by Jo Bartlett
‘Well, okay.’ Despite the pressure on her back, she paused. Tom still hadn’t spoken, lost in his own thoughts as he stared out of the window. ‘I’ve got to go and see Angus. So, call me later?’ It was a question she needed the answer to. At last Tom turned to look at her, nodding his head.
‘I’ll call you tonight.’ There, he’d said it, but whether he would or not remained to be seen.
****
‘I thought she’d never go.’ Francine put one arm along the back of Tom’s chair, his mind racing. How on earth were they going to word the press release? As she leant in closer, it was obvious she’d undone a couple of extra buttons on her shirt, the top of her bra clearly visible. Not again. Why the hell couldn’t Francine get the message without him spelling it out to her?
He should have been in bed with Ashleigh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted something as much, it was a physical ache and the way she’d looked at lunch hadn’t needed a deliberate flash of her underwear. He knew he hadn’t been the only man in Grant’s to notice her. There was so much vitality about her and she was getting to him.
‘Tom, are you listening to me?’ Francine straightened up, her frustration at his lack of reaction obvious. ‘I can’t understand why you keep getting involved with these sort of girls.’
‘I don’t think it’s part of your remit to worry about my sex life, is it?’ He was careful not to use the dreaded L word. It was just a physical thing.
‘I just don’t want to see you make the same mistake again. You and I both know that the business has to come first.’ There was an unspoken suggestion that this should have made Francine his first choice. It was never going to happen; but she was right, the business was the priority.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve learnt my lesson and I won’t be making any grand gestures.’ As he spoke, a slow smile spread across her face.
‘That’s good to know.’ She moved back to the side of his chair and leant across him again, the attempt at seduction not yet over. ‘Let’s get this press release done.’
‘What would I do without you?’ Tom moved fractionally, so that her bony cleavage was out of his eye line. He wasn’t deliberately leading her on, but he did need her – she was the most efficient PA he’d ever had. Business was business and she understood that. When all this stuff with Ashleigh was out of his system, things would go back to normal and losing Francine definitely wasn’t part of the plan.
****
Calling into the Glitz offices on her way back to Stevie’s flat, Ashleigh was met by a very excited Angus. Stevie was there too, the whole place buzzing with gossip about Susie-Anne and Michael Cox. Ashleigh gritted her teeth and played along as though it was news to her. She nodded and feigned interest when Angus went through the list of upcoming assignments. She forced herself to smile at the right times, until the strain of keeping up the pretence made her face ache and her head throb. It was hell. When she finally got the chance to escape to the Dog and Duck, with Stevie in tow, she could have given Usain Bolt a run for his money.
‘So come on then, what’s up with you? You’ve had a face like a slapped bum all afternoon.’ Stevie put two pints of cider on the small table in front of her. It was going to be one of those evenings.
‘I think I might have done something really stupid. I just wish he hadn’t been so nice to me, then at least a little part of me could have carried on hating his guts.’ She kicked the table and his pint jumped precariously close to the edge, but decided at the last minute not to topple onto the floor.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve made a pass at Angus?’
‘We both know that the only one who has a chance with Angus is you. He giggles like a schoolboy whenever you’re in the same room.’ She managed a bleak smile. ‘Think bigger.’
‘Umm, bigger than Angus... are we talking physically or in terms of power?’ He ducked away as she moved to slap him. ‘Okay, okay, I suppose we’re talking Tom Rushworth?’
‘Yep, Tom.’ Sighing, she stopped skirting around the issue and took a slug of cider. ‘But I didn’t make a pass at him, as you put it, I’ve just gone for the cliché of fancying the boss.’
‘So what’s new? You’ve been mooning over him for weeks and, after all, you’ve never had much taste in men.’ Grinning, he put his arm around her. ‘Except of course when it comes to choosing a best friend.’
‘I’m starting to wonder about that too!’ She was teasing. Stevie’s gift for putting everything into perspective was working its charm; the only trouble was he didn’t know the full story. ‘I just wish I hadn’t made it so obvious.’
