Czytaj książkę: «It Started With A Look»

CHAPTER THREE

MOST city singles loved Friday afternoons. Their moods would lift as the working week drew towards an end, anticipation building for that wonderfully carefree moment when they poured out of their office buildings and into their favourite bars and drinking holes for the traditional Friday-night drinks-after-work bash. Even the non-drinkers liked Fridays, because there was still the weekend to look forward to, two whole days without having to sit at their desks and their computers; two whole days of doing exactly as they pleased, even if that was nothing.

Rachel was one of the exceptions to the rule. Since coming back to work she hated the week to end because she hated the prospect of two whole days of doing just that. Nothing.

As she made her way to work the following Friday morning Rachel began thinking she might have to go shopping by herself this weekend after all, just for something to do. Last weekend had been OK, because of Isabel and Rafe’s wedding. But this weekend was going to be dreadful, with Isabel away and that strangely soulless town house all to herself.

She could hardly fill the whole weekend with housework. She already kept the place spotless on a daily basis. She could read, of course, or watch television. But, somehow, indoor activities did not appeal. She felt like getting out and about.

It was a pity that the town house didn’t have a garden. Unfortunately, the courtyard was all paved and the few plants dotted around were in pots. Rachel liked working with her hands. That was why she’d first taken up sewing as a teenager.

But sewing was on the no-no list for Rachel nowadays. She never wanted to see her sewing machine again. It was packed away at the back of a cupboard, never to see the light of day again. After the funeral, whenever she looked at it she thought of Lettie’s illness, and all that had happened because of it. No nice associations at all.

Sometimes, she wished Justin would ask her to work overtime on the weekend. She knew he went into the office on a Saturday, so surely there was something she could do. Extra data entry, perhaps. Justin often had to farm some of that work out to an agency.

But he never asked, and she wouldn’t dream of suggesting it. He might see her offer as evidence of a desire for more of his company, rather than the result of chronic loneliness.

Rachel glanced up at the sky before she entered her building. The clouds were heavier than the day before, the southerly change predicted earlier in the week having finally arrived yesterday, bringing intermittent showers.

The thought of more rain over the weekend dampened Rachel’s enthusiasm for shopping by herself. Maybe she would wait till Isabel returned. There was no real hurry, now that Sydney’s weather had changed back to cooler. Her black suits would do a while longer.

Yes, she decided as she swung through the revolving glass doors. Her shopping expedition could wait.

Justin was already in when she arrived. Surprisingly, he’d put on the coffee machine and was in the act of pouring himself a mugful when she walked into the tea room. He was wearing one of her favourite suits, a light grey number which looked well against his dark hair and blue eyes, especially when teamed with a white shirt and blue tie.

‘Morning,’ he said, throwing her a warm smile over his shoulder. ‘Want me to pour you one as well?’

‘Yes, please,’ she answered, her spirits lifting now that she was at work. She shoved her black bag and umbrella on the shelf under the kitchen-like counter, then took the milk out of the fridge, preferring her coffee white, though she could drink it black, at a pinch. Justin always had his black.

‘What’s it like outside?’ he asked, and slid her mug along the counter to where she was standing.

‘Overcast,’ she said as she added her milk.

‘Not actually raining, though?’ he queried just before his mug made it to his lips.

‘Not yet. But it will be soon.’

‘Mmm.’

Rachel detected something in that ‘mmm’ which made her curious.

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Do you have something on this weekend which rain will spoil?’

He took the mug away from his mouth. ‘Actually, no, just the opposite. I won’t be here in Sydney at all. I’m flying up to the Gold Coast this afternoon to spend the weekend at a five-star ocean-front hotel.’

‘Lucky you,’ she replied, wondering who he was spending the weekend with.

‘No need to feel jealous. You’re coming with me.’

Rachel was grateful that she hadn’t lifted her own coffee off the counter, because she surely would have spilt it.

Justin chuckled. ‘You should see the look on your face. But don’t panic. I’m not asking you to go away with me for a dirty weekend. It’s for work.’

Rachel closed her mouth then. Well, of course it was for work. How could she, even for a split-second, imagine anything else?

Silly Rachel.

‘What kind of work?’ she asked, finally feeling safe enough to lift her coffee off the counter and take a sip.

