Younger (16 page)

He grinned. “You could consider returning the favor by showing me your apartment.” And then he reached for her, pulling her against him as his lips found hers.

It was nice. Too nice.
Maybe this,
she thought as she returned his kiss,
is what I need to wipe all memories of David Wainwright out of my mind
. Then she remembered the mutton’s body beneath the lamb’s clothes and gently but firmly pushed him away. And what was Anna doing, thinking of David Wainwright when another man was kissing Tanya Avery?

As she got ready for bed, she studied her body in the bathroom mirror, wondering how much
YOU
NGER it would take for her to look twenty-five all over. Her body was pretty firm for her age and the workouts had her looking good, so it wasn’t like the contrast between Madame Barton’s face and hands. Yet she couldn’t deny that she looked as if a young woman’s head had been grafted onto a middle-aged woman’s body. She sighed and turned away. She shouldn’t be worrying about taking off her clothes in front of anyone. That just wasn’t going to happen, certainly not now that MI6 was involved and the stakes even higher. Even in the dark, that wasn’t going to happen. She went to bed leaving her diary blank. She wasn’t sure how much better she wanted Pierre Barton to know her.

Sunday brought rain and a good day to stay in and sort out her thoughts. Monday dawned steamy. Anna went straight to Barton’s office before Eleanor had even arrived and entered immediately after knocking, a little steamed herself. “Clearly I was too shell-shocked from having lost the Coscom account to notice there’s a lot more to
YOU
NGER than meets the eye.”

“In some situations, the less you know, the less you have to worry about,” he responded evenly.

“That sounds suspiciously close to ‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head,
’”
she retorted. “Mightn’t it have been a good idea to tell me about MI6 prior to my signing your contract? Or that your chemist wife now runs her father’s company?”

He looked at her steadily. “Telling you about Kelm was his decision to make, Anna, not mine. As for Marina, so what? I’d have thought you’d approve of a man marrying someone with a career.”

“That has nothing to do with this, and you know it. I deserve to know more about what’s going on. And I’m not convinced those people I first spotted on the Tube weren’t following me. They seemed . . . Oh, I don’t know, so focused on not seeming focused on me, if that makes any sense.”

“To be honest, I don’t think it does. Look, I
am
trying to keep you as informed as possible. I really am. And I immediately passed on the information about that couple to Kelm, because while I’m sure it’s nothing, I’m naturally concerned. And I’m not humoring you when I say I would be nervous if I saw the same couple popping up all over the place. Let Kelm check them out. He has the resources.”

“Why only my face and hands and neck?” she blurted. “Why isn’t
YOU
NGER for all of me? Surely you can mix bigger batches. Don’t you realize you’ve turned me into a freak?”

“You’re hardly a freak. My mother and other women who’ve gone too far with surgery, they’re the freaks. You’re a beautiful woman.”

“With an old body that doesn’t match.”

“With an
older
body,” he reminded her. “
Your
body, Anna, which looked very good before. And I’m sure, with your workouts, it looks pretty damned great now. Please don’t let this experience make you doubt yourself.” He paused. “Look, we don’t want to use the product comprehensively until the entire testing phase has been completed.”

“What does that mean? I’m going to end up with cancer?”

“It would help if you didn’t keep putting words in my mouth,” he said patiently. “You’re not going to get cancer. It’s simply that the proper time to push the limits on this product isn’t while we’re looking for Food and Drug Administration approval in America. We’re hoping we’ll have everything in place soon, Anna. We do have a lab-testing program, remember, and the products have been tested for off-the-face use as well as for long-term effects.”

“Long-term effects? How long is long-term in this case?”

“We have people who have been using the product for almost two years now. During that time, the formula has been changed and improved. And the good news is, it’s perfectly safe. We mix small batches in the lab rather than big batches on an assembly line because we’re fine-tuning, which means there isn’t enough of any single batch for you to use all over even if I was willing to give it to you. In any case, if you stick with us, you’ll eventually have a lifetime supply of
YOU
NGER for your face
and
your body, if that’s what you want.”

“Tell me again,” she asked sarcastically, “just what am I here for?”

