Bewildered Haven

by Helen Bianchin

  'Enjoying yourself, Jenny Meredith?' Zachary Benedict's voice was a cynical drawl, and Jenny flashed him a slightly guarded smile.

  'Am I to take it that you're not?' she parried lightly, her heart pounding imperceptibly as she became aware of the in tenseness of his gaze.

  'Now why should you imagine that?' Zachary Benedict countered lazily, his eyes gleaming darkly down at her. With careless ease he withdrew his cigarette case, and flicking it open proffered it to her.

  Jenny hesitated momentarily, then selected one and placed it between her lips, leaning forward slightly to catch the bright flare of his lighter, and watched in idle fascination as he snapped out the flame with a decisive click.

  'You haven't answered my question,' he voiced imperturbably, his eyes following her hand as it moved nervously back and forwards.

  Bother the man! Jenny thought crossly. She didn't smoke hardly at all—in fact it was purely a social affectation on her part and she was very much aware of her amateurish efforts. Zachary Benedict moved a negligent hand towards her and Jenny started visibly as he calmly plucked the offending smoking tube from her nervous fingers. With cool deliberation he crushed it out in a nearby ashtray and turned back to regard her enigmatically.

  'Little girls should be tucked up in bed safely at home and not allowed out after dark,' he slanted down at her sardonically, his voice deceptively mild.

  Jenny shot him a look of open hostility, her eyes bright with suppressed anger. 'Ah, yes,' she flashed, albeit solicitously. 'Safeguarded from the big bad wolves who eat little girls for breakfast!' Her nerve-ends began to bristle like the prickles of an indignant hedgehog as she defiantly met his devilishly mocking gaze. Really, the man was a definite menace!

  'Or supper,' Zachary Benedict murmured baitingly, and his dark eyes raked her features with an almost indolent deliberation.

  Jenny controlled an unconscious shiver of apprehension and lowered her eyes to the impeccably knotted silk tie at the neck of his pale lilac shirt, noticing that it seemed to exactly match the deep mulberry shade of his faultlessly tailored suit. Scarcely a coincidence, she pondered uncharitably—undoubtedly a man of Zachary Benedict's calibre had most of his clothes custom-made.

  'This conversation seems rather ridiculous, don't you think, Mr. Benedict?' she suggested matter-of-factly in an attempt to retain a vestige of politeness.

  'Agreed, Jenny Meredith,' he intoned smoothly, and his mouth curled into a warm slightly quizzical smile. 'I suggest you leave the "Mr. Benedict" for the confines of our mutual offices. We have been formally introduced. I seem to recall.'

  Jenny fingered the fine muslin of her dress and looked beyond his shoulder at the sea of people. 'I very much doubt our acquaintance warrants me using your Christian name,' she said quietly. 'We're hardly likely to meet socially very often.'

  There was a flicker of anger in the depths of those dark eyes as they regarded her sombrely, and he seemed to be taking rather a long time in choosing his words. 'Then you must permit me to extend our acquaintance by having dinner with me tomorrow evening.'

  Jenny's eyes widened with disbelief and she felt a tinge of colour flood her cheeks. 'I'm sorry, but I don't think—'

  'Why not?' he interrupted in a voice that was calmly serious.

  Jenny hesitated briefly, for her thoughts were a chaotic mixture of emotions. 'I don't play sophisticated games,' she managed at last, and willed herself to meet the formidable warning in his gaze.

  'I invited you to have dinner with me,' Zachary Benedict averred dangerously,' his eyes glittering like polished onyx, 'not share my bed. Contrary to your nods-guided conclusions, I don't necessarily expect one to follow the other.'

  Jenny felt the tide of embarrassment flood her face, and it. was only by sheer willpower that she desisted from turning away from this aggravatingly arrogant man.

  'I'm sorry, Mr. Benedict, but I can't accept. However, Fin sure you have a host of telephone numbers belonging to an equally innumerable host of gorgeous women— any one of whom will be ecstatically delighted to receive your invitation,' she finished sweetly, suppressing a wave of anger at the way his lips twitched at the corners in the semblance of a cynical smile.

  'Can't—or won't?' he voiced calmly. 'Tell me, Jenny Meredith, do you fight so passionately with that pleasant young man who escorted you here tonight? I doubt he could handle all the latent emotion that threatens to boil over inside you.'

