The Bedroom Assignment

So what’s wrong with this one?

Zoe suppressed a sigh and smiled resolutely at the tall man standing next to her friend. As far as she could tell in the disco lighting he looked all right. Heck, he looked as tall as her prince from the hallway. But he had to have some mega problem or Suze would never have called her over. The party had got to the stage where you didn’t make introductions.

‘Hi,’ she yelled, trying to make herself hear above the dance beat and only half succeeding. She fluttered her fingers at him. ‘Zoe Brown.’

He did not seem to realise that that meant she had not caught his name. He looked bored. Dark as the devil, sleek as a seal just out of the water, and bored.

No-hopers didn’t usually look bored. They looked sulky or wary or too eager to please. And they couldn’t believe their luck when a babe like Zoe stopped by.

The tall dark man did not seem to notice that she was a babe. In fact he did not take his eyes off Suze. He looked as if he’d been sandbagged.

‘Hi.’ It sounded strangled.

Suze smiled and turned her shoulder on him. ‘Zoe, meet your fate.’

He looked startled.

Not nearly as startled as Zoe, though. As he bent his head she realised who he was. The deep, deep eyes. If they went somewhere where the light was normal that shirt would be flame-coloured. And silk. Definitely not a no-hoper.

And Suze said he was her fate?

‘What?’ she said, temporarily forgetting that they would not hear her. After all, she could not hear herself. She took hold of Suze’s arm and shook it hard to get her attention. ‘What—did—you—say?’ she mouthed with great care. Her eyes burned with indignation.

Suze’s naughty smile widened.

‘Nine to five for the next four weeks,’ she mouthed back.

‘What?’

Suze sighed visibly. She looked up at the ceiling. The rotating light balls, hired for the party, were making a great success of turning the Edwardian mouldings into a starship re-entry burst. She shrugged and waved them both to the French windows, with great traffic policeman gestures.

There were no speakers in the garden, at least. Between the incessant beat and the noise of the party it was not exactly silent, but at least you could hear what people were saying. Not that most people came out here to talk. There were several couples, dancing or lying on the grass, heads close, not talking.

Out in the dark, where no one could see, Zoe flinched. Performance Zoe took her to task. So what else is new? No point in minding. That’s what people do at parties.

She even did it herself sometimes. Only she just did it for the look of the thing. Then sidled out later, when she could. Not that anyone noticed her sidling out. If anyone were to suggest that popular Zoe Brown had never gone beyond a kiss in the dark, her friends would split their sides.

She did not want them splitting their sides tonight. Not in front of the Mogul Prince. Performance Zoe took control.

‘’Scuse me,’ said Zoe, shimmying past a couple gazing fixedly into each other’s eyes and shifting from foot to foot in a rhythm that was at least three tracks ago.

She made for the orchard terrace, pounding up the uneven York stone steps with the sure-footedness of long practice. The others followed.

Zoe turned, hands on her hips, ready for confrontation.

The smooth-as-a-seal man was already on to it, though. He had obviously decided to stop being bored. Suze was beginning to look alarmed.

Suze’s father was a judge. Nobody ever alarmed Suze.

The man said with dangerous quietness, ‘Want to explain, Susan?’

Well, it sounded dangerous to Zoe. In fact the hair came up on the back of her neck at the deep drawl.

‘Er…’ said Suze, floundering.

She never floundered, either. She was as quick on her feet as Zoe. In fact Zoe had learned her ‘Evasive Manoeuvres For When the Conversation Gets out of Hand’ from Suze in the first place. And Zoe was the best.

‘I’ve been conned, haven’t I?’ said the tall dark man in a level voice. ‘I want a professional job. And you think you can unload one of your ditzy friends.’ His eyes skimmed Zoe briefly. ‘No offence.’

‘Ditzy friend?’ she gasped.

Suze sent her an exasperated look before returning to her main opponent. ‘Chill out, Jay. I’m doing my best—’

‘I need someone to work,’ he said intensely. ‘Not a filing clerk in a micro skirt.’

‘Zoe can hack it.’ Suze waved a hand. ‘Zoe can do anything.’

The man swung round on Zoe and she swallowed hard. In the flickering light of the summer candles he looked about ten feet tall.

Ten feet tall and mad as a hornet was not the ideal prospective employer. Thank you, Suze.