He sighed before answering. “You’re here for exactly what I told you you’re here for: to help us with the
YOU
NGER marketing as you oversee the launch of Madame X. I know you find some of the work, such as the diary, boring—”

“Not just boring.
Unnecessary
. Seriously, Pierre, who notices if a twenty-seven-year-old isn’t up-to-date on trending jargon or dance steps? Okay, maybe for some out-to-pasture spy looking to come back in that might be important, but isn’t that what they call ‘tradecraft’? Doesn’t SIS have experts to handle that? What are they going to learn from me?”

“Your diary is important for various reasons, one of which remains the consumer campaign. You’re bored? Then go ahead and concentrate more on ideas for promoting
YOU
NGER. Come up with a marketing plan. But keep up with the diary as well. In the meantime, I want you and your team to have a launch plan for Madame X ready to look at within two weeks. And you need to get Becca to put more pizzazz into her press releases. She’s too dry and pharmaceutical. All right?”

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly, feeling as if she’d lost the argument here.

“Excellent.” He stood, making it clear the meeting was over. “You should get out more. Didn’t you say you were having dinner with some guy? How was that?”

She didn’t recall saying she was having dinner with anyone. But all that wine and champagne at dinner had been unwise. If her loose lips were going to sink any ships, she’d be the one going under. “It was what it was,” she said flatly. “It’s hard work making conversation with a guy in his twenties.”

They traded facile smiles as she headed for the door.

“One moment,” he said as she reached for the doorknob. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

She turned. “My answer to you and Martin Kelm? I thought that was obvious. I’m staying on until my contract is up.”

Chapter 13

She didn’t care if she was being paranoid. At lunchtime, she bought a cheap pay-as-you-go cell, then went down the road to a different service provider and bought another. She also paid cash for an iPhone. That one required a contract, but she used her real name, US address, and American credit card and paid a year in advance, hoping that would keep anyone from knowing she had it.

Back at the office, she summoned Chas and Becca to a meeting on the Madame X UK press launch and collateral materials. Chas got a list of possible venues to check out and was encouraged to scout new sites as well.

When she was alone with Becca, she gave her a pep talk on creating sassier beauty copy. “You have bullet-point lists of features and benefits; use those. Focus on these being cosmetics for the woman who’s not trying to pass herself off as a kid but wants to look terrific.”

Not trying to pass herself off as a kid?
Yeah, right,
she thought later as she gathered her things to go home.
That leaves me out
.

When she got out front, David Wainwright was leaning against the building next door, waiting. For her.

“Hi.” He smiled warmly. “Remember me? I decided I owe you an explanation.”

When she found her voice, she muttered, “You don’t, really. I bumped into you, after all.”

“But I was the one who acted like an idiot.”

“Okay, sure, you can explain. But not here, huh?” she said quickly. “Give me a minute, then meet me around the corner.” She smiled, then hurried off. Did he really want to explain? Or had he come because he wanted to see her again? Why was her heart pounding?

“What’s with the cloak-and-dagger routine?” he asked when he joined her out of sight of BarPharm.

“Just some nosy people at the office. C’mon, I know a little wine bar on one of the back streets.”

“Maurizio’s?”

Her eyebrows went up in surprise.

“When I had meetings at BarPharm, I’d sometimes make a detour for a nice glass of wine. Not often. I did some commercials for Barton—I’m a director—so I was in the studio or edit bay more than around here.”

“Maurizio’s has good wines by the glass. Let’s go there.” It struck her that she wasn’t supposed to know anything about this man. “You direct commercials?”

“Mostly episodic television. Mystery and crime. Comedy at times.”

She nodded as they entered the small, cool wine bar. “I write: copy, press releases, stuff like that.”

“In the States?”

“Usually. Working here for a year, then going back to real life.”

“And if
this
were real life, what would I be getting you from the bar?” he asked, nodding toward a table.

“A Vermentino would be nice, thanks.”

She sank back against the banquette, trying to look relaxed. She knew he’d come back with a glass of a red for himself. And he did.

“Cin cin.”

