The Millionaire's Christmas Wife. HELEN BROOKS

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      Clara surveyed her under kohl-blackened lids. ‘He’s an idiot to have lost you.’

      ‘He doesn’t think so.’

      ‘You look great tonight anyway.’ Now Clara was bracing. ‘You’ll knock him dead.’

      She wished. Miriam turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Clara had come round as soon as she had got in from work, announcing she intended to keep her company until zero hour, as she’d put it.

      Miriam had appreciated the thought, but in truth she’d rather have got ready in peace so she could go over—for the umpteenth time—the question-and-answer scenarios she’d played endlessly in her head since Tuesday. She felt so incredibly nervous, and now she was wondering if the plum jersey wool dress with a deep V-neck was dressy enough for dinner with Jay. She supposed it depended on where he was taking her, but Jay invariably favoured the more upmarket places.

      She surveyed her reflection. Her black stiletto court shoes and ridiculously expensive designer jacket, which she had bought especially for tonight, gave the outfit that exclusive edge though, she comforted herself after another sweeping glance. They should do; they’d practically emptied her bank account.

      ‘You’ll be absolutely fine.’ Clara had obviously read her thoughts. ‘You will, Miriam. Really. Look, you’re over him; that’s what you have to keep telling yourself. You’re the one in control now. OK?’

      She could tell herself that all she wanted, but she knew the truth. Swallowing hard, Miriam muttered, ‘What’s the time?’ just as the buzzer in the bedsit sounded. ‘It’s him.’ Pure panic set in as she stared at Clara. ‘I can’t do this.’

      ‘Of course you can.’

      ‘I’m not like you.’

      ‘That’s true, you’re not. No one’s like me. At least, I hope not or else the effort I put in to being an original is totally wasted.’ Clara gave another of her Cheshirecat grins. ‘Do you want me to answer?’

      ‘No, I’ll do it.’ Taking a deep breath, Miriam pressed the button. ‘Hello?’

      ‘Miriam? It’s Jay.’

      Miriam’s stomach did a somersault. ‘I’ll be right down.’ There was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how she lived now. The house she had rented with her friends when she’d met him hadn’t exactly been the Ritz, but they’d had a lovely shared sitting room and kitchen-diner and each of their bedrooms had been a double. Not that she was ashamed of her bedsit, she told herself silently, but she wasn’t going to give him any chance of crowing about her reduced circumstances.

      ‘You’ll be fine,’ Clara said again after some moments when Miriam still hadn’t moved. ‘Here, take your bag.’ She handed it to her, adding, ‘Come on,’ as she opened the bedsit door. ‘I want to see him.’

      ‘You can’t.’ Miriam stared at her in horror.

      ‘I can. I’m going to get a paper at the shop down the road. Now, is it my fault your husband just happens to be standing on the doorstep when I open the door?’

      ‘Clara, he’ll know.’

      ‘So?’ Clara’s voice was determined. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t be in any doubt as to how I regard him, handsome or not.’

      That was what worried her. Miriam followed Clara down the stairs as fast as her vertiginous heels would allow. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything,’ she begged frantically. ‘Promise me, Clara.’

      ‘I promise.’

      ‘Cross your heart and hope to die.’

      ‘If you insist,’ Clara said brightly over her shoulder.

      ‘Say it.’

      They had just reached the lobby and as Miriam clutched at Clara’s arm the front door opened, the girl who shared Miriam’s floor choosing that moment—of all moments—to make one of her rare trips home. Miriam wasn’t really aware of Caroline’s cheery ‘Hi’ as she sashayed past them, making for the stairs; her whole being was taken up with the tall, dark man who had put out a hand to prevent the door closing again.

      ‘Hello, Miriam.’

      She stared into the yellow-gold eyes that had fascinated her from day one. Everything about Jay had fascinated her, from his hard, handsome face with its thick eyelashes and sexy, slightly cynical mouth to his big muscled body that was as lean and toned as any prime athlete’s. From somewhere she found the self-control to say fairly steadily, ‘Hello, Jay.’

      ‘I’m going to get a paper,’ Clara announced to the lobby in general rather than anyone in particular, removing herself from Miriam’s grip.

      Miriam saw Jay’s eyes widen as he took in the other girl, and he looked even more taken aback when Clara gave him a ferocious glare as she passed him without speaking. If she hadn’t been feeling so wretched it would have made her smile, Miriam thought. As it was, she cleared her throat and said quietly, ‘That was Clara. She lives here too.’

      ‘Right.’ His eyes had narrowed. ‘I take it she knows about our current situation?’

      ‘She’s my friend.’

      ‘So I gathered from the way she looked at me.’ He waved his hand in the direction of the street. ‘The taxi’s waiting.’

      He took her arm as she reached him and it took every ounce of Miriam’s will for her not to reveal the trembling his touch caused.

      He smelt as good as always. The thought was there at the back of her mind as they walked to the taxi-cab and Jay helped her inside with the natural courtesy that was an integral part of him. And he looked fantastic in a beautifully tailored suit and cream shirt and tie. But then he always looked fantastic, with or without clothes.

      She turned her head to look out of the window as he sat down beside her, thankful he didn’t have the power to read her wanton thoughts. And that last thought had started a process that was making her hot all over.

      The taxi passed Clara, who had just reached the paper shop, and as Miriam saw the pink and mauve hair disappear into the confines of the building it was all she could do not to yell to the taxi driver to stop the car so she could dash in after her.

      Jay had leaned back comfortably in the seat, his thigh touching hers and the big body relaxed. ‘How are you?’ he murmured as the tawny gaze glittered over her profile.

      Miriam forced herself to glance briefly at him as she said, ‘Very well. And you?’

      ‘Oh, I’m great, Miriam. Just great. A different woman for every night of the week, of course; isn’t that what you want to hear?’ And then he said swiftly, ‘Sorry, forget I said that. I attack when I’m nervous but then you know that.’

      She had forgotten how seductive Jay’s particular brand of ruthlessness married with vulnerability was. From their first date he had let his defences down when they were alone, something he didn’t do with anyone else. At least, that was what she’d believed once. Along with the fact that he was a one-woman man.

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