– 15 –

Hearing footsteps in the hall outside, Marian looked up from her desk, wondering if Stephanie had come back for something; but it was Matthew, and when she saw him, his black hair curling round his collar and his strong chin sporting at least a day’s growth of beard, her heart twisted in a way that only plunged her deeper into melancholy.

He glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, and when he saw her looking at him, he frowned. ‘Why the long face?’ he asked.

She attempted a smile. ‘Oh, no reason. I was just thinking.’

‘About what?’

‘Nothing in particular.’ And she turned away. Even if she knew what was really going on in her mind he was the last person she’d be able to tell. She wondered, from his relaxed manner, if the row he’d had with Stephanie had actually mattered to him, but that was none of her business, so she picked up a handful of letters and stuffed them into a drawer. Then she realised that she hadn’t meant to do that, and took them out again.

Matthew strolled across the office and came to stand in front of her. ‘I won’t bite,’ he smiled, and again Marian’s heart responded with a painful lurch. It was the first time she’d seen him since the day Kathleen had come into the office, and since then she had done her utmost to persuade herself that she was not falling for him. She’d thought she had succeeded, but now, seeing him stand there with his dark head on one side, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, and those wonderfully compelling eyes looking down at her, she knew she hadn’t.

Again she tried to smile, but realising that her eyes were about to fill with tears, she excused herself and disappeared into the kitchen.

But even away from his scrutiny it was no better; her mind felt as though it might burst with the confusion of her thoughts. For days, now, she had been increasingly oppressed by the weight of all that was happening to her. First there was her mother, who, just as she had expected, insisted that she make contact with Madeleine; Marian had now been back in London for three days following her weekend in Devon, and had yet to do anything about it. Then there was Stephanie, who had poured her heart out the night she’d walked out on Matthew, and was still suffering because, though he had called on several occasions, she had refused to speak to him – for reasons of pride, Marian supposed. And then there were her own feelings for Matthew, feelings that she now knew had been stealing up on her for weeks. Only Paul had ever aroused her in this way before, though somehow with Matthew it felt different. Perhaps it was because her feelings were in no way reciprocated – or perhaps it was the way he sometimes looked so intently into her eyes – but whatever it was, there was an aura about him . . . Several times, she had found herself fantasising about him in a way that made her skin prickle with shame. Shame because of her disloyalty to Stephanie, and shame because she could imagine how horrified Matthew would be if he knew. Then, of course, there was the strange encounter with Art Douglas. But that she wouldn’t think about, she would just pretend it hadn’t happened, then maybe it would go away.

She filled the kettle and stood gazing at it, waiting for it to boil. Her thoughts were striking out in so many directions that when Matthew spoke to her, she almost leapt from her skin.

‘Sorry,’ he said, putting a hand out to steady her. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I was miles away. What were you saying?’

‘Only that I wouldn’t mind a coffee if you’re making one.’

‘Of course.’

He let her go and went to perch on the high stool in the corner. She was achingly aware of his doseness in the cramped space of the kitchen, and didn’t know whether she longed for him to go or stay.

‘We haven’t seen you for a while,’ she remarked, taking another cup from the cupboard. ‘How did the commercial go last week?’

‘Slowly. I’d forgotten how much I’d come to rely on Woody, but don’t tell him, it’ll go to his head.’

‘He’s back from holiday now. He called in here yesterday.’

‘Did he? How was he?’

‘Brown. Smoking. Restless.’

‘Sounds like Woody.’

They lapsed into silence and Marian spooned coffee into the cups, then turned to the kettle, willing it to boil. She knew he was watching her, and knew too that his eyes were gently mocking – the way they always were when someone showed signs of discomfort.

‘So,’ he said finally, ‘where’s Stephanie?’

‘Gone to lunch with Hazel Ridley.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And even if you did, you wouldn’t tell me. But tell me this, is she ever intending to speak to me again?’

Keeping her eyes on the kettle, Marian shrugged. ‘You’ll have to ask Stephanie that.’ She took the milk from the fridge and started a hopeless struggle with the carton.

‘Which I would if she’d answer my calls,’ he said, taking the carton, opening it, then handing it back to her. ‘It can’t go on like this, you know. Apart from anything else, it might prove a little difficult trying to shoot a movie with the producer and director not on speaking terms.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way,’ she smiled.

His eyebrows rose at that, and then he laughed. ‘I don’t suppose my daughter called this morning, did she?’

