A Weekend To Remember. Miranda Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ Felicia was like this apartment—all surface glamour and glitz, but with no soul. In a way, she reminded Hannah of Dwight. Both of them were social climbers, who cared more for appearances than anything else. Jack would find no more happiness with Felicia as his wife than Hannah had with Dwight as her husband.

      But it was none of her business, was it, whom her boss married? He was a grown man, thirtyfour years old, with a mind of his own. If she dared venture an adverse opinion of his new fiancée, he wouldn’t be at all pleased. It might even reverberate on her and the job she valued. Really, there was nothing for it but to smile sweetly and keep her mouth firmly shut.

      Hannah moved from the marble-floored foyer down three cream-carpeted steps and into the first of the large living-rooms. It was peppered with small groups of people, all with drinks in their hands, several with cigarettes as well. She cringed as the smoke haze teased her nostrils, setting off that old tell-tale pang of need. Irritated with herself, she swept a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and pressed it to her lips, taking a few swift sharp swallows. It wasn’t as good as a cigarette, but it was better than nothing.

      Glancing around, she quickly spied Jack across the heads in the next room. Nothing strange about that. At six feet six inches tall, Jack’s head usually stood above all others. His longish wavy jet-black hair was hard to miss as well. Hannah stood, sipping her drink and quietly watching him from a distance.

      Not a classically handsome man, Jack nevertheless had a face one remembered, with its large, strong features, deeply set blue eyes, squared jaw and uncompromising mouth. One also remembered the scar that ran from his left eyebrow across his cheekbone to his left ear—the result of a run-in with a knife when he was a lad. Or so the rumour went.

      Looking at him objectively, Hannah had to concede that a pretty boy, Jack wasn’t. But, with shoulders and a body to match his height, he was physically a very impressive and intimidating individual.

      She could still remember catching her breath in surprise when, during her job interview, Jack had suddenly stood up to attend an incoming fax. Prior to that he’d been leaning back in his swivelchair, his long legs stretched out under the desk. She hadn’t realised how tall he was. Even now, when he strode into the office some mornings, she could still be awed by his size.

      Hannah was not used to physical men. Dwight possessed an elegant, slender frame—nothing like Jack, who was a big bull of a man. No, not a bull—a bear. But, like a lot of big bears, underneath all the huff and bluff, lay a soft heart.

      Too bad it had to be snared by the likes of Felicia.

      Hannah moved through the archway which separated the two rooms, her eyebrows lifting in surprise once Jack came into full view. For he was dressed as she had never seen him before, in a sleek black dinner suit with satin lapels that would have done an ambassador proud.

      Hannah stared, amazed that Felicia had persuaded Jack to wear what he always called a ‘penguin’ suit. His usual garb was shorts and a T-shirt if it was hot, jeans and a sweatshirt if it wasn’t. Occasionally he sported a pair of casual trousers and a proper shirt if he was going to a restaurant. No tie, though. He despised ties. Yet here he was, with a bow-tie choking his muscular neck.

      There was no doubting the power of love!

      Or sex, Hannah added with silent cynicism. Men’s brains went from their heads to their groins when it came to sex—especially with women who looked like Felicia. Feminine instinct warned Hannah that her boss didn’t really love his new fiancée. He was sexually besotted, that was all. As for Felicia…Hannah felt certain that she didn’t love Jack either.

      But there was nothing she could do about it.

      Hannah stopped her progress towards her boss once she saw who Jack was talking to. It was Gerald Boynton, the owner of this unit and a highly successful property developer. About forty, he was one of those sleazily handsome men, with slicked back hair, a pencil-thin moustache and dark oily eyes which slid all over you.

      Hannah couldn’t stand a bar of him.

      Recently he’d bought great tracts of land around the Wyong area, and wanted Jack to build his quality homes on the various developments he had planned. He insisted that together they would ‘revolutionise’ housing on the Central Coast.

      That was the way Gerald Boynton talked. Very big. Still, there was no doubt he got things done, and it looked as if Jack would sign up with him. Hannah felt that it was the second dubious partnership her boss was about to enter into.

      The urge to have a cigarette consumed her again, and she swivelled round to see whom she could cadge a cigarette from. The need quickly became a compulsion. Her fingers itched. She licked dry lips. It had been two whole months since she’d gone cold turkey, and she’d hoped she’d moved beyond this. It was clear that she hadn’t.

      Giving in to temptation with a rush of rebellion, she headed straight for a group of smokers, only to have someone grab her by the arm and pull her to a halt.

      ‘Oh, no you don’t,’ a deep male voice growled.

      Hannah whirled to find Jack glaring down at her from under beetling brows, his piercing blue eyes carrying reproach.

      ‘No, you don’t, what?’ she tried, but her own eyes were smiling ruefully. When Jack had first noticed she’d given up cigarettes he’d declared himself her watchdog, he himself having only given up the dreaded vice a few months before. His vocal pride in her success so far had always stopped her sneaking one behind his back. Till tonight.

      ‘Hannah, Hannah,’ he sighed. ‘I can read you like a book. You were coveting that fellow’s cigarette over there like a starving man covets a Big Mac. Admit it. I caught you just in time.’

      ‘Yes, boss,’ she sighed back. ‘I admit it. I was about to become a fallen woman.’

      He smiled a wry smile, showing big white teeth within his wide, strong mouth. ‘Not you, Hannah.’

      ‘Yes, me,’ she insisted, but laughingly.

      ‘You two seem to be having a good time together,’ Felicia said as she snaked her arm through Jack’s. ‘Is it a private joke, or can any old fiancee join in?’

      ‘Hannah was about to have a cigarette,’ Jack told her in all seriousness.

      ‘So? She’s entitled to, isn’t she? You’re only her boss, Jack, not her keeper.’

      Was Hannah imagining things, or had she just seen the first chink in Felicia’s acting ability in front of Jack? She could have sworn there had been a veneer of acid coating the woman’s supposedly light words.

      ‘I know how hard it is to give up smoking,’ Jack said. ‘Hannah needs someone to keep tabs on her.’

      ‘What a sweetie you are, Jack,’ Felicia said, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘After we’re married, we’ll both keep tabs on her!’ This with a sly look Hannah’s way.

      Hannah only just managed to stop herself from pulling a face at Felicia in return. Why, oh, why didn’t men see through this type of female? It wasn’t as though Jack was naive where women were concerned. Heck, no. There’d been a steady trail of girlfriends over the past year. Still, one had to concede that a woman like Felicia didn’t come along every day of the week.

      Hannah endured the next hour of the party with great difficulty. СКАЧАТЬ