As Anthea’s mouth opened for further questions, Hayley grabbed her arm firmly. ‘Let’s get out of here, before I meet up with another acquaintance who won’t be so keen to pass.’
But, strangely, the recent past and Frank Heaton had been overshadowed. It was the stranger’s face she saw as she settled into the passenger seat of Anthea’s creaky old Mini, and that last wry lifting of his brows seemed to pose a strangely intriguing question she would never now be called upon to answer.
* * *
Anthea’s flat was a reflection of herself, chaotic but fun, and Hayley breathed a sigh of relief when they were safely inside.
‘I can’t tell you how good it is to be here,’ she said gratefully as she sank down on to the gaily coloured settee. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind me staying for a while?’
‘Mind? I’m delighted.’ Anthea, who had somehow miraculously conjured up a cup of tea in the tiny cluttered kitchen, handed one to Hayley and sat down beside her to sip her own. ‘Strange as it may seem, I’ve really missed you. I still can’t understand why you didn’t come up here with me in the first place.’
Hayley sighed. ‘I know. I wish now that I had. But at the time I was enjoying my job, and I’m not at all sure I’m really a city-type girl.’
‘Fair enough.’ Anthea shrugged. ‘So! What happened to make you suddenly change your mind? Was it a man?’
‘Sort of. But not in the way you mean.’ Hayley gave a short laugh. ‘Unless you call sexual harassment romantic.’
Anthea grimaced. ‘I call it a damned nuisance, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d be beaten by it.’
‘I wasn’t beaten,’ Hayley replied defensively. ‘Just sickened. Especially when it was condoned by a man whom I’d previously respected...my boss...but unfortunately also father to a hatefully odious son.’ She shuddered with remembered distaste, and then shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose you could entirely blame Mr Heaton Senior for defending the reputation of his son and heir against the word of a mere secretary.’
‘So you gave up?’ Her friend scowled. ‘Hayley Morgan! Where’s your fighting spirit?’
‘Still intact.’ Hayley laughed at her ferocity. ‘But, for once, I overrode it with a little common sense. Since old Mr Heaton had a heart attack he’s been training his son Frank to take over the reins, so I wouldn’t have stayed on to be Junior’s secretary anyway. But also, with Frank more or less in control, the business has started to decline quite badly, and there’s a rumour it’s in the process of being sold. All in all, not a very good bet for my future.’
Anthea frowned. ‘No. I suppose not. Still...it goes against the grain to know the pig got away with it.’
Hayley’s chest began to heave as the fury she’d deliberately buried began to push up again to the surface.
‘Don’t remind me. I still have dreams in which I’m murdering him.’
‘Nightmares?’ Anthea queried sympathetically.
‘No. They’re good dreams.’ Hayley grinned. ‘I always wake up feeling better afterwards.’
They giggled together, renewing their former closeness.
There was a small silence, and then Hayley said, ‘As a matter of fact Frank was on the train coming up, but I managed to avoid him.’
‘Good for you,’ Anthea approved. ‘How did you manage it?’
Hayley grinned, surprised that she could think about it now without becoming angry.
‘By making love to a strange man.’
It was said to shock, and Hayley wasn’t disappointed by Anthea’s reaction.
Her eyes flew open. ‘What? You made love on the train?’
Hayley laughed. ‘Not exactly. But I did kiss him. Twice.’
‘You did?’ Anthea’s eyes danced delightedly. ‘Tell me more. What did he do?’
‘He kissed me back.’
‘And then?’
‘Frank disappeared and so did I.’
‘Oh!’ Anthea’s expressive face fell. ‘Was that all there was to it?’
Hayley shrugged. ‘More or less.’
‘He didn’t even try to make a date?’
‘Anthea!’ Hayley cried reprovingly. ‘It’s that kind of attitude that encourages men to think the way they do. Besides, do I look like the type who would let herself be picked up by a stranger?’
Unperturbed, Anthea grinned. ‘No. But he might at least have tried.’
‘He might have, but he wouldn’t have got anywhere.’