Marian shook her head. ‘Were you expecting her to?’

‘Not expecting, hoping. I saw her yesterday at the house and thought I had persuaded her to have dinner with me tonight. She said she’d ring and let me know.’ He sighed. ‘I guess she’s decided against it.’

At last the kettle boiled and Marian filled the two cups. As she handed one to him, his fingers brushed against hers and he looked surprised at the colour that seeped into her cheeks.

‘You think I’m a bastard for the way I’ve treated Stephanie, don’t you?’ he said.

‘Does it really matter what I think?’

He grinned, then took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Did she tell you what we rowed about? Yes, of course she did. But if she hadn’t walked out, or would deign to return my calls, then I could explain to her why I don’t want her to move in with me.’

Knowing he was about to tell her, Marian’s heart started to beat faster. Of course, it would be nothing to do with her, it was preposterous even to think it, but nevertheless she couldn’t look at him as he continued.

‘It’s Samantha,’ he said. ‘She hasn’t got over me leaving Kathleen yet, and I don’t want to complicate matters further by moving Stephanie in. At least, not until Sam’s settled down.’

Marian looked down at her coffee, the nauseating grip of envy clenching her stomach – though whether the envy was directed at Samantha or Stephanie she didn’t know.

‘There is something the matter,’ he said, putting his fingers under her chin and forcing her to look at him. ‘What is it?’

She turned her head away, unable to meet the concern in his eyes. ‘Oh, it’s nothing.’

‘It looks more than nothing to me. No one’s upset you, have they?’

‘No, no. It’s just my mother, she wants me to contact Madeleine and I’m not sure how to go about it, or what I’ll say when I do.’

He smiled. ‘Well, what you say is up to you, but as for finding her, maybe I could help.’

‘I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘It’s very kind of you, but . . .’

‘But what? Is it Paul? Is he the problem?’

‘No! No,’ she assured him.

‘Then what?’

The truth at that moment was so utterly absurd that even she could hardly believe the way she was thinking. But she was afraid that if Madeleine were to meet Matthew and somehow find out how she felt about him, she would try to steal him from her. And that was the most ridiculous part of it – he wasn’t even hers to steal. ‘I’m just afraid she’ll say or do something to upset my mother.’ She looked at him and smiled brightly, then put her cup down. ‘But that’s for me to worry about.’

‘You can’t go around protecting people all your life, Marian. They have to fight their own battles, you know. Even your mother. And what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Well, who’s protecting you?’

‘From what?’

‘Me.’

Her heart thundered to a stop and she stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

He laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I know you’ve got me down for the prize bastard of all time. But I guess Stephanie protects you from me – just as you’re protecting her. What kind of monster am I, I ask myself.’

Her head was spinning, and her shoulders heaved as she tried to steady her breathing. ‘A selfish one,’ she blurted out.

He gave a shout of laughter, then said, ‘You’re absolutely right. A bloody selfish one. But not so selfish that I won’t help you find your cousin. What on earth are you laughing at?’

‘I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘You, I suppose.’

He gave her the ironic look she’d so often seen him give Stephanie, then said, ‘You should laugh more often, Marian. It suits you. In fact,’ he went on, looking her up and down, ‘you’re looking extremely good today. Is that a new outfit?’

‘No,’ she answered. ‘I bought it ages ago for my first date with . . . With Paul.’

‘So does that mean you’re off on a date tonight?’

‘Yes, it does, actually. I’m going out to dinner.’

‘Oh? Anyone I know?’

‘Yes. Woody.’

The smiled suddenly froze on his face. ‘You’re going out with Woody tonight?’ he repeated, as if to make sure he’d heard her correctly.

‘Yes,’ she answered, rather baffled by his response.

His cup suddenly hit the draining-board and he got to his feet. ‘No!’ he said, shaking his head.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You heard me. You are not to go out with Woody.’

‘Yes, I did hear you, but I fail to see what business it is of yours.’

‘I’m making it my business, and I’m telling you you’re not to have anything to do with him outside this office. You know his reputation. You’ve only got to look at your own cousin to know . . .’

‘How dare you!’

‘I dare. He’s only after one thing, and he’ll make damned sure he gets it. You’re not going, and that’s final.’

‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ she cried. ‘He happens to have invited me out because I was feeling low, and I resent . . .’

