

‘Of course not, but there really isn’t any need.’

‘Let me be the judge of that.’

He accompanied her up the steps and, when she’d let herself in, followed her across the brown-linoleum-covered hall and up the five flights of stairs, where traces of the evening’s cooking smells—greens, onions, garlic, pastrami—still lingered on the hot, stale air.

Turning to glance at him, she saw his nose wrinkle. ‘How on earth do you manage in a place like this?’ he asked with distaste.

‘It’s not really so bad,’ she defended the Brownstone. ‘In fact, I’m quite enjoying living here.’

She refrained from adding that, when Keir was with her, it was as close to heaven as she was every likely to get.

‘Didn’t personnel give you any help?’ Martin questioned.

‘Yes. They went to a great deal of trouble.’

‘It doesn’t look like it to me. I’ll have to see if they can’t come up with something better.’

‘Prices in New York are high,’ she pointed out quietly. ‘I couldn’t afford anything better.’

For a moment he looked angry and she realized that, when he’d set his mind on something, he wasn’t used to being thwarted.

Then he shrugged and suggested with a smile, ‘In that case, you’ll have to try asking Cheryl for an increase in salary.’

When they reached her door, Sera thanked him again. ‘I really am very grateful for everything.’

His pale blue eyes on her face, he suggested, ‘In that case, there’s something you can do for me.’

Watching her freeze, he told her crisply, ‘No, it’s not what you’re thinking. When I do take you to bed, the last thing I’ll be looking for is gratitude, believe me.’

‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered, feeling foolish. ‘What is it you want me to do?’

‘Tomorrow I’m having lunch with Ralph Kessler and his wife. It’s part social and part business. Cheryl, who usually joins me on these occasions, is tied up.

‘I need someone with me who’s intelligent enough to cope with the business side if they both want to talk business, and pleasant enough to carry off the social side if Mrs Kessler just wants to talk. In other words, I’d like you to act as my hostess.’

‘I’d be happy to,’ she agreed, still kicking herself for her previous blunder. Then hesitantly she said, ‘But I really haven’t anything suitable to wear.’

He brushed that off as an excuse. ‘Don’t worry, wear anything. Oh, and don’t bother to go into the office in the morning. I’ll pick you up here at about eleven.’ Then coolly he said, ‘Goodnight, Sera.’

‘Goodnight,’ she answered and, in something of a daze, watched him turn and descend the stairs two at a time.

She had been subconsciously on her guard, half expecting him to try to kiss her, her instincts telling her that, despite knowing about Keir, he had more than a boss/employee relationship in mind.

But perhaps, lacking experience in such matters, she’d totally misread things?

Then recalling his, ‘When I do take you to bed…’ she knew her instincts had been right.

Well, it was only a business lunch she’d committed herself to and, from now on, she’d be doubly careful.

While she took off her make-up and cleaned her teeth in the tiny cramped bathroom, she listened for any sounds of Keir returning, but heard nothing.

When she finally donned her nightie and got into bed she left her light on, hoping that when he did come he would know she was awake, and knock.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN Sera surfaced slowly, reluctantly, her light was still on, but made tawdry by the sunshine filtering through the curtains. She felt disturbed and anxious without knowing precisely why.

It took a minute for her head to clear enough to recall the previous night. It had been after two before she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep and, still, Keir hadn’t returned.

Glancing at the simple watch she wore on a plain black strap, she saw that it was almost ten-thirty, and Martin was coming to pick her up at eleven.

Stumbling out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and, leaving her own door slightly ajar, went to knock on Keir’s.

There was no answer. Had he been and gone? Or hadn’t he returned at all?

But even someone as dedicated as he didn’t work all night. So what had he been doing?

Unbidden, a picture of Cheryl’s striking face and body flashed into Sera’s mind.

With a sudden pang she remembered what Keir had said after they had made love. ‘If it was just a casual affair, with no commitment on either side, it wouldn’t be a problem…’

At the time she hadn’t thought about his words too closely, hadn’t envisaged that he might apply them in other ways.