‘A different kind of investment advice from my usual. Apparently, this holiday hotel—it’s called Sunshine Gardens—is on the market and all potential buyers—of which AWI is one—are being flown up free of charge so they can see and experience first-hand the hotel’s attractions and assets. Generally speaking we can do our own thing, except for tomorrow night, when we’ll be wined and dined by management, after which there’ll be a video shown, along with a presentation of facts and figures to con everyone into believing the hotel is a rock-solid investment. Guy Walters was supposed to go, but he can’t, so he asked me to go in his place.’

Rachel frowned. ‘Guy Walters. Who’s he? I can’t place him.’

‘You must know Guy. Big, beefy fellow. Fortyish. Bald head. Exec in charge of property investments.’

Rachel searched her memory. ‘No. No, I don’t think I do. I’d remember someone who looked like that.’

Now Justin frowned. ‘You’re right. Guy hasn’t been down here to see me personally since you started. Anyway, I do weights with him every morning. When I arrived this morning he wasn’t there. He raced in half an hour later and explained that he was off to the airport to fly to Melbourne because his dad was ill, after which he explained about where he was supposed to be going and begged me to go in his place. Apparently, the CEO of AWI is super-keen on buying this place and is expecting a report on his desk first thing Monday morning, no excuses. Guy said I was the only one he could ask to go in his place whose opinion he would trust. He said he knew an old cynic like me wouldn’t be blinded by surface appearances and would look for the pitfalls. At the same time, he also wanted a woman’s opinion. He said women see things men don’t always see.’

‘So what woman was he going to take? His secretary? Or a colleague?’

‘No, actually, he’d been going to take his wife. When I pointed out I didn’t have a wife he said that shouldn’t present a problem for a man-about-town like me, and I got all that male nudge-nudge, wink-wink crap. Guy’s always implying I must have a little black book filled with the phone numbers of dozens of dolly-birds available for dirty weekends at a moment’s notice.’

Rachel stopped sipping her coffee, her curiosity piqued. ‘And you don’t?’

‘God, no.’ The distaste on his face was evident. ‘That’s not my style.’

Rachel didn’t know what to think. Maybe he simply didn’t like women. Or maybe he just had old-fashioned principles and standards.

The thought that he might be right off sex—and women—was swiftly abandoned. The sceptic in Rachel couldn’t see any heterosexual male of Justin’s age and health being totally off sex no matter what. It went against everything she and all her female friends had come to believe about the human male animal.

‘I told Guy I would be taking my valued and very astute PA,’ Justin added. ‘If you’re available to go, of course. Are you?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘But what?’

‘What about the accommodation? If this chap had been going with his wife, then…’

‘I’ve already thought of that and there are no worries there. AWI’s been allotted a two-bedroom apartment with two separate bathrooms, so there’s no privacy issue. Also, you don’t have to spend every minute of every day with me. You’re free as a bird. I’d expect you to accompany me to the dinner on the Saturday night, however.’

‘Er—what would I have to wear to something like that?’

‘Guy said it’s black tie. Lord knows why. Someone’s being pretentious as usual. Probably their PR person. Do you have something suitable in your wardrobe? If not, I’m sure AWI can spare the expense of a dress. You could buy one up there tomorrow. Tourist towns usually have loads of boutiques.’

‘No, I’ve got something suitable,’ Rachel returned, thinking immediately of her bridesmaid dress, which Isabel had chosen specifically because it was the sort of dress you could wear afterwards. At the time, Rachel hadn’t been able to imagine where, but it would be ideal for wearing to this dinner. As much as Justin might not like her coming into the office done up to the nines, surely he wouldn’t want her to accompany him to a dinner looking totally colourless and drab.

A tiny thrill ran down her spine as she thought of how surprised he might be if she wore her hair down and put on a bit of make-up. Nothing overdone, of course. A classy, elegant look.

‘Great. And don’t forget it’s going to be a lot warmer up there at this time of year,’ Justin went on. ‘You’ll need very light clothes for day wear. Very casual, too.’

Rachel saw the expression in his eyes as they flicked up and down the severely tailored black suit she was wearing.

‘It’s all right, Justin,’ she said wryly. ‘I do have some other more casual clothes.’ Again, thanks to Isabel.

When Isabel’s ex-fiancé broke off their engagement earlier this year Isabel had given Rachel her entire honeymoon wardrobe, bought to be worn on a tropical island. Rachel had thought at the time she would never have an opportunity to wear any of them, same as with the bridesmaid dress.

Now, suddenly, she did. What a strange twist of fate!

‘So when is the flight?’ she asked.

‘It departs at four, which doesn’t leave all that much time to do what has to be done here before we go. Unfortunately, I can’t abandon my other work today entirely. I still need to check last night’s markets and you’ll still have to update the files. So, let’s see, now…you live at Turramurra, don’t you?’