‘You can resent all you like, but I’m not having him put his hands all over you as if you were one of the tarts he picks up at Stringfellow’s. Haven’t you been hurt enough?’

‘What?’ And she gasped as he suddenly took her by the shoulders.

‘Do you want it to happen again? Because I’m telling you, if you go out with Woody, it will.’

‘What difference does it make to you?’ she demanded, too shocked to think clearly about what she was saying.

‘Not a bit,’ he snapped, then let her go abruptly.

‘Then why are you interfering in my life?’

‘Because I’ve known Woody a long time. I know what he’s like and I don’t want to see you become one of his victims. He’s married. Did you know that?’

She shook her head.

‘No, I didn’t think so. He also has three children, I don’t suppose you knew that either?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s not that kind of date.’

‘As far as Woody’s concerned, there is only that kind of date. Now call him wherever he is, and tell him you can’t make it.’

‘I will not,’ she said mutinously. ‘And stop ordering me around.’

‘Well, someone has to. Jesus, you haven’t got a clue how many sharks there are out there, have you? If you want to cheer yourself up by going out to dinner, then you can come out with me.’

‘I’m going out with Woody,’ she said, hardly able to believe her ears.

For a long time they glared at one another, then shaking his head, he turned and walked out of the door.

The instant he’d gone Marian wanted to go after him, but instead she burst out laughing. She had no idea what that had all been about, but she was certain it was about more than her going out with Woody. And he’d actually invited her out himself – to cheer her up! – when he was scowling at her in a way that less than a month ago would have had her shaking in her shoes. Oh, Matthew Cornwall, she sighed to herself, and she had a sudden longing for him to put his arms round her and tell her everything would be all right.

Ten minutes later Stephanie returned with Hazel Ridley, who was going to be the production manager on Disappearance. As they walked in Marian gave them a beaming smile. ‘Nice lunch?’ she enquired.

‘Not bad,’ Stephanie answered, ‘but obviously not as good as yours.’

Marian laughed, then turned to Hazel whom she hadn’t actually met yet – but Hazel was casting a gloomy eye about the office.

‘Oh God, Steph,’ she groaned. ‘Wonderful as it is to be working with you again, I don’t know if I can take this ghastly office! I mean, really.’

Stephanie winked at Marian, then folding her arms, she leaned against the door while Hazel poked around and scattered complaints in a voice that was almost unbearably shrill. ‘It’s so pokey,’ she said, ‘I mean, how are we all going to fit in here once we get under way?’

‘It’s all just as it used to be,’ Stephanie said, ‘except for our new secretary. Marian, meet Hazel Ridley. You two are going to be sharing this ghastly office.’

‘Hello, Hazel,’ Marian said. ‘It’s really nice to meet you. Stephanie’s told me all about you.’

Hazel, an ex-debutante from the crown of her impeccable short hair to the tips of her perfectly shod feet, treated Marian to a withering look. ‘This is going to be fun,’ she said, after a pause that embarrassed both Marian and Stephanie. ‘I’m afraid I shall have to shove all your stuff back into your corner,’ she told Marian. ‘Well, I mean, you do seem to have spread out a bit, don’t you? I’ll set myself up over by the window, can’t bear not having enough light. Now, how about you making a nice cup of tea, Maz, and Steph and I can carry on with our little chat.’

Stephanie threw ‘Maz’ an apologetic look as she left the office, but Marian merely shrugged and went off to do Hazel’s bidding.

When she came back some five minutes later, it was to find Hazel sitting in her chair, feet on the desk, telling Stephanie about some ‘unspeakably appalling’ occurrence in the royal enclosure at Ascot that year. She carried on speaking as Marian put her tea in front of her, and didn’t even pause to say thank you. ‘. . . Anyway,’ she was saying, ‘the ghastly girl told me to fuck awf. Can you imagine? And it was she who had sat on my hat. I wouldn’t have minded, except that I found out later – as we all did – that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. I tell you, Steph, it quite turned my stomach. I shall never be able to wear the hat again and it cost me an absolute fortune.’ As Stephanie laughed, she smiled grudgingly, then picked up her cup. One mouthful of tea was enough. ‘Oh! Yuk!’ she gulped. Then turning to Marian, ‘This isn’t Earl Grey. I asked for Earl Grey.’

Marian looked at Stephanie. ‘As a matter of fact, you didn’t,’ Stephanie said. ‘But we’ll get some.’ Again she threw an apologetic look at Marian.