She said furiously, ‘I never agreed—’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Nor did I. A research assistant able to work on her own initiative?’ he asked pleasantly, not taking his eyes off Zoe. ‘I don’t think so.’

Zoe stiffened. ‘I beg—your—pardon?’

‘I know what she can do,’ snapped Suze. ‘Zoe and I used to go to school together.’

His eyes were unreadable in the dark, but his whole stance said he didn’t believe a word of it.

‘Oh, yes? And when did St Bluestocking’s start turning out unskilled filing clerks?’

Zoe flinched all over again.

Plenty of people thought she was wasting her university education by doing temporary jobs in a variety of offices. Only last week her father had taken her out to lunch and tried to probe, delicately, when she was going to get a real job. But no one had actually told her to her face that she was unskilled. Or implied that she was a thing of no worth because of it.

She forgot the passionate mouth and the mogul silk. She decided he was all ten feet tall hornet man. And she hated him.

She said clearly, ‘I’m temping while I consider my options.’

It was true, too. Only—she had been considering her options for two years now and was no nearer finding a solution. She was not going to admit that to hornet man, though.

He looked her up and down. She could not see his face but she could feel the hard, swift appraisal. He took a couple of step towards her, lithe as a panther padding around its prey, assessing whether it was worth the effort of the chase or not.

Not that he could see much in the candlelit dark. Maybe her long, soft hair as it waved loosely about her shoulders in the night breeze. Or the glittery black see-through stuff of the shirt that left her shoulders visible and her slim midriff exposed. Enough to realise that she looked as cool as Suze, anyway.

And that, of course, was the trouble. She looked as cool and confident as any other girl here. More confident than most, maybe, especially when she was wearing these soft glove-leather trousers that hugged her slim hips and turned Suze green with envy.

She looked just fine. It was only inside that she knew she wasn’t. Wasn’t confident. Wasn’t fine. Wasn’t normal.

And wasn’t going to admit to any of it. Well, not in front of hornet man. She stuck her chin in the air and glared at him. And took a decision.

‘You can stop looking me up and down as if I’m livestock. You get my time nine to five, starting Monday morning,’ she told him crisply. ‘And that’s all your money buys you. Friday nights aren’t in the package.’

Suze drew in an audible breath.

He was taken aback. His head went back as if she had driven a foil straight at his chest.

Then he said dryly, ‘That sounds like St Bluestocking’s, all right.’

Zoe was still angry. ‘So apologise.’

Suze gave a soft whistle. But the man said slowly, ‘For what?’

‘For looking at me like that.’

‘Aren’t you being a bit over-sensitive?’ He was amused.

Amused! Zoe decided she wanted blood.

‘If I am, then you won’t want me to work for you, will you?’ she said with shining amiability.

‘I never said—’

She shook her head. ‘You know what over-sensitive people are like,’ she told him earnestly. ‘A real strain. Especially if management isn’t geared up to cope. So disruptive in a small office. Much better if we just call it quits now.’

And just see if Suze can get you someone else by Monday morning, you jerk.

She thought he would backtrack fast. But he didn’t. He looked at her for a long moment. In quite a different way this time.

Then he said, ‘What makes you think that the office is small?’

Zoe gave a rather good start of surprise. ‘Isn’t it?’ she asked, all artless confusion. ‘I just thought if they let someone like you hire the staff they wouldn’t be big enough to afford a proper human resources manager.’

Suze sucked on her teeth audibly.

But the man did not say anything for a moment. Then, ‘I—see. Yes, I can follow your reasoning there.’ His voice was tinged with unholy amusement.

For some reason Zoe suspected he had scored a point there, though she could not quite see what it was.

She said, ‘I really don’t think I should take the job if you’re not sure about my temperament…’

He laughed aloud. ‘I think you’ll cope.’

‘Oh, but I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable—’

‘Yes, you would,’ he interrupted. ‘And I don’t blame you, either.’

That disconcerted her. ‘Is that an apology?’ she said suspiciously.

‘I suppose it is.’ He sounded surprised at himself. He swung round on Suze, a silent spectator for once. ‘I apologise to both of you. I shouldn’t leap to conclusions. Sorry, Susan.’ He made her an odd, formal little bow, then looked at Zoe. ‘And sorry Ms Bluestocking, too. I’ll see you on Monday morning. No more snide remarks, Scout’s honour.’

‘Thank you,’ said Zoe. She meant to sound dignified, but even to her own ears it came out just plain sulky.