‘It’s not that obvious.’ Stevie pulled away and looked at her, his head on one side. ‘I mean I can tell of course, but then I know you. Tom has women fawning all day long. I bet he hasn’t even noticed.’
‘Well, thanks!’ She couldn’t help laughing; Stevie also had a knack for bringing her back down to earth. ‘But I think he has.’
‘You didn’t!’ His eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing behind his fringe.
‘Didn’t what?’
‘Tell him you fancy him? Ask him out? I don’t know, make it obvious?’ He looked shocked – this from someone who thought nothing of gyrating against a stranger in a nightclub, just to let them know his interest had been vaguely aroused.
‘I didn’t have to tell him.’ She laughed again, as his mouth almost fell open. ‘Oh for God’s sake, I wasn’t going to tell you but we kissed.’
‘You didn’t! When?’
‘When he came to Sandgate to tell us we weren’t sacked.’ There was a second of guilt as they made eye contact. They shared everything, but she’d kept this from him.
‘I knew something was up!’ He smacked a hand against his forehead. ‘That night when I came into the kitchen, you were as jumpy as hell. I thought it was just you worrying about the job.’ The excitement had taken over and Stevie could barely sit still. ‘So, come on then, was he good?’ He didn’t need to wait for an answer; the blush that had crept up her neck gave the game away. ‘Oh not just good then, are we talking really good?’
‘Really, really good.’ A warm feeling curled in the pit of her stomach as she thought about kissing Tom.
‘Okay, so he’s hot, filthy rich and a great kisser. What’s the problem?’ Stevie was getting into the swing of things. ‘Never mind your crush, I think I might have a crack at him myself.’
‘It’s never wise to get involved with someone on the rebound.’ She attempted to mimic his jokey tone, but it didn’t quite come off.
‘Is that what you’re worried about?’ Stevie looked at her quizzically. ‘Has there been something since the kiss then?’ When she didn’t answer, he moved in for the kill. ‘Spill it Ash or I mean it, I will tickle you and I won’t stop until you either ‘fess up or wet yourself.’
‘Okay, okay!’ She twisted away from him, scared he might carry out the threat, even in a busy pub. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to keep it from you.’ She took a deep breath, still in shock at how far things had almost gone with Tom. ‘It isn’t so much what happened as what almost did.’
‘You were going to sleep with him!’ Stevie was almost squawking. ‘I mean I’m not bothered about the two of you getting together, but I’m supposed to be your best friend and you haven’t even hinted that it’s gone this far!’
‘Well, it only really happened at lunch-time today, so I think you can forgive me for not filling you in straight away.’
‘Could he not, you know… manage?’ Stevie’s eyes lit up, he still hadn’t quite forgiven Tom for his off-hand manner and it clearly amused him to think that their boss might not be quite so powerful after all.
‘Of course it wasn’t that!’ She’d expected to be embarrassed recounting the story, but her over-riding emotion was disappointment. ‘Well, I mean we never actually got the chance to find out, but, you know, he seemed like he’
d manage perfectly well.’ Ah, there was the blush, back with a vengeance.
‘So if it wasn’t a performance failure, then what stopped you?’ Stevie suddenly had a dreamy look on his face. ‘I don’t think I would have told Tom to stop. Yes, he’s arrogant, but those eyes and that body…’
‘Are you listening to me?’ Ashleigh had lost him to a fantasy she’d rather he hadn’t shared.
‘Umm, sorry, yep, go on.’ He grinned and Ashleigh shifted in her seat; if confession was good for the soul, Stevie wasn’t making it that easy.
‘Tom invited me out to lunch. I thought he was going to tear me off a strip for the Edith Piaf stunt we pulled with Chloe but…’
‘He just wanted to strip you off instead!’
‘Will you shut up? Or shall I just not bother telling you the rest?’ He gave an apologetic shrug and mimed locking his mouth shut, throwing the imaginary key behind him. ‘We got back to his place, just as the story about Susie-Anne had broken, and the press were everywhere. Tom seemed really upset and he just wanted to get back to his office, deal with the fall out and for me to disappear.’