‘Why not? Was he ugly?’
‘No.’ Hayley’s eyes twinkled with sudden mischief. Now it was all behind her, she could afford a little joke. ‘In fact he looked just like Felicity Braun’s latest.’
She waited to see how long it would be before the penny dropped. She didn’t have long to wait.
‘The “passing acquaintance”!’ Anthea gasped. ‘It was him, wasn’t it?’
Hayley nodded.
Anthea’s eyebrows seemed in danger of shooting off her face. ‘You kissed him? I mean...he kissed you? And you let him get away?’
‘He wasn’t running far. Only into the waiting arms of another woman. Your beloved Felicity Braun. Poor woman! Probably completely oblivious to the reality of the man.’ Hayley snorted contemptuously. ‘So typical of the male of the species.’
Anthea frowned. ‘You didn’t used to be so bitter.’
‘Do you mean I haven’t had cause?’ Hayley demanded, serious again. ‘After my experiences with Heaton Junior, I’ll be giving men a very wide berth.’
‘I say that all the time,’ her friend sighed. ‘But I still fall in love with the next pair of sexy eyes I see.’
‘Well, I certainly won’t be,’ Hayley said positively, pushing aside a vision of cold but fascinating blue eyes that were definitely sexy. ‘Men are the kind of trouble I can do without.’
Anthea said, ‘Hmm.’
They sat for a while, each wrapped in silence and their own personal thoughts.
Then Hayley heaved a sigh and spread her hands dramatically. ‘So here I am, trying out pastures new, and on the look-out for a job that’s both interesting and financially rewarding. Let’s hope it won’t be long in coming.’
‘Amen to that,’ Anthea drawled.
‘And amen to the hope that any males thereabout will view me with complete uninterest.’
Anthea laughed derisively. ‘What a hope! With your looks? If I had them, I might be willing to put up with one or two office gropers.’
‘You wouldn’t, you know,’ Hayley cut in forcefully. ‘There’s nothing more horrible than being mauled by a pair of podgy hands, being kissed unexpectedly by moist blood-red lips! Ugh!’
She gave a deep shudder of revulsion, and Anthea patted her hand sympathetically.
‘Sounds rough,’ she said, for once entirely serious, an expression she could never hold for long, and soon she grinned. ‘But never mind! Look on the bright side. There couldn’t be two like Junior.’
Hayley looked aghast. ‘Ye gods! I hope not!’
Anthea’s grin widened. ‘Then let’s say double amen to that.’
Hayley’s spirits rose. It had always been good to be around Anthea and she had a feeling that, from now on, by way of a change, things were going to go her way.
She looked forward to making a new start, and knew she would have to do her best to forget the last few months, but the situation had bitten deep, leaving scars that would heal only as time passed and her confidence returned.
She might joke about it, but it would be a long time before she would be able to forget the humiliation. Old Mr Heaton had unexpectedly added to her agony when she’d been driven at last to ask for his protection from his son. He’d hurt her deeply by hinting that she might have been more than half to blame for Frank’s objectionable behaviour, muttering something about short skirts and tight sweaters being a deliberate provocation these days.
Since Hayley had always dressed circumspectly and had never worn either garment to the office, she’d felt justified in arguing against
the implication, but Mr Heaton had dismissed her words with impatience.
In the end she’d had no option but to leave the job she’d once enjoyed and which she’d had since leaving secretarial college four years ago.
Later, in Anthea’s bright little guest room, Hayley stared at herself in the full-length mirror, her gaze moving critically over the slim lines of the body Frank had seemed unable to keep his hands off.
The skirt she wore wasn’t short, but it couldn’t help but follow the curves of her shapely figure. The fitted blouse, too, faithfully outlined the firmly rounded bosom. There was no denying she looked youthful and attractive, she thought ruefully. But for the past year that attractiveness had been more of a curse than a blessing.
Hayley sighed. There wasn’t too much she could do about her shape, unfortunately. But she could do something about her attitude towards men in the office, which from now on, she vowed, would be nothing short of repressive.
But first of all, of course, she had to find a job.
