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‘Good idea,’ he nodded. ‘I’ll come too.’

Debra wanted to shout, ‘No!’ but already Liz was smiling happily. ‘Oh, goodie, we’ll need a man to carry our parcels.’

Debra fumed silently as Liz finished her meal, racking her brains trying to find a reason to put Vane off. But none came, and a short while later they all three piled into his car.

At any other time Debra would have enjoyed shopping in Hong Kong. She loved pushing through the crowds, the air of feverish gaiety, the bargaining which almost inevitably took place. But today she could whip up no enthusiasm, not with Vane holding Liz’s elbow, courteous, attentive; only Debra he ignored.

This was supposed to have been her day out with Liz, she raged. He had spoilt it by joining them, had made Debra feel as though she was the intruder, not he.

When he bought Liz a beautifully carved ivory flower boat, a work of art created by the finest craftsmen, she was angry enough to have smashed it to pieces. When he asked if there was anything she would like herself she shook her head savagely. ‘I wouldn’t take anything from you.’

His grim lips told their own story and she trailed miserably behind them as they moved from shop to shop, from market stall to market stall. She would have given anything to slip away unnoticed: her fear of leaving the two of them together was the only thing that stopped her.

When finally they stopped at one of the better class dress shops Liz urged her to try on a
cheong-sam.

Debra shook her head. ‘It would look ridiculous.’

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ argued Liz. ‘You’re so tiny, it will be perfect. Oh, please, do try one. I wish I had your figure, I’d soon be in there.’

Vane, half smiling now, eyed her insolently. ‘I too should be interested to see what it looks like.’

Reluctantly she agreed. The politely smiling assistant showed her into a dressing room where Debra slid out of her own dress and carefully into the silken
cheongsam.
It fitted her like a second skin, and despite her initial protests it was immediately apparent, even to her own prejudiced eyes, that it suited her. The tightly fitted stand-up collar emphasised her slim throat, the proud tilt of her head. The rest of the dress followed her curves devotedly, parting in slits on either thigh, revealing her slender legs, elegant in their high-heeled sandals.

Brilliant peonies flamed over the pastel silk of the dress—the Chinese wedding flower, thought Debra, and hoped Vane was not aware of its meaning.

When she appeared before them he pursed his lips in a soundless whistle, eyes approving, not missing one inch of her delicately rounded curves.

Liz was more open with her enthusiasm. 'Debra, it’s perfect, I knew it would be. You look ravishing!’

Vane insisted she walk up and down in front of them, watching her with a critical eye. ‘Will you help model my new collection?’ he asked suddenly, surprisingly.

Without being given time to think Debra found herself nodding shyly, and then, embarrassed, ran back to the changing room.

She had never thought of herself as a model, tiny girls rarely stood a chance, but with his new ideas for the smaller woman, it was an exhilarating thought.

When she came out she discovered that Vane had already paid for the dress, absolutely refusing to take anything from her.

‘I shan’t wear it,’ she said heatedly.

‘Oh, but you will.’ His eyes were alight with sardonic humour. ‘You will wear it for dinner tonight—I insist.’

Try arguing with that, she told herself. His tone brooked no refusal and she felt too tired to put up any resistance.

She was glad when they were home. Vane disappeared and she and Liz lay outside on the loungers, her friend totally exhausted after all the walking they had done.

Here was peace, thought Debra. The teeming streets could be forgotten, even Vane Oliver faded from her mind. Thrushes sang in the eaves, dragonflies skimmed the surface of the pool, the golden carp swam lazily in the sun-dappled waters.

Debra dozed and when she awoke Liz had disappeared and Vane was lying in her place. Her first thoughts were to run away, but he appeared to be asleep, so she propped herself up on one elbow and studied him.

In repose his face was less lined, although the hollows in his cheeks were still there. He looked strangely vulnerable and she felt an urge to touch him, to trace the outline of that strong jaw and wide forehead.

He had stripped off his shirt and his broad chest was as tanned as his face, thinly covered with dark hairs, muscular and powerful.

With great daring she reached out and laid her fingers on his chest, felt the deep rhythmical breathing, the warmth and firmness of his skin.