‘Oh honey. It was probably just a shock.’ Stevie gave her a hug. ‘Perhaps he was freaking out that he might not have escaped after all and he’d have to marry Susie-Anne.’ He grimaced at the thought. ‘I mean she’s only been with Michael five minutes. The kid might not even be his!’ Stevie, who could gossip for England, was lit up by the idea that there might be more to the story.
‘I never even thought of that!’ Great, now she had something else to worry about.
Chapter Thirteen
As it turned out, Tom kept his promise to phone her but the call had been brief. Stevie’s attempt to prove he wasn’t eavesdropping was as off putting for Ashleigh, as it might have been for a teenage girl whose dad was pretending not to listen into her phone call. There wasn’t much to say, except that Tom was sorry that they’d had to cut short their lunch, as he delicately put it. Ashleigh had replied that it was fine, no problem, she understood. There’d been no talk of another date, not that there’d been a date as such in the first place, but it would definitely have made her feel better if Tom had suggested it. She was glad she was going home in a couple of days. There was just the small matter of Carly’s hen night to shoot in London and then she could go home until Christmas. She had a few assignments booked for Glitz at some of the Christmas parties the celebs would trawl round and the rehearsal dinner and parties in the run up to the wedding, but none of them were in London and she could go home to her own bed every night. Putting some distance between herself and Tom probably wouldn’t be a bad thing either.
‘You ready honey?’ Stevie looked more like the hen than the stylist by the time he’d got himself ready for Carly’s big night. He was wearing sequinned jeggings, silver Ugg-style boots and a black silk shirt. There were hints of body glitter on his cheekbones and at the nape of his neck. There was no denying it, he was beautiful. No one else could pull off an outfit like that.
Stevie had already met with Carly on several occasions to plan her outfit and those of her hens. Ashleigh couldn’t be persuaded to join in the bling-fest, as the two of them had termed it. Much as she liked Carly, she was working tonight and had on her habitual working uniform of Levis, boots and a long sleeved T-Shirt. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and only a hint of make-up attempted to mask her tiredness. She hadn’t slept well since she’d last seen Tom and her concentration had been shot to pieces. Even watching mindless TV was hard to follow because her thoughts were elsewhere. Susie-Anne’s news seemed to keep cropping up on the magazine shows that dominated the daytime TV schedules, which just served as another reminder.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’ Ashleigh gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m really not in the mood for this tonight. Carly and her posse of WAGs at their drunken worst is not something I’m looking forward to.’
‘There’s bound to be some gossip tonight or they’ll create some of their own.’ He enveloped her in his arms. ‘And after all that you get to come home with me!’
‘I suppose I should make the most of it.’ She mumbled into his shoulder and sniffed self pityingly. ‘Because at this rate it doesn’t look like I’ll ever have a hen night of my own.’
‘Oh shut up!’ He pulled away so that he could look her in the eye. ‘I’d marry you tomorrow honey.’ He grinned as she rolled her eyes. ‘No I mean it. So there’d be no sex, so what? We’d only be like most of the married couples around and I bet we’d be a whole lot happier. At least we really love each other.’
‘Thanks Stevie. I do love you, you know that.’ She began to gather up her equipment. ‘And I might just take you up on that offer!’
****
Carly and the rest of the hens had spent most of the day in an exclusive spa in West London. Part of the photo shoot was to capture the ‘fun and frolics’, as Glitz would no doubt term it, of their day of pampering. Not wanting to spend the whole day trailing around after them, Ashleigh and Stevie had agreed to catch up with them at the tail end of the spa day. They were met there by Marco, the gorgeous Anglo-Italian hairdresser who’d just been short-listed for Hairdresser of the Year and Imelda, one of the regular freelance make-up artists working for Glitz.
‘Ooh, you ain’t ‘alf looking tired girl.’ Imelda was a stereotypical cockney. Warm hearted and blunt in equal measure, she lost no time in appraising Ashleigh’s care-worn appearance. ‘What’s ‘appened? Nuffink’s wrong is it?’
‘Other than you telling me I look like crap?’ Ashleigh laughed despite herself. ‘I’m alright, honestly, just ready for the Christmas break. I think I’ve had enough of London for a bit.’