“Mmmn. The perfect wine for a hot day,” she said after tasting. “What are you drinking?”

He held up his glass so the light from a wall sconce made the contents gleam like rubies. “Rosso di Montefalco. You know it?”

“Basically a young Sagrantino, isn’t it?”

He smiled. “For someone so young, you know your wines. Lighter than Sagrantino, so good for summer. And half the price, to boot.”

“I like the light reds better. I guess that makes me a cheap date.” She blushed. “That came out wrong—sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“David. David Wainwright.”

“Right. What did you want to explain, David?”

“I didn’t mean to lurk like a stalker, but I know I behaved oddly the other week and you might even think it’s weirder that I came back to apologize. But it occurred to me I should explain. And to be honest, I wanted to see you again.”

“You wanted to see me again? I mean—”

“I’m old enough to be your father?” He laughed. “It’s not like that, honestly. I wanted to see what you looked like again. I guess I should start at the beginning.”

He peered down at his wine before going on. When he looked up, he stared at her as he had that first day, as if a ghost sat opposite him. “Years ago, before you were born or when you were a child, I knew a woman who looked exactly like you. Different hair and makeup, sure. But . . . Her left eye was even a little smaller than the right, just like yours. It’s just uncanny. I was just gobstruck.”

“I didn’t even know my eyes weren’t the same size.”

“It’s a tiny thing, but I looked right into your eyes when you bumped into me, and it just blew me away.”

“That’s why you thought I was this Anna, why you called me by her name?”

He looked away, as if still stunned by the sight of her. “You must have thought I was mad. And I suppose I was for moment, to have looked at you and thought for even an instant you might be a woman who’d be in her fifties now. It was as if I’d gone through the looking glass and back in time. That’s why I babbled like an idiot. I was massively confused, because it just didn’t compute.”

“What happened to her, to Anna?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. I met her when I was in New York working on a British series set there and she was a struggling actress. We had a long-distance transcontinental affair—when I wasn’t in New York, we’d meet in Paris, all very romantic. And then—well, after two years, it ended, as those things do. We didn’t have friends in common so . . .” His voice trailed off. “One loses track over the years.”

“And you? What happened to you?”

“Well, here I am. Let’s see, since that time, I’ve worked on TV series here and flown to Los Angeles to direct episodes of some American ones.”

Oh, my God,
she thought,
he was in and out of LA when I was there
.

“I had a fallow period two years ago when many production budgets were cut, so I fell back on making commercials and corporate videos. I didn’t do much for Barton and not for some time now, but I needed to return a reel to them the other day. I’m done with commercials now, I’m happy to say.”

“And you forgot about Anna?”

“Part of me did. I got married not long after I returned to London. It was a stupid thing to do and lasted all of six months. Then I married an actress, a moderately successful one, at least in England, and we did the house-in-the-suburbs and kid thing.”

“You have kids?”

“Just one, a son.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t do the whole ‘Let me show you my boy’s photos’ bit. Nick’s fifteen, a day boy at Westminster. Sorry, that means he lives at home and doesn’t board.”

“He lives at home?” She was practically holding her breath now.

“In Wimbledon Village,” he answered. “Technically still London, but surburban-ish.”

“Where the tennis is.”

“That’s in Wimbledon Centre. The Village is beyond that; it’s the posh bit. A friend once described it as the sort of area where pop stars’ ex-wives open exorbitant boutiques selling pillows handmade by Buddhist monks.” He grinned. “Another round?”

“Yes, but”—she fumbled in her handbag as he got up, then waved a twenty-pound note at him—“my round this time.” He started to refuse, then understood she meant it and took the money.

“So what’s Wimbledon like?” she asked brightly when he returned.

“Good place for a teenager, I think. And Nick and his mum are happy there. Me, the only really good part about getting divorced was moving back into town.”

And with that, her whole body suddenly let go, as if she were sinking into a pool of warm water. She actually grasped the table, then looked up to see his concerned face.

“Are you all right, Tanya?”

“Yes, sorry. Must be the heat today. I felt all woozy for a second. I’ll just run to the ladies’ room.”

