True Colours (10 page)

Jocelyn nodded knowingly, hoping she was giving the impression that she was satisfied by his response, her multi-tiered candelabra earrings jangling with each movement of her head. Then, thinking a change of subject was in order she said, ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Alex’s ideas, aren’t you? I think she’s going to be very good for us. A whole new look.’

A whole new look. Sebastian ran his pen through his fingers again, then, as if coming to some sort of decision in his head, tapped the end of it hard on his desk. The sharp rap it produced seemed to signal a change in his mood, as grinning broadly at Jocelyn, shaking off whatever was on his mind, he nodded his agreement.

‘
High time we had a change, don’t you think? It’ll sharpen everyone up. We’ll see what she has for the office and you can sort out the stuff for that shopping centre while I brief her on the apartment. Then we’ll be all set for the Minister when he finally turns up. I want you in on that meeting though, and we’ll tape it. I don’t want him pulling some sort of fast one.’

Jocelyn’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise, ‘As if an elected member might try to bribe you…’

Sebastian grinned broadly, feeling back on form for the first time in days, ‘God forbid…’ Before he could say any more, the buzzer went on his desk and a female voice said, ‘Ms Ryan’s on her way up Mr Wingfield.’

In the lift, Alex had her eyes shut and was counting to one hundred in sevens. Anything to keep her mind off walking through the doors of his office. Anything to calm the swarm of bees trying to escape from her stomach. Her briefcase over her shoulder, she could feel her palms beginning to sweat. She had wedged the A3 laminated mood boards she’d spent the weekend working on under her arm, large sheets of thick cream cardboard crowded with colour patches, fabric samples and shots of sculpture and architecture that summarised the looks she thought best met the brief. In her clear, flowing handwriting, rounded and generous, she had summarised the various images that Venture Capital could achieve, had taped a spread-sheet of the projected costs to the back of each board and had another copy in her briefcase. She was as ready as she could hope to be. But some things she would never be ready for.

As the lift pinged upwards from the ground floor, she looked down at her heeled crocodile pumps, trying to focus on something solid, mundane, trying to clear her head for the meeting Her shoes were golden brown to match her chocolate tweed suit and ruffled champagne silk blouse, the top buttons open to reveal her tan, it had taken her ages to decide what to wear. Her black trouser suit had seemed the obvious choice, but, when she had thought about it last night, half her wardrobe spread across her double bed, it had seemed too defensive somehow. And the last thing she wanted to be was defensive. Whatever about the past, whatever about that kiss, she had a job to do and needed to look like she was in control, even if she was shrivelling inside like an autumn leaf, a leaf about to fall off the tree and plummet to earth.

Finished with her shoes, she had closed her eyes again, was trying to focus instead on images of success before she arrived on the top floor. Ellen MacArthur bringing Kingfisher across the finish line at Les Sables d’Olonne after 94 days single-handed circumnavigation in the Vendee Globe race; Ernest Shackleton travelling 800 miles through the ice and snow with four of his shipmates to get help for his stranded crew; the last American Idol X-Factor guy, whatever his name was, hearing the news that he had won the five million dollar deal. So absorbed in her thoughts she’d missed hearing the lift ping and the doors glide open. Jocelyn’s greeting almost made her drop her briefcase with fright.

‘
Ah Alex, how lovely to see you.’

Eyes flying open, Alex did an Oscar-winning job of turning her expression of shock into one of delighted surprise. ‘Jocelyn! So good of you to meet me.’ It sounded a bit thin, even to Alex. Stepping out of the lift, she continued conspiratorially, ‘I was just visualising some of the options for your new look. It helps so much to be on site and get a feel for the schemes that will work best.’

Grinning broadly, obviously thrilled with this insider trick, Jocelyn could hardly contain her excitement, her eyes bright, earrings jangling like alarm bells.

‘
Super, super. I just KNEW you were perfect for the job. I can’t wait to see your ideas. Come this way, Sebastian’s inside and the coffee’s hot.’

