What Women Want, Women of a Dangerous Age: 2-Book Collection. Fanny Blake

more and more common. They think they can’t get pregnant but they forget about things like this.’

      Knowing she was in good company didn’t make Bea feel any better.

      Three-quarters of an hour later, the result was confirmed, the antibiotics prescribed, advice on the use of condoms dished out and Bea was back on the street, breathing in the exhaust of real life. She remembered the doctor’s advice: ‘Even if the symptoms disappear quickly, you should still avoid having sex for a week.’ That was a laugh. Avoid sex? She was never going to have it again. Not for a bit anyway. Well, not unless she got very lucky indeed. More worrying was the insistence that she should tell her ‘partner’ that he must be a carrier. She’d finessed the part where she should have admitted to knowing him for only half a day by adding a couple of extra dates. Dr McKay didn’t need to know that even if Bea wanted to she had no idea how to get in touch with Tony Castle except through Let’s Have Lunch.

      She checked her mobile to confirm that she was running late. Stopping only to get her prescription en route, she rushed to the office where she had a twelve-thirty meeting with Adam. She arrived too hot and bothered to go straight in so decided to be five minutes late, having straightened herself out in the Ladies, then dipped into her office to get the papers she needed. When she knocked on his door, he opened it, obviously about to go out.

      ‘I’m so sorry, Adam. I had a meeting outside the office and I’ve rushed back as fast as I could but the traffic . . .’

      ‘Don’t worry.’ He straightened his pink and charcoal-grey striped tie before slipping on his tailored dove-grey suit jacket.

      Don’t worry and a smile. Had the man had a personality transplant? Bea stepped back to let him pass. ‘Shall we rearrange for this afternoon?’

      ‘I don’t think we need to.’

      ‘But I thought you said you wanted to go through the forward schedule?’ And I’ve spent the last three days desperately trying to magic something together. If any of those authors don’t deliver on time, I’m dead.

      ‘I do. But I thought we’d do it outside the office. I asked Jade to check your diary and I think you’re free over lunch.’ Less of a question, more an instruction, Bea noted. ‘Well, I was going to catch up with what I’ve missed this morning but, yes, that would be very nice. Thanks.’

      ‘I noticed a new French bistro down the side-street by the tube. I thought we could talk there.’

      Obviously not expecting disagreement, he strode out of the office, with Bea in his wake, clutching her future plan and praying it would look convincing under Adam’s close scrutiny.

      Sitting at a bare wooden table, tucked into a quiet corner of a small, almost empty room, decorated with posters for French cities, tourist sites and French advertisements, Adam suggested they took a moment to look at the menu before they got down to business. A tanned young maître d’ came over and explained in a mouth-watering French accent the dishes of the day, all of which sounded to die for. Convincing herself that food was what she needed to support the antibiotics, distract her from her difficulties and give her strength for the meeting, Bea decided to go for the galette de crabe and then the crevettes aux tomates, leaving room for the cheese board on the other side of the room. Adam gave the menu a cursory glance, then unbuttoned his jacket.

      ‘I’m glad to get out of the office. I thought we could do with a change of scene.’

      ‘Good idea.’ This relaxed version of the Adam Palmer she knew was rather unnerving.

      ‘However, there’s something I want to tell you before we start.’ Not expecting to be taken into his confidence so early on, Bea nonetheless leaned forward to listen. He must have chosen this restaurant because he knew no one would be here to overhear whatever he was about to say.

      ‘About a month ago I met a terrific-looking woman at a party. She was in really good shape.’

      That was the last thing she would have expected him to confide. Bea couldn’t imagine where this might be leading. Not an idea for a book, surely?

      ‘When I asked her how she kept herself looking so good, she told me that she ran twice a week and fasted for one whole day.’

      ‘God. I could never do that.’ Bea felt her waistband biting. Perhaps she should. But not today.

      ‘That’s what I thought too, but in fact it’s quite easy. I’ve been doing it for three weeks now.’

      As he opened up a little, letting something of the man behind the machine slip through, Bea suddenly saw that he might be quite attractive. Vain but attractive. To some. But back to the book in question.

      ‘The only snag with our coming out at lunchtime,’ he went on, ‘is that today’s my fasting day. You don’t mind, do you? I just thought we could get more done here without interruption.’

      ‘Of course not.’ You bastard. ‘I’m not very hungry anyway. I was only going to have the melon and the salade maison.’ Whatever power game you’re playing, I am not going to be fazed by it. She waved goodbye to the cheese.

      Before the food arrived, she had refused the warm crusty French bread with peppery virgin olive oil and had, at his request, passed a copy of the publishing schedule for the next two years across the table. He spread it in front of him so there was little room for her place setting, making her feel crowded and greedy. No doubt another power ploy. As he quizzed her about the titles, she had to keep her wits about her, all too conscious that whenever she had to answer a question, her mouth was full.

      ‘Obviously I looked at this before I took the job, but I wanted to see in more detail the books you expect to be delivered and those you plan to acquire. Some of this is speculative, has to be, of course, but it’s more impressive than I was expecting.’ He sipped his tap water.

      ‘Thank you,’ Bea muttered, through a mouthful of salad, acutely aware that a bit of olive (black, of course) had wedged itself between two of her front teeth. Why did this happen more and more often as she got older, and always at the most inconvenient moment?

      ‘When you say “major autobiography” in October in both years, have you anything in mind or is that just wishful thinking?’ Adam’s grey eyes were on her face, as she tried to manoeuvre the piece of olive out of her teeth with her tongue without it being too obvious. ‘Well?’

      Success, just in time. Thank you, God. ‘I don’t have anything definite lined up but you know as well as I do that these things often come in very close to the wire. I’ll brief Stuart and Jade and ask them to make a real onslaught on the agents, literary and showbiz. Of course I’ll be doing the same so we’ll divide the work between us. I’m confident that we’ll find what we need. And that goes for the big fiction for spring in both years too.’ In fact, she was far from confident, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘They’ll be thrilled to have the extra responsibility and I’m sure they’ll rise to it.’ That was true. Under Stephen, they had been kept in the background, responding to the few manuscripts submitted to them or to those passed directly on to them by him or Bea. There was little room for initiative and their contacts were deliberately limited to the less important or fledgling agents not really dealt with by Bea or Stephen, who concentrated on the heavy hitters. ‘And, of course, I know you’ve got your own contacts.’

      ‘I’m glad you’re responding so well to the challenge.’

      Was that real warmth she saw in his smile? In his eyes as well? Surely not.

      ‘When we last talked, I wasn’t sure you would.’

      ‘I don’t give up that easily.’ Power games might be his thing but Bea knew a few of her own. Following Adele’s advice, she had decided to play the game his way until she knew what her position was. She was not going to relinquish control of her life to him. Perhaps reorganising the way they worked and putting new demands on herself and her senior staff would reignite her enjoyment of the job.

      ‘Good. Now what about losing those