The Importance of Being Married (27 page)

I nodded, grinning despite myself. “Sounds like him,” I said.

“Nice car,” Sean said, emitting a low whistle. “What was it—an Aston Martin?”

I giggled. “Could have been,” I said seriously. I was beginning to enjoy myself. “That’s his favorite.”

“Well, enjoy the flowers,” Sean said, winking. I nodded and took them from him, turning back into the lobby.

Immediately, as if caught out, everyone started to move back to their desks.

“Your ex-boyfriend drives an Aston Martin?” Marcia asked, sidling up to me. “Thinks he’s James Bond, does he?”

I smiled. “I guess. Something like that.”

“The thing is,” Marcia said, shaking her head, “it’s all very well him wanting you back now, but it’s too little too late, isn’t it?”

She sat down at her desk and I narrowed my eyes at her, uncertainly. “It is?”

“Definitely,” she said. “If he wasn’t ready to commit before, then I’d ditch him if I were you.”

“Only because you want him for yourself,” Gillie interjected, arriving next to me carrying a vase. “Here you go. Thought you might need this,” she said, grinning.

I took it gratefully. “Thanks, Gillie. You’re a star.”

“So, going to take him back?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.

“I…” I hesitated. Anthony was walking toward me, and I fixed my eyes back on the flowers. “I haven’t decided yet,” I said, eventually.

“You think he wrote that song himself?” she breathed.

I shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, he’s very musical.”

“Is he?” Gillie asked dreamily. “Wow. He’s good looking, he’s musical, he’s rich, and he’s not afraid of commitment. He must be the most perfect man.”

“I doubt it,” Marcia said quickly. “Flowers and songs are all very well, but personally I think it’s all a bit tacky.”

“You wouldn’t think it was tacky if he was doing it for you,” Gillie said archly. “Go on, Jen, take him back. Or at least invite him here so we can meet him!” Anthony was only a few feet away now, and I realized he could hear us. I looked at her uncertainly. “The thing is,” I said seriously, “I’m not sure I can trust him. All this wanting to commit is new. I mean, that’s why we split up in the first place—because he couldn’t commit.”

“But now he’s seen the error of his ways,” Gillie said excitedly. “He’s grown up. And that’s so attractive. You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for married men.”

“Gillie!” I said, slightly shocked. “But they’re…married!”

“Exactly.” Gillie sighed. “They’re committed. Loyal. Exactly the sort of person you want to have an affair with…”

“Gillie, aren’t you meant to be on reception?”

She turned around to see Anthony, who was now standing behind her. I quickly turned back to my computer.

“Fine,” she said. “But keep me posted,” she whispered, winking at me before slinking off.

“Hi, Anthony,” Marcia said, batting her eyelids and crossing her arms the way she always did when she wanted to show off her cleavage. I’d started to notice that sort of thing these days. “I’ll just leave you two to it, shall I?” She stood up, then smiled at him. “Oh, when you’ve got a moment I was wondering if you had time to discuss some visuals I’m working on for TheSupermarket dot com.”

“Sure,” Anthony said easily. “Why don’t you go to my office and I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Great!” Marcia picked up some papers and wandered off.

“So.” Anthony turned to me. “Flowers and barbershop quartets, huh?”

I smiled bashfully. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll have a word with Sean.”

“Good,” Anthony said. “And…”

He trailed off and I looked up at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“Look, we never got to talk. I thought maybe we could have a drink later.”

He was looking at me intently; I steeled myself. “Tonight…oh, I’m sorry. Tonight’s not good for me.”

“Tomorrow night, then?”

I hesitated. Blow hot and cold, Sean had said. Well, I’d surpassed myself on the cold. Surely it was time for a bit of warmth? “Maybe Friday?” I said carefully. “I think I’m free then.”

“Great,” he said, grinning at me suddenly and making me blush with pleasure. “I’ll see you then.”

Chapter 19

IT’S A VERY STRANGE RULE
of nature that the more you push something away, the more it seems attracted to you. The following day I got a single orchid in a vase, and Anthony suggested that we swap drinks for dinner. Thursday afternoon I got twenty cupcakes, which I shared around the office; Anthony walked past my desk fifteen times and sent me no less than twenty-six e-mails, only half of them work-related. I, meanwhile, was finally enjoying this hot-and-cold lark. Every time Anthony started a conversation with me, I smiled flirtatiously, replied to whatever he’d said, then found an excuse to walk off when he was talking. Actually, my excuse was often the same thing, and eventually even Marcia asked me if I had a bladder problem. But it was working—I couldn’t quite believe it, but it was. And it wasn’t just Anthony who suddenly seemed interested in me—half the men in the office started engaging me in conversation. Guys I’d barely spoken to before suddenly appeared at my desk wanting to know about the Jarvis account, or to ask me if I fancied a drink after work sometime. I was hot property. I was in demand. I was, it seemed, becoming Jessica Wiiiild.

“You ready?” It was 6
PM
Friday on the dot; Anthony was standing over me, a hopeful grin playing on his lips.

“Sure.” I smiled. “Just give me a moment to finish some stuff off. See you by the door in five minutes?”

Anthony frowned, then shrugged reluctantly. “Five minutes,” he said.

Quickly I turned back to my computer and giggled at the Facebook entry Helen had mocked up for me. Wild Child, she’d called me. The only photograph was of a pair of very high heels. Already I’d had fifty friend requests.

I clicked on one of my messages.
Dan Kelly. Hi, Wild Child. Would love to get to know you. Dig the shoes.