It took all the composure Alex could muster to cross the hall to the double doors of Sebastian’s office. She could feel the colour in her cheeks rising and prayed that her makeup and tan would be enough to hide her blush. But there was nothing she could do about her heart, thundering in her chest so loudly that she was sure Jocelyn could hear it. Thankfully, Jocelyn didn’t seem to notice, but swept on ahead, holding the door open and ushering Alex through like a film star arriving at a premiere. And just like a premiere, the lights inside were dazzling, every bulb in the tangled chandelier reflecting off the polished surfaces, the marble floor, the glass of the conference table, the white sofas. Beyond the huge windows the storm had darkened the sky so much it could have been midnight, heavy black clouds crowding around the huge windows like paparazzi after a story. But Alex hardly noticed.

Sitting on the sofa, relaxed, loose-limbed, one elbow resting on his knee, absentmindedly holding a mug of coffee was Sebastian. Despite the sound of her heels on the floor, he didn’t look up, was apparently lost in concentration, scanning a pile of documents in front of him, his forehead creased. Just like the last time they had met, he had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar unbuttoned, tie loose, but today his shirt was pale pink, thick woven cotton, his trousers a fine wool navy pinstripe. Smart and sexy. Very sexy. Unconsciously, her eyes were drawn to his shirt straining across the breadth of his shoulders, to the strength in his muscular forearms, and Alex felt that long forgotten kick in the pit of her stomach. Just like when she was seventeen, just like the time she landed in his arms in the tumbledown Mill House, so close she could feel the heat of his body through her thin t-shirt, smell the scent of his soap, feel his hands hot on her back.

For a split second the room swam before her.

Taking a sharp intake of breath Alex drew on the aroma of fresh coffee that pervaded the office as if it were smelling salts. It seemed to do the trick, temporarily at least. Behind her, the door closed, an ominously deep, gentle click, and then she felt rather than saw Jocelyn swish past her, heading straight for the glass-topped table between the sofas, picking up the coffee pot before she said, smiling,

‘
Come and sit down. He won’t be a minute.’

Come and sit down…panic rose before Alex had a chance to quell it, her emotions raging like the water tumbling through the mill wheel. Whatever about facing him across the desk, the solid lump of wood a physical barrier between them, she hadn’t bargained for a meeting across the coffee table, for sinking back into a soft sofa, where her knee-length skirt would inevitably ride up her stockinged legs. Why hadn’t she worn her trouser suit? If she perched on the edge, would she look prissy and uptight? She had so wanted to look like he didn’t faze her, like she was in control.

Grasping at what was left of her courage, she smiled sweetly at Jocelyn, and mouthed ‘thanks’ for her discretion in not interrupting the great Sebastian. Jocelyn responded with an appreciative nod. Thank God he wasn’t looking at her. Feeling like she really was on the red carpet heading into a premiere, exposed and vulnerable, cameras flashing at her heels, trying to catch her at the worst possible angle, Alex closed the gap between them and slipped her briefcase onto the floor, leaning the mood boards upright on the back of the sofa. Giving the soft leather sofa a quick appraisal, almost sighing with relief that it looked more substantial than she had first thought, she sat down, her knees tightly together, ankles locked, like Princess Diana in front of the Taj Mahal.

He still didn’t acknowledge her.

Leaning across the table, Jocelyn silently passed Alex a mug of coffee acting as if it was completely normal for Sebastian to ignore someone he was about to have a meeting with. Taking the mug and hiding behind the rim as she took a sip, Alex had a sneaky look at him.

He was still reading.

How could he ignore her like this? Irrespective of what had happened between them, how could he be so rude? Alex mentally kicked herself. Why had she got so worked up about this meeting? Worrying about what to wear, almost having heart failure in the lift. And here he was behaving as if she was the hired help, some insignificant…some insignificant…

Then he looked up.

‘
Hello Alex, how are you?’

It was a universal Irish greeting, used by people everywhere. But after all these years, coming from him, it seemed to carry so much more weight. And just a touch of sarcasm.