‘For the moment.’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean, for the moment?’

‘It’s my friend’s place. I’ve been staying with her temporarily since my foster-mum’s funeral. Don’t you remember? I told you all about Lettie and her illness at my interview.’

He slapped his forehead with the ball of his free hand and shot her an apologetic glance. ‘Of course you did. You also said you’d be selling her old house and buying yourself a unit closer to the city. Sorry. I did listen to you that day. Honest. I’d just forgotten for the moment. So how’s all that going? Found a buyer yet?’

Rachel sighed. ‘Unfortunately, things haven’t worked out the way I thought they would. Lettie did will me everything she owned, but it turned out she didn’t own the house and contents in the first place. It was all still in her husband’s name. I could have taken the matter to court but I just didn’t have the heart. The solicitor said I probably wouldn’t end up with much, anyway.’

‘He’s right there. Litigation is to be avoided at all costs. But gee, Rachel, that’s a damned shame. And not fair, after all you did for your foster-mum. But then, life’s not fair, is it?’ he added with the bitterness of experience in his voice. ‘So what are you going to do about a place to live?’

‘Well, I’m house-sitting Isabel’s town house whilst she’s on her honeymoon. She won’t be back for another fortnight. But I plan on renting a place of my own closer to the city after she does get back.’

‘Flats near the city are expensive to rent,’ Justin warned. ‘Even the dumps.’

‘Tell me about it. I’ve been looking in the paper. I can only afford a bedsit. Either that, or I’ll have to share.’ Which was a last resort. The idea of moving in with strangers did not appeal at all.

‘Can’t see you sharing a place with strangers,’ Justin said, startling Rachel with his intuition. ‘Can’t you stay where you are in your friend’s place? She won’t be needing it, now that she’s married.’

‘She did offer it to me for a nominal rent.’

‘Then take it and don’t be silly,’ he pronounced pragmatically. ‘So, how long do you think it would take you to go there, pack, then get back to the airport? I’ll pay for taxis both ways, of course.’

‘I don’t think I could do it in less than two hours, and that’s provided I don’t hit any traffic snags. It is Friday, you know.’

‘True. That means you’ll have to leave here by one at the latest. Guy gave me the plane tickets, so I’ll give you yours before you go and we’ll meet at the allotted departing gate. OK?’

‘Yes. OK.’

Justin smiled over the rim of his coffee mug. ‘I knew I could count on you not to make a fuss. Any other woman would have had hysterics about how she’d need all day to get packed and changed, but not you.’

Rachel gave a rueful little laugh. ‘I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a criticism.’

‘A compliment,’ Justin said drily. ‘Trust me. Come on, let’s get back to work. I want to have a clear desk and a clear head by the time that plane takes off this afternoon. I don’t know about you, but I’m rather looking forward to having a break away from this office, not to mention this rotten weather. I’ve always been partial to some sun and surf. Which reminds me. Don’t forget to pack a swimming costume. Even if you don’t like the surf, the hotel has a great pool, I’m told.’

He plonked down his empty mug and marched off, leaving Rachel to stand there, staring after him, her stomach revolving as she recalled the bright yellow bikini amongst the clothes Isabel had given her.

The thought of swimming in a bright yellow bikini in front of her boss sent her into a spin.

‘Hop to it, Rachel,’ he threw over his shoulder.

She hopped to it, but she still kept thinking about that bikini. Though modest by some standards, it was still a bikini. That, combined with the colour, would not present the non-flashy, non-flirtatious image Justin had of her and which he obviously felt comfortable with. She knew it was a stretch of the imagination that he would ever be sexually attracted to her—especially if he didn’t like women—but in the end Rachel decided that the bikini would be accidentally left at home. She had a good thing going with her job and she didn’t want to risk changing the status quo.

With this thought in mind, she decided not to wear her hair down for the dinner tomorrow night, either. It could go up as usual. And her make-up would be confined to a touch of lipstick. That was all she owned, anyway. It would be crazy to race out and buy a whole lot of stuff for one night. For what? Just to satisfy her feminine pride? Because that was all that was at stake. Her pride. Nothing to do with Justin. He obviously didn’t give a damn how she looked.

Feeling much better with these decisions, Rachel put her mind to her job. At one o’clock on the dot she was off, the taxi making good time to Turramurra. Packing was a breeze. Isabel’s discarded honeymoon gear was already in a very nice suitcase. It was just a matter of taking some things out, and adding some, namely her bridesmaid gear, along with her toilet bag. She did also add some white sandals from Isabel’s wardrobe, knowing her friend wouldn’t mind.