  Jenny turned on him in fury, and could have railed her fists against that broad expanse of chest had she not caught sight of Jim weaving has way towards them.

  'How dare you I' she breathed furiously, her eyes alight with anger.

  'Oh, I dare, Jenny Meredith,' he smiled sardonically. 'I'll telephone you at the office tomorrow.'

  'You'll be wasting your time,' Jenny said deliberately.

  'Let me be the judge of that,' he concurred tolerantly.

  It took supreme effort to breathe calmly and appear normal, but somehow she managed it by the time Jim reached her side. She expected Zachary Benedict to slip away, but to her chagrin he stayed at her side for a further ten minutes or so, and gave every appearance of being a charming friend—so much so that Jim was to query when Zachary Benedict took his leave if there wasn't more than friendship between the two of them, Jenny's emphatic denial merely aroused Jim's curiosity still further and he appeared to remain unconvinced, which only served to add to Jenny's annoyance.

  'I'm completely immune to the man,' she declared vehemently. 'Zachary Benedict is too egotistical for words, and if I never see him again I couldn't be better pleased!'

  Jim's eyes gleamed speculatively as he handed her another drink. 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much,' he observed softly.

  'Jim Bickerton! I warn you, if you so much as mention that—that man's name again I'll ring for a taxi to take me home,' Jenny declared wrathfully.

  'All right, all right,' Jim laughed, and held his hands high in defence. 'I promise!'

  Jenny calmed down considerably and felt contrite. 'I'm sorry—really I am,' she said regretfully; and lifted a hand to smooth back a stray lock of hair that had fallen forward on to her cheek. 'It's just that that man seems to rub me the wrong way.'

  'Well, let's circulate for a while. There's a couple of people I'd' particularly like you to meet, and if you feel like dancing we can attempt to find some space at the far end of the room.'

  Jenny smiled impishly up into his nice serious features and put down her glass. 'I thought you'd never ask!'

  Jim shook his head in mock despair as he led her across to where several couples were dancing. 'Me and my big mouth! Kindly remember, young lady, that I must report to the hospital by seven tomorrow morning— you may be a bundle of energy after sitting at an office desk all day, but I'm an overworked young doctor.'

  'Then I shall pull a Cinderella act and ensure you have me home by midnight—how's that?' she twinkled wickedly as she began to sway in rhythm to the music.

  'Ah, that's nice,' he grinned down at her. 'You care!'

  Jenny laughed—a light bubbly sound that was infectious and lent a sparkle to her eyes. 'It's your patients that I'm concerned for, Jim Bickerton. I thought doctors were meant to be dedicated young men.'

  'Oh, we are, we are,' he chuckled goodnaturedly. 'But not to the exclusion of all life's little pleasures.'

  'If you mean what I think you mean—' Jenny began spiritedly, only to be interrupted.

  'That hint' of auburn in your hair isn't there for nothing,' Jim remarked wryly, and reached out to tweak her cheek playfully. 'Relax, Jenny. I never Advance unless victory is a foregone conclusion.'

  'And with me it wouldn't be?' she queried calmly, watching as he shook his head solemnly.

  'No way, dear girl. Permissiveness isn't your style. Tell me what you think of Auckland,' he requested conversationally, drawing her into his arms as the music changed to nostalgic melancholy.

  'I admire your adroit handling of our conversation,' Jenny comment
ed tolerantly. 'I'll do my best to wax lyrical over Auckland's attributes. The pressures are much greater of course, than in Tauranga. Most everyone is hurrying to work, or home, and the peak-hour traffic is bedlam in the city. But I love the beaches, and the neat suburban streets. Some of the homes are magnificent—from the elegant older style like this one to the very modern dwellings. The city itself looks so beautiful as you drive over the harbour bridge from the North Shore. I haven't had much chance yet to explore at the weekends, but I like what I've seen so far.'

  'My father owns a sizeable launch which the family use at the weekends—weather permitting. Perhaps you'd like to join us this Sunday,' Jim suggested. 'I'll ring you sometime tomorrow when I've checked what time we're supposed to be leaving.'