Suze sent her a quick, worried look. Hornet man did not notice.

‘That’s settled, then,’ he said cheerfully. ‘So now I’ll be on my way.’

Suze didn’t like that. ‘Going on to another party, Jay?’

He laughed. ‘Weekend in the country. And I’m not going to get there until after three in the morning at this rate. I’m not going to be popular.’

‘She’ll wait up for you,’ said Suze dryly.

But she did not say it very loudly, and Jay Whoever-he-was, running lightly down the steps and back among the partygoers, did not seem to hear.

Zoe let out a long, shaky breath and leaned against the trunk of the apple tree. Her legs felt as if they were made of cotton wool. Gently vibrating cotton wool.

‘Tell me it’s not true,’ she begged. ‘Tell me I haven’t just signed up with Captain Blood!’

Suze was watching the slim dark figure find his surefooted way down the terraces and disappear into the house. ‘Captain Blood?’ she echoed absently.

‘He looked me up and down as if I was in a corsair slave market.’

Suze jumped and re-engaged attention. ‘You watch too many old movies. Jay Christopher is no pirate.’

‘Then why does he prowl like one?’

Suze gave an incredulous laugh. ‘He doesn’t. You’re just saying that because you fancy him.’

Zoe jumped as if her friend had turned the garden hose on her. ‘You’ve got to be joking. Why would I fancy him?’

‘Everyone does,’ said Suze simply.

‘Can’t imagine why,’ Zoe muttered.

‘Get real, Zo. You saw the man. He’s lethal.’

‘He’s rude and arrogant.’

‘He can afford to be arrogant. You didn’t seem to clock it, but that was the man himself. Jay Christopher of Culp and Christopher Public Relations.’ There was a faint question mark in Suze’s voice.

Zoe pushed her hair back. ‘So?’

‘The Big Cheese. The one the financial reporters write the big profiles of.’

Zoe refused to be impressed. ‘You know me. I don’t read the financial pages.’

‘He hangs out in the sports section as well. To say nothing of the gossip columns. Olympic medallist. One of the long-distance races. You must remember him.’

But Zoe shook her head. ‘You know me. No competitive edge.’

Suze almost danced with frustration. ‘You must remember. No one rated him. And then he just came from nowhere and took the medal.’

A chord in Zoe’s memory started to vibrate very gently. She had a vague picture of an old television news bulletin—a tall, proud figure with remote eyes, in spite of his heaving chest and sweat soaked running gear.

Well, the eyes were right. Though that flame-coloured silk suggested that he had not broken out into a sweat in long while.

‘Maybe I do remember,’ she said.

‘He set up his public relations agency with Theodora Culp, the business journalist. Now it’s one of the best in London. Theodora’s gone back into television, of course, so Jay runs it single-handed.’ Suze laughed. ‘And you thought he was a human resources manager.’

‘I told him he was a bad human resources manager,’ Zoe reminded her. For some reason it felt like a small triumph. Because she had been fighting back, she supposed, not melting into a warm puddle of sub-teen lust at his feet. She would have died rather than admit it, but Suze was not the only one who fancied Jay Christopher.

‘He won’t care. Jay’s not mean. And he knows how good he is.’ Suze was thoughtful for a moment. ‘They say one of the big international advertising agencies is sniffing round Culp and Christopher at the moment. If Jay sells out he’ll be making himself some serious money.’

But if Zoe was unwillingly attracted to the tall man with the remote eyes, she did not give a hoot about serious money. She did not have to say so. Her expression said it all.

‘You’ve got to admire him,’ Suze urged. ‘He did it all on his own. His grandfather’s a brigadier, and terribly well connected. But Jay wouldn’t let him help out, even when the business was just two men and a dog to begin with. Jay would have every right to be insufferably pleased with himself. But he isn’t.’

‘No?’ Zoe was sceptical.

‘Well, not normally. You did seem to rub him up the wrong way.’

Zoe bristled. ‘It’s mutual.’

‘I could see that. Never seen a man wind you up so fast in my life. And plenty have tried. You’re always Miss I Can Cope.’

If only you knew.

But she didn’t say that. Why didn’t she say that? She wanted to get rid of this false image that her best friend had of her, didn’t she? So why the heck did she flick back her hair, strike an attitude and go into the performance Suze expected?

‘I still am. I got that man to apologise.’ She even sounded complacent.

Megabyte Man would say I need a hard drive diagnostic.