Fractionally appeased, Hazel went on. ‘Apart from that, the day was quite a hoot really. Oh, and guess who else I saw there? Roland “I direct movies” Kirk. He simply couldn’t believe it when I told him you’d got Matthew Cornwall to direct your film, he’s absolutely livid, darling. I mean, green isn’t the word. It was as much as he could do to be polite to the Queen Ma – but then he won an absolute packet on one of the old girl’s trotters, so that cheered him up a bit.’

‘How is Roland?’ Stephanie laughed.

‘Oh, yawnsville as ever. But, enough about all that. What I want to know is, where’s the delicious Matthew? Didn’t I hear somewhere that you and he had a thing going once, before your glory days?’

Marian saw the warmth seep from Stephanie’s smile as she answered. ‘At the moment I’ve no idea where he is, but I’m sure he’ll turn up when it suits him.’ She was longing to ask Marian if he’d called again, but that could wait until later.

‘He’s not still with that gruesomely ghastly wife of his, is he?’ Hazel shuddered. ‘I don’t think I could . . .’

‘No, he’s not with her now,’ Stephanie interrupted, and Hazel’s expression turned to one of pure rapture.

‘So the field’s clear? Oh, this is going to be bliss. I’ve had my eye on him for simply ages. Who wouldn’t, with a body like that?’

Stephanie looked at Marian, then mumbling something about having to return phone calls, she excused herself and went upstairs to her office. Hazel got up and walked round the desk. ‘The first thing we’ve got to get in here is another fan,’ she told Marian, using her handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her neck. ‘Never going to stand a chance of pulling old Matthew if I look like this, am I? Get him on the phone for me, will you? I think I’ll have a chat with him now, no point in wasting time, is there.’

‘He’s not at the end of a phone at the moment,’ Marian answered stiffly.

Hazel lifted her head and glared down the length of her perfect nose. ‘I’m given to understand you’ve never worked on a film before,’ she said, ‘so perhaps I should point out that in this business it helps if everyone knows their place. I only say this so that we know where we stand from the beginning. Do we have that clear?’ And she gave Marian the most condescending smile Marian had ever seen.

Her face was crimson as she nodded.

‘Now, if you can let me have a copy of all you’ve got on Olivia Hastings,’ Hazel continued, ‘I’ll be on my way.’

Marian handed over a file. ‘I’ve got more here that needs typing,’ she said. ‘Would you like me to send it to you when it’s ready?’

‘No, I’ll collect it.’ Hazel zipped up her shoulder bag. ‘Sorry if I sounded a bit harsh, Maz, but most of us have worked damned hard to get where we are; you’ve come up the easy way because Stephanie has a kind heart. Don’t abuse it. Now, just one other thing; Matthew’s telephone number, please.’

Marian jotted it down on a piece of paper and handed it over, saying: ‘I’ll have the office sorted out by the next time you come in. And, of course, some Earl Grey tea. If there’s anything else you can think of that you might want, just let me know.’

Hazel waved the piece of paper. ‘Good girl. I can see we’re going to get along just fine. Have to get things straight early on, don’t you think? Saves any unpleasantness later. Ciao for now – if Matthew calls, tell him I’ll be in touch very soon.’ And she breezed out of the office.

Marian watched her pass the window, then once she was out of sight, she closed the newspaper Matthew had left on her desk and grinned. That’s what you think, she muttered, then chuckling to herself, she went upstairs to see Stephanie.

A yellowy warm glow from the lamp-post outside fell across the tangled sheets lying in a heap on the floor. Every now and again, as a car passed, the beam from its headlights lit up the room, and for those few short seconds the shadows across their bodies disappeared. The room was quiet, but only moments ago, as they’d reached the zenith of their passion, Stephanie had thrashed wildly beneath him, almost screaming with the power of her climax. Now, with his hands locked behind her head, Matthew raised himself on his elbows and looked down into her face. Her hair was dishevelled and her cheeks flushed with colour. His eyes darkened and he lowered his head to kiss her lingeringly on the mouth, moving his hips gently back and forth and feeling her orgasm slowly subside around him.

‘Oh God, Matthew,’ she groaned.

He pushed his tongue deep into her mouth and she responded by sliding her hands down over his buttocks.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he muttered, as he felt himself growing hard again. Her eyes held his, and as her legs circled his waist she ran her hands over his shoulders, then wound her fingers through his hair. ‘I can feel you,’ she murmured, ‘I can feel all of you deep inside me.’