  Jenny shook her head regretfully, genuinely sorry at having to refuse. 'Oh, Jim, much as I'd like to, I can't make it this Sunday. I'm committed to going home for the weekend, but any other time I'd be delighted to Come. Really,' she assured him enthusiastically.

  'Right,' he grinned happily down at her.

  Altogether it was an enjoyable party, even if Jenny did catch an occasional sardonic smile slanted in her direction from the superior Zachary Benedict. He didn't lack feminine company—whenever she caught sight of him there seemed to be a different girl at his side, which made it almost impossible to discover which girl might be his actual date for the evening. When Jenny left with Jim shortly after midnight the party looked like lasting for several hours, and Jenny wondered idly how ail these people kept pace with such a hectic social life and yet put in a full working day as well.

  Jenny took a sip of coffee and then replaced the cup back on to the saucer with care as she glanced around the confines of the small room the female staff utilised for their twice-daily coffee-breaks.

  'It doesn't look as if Ilse is still numero uno with Zachary Benedict,' Judy elaborated cheerfully as she took a biscuit from the plate and bit into it daintily. 'I saw her last night in the company of a tall blond Nordic type— they were at the same restaurant as Bill and I.'

  Jenny picked up her cup and held it carefully between both hands as she reflected pensively over what the girls' reaction would be if she were to tell them that the great Zachary Benedict had been present at the same party she had attended with Jim last evening—what was more, that he had deliberately sought her out.

  The muted burr of the telephone interrupted her reverie and Suzy hurriedly flew out to the reception desk to attend to the switchboard. She was back in a minute with a bright smile on her pertly expressive face.

  'It's for you, Jenny—a gorgeously attractive male voice.'

  Jenny looked across at Suzy in startled surprise and replaced her coffee cup down on to the table.

  'I've put it through to your extension,' Suzy grinned amiably as Jenny stood to her feet and moved towards the door.

  Jim, Jenny perceived thoughtfully—it had to be Jim ringing to arrange a date for an evening next week.

  'Hello,' Jenny spoke quietly into the receiver, 'Jenny Meredith speaking'—then she almost dropped the wretched thing with shock as the dry unmistakable tones of Zachary Benedict came over the line.

  'Good morning, Jenny Meredith. Zachary Benedict.' His voice was gorgeously attractive, and much to Jenny's chagrin the sound of it sent goosebumps scudding treacherously up and down her. spine.

  'Good morning,' Jenny replied non-committally.

  'Hmm,' he drawled thoughtfully. 'Am I to assume from your lack of enthusiasm that an invitation to dinner will be met with a dampening refusal?'

  'Why me, Mr. Benedict ?'Jenny queried disparagingly.

  'Why not, Jenny Meredith? Come now, don't tell me you're afraid to have dinner with me,' Zachary Benedict drawled cynically.

  'Not at all. It would be a waste of time—for you,'

  Jenny elaborated very firmly, and pursed her lips as he answered sardonically.

  'I'll call for you around seven this evening.'

  'No—I don't—' she began hurriedly, but there was a click as he replaced the receiver, and Jenny tossed her hair back in a single angry movement. Really! He had the arrogance and assurance of Old Nick himself! Well, she would go out with him—if only to prove that she was unsusceptible, whereupon after a sufficiently dull evening in her company Zachary Benedict would hopefully leave her alone.

  'Well?' Suzy came back to the outer office, a study of inquisitiveness. 'Did he make a date with you?'

  Jenny's features creased into a friendly smile. 'Yes, Suzy—for dinner tonight.'

  'Oh, that's great!' Suzy's eyes brightened with pleasure. 'What are you going to wear?'

  Jenny laughed and shook her head in despair. 'Give me time—I've only just put down the phone!'

  'All right,' Suzy grinned companionably. 'Just remember to give me a recount at morning tea tomorrow.'

  Jenny pulled a face at her and moved across to her desk. 'You're as bad as my sister Jane,' she declared with amusement.

  'Well, at least you can't say I don't take an interest,' Suzy retaliated with a laugh, then sighed expressively as the switchboard demanded her attention.