TWELVE

Lying back in a bath liberally sprinkled with jasmine-scented oil, Caroline rested her elbows on the edges of the porcelain roll-top tub and switched on her BlackBerry, careful to keep the pale pink rose gold case out of the water. All around her, Jo Malone white jasmine and mint candles flickered, their warm glow captured and magnified by the floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall tiles, their aroma magnifying the scent rising from the bath. The bathroom was huge, one of the things she’d loved the first time she saw the apartment, and so warm...

Checking her screen, Caroline flicked straight to Twitter. As she expected, the first direct message in her stream was from Tiffany. They’d had some fun setting up their Twitter IDs, Tiffany convincing her that @onlychampers was perfect for her. Tiffany’s own Twitter ID was the distinctive @5thAve. Caroline couldn’t resist a grin as she read the private message.

@onlychampers What happened? Why didn’t you answer the phone? Was frantic.

The grin turned into a giggle as memories of the night before made Caroline squirm in the warm water, flowing like satin around her as she moved. Phew, what a night. She’d been much too busy to answer the phone...but could she tell Tiffany that? Could she tell her that Peter had reached for her across the back seat as soon as the doors of the Mercedes had closed, that his kiss had been deep, amazing, had made her desperate for him? Could she say that he’d suggested they drop the driver off in a village on the way to the Sally Gap, that Peter had driven the huge car up to the most amazing vantage point above Luggala, that they hadn’t even got around to opening the hamper, that the zip on her dress had stuck, and oh boy.....

Maybe she should leave out the details...

But Caroline knew she’d have to tell Tiffany something.

Caroline looked at her BlackBerry for a moment, speculatively, a plan forming in her mind. Sebastian thought Twitter was a complete waste of time, so there was no chance of him seeing her messages, but just in case someone he knew was following her, she’d better start with the right story. She clicked to reply to Tiffany, but using the public stream so that anyone following her could see it. Just in case. For a second, a feeling of guilt tweaked at her conscience, but it was fleeting. It was only a bit of fun after all. Une liaison dangereuse. Peter knew she was engaged, knew the score. He wasn’t looking for a lifetime commitment. So what should she say to Tiffany? She thought for a moment, then started typing with manicured thumbs.

@5thAve Private view was fabulous – little gallery in Wicklow. Battery fully charged but had 2 switch 2 silent

She clicked send.

Ha! Would Tiff pick up the double entendre? Caroline adjusted her position in the bath, feeling the silky oil and warm water massage her thighs and breasts, her mind immediately back in the moment of the previous evening, to the tiny sample of wild fig and cassis bath oil she’d tossed into her bag with her lipstick. Now hadn’t that come in useful...She wasn’t sure why she’d slipped it in – it had just been sitting there on the basin as she took that final look in the mirror, her stomach dancing like fireflies over the Dordogne. Between the oil and his hands it had been bloody difficult to switch the phone to silent. Goodness, she was surprised she didn’t have bruises.

Tiff was probably in bed now, wouldn’t see the message until she got up. Caroline flicked through the rest of the stream, relaxing. God, Twitter was great. She was following @indiaknight and @LibertyLndnGirl who had all the absolutely top celeb and London fashion gossip. It was like boarding school, having a gang of girls to chat to the whole time. As she scrolled down, another message caught her eye.

@onlychampers what sort of pictures did they have at that gallery? I need a gift.

Caroline clicked to reply, giggling again:

@moonwalker Oils, spectacular

Moonwalker, some banker type, had only recently started following her – the bio displayed was a bit brief but they’d had some great chats, knew a load of the same people. And anyone who said their time zone was ‘Right here, right now,’ had to have a sense of humour. Moonwalker came back to her straightaway:

@onlychampers Heard the views are fabulous in Wicklow

@moonwalker Absolutely superb, best ever.

She couldn’t resist another giggle as she hit send.

@onlychampers Excellent, will make a point of checking them out next time I’m there.

@moonwalker u should.

@onlychampers Did you buy anything?

@moonwalker Much more than I expected.

@onlychampers Really? Do they deliver?