A Passionate Affair. Anne Mather

answer your call.’ Cassandra was contrite. ‘I—er—it’s been quite a hectic day.’

      She made a face at Chris’s disbelievingly raised eyebrows, and listened with assumed concentration to what the accountant had to say. Obviously, the fact that his father and Mike’s had been friends gave a certain partiality to his tone, and in spite of her misgivings, he seemed to think she could well afford professional advice.

      ‘I’d like to call and look over your books,’ he ventured at last. ‘When would that be convenient? I don’t want to interfere with your working schedules.’

      ‘Oh—–’ Cassandra shrugged her shoulders, and put her hand over the mouthpiece so that she could speak privately to Chris. ‘He wants to come and look at the books,’ she said, looking anxious. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea?’

      ‘Sure,’ Chris nodded. ‘Tell him to come tomorrow, while you’re down at Windsor. I guess I could manage to show him round.’

      Cassandra nodded. ‘Oh, good.’ She removed her hand, and spoke to Paul Ludlum again. ‘Would tomorrow morning be all right?’

      ‘Tomorrow morning? Yes, I think I could manage that. Around eleven?’

      ‘Around eleven,’ Cassandra repeated in agreement, then rang off before she could change her mind.

      ‘What’s your problem?’ Chris demanded, as she chewed unhappily on the end of her pencil. ‘We’re going to need an accountant, Cass. You can’t keep on burning the candle at both ends.’

      ‘Hardly that,’ she grimaced.

      ‘No. But you do work in the evenings, when you should be out enjoying yourself.’

      ‘Oh, yes?’ Cassandra was sardonic. ‘Chris, I don’t honestly think I was cut out for enjoying myself.’

      ‘What rubbish!’ Chris was impatient. ‘Look, just because Mike made your life a misery—–’

      ‘Let’s not talk about that, Chris.’

      Cassandra interrupted him, but Chris was determined to be heard. ‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘I know he’s dead, and you don’t want to say bad things about him, but let’s face it—he wasn’t the man to make you happy.’

      Cassandra went to plug in the kettle. ‘Maybe it was my fault,’ she mumbled, her back to him, smarting from the remembrance of her lunch with Jay Ravek. ‘Maybe I don’t—well—–’

      ‘Well—what?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Maybe I attract the wrong kind of men.’

      ‘What—–’ muttered Chris, swearing under his breath, but Cassandra heard him and shook her head.

      ‘I mean it. Perhaps the kind of man I really need isn’t attracted to me.’

      ‘Oh, Cass—–’

      ‘Well, why not?’ She grimaced. ‘I guess I give the wrong impression. Mike used to say that.’

      Chris raised his eyes heavenward. ‘Cass, you’re a sexy lady—–’

      ‘I may look that way, but I’m not,’ declared Cassandra firmly, her lips twitching a little at the incongruity of this conversation. ‘Honestly, Chris, I don’t think I’m cut out for—well, for that kind of a relationship. I thought I was—but I was wrong.’