CHAPTER TWO
WHICH was easier said than done.
More than a week later, with no sign of a job in the offing, Hayley sat disconsolately in Anthea’s kitchen, sipping at her third cup of tea. With so much time on her hands, she thought gloomily, she was turning into a tea-aholic.
Despite having done the rounds of agencies as well as writing off in answer to countless advertisements for secretaries, she’d had only two interviews, neither of which had been successful.
Since Heaton’s was the one and only job she’d had, she supposed her experience might seem a little lacking to anyone who didn’t know she’d run the office practically single-handedly in terms of administration.
‘Any luck?’ Anthea came breezing in just after six o’clock, sniffing appreciatively at the stew Hayley had simmering on the stove, having taken on the job of cooking to relieve the boredom.
‘No. Nothing in the mail and nothing doing at the agency. The word “secretary” seems to have been outmoded by, “Multi-lingual SuperSec with thorough knowledge of every known make under the sun of computer”,’ Hayley grumbled. ‘No wonder no one’s bothered to acknowledge my modest curriculum vitae, where my only claim to other languages is a B in O level French. Why choose a non-starter when you can have SuperSec?’
‘Rhubarb! You’d run rings around the best of them.’ Anthea slumped down at the table, kicked off her shoes, and put her sturdy legs up on another chair. ‘Where you fall down is in being too honest and a darned sight too modest. You’ve got to try a little flannel.’
She picked up the newspaper in which Hayley had been searching for vacancies and began turning the pages. ‘Look! Here’s one! If you want a taste of the glam and the glitz of being a top sec, it’s right up your street.’
Hayley peered at the black-edged box Anthea was stabbing with a blood-red fingernail. It read:
Temporary position: Personal secretary urgently required by managing director of national engineering company. Must be competent, organised, self-motivated.
Daytime and evening telephone numbers were given with the address underneath.
‘A temporary job to cut your city teeth on,’ Anthea suggested drily. ‘No mention there of languages or computer wizardry. And you’ve worked in engineering for years.’
Hayley laughed. ‘You can hardly compare Heaton Engineering with a national company.’
And then, as Anthea opened her mouth for a pungent reply, she said hurriedly, ‘Don’t say it. I’ll ring first thing in the morning. And I’ll tell them I’m the best thing since the wheel.’
‘The ad says urgently,’ Anthea remarked irritably. ‘With daytime and evening telephone numbers given, that’s got to mean very urgent.’ She pointed into the hall. ‘There’s the telephone. What are you waiting for?’
The response to Hayley’s telephone call was immediate. A man answered and, after taking brief particulars—name, address and a short outline of her experience—he gave her an appointment for the following morning at ten o’clock.
‘Thank you.’ Hayley’s head swam a little with the speed of it. ‘Who shall I ask for?’
‘My name’s Marcus Maury.’ The voice was deep and faintly husky, and sent a strange little tingle up Hayley’s spine. ‘Just ask for me at Reception.’
Hayley put the phone down, still in a bit of a daze. Marcus Maury. She repeated the name with a frown. Somewhere, in the far reaches of her brain, the name seemed familiar. But, try as she might, she couldn’t make the link.
But an evasive memory was the last thing on her mind as she waited the following morning in the empty outer office of the managing director’s suite.
She’d had a restless night of anticipation, waking with a headache, and was wearing the tinted glasses she sometimes used for very close work. She’d worn them in the office at Heaton’s when Frank was around, in the hope of deterring him, but it hadn’t worked. Studying their effect this morning, however, she thought they made her look a little more intellectual, and decided to keep them on for the interview.
Out of sheer nervousness, she’d got on the wrong bus, and felt as though she’d done a round tour of London before finding another to take her in the right direction.
The bright sunshine and the cheerful bustle of the streets would have enchanted her on any other day, but she’d been hot and flustered by the time she’d arrived fifteen minutes late. She’d introduced herself rather breathlessly to the young receptionist, who, obviously expecting her, had rung through to announce her arrival and then showed her up into the empty and rather opulent office of Mrs Audrey Blake, the name beautifully inscribed on a steel nameplate on the immaculate desk. If this was the secretary’s office, Hayley mused, what must the inner sanctum be like?