‘But they say tired of London, tired of life, eh?’ Marco swept her into an embrace, kissing her with gusto on both cheeks. Now there was someone who never got depressed.
‘Well maybe there’s a bit of that too!’ She took in his appearance, which would give Stevie a run for his money. He always seemed to fizz with excitement and he seemed more hyped up then usual. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t look like the same can be said of you.’
‘Are the rumours true then?’ Stevie submitted to Marco’s attentions next. Although the hairdresser was a notorious womaniser, Stevie seemed to be making the most of the moment. ‘Are we in the presence of a TV star?’
‘Yes, it’s true, it’s true!’ Marco clapped his hand together with excitement. ‘I’m not supposed to say, but I stood in for George Lamore on Morning Sunrise this week and now I’ve got the gig for good!’ His eyes twinkled and he definitely had the right look for TV. Viewing figures for Morning Sunrise’s makeover slot were going to go through the roof.
‘Congratulations!’ Ashleigh suddenly felt much more cheerful. She’d worked with George Lamore in her earliest career as a photographer and he’d been an egotistical pig back then; even before he’d won the coveted makeover slot and became a reality TV star. He’d since opened up his London salon, La More, More, More, to one of the satellite channel’s cameras and its show of the same name. La Bore, Bore, Bore would have been more appropriate. The man took pride in belittling his staff and loved nothing more than revelling in other people’s misfortune. He’d been one of the first to make public comment when Chloe’s past had been exposed. Perhaps there was a God after all. George had lost his slot on Morning Sunrise and ratings for his satellite TV show had dipped to an all-time low.
‘That’s brilliant!’ Stevie’s gossip radar was on high alert after the events of the past few days. ‘So come on, spill it, what’s the silver fox really like? As nice as he seems?’ He’d always had a bit of a crush on Ritchie Waters and Ashleigh knew that watching his Saturday morning TV shows as a kid had helped confirm for Stevie that it was definitely the un-fairer sex that set his pulse racing.
‘Yes, he’s great.’ Marco nodded enthusiastically. ‘All the presenters are and Ellie Summers is almost as gorgeous as ou
r Ashleigh.’ He glanced at her pale complexion and grinned. ‘Well right now she looks a damn sight better than Ash!’
‘Thanks, mate!’ She wasn’t offended though. It was good to be with people who knew her well enough to have a good laugh. It was managing to push thoughts of Tom, and the fool she’d made of herself, to one side. ‘So everyone’s great then? Bit boring on the gossip front aren’t you?’
‘Not everyone.’ Marco wasn’t known for his discretion. ‘Some of the guests on the show are…’ he seemed to wrestle for a moment to find the right words, ‘…complete pains in the arse!’
‘Oh! Like who?’ Imelda’s eyes widened.
‘Taylor Moore wouldn’t come on set until she’d had a pedicure and quails eggs on toast.’ They exchanged knowing glances. The daytime soap actress had walked out on her show to launch a career in Hollywood. The consensus of opinion was that she was much more likely to turn up next on one of the down-market celebrity reality shows so beloved of ex-soap stars.
‘Hilarious!’ Stevie was in his element. ‘And did you meet the lovely Susie-Anne when she came in?’ The raised eyebrows made it clear that he was hoping for some really juicy gossip. Ashleigh was praying that Susie-Anne had asked for five naked hunks, stripped to the waist, to provide a full body massage before she’d take her seat on the sofa. Anything that might further justify her opinion of Tom’s ex-fiancée and give her a reason to believe that he might really prefer her.
‘Actually, she was okay. Quite funny.’ Marco was definitely the type to appreciate Susie-Anne’s ample charms. ‘Fair enough, she had a laugh like a hyena on helium that would drive me mad after a while, but I’d happily have spent a night or two in her company!’
‘No histrionics then?’ Ashleigh was disappointed; a laugh at Susie-Anne’s expense would have been welcome.
‘Well, she’s no genius.’ Marco shrugged. ‘She was on top of the world about the baby and everyone got an eyeful of her two blue lines whether they wanted to or not.’
