A Suspicious Proposal. HELEN BROOKS

couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she batted her eyelashes again for good measure and shrugged offhandedly. ‘I’m not into this age thing.’ She wrinkled her small nose at him provocatively. ‘Toy-boys, toy-girls, sugar-daddies and all that—so what? It’s just society putting labels on people when all’s said and done, don’t you think?’ And then, as the somewhat sombre waltz changed to a pop number and disco lights began to flash, she added, ‘Prepare your ears for blasting. Christine gave in to the first three dances being formal but the rest of the music is her and Charlie’s choice and they’re into soul and rock and roll.’

      ‘Great. Time for a drink, I think.’ As the hard male body straightened away from her, she was shocked at the sudden sense of loss she felt, but then he was guiding her towards the bar and, to her horror, she saw Charlie’s brother and his wife and in-laws in a little group directly in front of them. It was too soon to blow her cover!

      ‘I’ll wait here.’ She ducked into a small alcove, but not before he had followed her eyes.

      ‘Right.’ The warmth had gone from his voice and now his eyes were blue ice. ‘Went a bit too far, did you?’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’ She stared at him, utterly at a loss.

      ‘With Edward.’ He indicated Charlie’s brother with a wave of his hand. ‘I noticed you two were getting on rather well during the meal. Wife objected, did she?’

      ‘What?’ She didn’t believe this man; she really didn’t. First he had her typecast as a fluffy little coquette without a brain in her head and now she was a would-be husband-stealer, too! The man was obsessed. She knew she’d gone scarlet—temper always affected her that way—but just as she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him a portly matron—a vision in bright pink and mauve—descended on them. Her red-painted mouth was already gushing how absolutely wonderful it was to see him, she’d heard so much about him, and hadn’t it been a positively divine service?

      Xavier was polite, just about, but his voice was cool with a satirical bite and the woman didn’t linger. Nevertheless, it gave Essie a few precious moments to gather her wits and take control of her tongue. He’d pay for that last remark. Not yet, no—she’d take this as far as it could go—but it would make the moment he found out he’d been made a prize fool of all the more precious. What gave him the right to set himself up as judge and jury on other people, anyway? she thought tightly as she watched him make his way to the bar after he had asked her what she would like to drink. She had thought of asking for a double brandy or something similar—to fit the image—but, just in case he took her at her word, she hadn’t dared. Her delicate stomach couldn’t cope with anything stronger than tonic water.

      By the time he returned, Essie was fully into the part she was playing again. As they sat down at a vacant table, she set to with gusto, regaling him with a few of the anecdotes Janice had told them last night about her life at college—and out of it—especially the more outrageous bits. Janice had had no compunction in revealing she was no vestal virgin, and now, as Essie related the other girl’s stories, she had the added advantage of authenticity.

      And yet she wasn’t getting quite the reaction she had expected, she admitted to herself after some time had passed. He ought to be congratulating himself that he was on to a good thing, but if he was he was hiding it well, she thought caustically. The air of disapproval was stronger now, if anything.

      ‘You’ll burn yourself out if you’re not careful.’ His voice was abrupt after she had giggled her way through Janice’s antics at the college Christmas party, which were definitely X-rated.

      Funnily enough, it was exactly what she herself had said to Janice the night before, and now she gave the answer Janice had given her in the same flippant tone the other girl had used. ‘Life’s for living and I want to get the most I can out of mine.’

      ‘I think you’ve made that very clear,’ he said grimly.

      ‘And you?’ She leant forward now, just close enough so her perfume—a wildly expensive one that Christine and Charlie had given her and Janice to thank them for being bridesmaids—tickled his senses and the soft silk of her hair brushed his face for a moment. ‘What about you?’ she asked softly. ‘Don’t you believe in having a good time?’

      ‘Oh, yes, Janice. I believe in having a good time,’ he said with a sudden silky dangerousness that caused the alarm bells to start ringing.

      She was out of her league here. A tiny voice in Essie’s head shouted the warning. She had been playing with fire, and, if she wasn’t very careful, she might well get burnt. A little shiver of something hot—fear, excitement, desire? She wasn’t sure—flickered down her spine, igniting something deep in the core of her.

      ‘There you are, then,’ she said huskily, and the throatiness wasn’t at all feigned. Janice had been right when she’d said Xavier Grey had something, and that something was lethal. Call it sheer old-fashioned sex appeal or animal magnetism or whatever—he had it all right. And he knew how to use it when he wanted to, Essie thought weakly. One minute the cool, aloof ice-man, the next a seductive, fascinating charmer with more pulling power than a hundred icons of the silver screen.

      ‘Look, I’m going to have to circulate for a while.’ She stood up abruptly and she wouldn’t admit to herself it was due to panic. ‘We’ve been talking for nearly an hour and as—’ she nearly said ‘chief bridesmaid’ and checked herself just in time, in case he’d been told that job was Essie’s ‘—a bridesmaid there are certain duties expected of me.’

      ‘Of course.’ He had risen to his feet with her and now he nodded, his manner easy. ‘Just one thing…’

      ‘Yes?’ He had paused and now Essie looked up at him enquiringly. ‘What is it?’

      ‘Come back to me.’ His voice was deep and low and the heat inside her burnt stronger. Which was ridiculous, just plain ridiculous, she told herself feverishly, hearing her voice make some light reply even as her mind worked quite separately. He was an experienced man of the world, a powerful, rich bachelor who was used to women lining up for him, and an encounter like this would mean nothing to him.

      And what was this encounter, anyway? she asked herself with a touch of hidden hysteria as she walked across the room to where Janice was sitting—with characteristic abandonment—with her shoes off and her feet resting on another chair. It was a fabrication, an illusion.

      ‘I see you’ve made a conquest.’ Janice’s voice was utterly without malice as she glanced up at the slim, beautiful girl in front of her. ‘He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all day.’

      ‘No.’ Essie looked down at the other girl and came to an instant decision, plumping down beside her and leaning forward conspiratorially. ‘Actually, Jan, it isn’t as straightforward as it looks.’

      ‘What isn’t?’

      ‘Me and Xavier Grey. He thinks I’m you,’ Essie said quietly.

      ‘What?’ Janice jerked her feet to the floor. ‘How on earth did he come to think that?’ she asked in bewilderment. ‘And why haven’t you told him who you really are?’

      ‘Well, it was like this…’ As Essie began to explain, Janice’s eyes began to twinkle, and by the time she had finished, the other girl was giggling unrestrainedly.

      ‘Serves him right.’ She glanced across the room and then back to Essie. ‘And it’s pretty insulting to me, too, if you think about it. I might not be God’s gift to the male sex, but I can still get the odd fella’s juices going, I can tell you.’

      ‘I don’t doubt it for a minute.’ Essie grinned back, and then, as their gazes met and held, both girls collapsed into helpless laughter.

      ‘So when are you going to tell him?’ Janice asked, once they had composed themselves.

      ‘I don’t know.’ Essie shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘When I’m tumbled, I suppose; someone is bound to drop me in it eventually.’