She hadn’t long to wait to find out. A tall man appeared briefly in the doorway and beckoned her to enter.
Hayley rose a little unsteadily on her unaccustomed high heels. They made her look taller and complemented her shapely legs, but she wondered now if they hadn’t been a mistake. She’d chosen her outfit carefully. In deference to the fact that Maury’s was a London-based national company, she’d decided on the most sophisticated outfit in her sparse wardrobe, a well-cut jade-green suit with paler matching blouse, its tie front demurely knotted at her throat.
Her thick dark brown, naturally curly hair had been pulled back into an well-ordered coil at the nape of her slender neck, and unconsciously her hand went up to check for stray ends before she made her entrance.
She was halfway across the large, thickly carpeted office before her eyes focused clearly on the man seated behind the gleaming desk.
‘Come in, Miss—er—Morgan,’ he said in answer to her rather diffident good morning. ‘I shan’t keep you a moment.’
She wanted to apologise for being late, but he seemed to be intimidatingly busy, and somehow she didn’t have the nerve to interrupt.
His head was down as he finished writing in his diary, and with a sudden, gut-wrenching start Hayley recognised the rich red-brown tint of the thick hair before the blue eyes rose to confront her.
She had trouble stifling her shocked gasp, but he seemed not to notice her reaction.
‘Well. Thank you for being punctual.’ He indicated, with a wave of his lean hand, a chair placed opposite. ‘Won’t you take a seat?’
It was somehow amusing that, after all the rush and haste and anxiety, he hadn’t even noticed she’d been late. Not that it mattered now.
With a sinking feeling, Hayley sat. So much for things going her way, she thought morosely. Of all the people in the world he could have been, Mr Marcus Maury had to be her stranger. If he recognised her, he gave no sign of it. Perhaps the glasses, smart outfit and severe hairstyle would be camouflage enough to carry her through, she thought hopefully. After all, he didn’t know her name, and they had met only the once in totally different circumstances.
At the moment he looked like a man with a lot of more pressing things on his mind than a qu
irky meeting on a train and a few stolen kisses.
‘As you may have noticed, we’re a little disorganised at the moment. My personal secretary has unfortunately had an accident, leaving me a little high and dry.’ He grunted irritably. ‘Fell off her blasted horse. Not her fault, of course, but damnably inconvenient.’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Hayley murmured, despite herself amused by his vehemence. With a touch of irony she added, ‘Some secretaries can be indispensable.’
But he wasn’t paying attention. He went on frowning for a moment longer, his thoughts obviously unhappy, and then he seemed to give himself a mental shake.
He straightened, turning his blue gaze full on her for the first time since she’d entered the room, and her heart missed a beat as she waited for the inevitable flash of recognition. It wasn’t long in coming.
‘I’ve got this damned important meeting this morning, and nobody capable—’ He cut off sharply, staring at her with a puzzled frown between his brows. ‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’
Hayley bit her lip, wondering if she should brazen it out or jog his memory. If she didn’t, it was possible he might not remember exactly where they’d met. But it would only be a respite. He was bound to remember sooner or later.
‘We met on the train,’ she said flatly, offering no further prompt to his memory.
The frown deepened and then lifted in sudden enlightenment.
‘Well, if it isn’t Miss Pushy,’ he drawled, with a slow shake of his head. ‘I didn’t think coincidence could stretch so far, so soon.’
‘Neither did I,’ Hayley agreed gloomily. ‘But it just about fits the pattern of my luck and the way its been running lately.’ She sighed. ‘By the way, my name’s not Pushy, it’s Morgan. Hayley Morgan. You have a note of it just there.’
She pointed an irritable finger at his notepad.
The thin smile was cold, self-assured, his glance sweeping over her face in a slow, searching look.
‘You know,’ he said slowly, after some seconds, ‘the disguise almost had me fooled.’
When Strangers Meet Page 2