‘Yes. I suppose it’s all right.’ Suze sounded doubtful. ‘It will be fine,’ Performance Zoe said breezily. ‘I’ve worked for some stinkers in my time. Now I’ve broken his resistance Mr Successful will be a piece of cake.’

Suze just looked at her.

Zoe’s chin came up another ten degrees. ‘So?’ she challenged. ‘You don’t really think I can’t handle him? Do you? Me?’

Suze put her head on one side. ‘How long have we been friends?’

‘Nineteen years,’ said Zoe, literally.

‘Then believe me. You really, really can’t handle Jay Christopher.’

Performance Zoe snorted. She had a wide repertoire of dismissive noises.

‘I know you. I know Jay Christopher.’ Suze shook her head wisely. ‘Take my advice. You don’t want to go there.’

‘And why not?’

‘Don’t forget—I know all your ex-boyfriends, Zo.’

Even Performance Zoe was silenced.

Suze shook off her unaccustomed seriousness. ‘Come on. The night is young. We’ve got some serious partying to get in before dawn.’

She was not wrong. And Zoe was the life and soul of it. She danced with Megabyte Man, and Lauren’s boring accountant, and Alastair, whom she had made miserable five months ago, and who now had a brilliant French girlfriend. She danced on her own. She draped her arms over the shoulders of her sister Artemis and Suze and did an untidy high-kicking routine.

As the sky began to lighten only the long-distance party animals were still there.

‘Come on,’ said Zoe, finding a fast song about a rodeo cowboy. ‘Line-dance.’

They lined up and went into the rapid routine that they had worked out last Christmas. Amid raucous insults and much giggling, they managed to keep up for a bit. But in the end too many of them went right while the others went left. Finally Harry did a sideways jump into Suze and the whole line staggered. The music raced away from them. They ended up in heap on the floor, laughing.

‘Great party,’ said the stragglers, tumbling out into the grey morning.

By morning, though, there were only six people left in the shabby kitchen. Hermann, who was Suze’s current favourite, sat on the corner of the scrubbed pine table, plucking at a guitar and singing softly. He was waiting for Suze to take him home to bed and everyone knew it.

Zoe’s younger sister, Artemis, clutched her boyfriend sleepily round the waist as he systematically loaded empty bottles into a cardboard box. From time to time Ed put an absent hand behind his back and patted her hip encouragingly.

Suze and Zoe had bagged up all the food remains in three black sacks and were now loading the dishwasher with the last of the glasses.

This was after Suze had taken Harry on one side and briefed him tersely about his sister’s imminent employment prospects.

‘She really needs this job,’ she ended fiercely.

Harry might be only seventeen but he was a realist. He nodded slowly.

‘Yup. And not just for the money. She needs to do something for herself. And something to stop Mum thinking she only has to call and Zoe will be there. Okay, Suze. Leave it to me.’

Thereafter Harry wandered among the debris, theoretically helping. In practice he was eating any food that he decided there was no room in the fridge for.

‘You’ll be sick,’ said Zoe, matter-of-factly.

Harry grinned. ‘I’m seventeen. My digestion is at peak performance.’

‘It was our best party ever,’ said Suze with satisfaction. ‘Did you get to see Jay, Hermann? Hermann was at college with Jay,’ she explained to Zoe. ‘That’s how I got a nibble at the Culp and Christopher account in the first place.’

‘I saw him.’ Suze’s boyfriend executed a rippling final chord and put the guitar away. ‘Nice of him to come.’

‘Why shouldn’t he?’ demanded Suze, bridling.

Hermann was peaceful. ‘He’s running with the great and the good these days. Not a lot of time for simple socialising.’

Zoe sniffed. She was not surprised, somehow. The Mogul Prince had that look of a man who could hardly bring himself to bother with other people.

‘Don’t scare Zoe,’ Suze warned. ‘She’s going to work for him on Monday.’

‘I’m not scared. I was not intending to make friends with the man,’ Zoe said crisply.

Artemis’s Ed laughed. ‘You can’t scare Zoe. One flash of those big brown eyes and men just roll over with their paws in the air—don’t they Zo?’

Artemis rubbed her cheek against Ed’s bent back. ‘Are you going to be long, lover? I’m wiped.’

Zoe was irritated. ‘Like Suze was telling me earlier, there’s more to human relationships than sex, Edward.’