He’d made no promises about being faithful to her, and she’d asked for none. She had simply thought that, if he loved her, everything would be all right.

But would it?

Cheryl had more than enough sex appeal to light up Broadway, and very few scruples. If she made it plain that she fancied him…well, Keir was a red-blooded man…

Heart-sick, Sera turned away from his door and hurried back to her own room to shower and get ready for when Martin arrived.

Catching sight of herself in the spotted mirror, Sera saw she looked pale and depressed, and made herself up with care before coiling her black silky hair into a smooth knot.

Having nothing more suitable, she put on a white blouse, a charcoal-grey skirt and jacket, and grey leather court shoes. She had just picked up her bag when there was a knock at the door.

Perhaps it was Keir.

She rushed to open it and was disappointed to find Martin standing there.

Seeing the light die out of her face, he asked shrewdly, ‘Were you expecting someone else?’

‘No.’

He quirked a sandy brow. ‘Then, you don’t like my tie?’

Making an effort, she answered lightly, ‘On the contrary, I love it.’

‘In that case, I may never change it.’

Watching twin dimples appear as she smiled, he asked, ‘Ready to go?’

Indicating her suit, she queried, ‘Will this do?’

He pursed his lips. ‘It’s smart, but too office-like for this kind of semi-social occasion.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t have anything more suitable.’

‘That can soon be remedied. We’ll stop off at Barron Conté.’

‘No,’ she said sharply.

His pale blue eyes turned cold. ‘We would be merely purchasing the right clothes for the job. If you were an office cleaner and the company supplied you with an overall, I take it you would have no objections?’

‘No, but—’

‘This is a matter of business. You’re doing a job for the company for which you’ll get paid and for which you need to be stylishly dressed. You don’t have to keep the clothes if you don’t want to.’

She bit her lip. Perhaps this kind of thing was the norm? Maybe she was making a fuss about nothing?

‘What do you say?’

‘Very well,’ she agreed unwillingly. ‘If there’s enough time.’

‘There’ll be plenty of time.’ He smiled his satisfaction. ‘We’re not meeting the Kesslers until one o’clock.’

If lunch wasn’t until one, why had he come to pick her up so early? Unless he’d had this in mind from the start?

Suddenly, recalling how last night he’d said ‘Don’t worry, wear anything’, she knew he had, and felt a sudden apprehension, a growing suspicion that she was being manipulated.

‘Buy whatever you need,’ Martin ordered when they reached Barron Conté and dropped Sera off, ‘and charge it to the company. Price is no object.’

Warily she asked, ‘But what kind of thing would be most suitable?’

‘I’ll leave that to your good taste. But get a complete outfit, including undies.’

Not on your life, she thought. Buying undies had an implication that was unacceptable. The only clothes and accessories she was prepared to buy were the ones that would be visible and were strictly necessary.

‘Now I’ve some business to see to. I’ll pick you up in about an hour,’ Martin added.

Some fifty minutes later, her own clothes packed in a black and gold striped box, Sera emerged from the famous Fifth Avenue store and climbed into the waiting limousine.

She was still dressed in a suit, but the cut, the design, and the raw silk made it a far cry from the one that she had been wearing.

His glance running over her, Martin said with undisguised admiration, ‘You look a million dollars…’

With the sheerest of stockings and a pair of handmade shoes, she felt a million dollars.

‘Though I’d prefer it if you didn’t wear this. It doesn’t go with the outfit.’ Before she could guess his intention, he picked up her left hand and, slipping off her ring, dropped it into his pocket.

Sera held out her hand, saying as levelly as possible, ‘I’d like my ring back, please.’

Seeing the angry sparkle in her green eyes, he retrieved the ring and dropped it into her waiting palm.

‘Thank you.’ She put it carefully into her purse.

‘Not an engagement ring, surely?’ he enquired.

‘A memento…’ Wasn’t that what Keir had called it? She had thought of it as an engagement ring but, looking back, she knew Keir hadn’t. All he’d said was, ‘It might be as well not to keep it on too long. It will probably turn your finger green.’

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