‘I’ve missed you,’ he breathed, pushing in and out of her with long, lazy strokes.

‘I love you. Oh, Matthew, keep doing that. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.’

He pushed his hands against the bed, raising himself until he was only just inside her. Then, when her eyes fluttered open, he slammed into her, hard.

‘Oh, Matthew,’ she cried.

He did it again – and again, watching her face, and holding himself back until she was ready for more.

‘Now,’ she moaned, ‘do it now,’ and as every muscle in his body started to tense he wrapped her in his arms and hammered into her until they were both gasping for breath.

‘Oh yes,’ she cried, ‘Yes. Yes. Yes.’ And as the final seed of his climax shuddered from his body, his mouth found hers and he kissed her with such savagery that he could taste her blood on his lips.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, but she put her arms round his neck and pulled him down to kiss her again.

‘I didn’t know that was possible,’ she murmured. ‘I mean, a man coming twice like that.’

He laughed, and pulling gently away from her, rolled onto his back. ‘Depends who he’s with,’ he said, not without irony, and lifted an arm for her to nestle in the crook of his shoulder.

They lay quietly for a while, each with his own thoughts, while Beethoven’s third concerto wafted gently up to them from the flat downstairs. Eventually Stephanie got up and went to get the wine they’d left on the table in the sitting-room. He watched her go, entranced by the grace with which she moved. With her small breasts, long, slender legs and tiny waist, she could have been a ballerina.

When she came back into the room he had an arm across his eyes, but lifted it as she said, ‘You’re very quiet.’

‘Mm. Just thinking.’

‘What about?’

He smiled. ‘As a matter of fact, Marian.’

Stephanie sat on the edge of the bed and combed her fingers through the hair on his chest. ‘She told me about your conversation at lunchtime, if that’s what you mean.’

He chuckled. ‘What did she say exactly – I mean, that made you call me?’

‘That,’ she said, squashing his nose with her finger, ‘is between Marian and me.’ She handed him a glass of wine, then lay back in his arms. ‘You know, you should have told me about Samantha, I would have understood.’

‘I would have told you, if you’d stopped to listen.’

She giggled. ‘Did it hurt much when I slapped you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘So you should be.’

She turned to kiss his arm. ‘Well, thanks to Marian everything’s all right now.’

‘You know, I can’t fathom that girl at all,’ he said. ‘She used to be so unassertive it practically drove me out of my mind, but now it’s as if she’s gone through some kind of metamorphosis. Take Kathleen, for instance. God only knows what Marian said to her that day, but she’s been a different woman since.’

‘Are you complaining?’

‘Not in the least. I’m just curious to know what Marian said to bring about such a transformation.’

‘Mm,’ Stephanie said thoughtfully. ‘My guess is that Marian didn’t say anything at all. She’s more of a listener. But there are ways and ways of listening, and whichever way is the right one, she’s got it.’

‘You know, there are times when she gives me the impression that she’s wiser than all of us put together. She made me feel a proper fool today. I take it she told you how I over-reacted about Woody?’

‘Yes,’ Stephanie chuckled, ‘she did.’

‘And even after that she still persuaded you into returning my call?’

‘Why shouldn’t she?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, I was a bit heavy-handed with her, and there’s no doubt she considers you to be better off without me.’ He paused to take a sip of wine. ‘She’s quite a girl, really, don’t you think?’

‘Do you want me to say I told you so?’

‘If you must.’ And they laughed.

‘Poor Marian,’ Stephanie sighed a little while later. ‘No sooner does she make friends with you than along comes Hazel Ridley. A couple of months ago she’d have gone to pieces over what happened with Hazel this afternoon, but not now, the wily old thing. When Hazel demanded your number Marian gave her the number of some dating agency – and don’t ask me how she came to have it to hand, because I didn’t enquire.’

He was laughing. ‘So old Haze is back on the warpath, is she? I’d better warn Woody. The last time he had a run-in with her, he thought he was going back to her place for beans on toast. He emerged three days later looking thirty years older, and all we could get out of him for the next week was “never again”. Has he ever told you what he calls her?’

Stephanie shook her head.

‘Hazel “cracks your nuts” Ridley.’