She didn’t have time to change but she did put a simple white T-shirt on under her black jacket so that she could take the jacket off once they reached Coolangatta.

By two-ten she was back in a taxi, heading for Mascot, but this time the going was slower, because it had started to rain quite heavily. They fairly crawled down the Pacific highway. There was an accident at an intersection at Roseville, which caused a back-up, and they moved at a snail’s pace again right down to Chatswood, after which the flow of traffic improved, courtesy of the new motorway. But her watch still showed five after three when she climbed out at the domestic terminal at Mascot. By the time she’d waited in line, been booked in and gone through Security, it was twenty-five to four, only ten minutes from the scheduled boarding time.

As she hurried along the long corridor towards the nominated gate Rachel hoped Justin wasn’t worrying. She knew he’d already arrived because the lady on the check-in counter had been left instructions on her computer to give her the seat next to him.

Gate eleven came into sight at last, and so did Justin. He was sitting on a seat at the end of a row in the waiting area, reading an afternoon newspaper, and not looking at all anxious, though he did glance up over the top of the pages occasionally. When he spied her walking towards him he folded the newspaper, smiled and patted the spare seat beside him.

‘You made it,’ he said as she dropped down into it.

‘Just. The traffic back into town was horrendous. I was wishing I had a mobile phone to call you and tell you my progress.’

‘No worries,’ he said. ‘You’re here now.’

‘Yes. Yes. I’m here now.’ Breathless, relieved and quite excited, now that she wasn’t stressing about her clothes, or how she would look at tomorrow night’s dinner. It had been years since she’d gone anywhere for the weekend and here she was, flying off to the Gold Coast in the company of a very attractive man. OK, so he was only her boss, and there was nothing remotely romantic between them. But other people didn’t know that. Other people might look at them and think that they were going off for a dirty weekend together.

Not likely, you stupid girl, a quite savage voice reprimanded inside her head. Just look at him. He’s gorgeous! The epitome of tall, dark and handsome. And just look at you. Talk about drabsville. A few years ago, things might have been different. You were a real looker then. Now you’re a shadow of your former self. No, not even a shadow. A shell. That’s what you are. A cold, empty, sexless shell!

Rachel sagged back against the seat, a huge wave of depression swamping her earlier excitement.

‘I think this trip’ll do you good,’ Justin said suddenly by her side.

‘Oh?’ she replied wearily. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘You’ve been a bit down-in-the-mouth since your friend’s wedding last weekend. I dare say you’re missing her. And it can’t be much fun, working for a work-aholic bore like me.’

She stared over at him. ‘You’re not a bore. I like my job. And I like working for you.’

He smiled at her. ‘And I like you working for me. You are one seriously nice woman. Which is why what my mother said the other day has been bothering me. Tell it to me straight, Rachel. Do you object to bringing me coffee and running little errands for me? If you do, then I want you to say so. Right now.’

‘Justin, I don’t mind. Honestly. It’s a change sometimes to get up and do something physical instead of just sitting at the computer, updating files.’

He frowned. ‘That’s a good portion of your job, isn’t it? Updating the files. That must be boring for someone of your intelligence. I should involve you more in what I do, explain my programs, show you how to analyse the data yourself, make proper use of that good brain of yours. Would you like that?’

‘Oh! I…I’d love it! If—er—you really think I could do it, that is,’ she added, her chronic lack of confidence not quite keeping up with her instant enthusiasm over his proposal.

‘Of course you can. That way, when I set up my own company, I’ll promote you to being a proper personal assistant with a salary to match, and we’ll hire another girl to work on Reception and data entry.’

‘Justin! I…I don’t know what to say.’

‘Just say yes, of course.’

She beamed at him. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘That’s another thing I like about you. You don’t argue with me. Aah, there’s the boarding announcement. Come on, let’s be one of the first on board. Then I can settle back to reading the newspaper and you can read that book you’ve got in your bag.’ He was on his feet in a flash and off.

‘How do you know I’ve got a book in my bag?’ she asked after they’d been through the boarding-pass check and were striding down the tunnel towards the plane.

‘Rachel, give me credit for some powers of observation,’ he said drily. ‘I do realise I have my nose buried in computer screens most of the day but I’d have to be a total moron not to notice some of your habits. You read every single lunch-hour. And I imagine every day on the train to and from work. Am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘What kind of books do you like?’