When his hand shot up and imprisoned her own she was startled and attempted to pull away, her brown eyes wide.

'I’m sorry,’ she husked. ‘I thought you were asleep.’

‘I realise that.’ There was amusement in his face. ‘Why did you touch me? To make sure I was real?’

‘I don’t know why,’ confessed Debra. ‘I did it without thinking.’

He smiled suggestively. ‘Physical attraction?’

But this she would not admit. She shook her head positively. ‘No, nothing like that.’

‘An emphatic denial,’ he jeered, ‘often used to hide the truth. Tell me, little Debra, are you still thinking of leaving? Liz told me earlier that you were on the point of walking out.’

She looked at him coldly. ‘What did you expect? You have Liz to thank that we’re still here. If it hadn’t been for her insistence we’d have been on a flight to London by now.’

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss into the palm. ‘Lovely, hot-headed little Debra! 1 wish you weren’t so much against me, ours could be a beautiful relationship.’

‘Like the one you have with my friend,’ she whipped. ‘Like the ones you have with all your girl-friends. Please remember that I’m your employee, nothing more, nor will I ever be.’

He dropped her hand and she thought he looked disappointed, but she knew she must be mistaken.

Pushing herself up, she marched away, sighing deeply. Was it always to be like this—one verbal battle after another? Would he never give up? Was it an obsession with him to have all women bowing at his feet?

As she dressed for dinner later Debra’s heart felt heavy and she could whip up no enthusiasm. Liz had been in earlier, completely refreshed and bubbling over with high spirits, asking her opinion on which dress she should wear. They had decided on a sky blue silk which complemented her blonde hair and matched her eyes to perfection.

In honour of the occasion Vane wore a cream evening jacket over a brown frilled shirt. Debra’s pulses raced when she saw him and for one mad moment wished it were only the two of them.

He smiled warmly as they came towards him in the drawing room, reaching out and taking a hand of each. ‘You must be the two most beautiful women in the world. I consider myself honoured.'

Liz dimpled and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Vane. You look pretty devastating yourself.’

He offered his other cheek to Debra, frowning in annoyance when she deliberately turned away, looking at Liz and shrugging, as if to say, ‘What do we do with someone like her?’

Crossing to the lacquered table, he poured three glasses of sherry. Liz accepted eagerly. Debra hesitated, took heed of the warning in his eyes, and received her glass. It was less than half full, and to have issued a definite refusal would have been like declaring open warfare.

She appreciated he was doing his best to be nice, to make this a pleasant evening for all three of them, but to her way of thinking it was farcical dressing up like this when there was no other company but themselves.

She felt that she was being made to look a fool in her
cheongsam
and resented it, and her expression reflected her disgruntlement.

The fact that Vane and Liz were able to talk freely did not help matters, and by the time they had finished their drinks and made their way to the dining room, Debra was feeling decidedly bad-tempered.

She sat down at the table, picking at her avocado, toying with the excellent seafood, stubbornly refusing to look at the others or join in their conversation, even though several times Liz attempted to draw some response.

When she heard Vane say, ‘It’s a shame she spoils her face with angry expressions,’ her head flicked up sharply.

He was grinning and she knew he had intended her to hear. ‘I don’t find it funny,’ she said coldly.

‘Nor do I find your behaviour funny,’ he returned, his smile fading. ‘You complain when Liz and I leave you on your own, yet you’re doing nothing to make this evening a success. Do you enjoy sulking?’

‘I’m not,’ she shot back.

‘You could have fooled me.’ His eyes were icy now, the humour gone.

‘After you’ve bought her that beautiful dress as well.’ Liz added her complaint to Vane’s.

Debra threw her a vicious look. ‘I didn’t ask him to, he can have the damn thing back if by wearing it I have to put on a false front.’

‘No one’s asking you to be false,’ hissed Vane. ‘But a little co-operation won’t hurt.’

With both of them against her Debra felt like running. How she sat there and pretended nothing was the matter she did not know. Only by a supreme effort did she manage to eat and talk and drink and try to look as though she was enjoying herself. But all the time she was aware of the close intimacy between Liz and Vane, and the more she saw the less she liked it.