Would love to get to know me. Someone called Dan would love to get to know me. Sure, all he had to go on was a moniker and a picture of some shoes, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that I was in demand. I was popular. I was…

“Facebook? Are you serious?” I turned around hurriedly to see Max peering over my shoulder. “Tell me this is for research purposes, please.”

I reddened. Max and I had often discussed the futility of networking sites like Facebook; we’d rolled our eyes at the time people wasted on them.

“Oh, yes, I mean—” I started, trying to work out a way to justify the screen in front of me.

“Anyone who’s got time to waste hanging out with virtual friends frankly doesn’t deserve to have a job,” Max continued, interrupting me. “And who on earth is Wild Child? I mean, what kind of a stupid name is that? If she was really wild, do you think she’d have time to hang about in front of her computer?” He shook his head, a wry smile on his face. My eyes narrowed.

“Actually, Wild Child is quite popular,” I said stiffly. “And you only hate Facebook because you wouldn’t have any friends on there if you joined.” I knew it was harsh; I knew I was being prickly. But I was sick of Max’s constant superiority, his
I’m-the-only-one-who-really-works-around-here
act. He was so serious all the time, so sure that he was right about everything. He was the only one in the office who hadn’t been impressed by all my flowers and cupcakes, the only one who interrupted my stories about Sean to ask how I was getting on with Project Handbag. Like there weren’t more important things than private bank investment funds for women.

“Ouch,” Max said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, maybe you’re right. But frankly I think that real friends are worth rather more than Internet ones. Or is reality not something you’re interested in these days, Jess?”

His eyes met mine and I felt uncomfortable suddenly. What did he mean? Did he know something? Why did he always have to be so difficult?

“Jess, five minutes has been and gone. Are you coming to dinner or do I have to drag you there?”

Anthony was marching toward me; with relief, I stood up and turned off my computer. “No, you don’t have to drag me,” I said, shooting a little look at Max. “If there are real drinks and real food on offer, I’m ready to go right now.”

“Drinks and dinner,” Max said archly. “Sounds very nice.” He looked at Anthony. “And is this going to be charged to Chester’s account, too, or is this one strictly pleasure?”

Anthony flinched slightly, then rolled his eyes. “Max, haven’t you got accounts to scrutinize or something?” he asked, holding out his arm to me in a flourish. “Jess and I are late for a very important engagement.”

“Indeed,” Max said, walking away. “Indeed.”

“Sorry about that,” Anthony said as we made our way out of the building. “Max is so anal sometimes. So fixated by the details that he can’t see the big picture.”

“I know,” I said, shaking my head.

“The guy really needs to loosen up,” Anthony continued. “I mean, it’s as if he doesn’t have any life outside the office. He’s a mate, but sometimes I just want to shake him and tell him what a loser he’s becoming.”

“Right,” I said firmly. Loser. For spending too much time in the office. Totally different from me, then.

“Like you and me,” Anthony said, on a roll now. “We know how to have fun, don’t we? We work hard but we play hard, too. We have lives. We have a laugh. But not Max. The guy never goes out. I mean, never!”

I smiled, slightly less certainly now. “Absolutely,” I said. “You’ve got to enjoy yourself, haven’t you?”

“Of course you have. Otherwise what’s the point? You just become boring. Like Max.”

“Right.” I nodded, beginning to feel a twinge of guilt at this assassination. “Although he is really good at what he does. And working hard isn’t a
bad
thing…”

Anthony put his arm around me. “You’re very generous, Jess, but come on, let’s be honest. You wouldn’t want to be stuck in a lift with Max for any length of time, would you?”

A little image flashed into my head of Max and me talking for hours, of me making him laugh—something I’d done only a few times but felt so rewarding because it was so hard—of him letting me lean against him to get some sleep the day after a late night at the office…Then I forced it out. Helen was right—Max was boring and I’d only held a candle for him because I hadn’t dared set my sights any higher. Now I could see him for what he really was. Now I had Anthony. And now, I was Jessica Wiiild.

“So, champagne?” Anthony asked as he led me into a bar close to the office. I nodded happily, and made my way to a free table.

“Here we are.” Anthony reappeared from the bar a few minutes later, brandishing a champagne bottle, a bucket, and two glasses. He opened it and winked as the cork popped, then he poured it into the glasses and handed me one. “To the hedge fund manager’s loss and my gain,” he said.

I smiled. “Yes. Absolutely,” I said, chinking my glass with his.

“So it’s completely over? I mean, are we done with the marching bands and flowers, do you think?”

Anthony’s voice was light, but underneath his glibness was a serious question.

“Sean, you mean?” I asked. “Well, I can’t make any promises, but…”

“But you’ll tell him where to go if he comes near you again? You’ll make it clear that you’ve got your sights set elsewhere now?”

I looked at Anthony quizzically. I still couldn’t quite believe that he was really this interested in me. He had his pick of women. “Well,” I said carefully, “I suppose…”

“Suppose?” Anthony downed his glass and poured himself another. “What do you mean suppose?”

“I mean…” I took a sip of my champagne, trying to remember what Sean had told me to say. “I mean that…well, Sean and I were really serious. Until we split up. So I want to be careful before I…I guess I want to be sure, that’s all.”

“Sure about me?”

“And your intentions.”

“My intentions.” Anthony grinned wickedly. “My intentions, Jessica Wild, are very dishonorable.”

I blushed. “That’s what I was afraid of,” I said, putting my glass down. Dishonorable? Just how dishonorable was he talking here?