There was burst of ribald laughter from the other five.

‘That’s a good one, coming from you, sis,’ said Artemis fondly. ‘The last of the femmes fatales.’

For once Performance Zoe did not flip into action automatically. Maybe because she was tired.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped.

She seized a damp cloth and worked vigorously at the stains on the table where Ed’s wine bottles had stood.

Artemis unwound herself from Ed’s hips. ‘Oh, come on, Zo. You know it’s true. Your men hardly ever get beyond the fourth date. And I know that they call you and call you because I take the messages. So if it’s not them getting bored, what is it? Picky, picky Princess Zoe, that’s what.’

Zoe bit her lip. If they knew the truth they wouldn’t laugh like this. On the other hand she had worked quite hard so that they wouldn’t know the truth.

And Ed’s next remark proved how right she had been to do so.

‘Hey, don’t worry, babe,’ he said, straightening with the box of bottles in his arms. ‘I think it’s cool.’ He flourished the box at Zoe in a sort of elephantine salute. ‘My friend the heartbreaker. Ta-da.’

‘Could solve your career problems,’ suggested Suze. ‘See if MI5 has an opening for Olga the Beautiful Spy.’

Zoe threw the cloth at her.

And everyone laughed. Just as they always did.

Zoe poured detergent, slammed the dishwasher shut, selected a program and switched it on. Everyone stood up with relief.

‘Thanks for the help with the clearing up, guys. I love you tonight, but I’ll really worship you tomorrow,’ Zoe said. ‘Hermann—take her home. She’s out on her feet.’

‘Little mother of all the world,’ teased Suze.

But Suze was drooping, and everyone knew it. Hermann packed his guitar away in its case and put his arm round her.

‘Lean on me, babe.’

Zoe looked away. Nobody noticed.

‘All of three doors down the street,’ scoffed Suze.

But she leaned into him gratefully and they wrapped their arms round each other. They were muzzy with sleep and low-grade lust. But they looked back to wave as they wandered off into the clear morning.

‘Goodbye,’ said Artemis and Ed, plodding off in the direction of his flat over the paper shop, leaning into each other and swinging their clasped hands. Artemis slept at Ed’s at the weekends. Well, more like all the time now.

Harry wandered off to his room with a video and a paper plate of garlic bread.

Zoe decided she was too alert to go to bed. She made herself some hot chocolate. Hot chocolate was Zoe’s long-term comfort drink. She had been brewing a lot of it lately.

She poured it into the heavy dragon-adorned mug her father had brought back from a trip. He had given it to her just before he’d told her he was moving out. It used to be a family joke: she got the things with dragons on them; Artemis had cats; Harry had crocodiles. No one had given Zoe anything with dragons on it since that day. She was glad.

She would have been quite glad if the dragon mug had been broken, but somehow it was too sturdy. Other mugs came into the house and got pushed off tables or dropped on the stone patio or trodden to dust when someone left them on the carpet after watching television. But solid old dragon just kept on going.

Seven years now. She had been sixteen then. That was why her parties always said, ‘Sixteen Again’. At sixteen she had turned into—what was it Suze called her? Little mother of all the world. Yes, that was it. At sixteen Zoe had turned into the household’s Responsible Adult. And she still was.

At least the thick dragons kept the drink warm. That was useful. The dawn had a chill to it.

Zoe went out onto the patio and sat down on the worn old bench. She held the mug under her chin, brooding.

Artemis was right when she said that Zoe never let a man take her out more than four times. Sometimes she did not let them take her out twice. They looked at her, saw her long legs and fashionably slim figure. They listened to her and heard a sharp tongue and a cool party girl with loads of friends. And nobody—nobody—saw that it was an act.

Responsible adult. Hot babe. Cool gal. The last virgin in the northern hemisphere.

‘What a mess,’ said Zoe wryly. She shivered, in spite of the hot drink between her hands.

Miss I Can Cope. That was what Suze had called her. She believed it, too. Zoe was not sure how. She knew that her family saw what they wanted to see. But how could her best friend be fooled?

Because you’re good at the performance.

Well, good enough. Up to a point. One day soon someone was going to find her out. She felt the chill touch her again. Maybe she had met him now.

She had so nearly given herself away tonight, with the way she had stared at the Mogul Prince. He had seen it, too. She knew he had. He had looked at her so hard that she’d thought he was going to be able to draw her. And his face had told her absolutely nothing.