She made her way to the back hallway on weak legs.
He isn’t married
.
He isn’t married
. Was that good or bad?

In the mirror, Tanya’s youthful face peered pallidly out at her. She splashed cold water on it, then freshened her makeup. The more she had on, the less she resembled Anna. She had to get out of here. This was madness.

Yet back at the table, his still-familiar face and concerned expression melted her resolve, and she sank back down onto the banquette. “I really need to go after this,” she murmured.

“No problem. And I’m glad you came for a drink instead of yelling for a policeman.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said, but she was smiling. “It’s been nice. I don’t know many people here. Hardly anyone, in fact.”

“Well, if you’d like, we could get together for a film and dinner. I know I’m not exactly date material for you, so I promise it would be nothing like that. Nick’s with me for the next couple of weeks, but the Saturday after he goes back to his mum would be fine.”

Her brain screeched, “Say no!” but the words off her lips were, “I’d like that, David. Thank you.” She wrote her new iPhone number on the back of a Barton Pharmaceuticals card, turning away as she did it so he wouldn’t see her hand tremble. “It’s best to call or text me on this number.”

“Will do. Can I walk you to the Tube?”

She shook her head as she got to her feet. “Thanks, no. Call me uptight, but I really don’t like people from work knowing my business.”

He laughed ruefully. “You like secrets? You know, you may be like Anna in more ways than looks.”

Her look of puzzlement wasn’t wholly feigned. Then she chirped a bright “See you” and headed for the door. All the way to the Underground, she refused to think about what he’d meant by that remark.

Anna spent the next few days fretting over all of her recent decisions. Had it been a mistake to tell Barton she’d stay? Was she nuts, agreeing to see David again? As she tended to do more and more lately, she pushed aside her doubts and concentrated on the job at hand.

She was genuinely enjoying working on Madame X and developing a marketing plan for
YOU
NGER. She no longer deemed Chas’s eagerness annoying and now found Becca’s solemn frumpiness and dedication to hard work comforting. Their little team made genuine progress that week. Thursday, Becca delivered her revised UK press releases and said almost sassily, “I did what I could to Brit things up. Hope you like them.”

“Thanks. Have a minute to talk?”

Becca nodded and sat down.

“I worry that some of the US copy might be a bit too sexy for older British women. Do you know what I mean?”

Becca thought it over, finally saying, “Well, I do think British women don’t want a whole new you and all that, just to look a bit better.”

“And younger, yes? Younger is always better, right?”

“Is it? My mum’s fifty-five, and when I told her I could get her Madame X products to try, she laughed and said, ‘I am who I am. Some of us are content with that, young lady!’ She’s a bit of a straight talker, my mum. But I do think British women aren’t as looks obsessed.”

“I see. But what we’re selling is still that younger is better, isn’t it?”

“Now you sound like Olga.”

“Olga?”

“Oh, just someone who was here last year.” Becca looked suddenly uncomfortable. “She had this office.”

“What did she do?”

“She worked on an advanced retinol anti-aging line that was in development. And she hinted that something incredibly important was coming up. She was over-the-top about everything, so once the Coscom acquisition was announced, I figured she’d known about Madame X. She was always saying things like, ‘What if you could decide every day how young you wanted to be?’ Which isn’t a bad tagline for Madame X, I suppose.”

“Except it would be promising a lot more than poor Madame X could deliver. Is she British, this Olga?”

“Oh, no, Olga Novrosky. Russian. She worked on a single account, like you. Only hers was the retinol.”

“And she left after the acquisition?”

“Before the acquisition.” Now Becca looked downright miserable. “She didn’t exactly leave, though, Tanya. She—” She blew out a puff of air.

“She . . . ?” Anna prompted.

“She died.”

“She
what
?”

“Died. She was acting oddly. Jumpy and nervous. Kind of obsessive. She accused Chas of listening in on her calls, but his line didn’t even connect to hers. It’s the way it is now: you need to go to intercom and ring through. She was rushing off to Mr. Barton’s office all the time, and I could see he was trying to avoid her.” She shrugged. “Obviously, he has more important things to do than deal with a copywriter’s personal problems or whatever.”