She burst out laughing. ‘Trust Woody. Anyway, whatever she does to the male anatomy she’s damned good at her job, and that’s all that concerns me. To quote her, she’s opened more doors than Jackie Onassis has cheque books, and when it comes to organising and administering a budget she makes the rest of us look like amateurs. So I’m afraid Woody will have to look out for himself. It’s Marian I’m worried about. I don’t want Hazel driving her off. She’s already proving quite a gem, and if she carries on like this she’ll become indispensible.’

He yawned, and reached over her to put his glass on the bedside table. ‘I wonder how she got on with Woody tonight?’

‘Where were they going?’

‘I didn’t ask, but if I know Woody, somewhere with heavy seduction potential.’ He kissed the top of her head and started to stroke the hair from her face. ‘Why don’t you give her a call, make sure she’s got back all right?’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s none of our business. And besides, she’s twenty-three years old, she can look after herself.’

‘Do you think so?’ He said it in a way that implied he clearly didn’t. ‘Knowing Woody, he’s probably managed to worm his way into the flat, so she might appreciate a call to help fend him off.’

‘She’ll cope.’ She lifted a hand and trailed it lazily over his chest. ‘Do you think we ought to be getting on with some work? Bronwen’s already put off the trip to Italy by a week because you and I haven’t got together about things.’

‘Sure, if you like. But it’s late, and I’m free in the morning if you are.’

Stephanie shrugged. ‘OK, we’ll do it then. Like some more wine?’

He nodded, and lifted his arm for her to sit up. She refilled their glasses, then went to the mirror to brush her hair.

‘I still think you should call Marian,’ he said as he watched her. ‘Make sure Woody’s behaved himself.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Matthew, anyone would think you were jealous.’

‘Jealous? What kind of accusation’s that?’

‘It wasn’t an accusation. It was merely a word to try and make you see how ridiculous you’re being.’

A look of anger flashed across his face as he said, ‘You wouldn’t call me ridiculous if I was showing this kind of concern for you. So perhaps it’s you who are jealous.’

For a moment Stephanie looked stunned. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

‘Then why won’t you ring her?’

‘OK, I will,’ she snapped, and slamming down the hairbrush, she spun round and stalked across the room. Then, feeling unaccountably uncomfortable with her nudity, she slipped on his robe and went into the sitting-room to make the call.

The phone rang for some time, but eventually Marian answered.

‘Marian, it’s Stephanie. Are you OK?’

‘Yes, I’m OK, are you?’ Marian yawned.

‘I’m fine. Did I wake you?’

‘It doesn’t matter. Everything’s all right, is it?’

‘Yes, yes. Everything’s fine this end. How about you? Did you have a nice evening?’

‘Yes, it was OK.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘To the pasta bar at the end of the road here.’

‘Really?’ Stephanie smiled. The pasta bar was hardly a venue for seduction. ‘And Woody? He’s gone home now, has he?’

‘Oh yes, he went ages ago.’

‘Did he come in for coffee?’

‘Just a quick cup.’

‘And he didn’t try anything . . . well, anything untoward?’

‘No,’ Marian answered, drawing out the word.

Stephanie turned round as Matthew walked into the room.

‘Ask her what they talked about?’ he said.

Stephanie immediately covered the mouthpiece. ‘I can’t do that,’ she hissed. ‘It’s none of our business.’

‘Hello? Steph? Are you still there?’

‘Yes, I’m here. So you’re all right?’

‘I’m just great. And tell Matthew we spent the whole evening talking about him.’

Stephanie chuckled at the humour in Marian’s voice. ‘I’ll tell him,’ she said. ‘Sorry to have woken you.’

‘Not to worry. See you tomorrow.’ The line went dead.

‘Satisfied?’ Stephanie said, turning back to Matthew who, still naked, was leaning against the door frame. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement. ‘She told me to tell you they spent all evening talking about you.’

He gave a shout of laughter, and as she got up from the chair he pulled her into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder.

‘I don’t know why you put up with me,’ he said, still smiling, ‘but I’m damned glad you do.’

‘I put up with you, Matthew, because I love you.’

He cupped her face with his hands and gazed into her eyes. ‘Do you?’ he whispered.

She nodded. ‘Very much.’ And as he lowered his mouth to hers she peeled the robe from her shoulders and let it slip to the floor.

‘There’s something standing between us,’ she said, a few minutes later. Her voice was bubbling with mirth, but his expression remained dark and intense.

‘I know,’ he said huskily, and lifting her into his arms he carried her back into the bedroom.