The Perfect Sinner. PENNY JORDAN

      As Harold Cavendish, the senior partner, gave him his benign smile and waved him into a chair, Max stiffened warily when he realized that he was the last to join the meeting.

      As the meeting followed its normal and predictable course, Max allowed himself to relax a little and mentally began to run over in his mind who would make the most suitable replacement in his bed.

      When the meeting was over, Max got up to leave, then froze as the senior partner placed a restraining hand on his arm and told him quietly, ‘Er, no, Max. I’d like you to stay. There’s something we need to discuss.’

      Harold Cavendish waited until the others had gone before beginning to speak. Max might not be very popular in chambers and Madeleine’s father might have had to put pressure on them to take Max on, but there was no doubt whatsoever about the effect he, and his brand of dark, smooth good looks, had on their female clientele. It wasn’t just his own business that Max had increased while he had been with them, as Harold himself was keenly aware.

      Max always reminded him of a particular breed of German dog, all sleek good looks and power on the outside, but inwardly possessed of an unreliably vicious streak that, when provoked, could be extremely dangerous. His wife had once told him wryly that it was the thought of harnessing and controlling all the sexual power and uncertainty that was Max that made women behave so foolishly over him.

      ‘It’s the knowledge that they’re never quite totally in control of him that is so alluring,’ she had told him. ‘Max represents the dark and dangerously exciting side of sexual attraction.’

      ‘Chap’s a bounder,’ he had objected gruffly. ‘Look at the way he treats poor Madeleine.’

      ‘Yes, I know,’ his wife had agreed ruefully, ‘and I’m afraid that that just makes him all the more potently alluring.’

      Harold had shaken his head, not really understanding what she meant, and he was no closer to understanding now just why so many pretty women were foolish enough to get involved with Max.

      Harold waited until Max had closed the door before telling him uncomfortably, ‘Had a chat with Robert Burton. He, er … seemed to think there could be something unprofessional going on between you and his wife….’

      Max said nothing.

      ‘He’s a very powerful man and we handle a lot of his friends’ and contacts’ work.’

      Max still said nothing, and Harold found himself fighting against a sense of irritation with him that he wasn’t doing the decent thing and making things easier for him.

      ‘Fact is, old chap, that to put it bluntly, Burton isn’t too happy about the way …’

      ‘His wife’s solicitor was instructing me with regard to her divorce,’ Max interrupted him coolly. ‘If Robert Burton chooses to misinterpret that … relationship … then …’

      ‘Well, yes. Yes, of course,’ Harold agreed hurriedly. ‘But one has to think not just of one’s own reputation, you know, but the reputation of chambers as a whole as well, and if it gets around that … well … if Burton should get it into his head to put the word about … The fact is, Max, that we’ve discussed the subject among ourselves and Jeremy tells us that you’ve no major work on at the moment, so we think … that is, we feel … it might be a good idea for you to take some extended leave, say a month or so … just until this unpleasantness blows over, and then …’

      Max stared at him in disbelief.

      ‘You’re barring me from chambers,’ he accused. ‘You can’t do that.’

      ‘No. No … of course not,’ Harold agreed hurriedly, ‘no such thing … no such thing at all. Fact is, old chap, that all of us need to take a decent break from time to time, and young Maddy would probably appreciate the chance to see a bit more of you….’

      Max looked coldly at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him that he didn’t give a damn about what Maddy would appreciate, but he managed to restrain himself.

      Robert Burton had certainly managed to put the wind up Harold, he acknowledged bitterly. Pompous old bastard, who was he to tell Max what he could and couldn’t do. Take some extended leave … They couldn’t make him, of course, no, no way could they do that, but they could make life pretty unpleasant for him if he refused, Max admitted angrily. If they chose to do so, they could adopt tactics that ultimately could force him out of chambers, and once that became public knowledge, his chances of continuing to receive not just the fat briefs he had grown accustomed to getting, but also the status and accolades that went hand in hand with being a member of such a prestigious set of chambers, would diminish abruptly. There was no way, after the work he had put in, the sacrifices he had made to get where he was, that Max was ever going to allow himself to be downgraded or side-tracked to somewhere second rate.

      As he listened to Harold’s pompous meanderings, he told himself fiercely that when the day came when he took over as head of chambers, he would make everyone involved in this pay for what they were doing to him, especially that creep Jeremy Standish, the clerk-cum-office manager, whom Max knew perfectly well neither liked nor approved of him.

      ‘So you can see, I’m sure, what I mean—’ Harold was continuing to waffle uncomfortably ‘—and like I said, Maddy, I am sure, will …’

      Max had had enough, and giving an impatient shrug, he stood up.

      ‘A month …’ Max began, but Harold, suddenly becoming courageous and mindful of his fellow members’ urgings and the responsibility he owed them, insisted firmly, ‘Two months, Max. That will give plenty of time for any potential unpleasantness to die down….’

      Two months … Max gave him a hard stare, tempted to argue but sharply aware of how it would make him look if he lost.

      God, but Justine had truly mucked this up, he fumed half an hour later back in his own small office. And if he had her here right now … he’d … Two months … Just what the hell was he going to do?

      As he stared angrily out of his office window, there was a brief rap on the door and Jeremy Standish walked in.

      ‘Maddy was on the phone while you were with Harold,’ he told Max. ‘She asked me to remind you that it’s Leo’s nativity play tomorrow afternoon and that your grandfather will be going….’

      As Jeremy saw the murderous expression darkening Max’s eyes he couldn’t resist adding, mock innocently, ‘I’m sure Maddy will be delighted when she knows that you’re going to have a couple of months off. You must miss her and the children so much with them living in the country and you living in town….’

      Leo’s flaming nativity play, that was all he needed, but of course, if he didn’t go, his grandfather was bound to start asking awkward questions. Max still hadn’t repaid the loan he had cadged off him when he and Maddy had got married—and, in fact, he had no intention of repaying it. Max had witnessed his grandfather’s growing involvement with his own son and already sensed that if he wasn’t careful, Leo might begin to usurp his own so-far-unchallenged position as his grandfather’s favourite, and there was no way Max was going to allow that to happen. He was already beginning to think it had been a mistake to allow Maddy to have so much contact with his grandfather and thus easy access to his ear. Not that he had any fear that his grandfather would pay any attention to anything she might choose to say. His grandfather despised women and was an old-fashioned chauvinist.

      Two flaming months and not even the chance of a fortnight or so in Aspen now to alleviate it. And of course, he would have to tell Maddy, whether he wanted to or not. The last thing he wanted was for her to ring the chambers and find out that he wasn’t there—and why. And, in fact, he would have to warn her not to say anything to her parents, either. With any luck he could keep the whole thing pretty quiet. As his brain began to swing into action, Max started to make plans.

      Perhaps it might be as well to remind Harold that any hint of his