‘Oh. All kinds. Thrillers. Romances. Sagas. Biographies.’

‘I used to read thrillers obsessively when I was at uni,’ he said in a happily reminiscent tone. ‘But I have to confess my reading rarely extends beyond the newspapers and business-based magazines these days.’

‘I think that’s a shame. Reading’s a great pastime. And a good escape.’

‘A good escape, eh? Yeah, you’re right. It is. Maybe I should try it,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘instead of the gym.’

Rachel just caught this last possibly meant-for-his-ears-only remark, and wondered what he was trying to escape from. The memories of his marriage?

If his mother was to be believed then his ex-wife had been the bitch from hell. But if that was the case, then why would Justin have married her in the first place? He didn’t strike Rachel as being a fool, or a pushover.

Relationships were a minefield, Rachel mused as she trailed after Justin past the welcoming flight attendants and into the body of the plane. And most marriages were a right mystery to all but the people involved. Justin’s mother would naturally blame her son’s wife for their break-up, but did she really know what had happened between the pair of them?

Justin stopped abruptly next to row D and turned to her. ‘You have the window seat,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind sitting on the aisle. Actually, it gives me a bit more leg room.’

‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully, and slid into the window seat. She liked to see where she was going.

Once settled, Rachel took out her book then stowed her black shoulder bag under the seat in front of her, ready for take-off. ‘I hope it’s not raining up there too,’ she said as she peered out at the rain-soaked tarmac.

Justin looked up from the newspaper. ‘It isn’t according to the radar weather map I looked up on the internet just before I left the office. It’s fine on the Gold Coast today with a top temperature of twenty-seven degrees. And more of the same is forecast for the weekend.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ she said with a happy sigh.

When Justin resumed reading his newspaper, Rachel opened the family saga she’d been reading the last couple of days. It wasn’t riveting so far, but she liked the author and trusted her to get her in eventually.

Soon, she was off in that imaginative world of the story, so she didn’t see the man who boarded the plane shortly afterwards. Or his female companion. If she had, Rachel would have recognised both of them.

She missed seeing them again at Coolangatta Airport, as it was so easy to do in crowds. Though, admittedly, she had been occupied chatting away with Justin at the luggage carousel and hadn’t looked round at the other people waiting to collect their bags. She missed them again in the foyer of Sunshine Gardens, because she and Justin were already riding the lift up to their ocean-view apartment by the time they arrived.

Rachel might not have seen them at all till the following night at the dinner—which would have been an even greater disaster—if she hadn’t discovered on reaching the door of their apartment that her door key didn’t work.

‘It must be faulty,’ Justin said when his worked fine. ‘I’ll call the front desk when I get inside and they can bring you up another one.’

‘No, I’ll go back down now and get one myself,’ Rachel said. ‘You saw how busy they were.’

‘Rachel, you’re much too considerate sometimes.’

‘Not really. I’ve always found it’s quicker and less irritating to just do things myself, rather than wait for someone else to do it.’

‘True. That’s why I carried the luggage up myself instead of leaving it to the porter. I’m like you, I think. I can’t stand waiting for things. When I want something I want it now. Off you go, then. I’ll put your case in your bedroom and find the coffee-making equipment. Or would you rather I pour you a drink drink?’

‘Coffee for now, I think. But you don’t have to make it.’

‘I know that. Call it repayment for services rendered.’

‘Justin, you are much too considerate sometimes,’ Rachel quipped as she hurried off, smiling when she heard his answering laugh.

Rachel had no sense of premonition as she rode the lift down to the ground-floor level again. Why should she have?

The lift doors opened and she walked out into the terracotta-tiled foyer, glancing around again at the décor as she made her way over to the reception desk.

Actually, this hotel reminded her of an island resort she’d gone to once with Eric. High ceilings, cool colours and glass walls overlooking lush green gardens with lots of water features.

Eric…

Now, there was a right selfish so-and-so if ever there was one. If she’d known how shallow he was she’d never have fallen in love with him in the first place, let alone agreed to marry him.

Rachel gave herself a swift mental shake. She wouldn’t think about Eric. Ever again.

But, perversely, when she walked up to the reception desk the man booking in reminded her strongly of Eric, despite only viewing him from the back. He had the same sandy blond hair. The same way of holding his shoulders. The same elegance.

The attractive brunette standing next to him seemed familiar as well. Rachel listened to them chatting away together as they checked in, their voices horribly familiar.

And then, suddenly, they both turned around.