  Jenny spent the remainder of the day torn between choosing a slinky gown of black Arnel jersey, or a rather brilliantly coloured scarlet ankle-length skirt and a white body-shirt with scarlet stitched pin-tucking and matching scarlet buttons. Either choice would look well, although the black gown was infinitely more eyecatching. In the end, she decided on the scarlet skirt and white body-shirt. It was flatteringly elegant and demure, and if she was to be successful in convincing Zachary Benedict that he was pursuing a lost cause, then she must not wear anything that was remotely revealing.

  Yes, Jenny decided silently as she stood viewing her appearance in the mirror, that would do very well. Her hair was falling loose about her shoulders in a gloriously shining, gently waving flow, and with a deep breath she picked up her evening bag, idly sparing a quick glance at her watch as she moved out into the lounge. It was precisely one minute before seven, and the sound of a car pulling in to her driveway set her pulse racing. Nervously she caught at a lock of hair and fingered it into a curl as she waited for the sound of footsteps and a knock at her door.

  'Good evening,' Jenny greeted formally.

  'Charming, Jenny Meredith,' Zachary drawled slowly, and his eyes gleamed with approval as they swept her from head to toe in a swift all-encompassing glance. 'Very charming.'

  'Shall we go?' Jenny suggested coolly.

  Zachary stood aside and followed her to the car with scarcely more than a slight questioning lift of an expressive eyebrow.

  'I shan't eat you for supper, Jenny Meredith,' he slanted wryly as the car purred towards the city.

  'Jenny turned and regarded him sombrely. 'I don't intend that you shall, Zachary Benedict.'

  A ghost of a quizzical smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 'I think you've made your point.' Jenny refrained from commenting, - and they were seated in the restaurant at a quiet secluded corner table -before Zachary spoke again.

  'Perhaps you would care to peruse the menu,' he suggested blandly, 'and then inform me of your choice.'

  Jenny met his eyes across the table. 'Thank you,' she said calmly.

  The wine steward produced the wine list and Jenny was consciously aware of a brief consultation and a mutual satisfaction of Zachary's selected preference for a particularly excellent local vintage still white wine.

  'If I were to suggest the chicken fricassee, you will no doubt plump for crayfish—or some other dish far removed from anything remotely resembling chicken,' Zachary commented sardonically.

  'On the contrary,' Jenny replied sweetly. 'Who am I to query the opinion of such an undoubted connoisseur?'

  Zachary's eyebrows quirked in amusement. 'Well, well,' he drawled deeply. 'Could it be that a truce is in the offing?'

  'Chicken fricassee,' Jenny pondered thoughtfully, choosing to ignore his barbed query, 'and, let me see— yes,' she decided mischievously. 'Peach flambé for des
sert.'

  Zachary picked up his wine glass and raised it solemnly to his lips. 'I believe we have an' illuminating conversation to continue—one that was . regrettably terminated over dinner some few evenings ago.' His eyes met her silent frowning query. 'You were about to enlighten me as to how you, Jenny Meredith, measure a man's worth.'

  Jenny looked startled, and her eyes met his with slight incredulity. 'You don't expect me to answer that, surely?'

  Zachary's lips curved into a wry smile. 'Oh, but I do, Jenny. I'm sure I'll find your answer particularly significant.'

  'I think not—in fact, I'm sure you wouldn't.' 'Oh, come—I'm disappointed,' he murmured softly.

  Jenny drew breath with a degree of impatience, 'Very well,' she began firmly, her eyes sparking with anger. 'Such qualities as honesty, patience and understanding.'

  'That sounds very commendable, Jenny Meredith. But what of the all-consuming fire of passion—or does such an emotion not enter into your ideal of a perfect partnership in the redoubtable state of matrimony?' Zachary probed persistently.

  Jenny felt her cheeks tinge with warm colour as she picked up her glass and determinedly sipped the contents. 'I find your deliberately baiting remarks singularly lacking—and since I am not one of your countless admirers, I refuse to sit here and be subjected to your dissecting brand of cynicism!' She placed her glass down on to the table and moved to stand to her feet. She was past caring whether or not her actions would cause attention, and all she wanted to do was to get as far away from the uncaring censoriously ruthless man sitting only a few feet across the table from her.

  'I apologise for my brutish. behaviour—sit down!' Zachary admonished wearily, then added persuasively— 'Please, Jenny.'

  Jenny looked at him and remained undecided.