When they had finished eating they took their coffee into one of the lesser used lounges, coolly decorated in shades of blue and grey. It reflected her mood, she thought, settling down into an easy chair in one corner, prepared to sit there for the rest of the evening.

Vane put on a record and invited Liz to dance, and the way her friend clung, the way she pressed her body close to his, made Debra ashamed. She wanted to snatch the girl away, tell her to stop making a fool of herself.

When the music ended and he asked her for the next dance it was all she could do to make herself walk into his arms. But soon the feel of his body against hers set her nerves tingling, increasing her awareness, and she wondered whether after all he could be right, and she was jealous of his association with Liz.

She dismissed the thought as nonsense, but as soon as the record finished she pulled away and ran from the room. She had had as much as she could stand for one day.

She had not anticipated that he would follow, had thought his dance with her had been a duty one and that he would spend the rest of the evening with Liz.

It came as a shock, therefore, when he caught up with her outside. ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ he said tersely. ‘Can’t you see that you’re spoiling the evening by your stupid, childish behaviour?’

Debra wrenched her arm free. ‘I’m not a child!’ she cried angrily.

‘Then for God’s sake stop behaving like one,’ he snapped. ‘Come back, or I really will have grounds to believe that you’re jealous of me and Liz.’

‘As if you’d care whether I’m there or not,’ she cried. ‘But I will come back, if only to keep an eye on you two. But don’t ask me to dance again, because I won’t.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Why, because you’re afraid of the emotions I arouse? Do your wanton feelings shock you?’

His words shocked her. How did he know? Was she so transparent? ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said distantly.

A smile flickered briefly. ‘You’re only fooling yourself, Debra. I can read you like a book. Bear that in mind in future when you try to lie to me.’

‘I don’t lie,’ she began, but he put a finger to her lips.

‘Hush now, the battle’s over. Life’s too short to be spent arguing.’

It was almost midnight when Liz said, ‘I’m tired, I’m going to bed. Thank you for a wonderful evening, Vane.’

She lifted her face to his and he kissed her warmly, holding her close, as though reluctant to let her go.

‘I’m coming too,’ stated Debra, moving towards the door. ‘Goodnight, Vane.’

He released Liz and said, ‘I’d like a word with you, Debra, alone.’

She looked at her friend, expecting to see opposition, jealousy. And it was there. The other girl threw her a venomous look before flouncing out of the room and banging the door behind her.

Things were getting out of hand, thought Debra. They ought to have left the country when she said she was going, instead of letting Liz persuade her otherwise.

Her young friend was becoming more deeply involved with each passing hour, and when the inevitable break came she would be heartbroken.

She glanced impatiently at Vane. ‘What is it that can’t wait until morning? I’m tired too. I have no wish to stay up and continue our argument.’

‘Who says we’re going to argue?’ he asked mildly.

‘Don’t we always,’ she said irritably. So far as she was concerned the last few hours had been far from pleasant. It had been sheer agony to see him and her friend dancing, and to have the evening prolonged now, especially when she could think of nothing he could possibly want to talk about, was the last straw.

‘Sit down,’ he commanded, pouring a drink and putting it into her hand. She had already drunk more tonight than she had in her whole life, but she took it with ill grace, staring moodily into the glass, waiting for him to speak.

When the silence lengthened she looked up to find him eyeing her thoughtfully. ‘I can’t even begin to understand you,’ he said.

‘Then why bother?’ she returned. ‘Accept me for what I am. Surely on a working relationship there’s no need for us to
—understand
one another.’

Vane’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re right, of course, there isn’t. I keep forgetting that you’re an employee. I had hoped we would be friends.’ There was a sudden withdrawal which she failed to understand.

‘It’s Liz who’s your friend,’ she said distantly.

‘Yes—yes, it is,’ he affirmed. ‘Goodnight, Debra, you can go now.’

She was confused. ‘I thought you wanted me for something.’

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he said abruptly.

Swallowing her drink, spluttering as it went down the wrong way, she left the room gladly, puzzled over his sudden change, but not really caring.