Perfect Stranger (8 page)

There was a discreet cough from my office door, and I looked up to see Marcus.

“Hey. I didn’t hear you,” I said.

“The perils of taking a few days off, huh?” He gestured toward the pile of documents strewn across the desk, and strolled up to sit opposite me.

I sat back and rolled my shoulders. It felt good. I wondered how long I’d been hunched over. “Things are crazy here at the moment. There’s been a leak to the Financial Times about us pulling out of the Darrow Barnes contract.”

“I heard about that.” Marcus turned his head to the window and stared out at the darkening sky. “I’m only in town for a couple days. Wanna beer?”

“Sounds like a plan.” I shuffled the files into some sort of order and then stood and stretched my arms over my head. “I’ve been here since seven this morning. I even beat Cassie to her desk.”

“Your daddy won’t thank you for killing yourself.”

“All Thaddeus cares about is the profit margin.”

Marcus glanced sharply at me. He knew I wasn’t joking. I was relieved when he changed the subject. “How is the gorgeous Cassie?”

“She went home early today. Mentioned something about the dentist.” A thought struck me. “You don’t think she’s going after another job, do you? She never leaves early.”

Marcus snorted with laughter as we headed to the elevator. “Cassie? Leave here? She’s crazy about you. She’d walk over hot coals, to please you. God knows why. I’ve tried to persuade her more than once to transfer to my team. She says
no
. I ask you, what do you have that I don’t?”

It was an old, much chewed-over debate. “Let’s see. Charisma, good looks…”

“I’m better at squash.” Marcus feigned indignation.

“Says who?” We jostled each other for the elevator button.

“Have you ever asked Cassie on a date?”

His question came out of the blue, and I laughed. “Cassie? Hell, no. She’s my PA.” Marcus couldn’t be serious.

“She’s a beautiful woman, who’s more than a little in love with you.”

“You’re shitting me. She’s engaged, you know.”

Marcus shrugged. “Just telling it as I see it.”

We walked out into the mugginess of Canary Wharf and headed to our regular pub.

Marcus wasn’t done with his interrogation. “Anyway. What’s to stop you from seeing Cassie? It’s not as if you’ve got someone else. Or do you?”

I thought of Kate. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He chuckled. “Not that accountant again. Rowena?”

“
No
. She was an animal. We had one drink, and I thought she was going to eat me alive. This is someone new.” Someone I wanted very much.

“Hmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I enjoyed these infrequent sessions with Marcus. I appreciated being able to talk openly.

“It means you’re being cagey as usual. How new?”

“Very new. Not-up-for-discussion new.”

Over several beers and pizza, we chewed over the world at large, the multitude of problems at TM-Tech, the aggravation Louisa was heaping on Marcus, and a little about Kate. “There’s something about her. I can’t describe it. She’s vulnerable but steely. I’ve seen her
hopping mad
, as Brits say, and she’s awesome.”

“Louisa is always hopping mad. Usually with me.” Marcus was gloomy. “She hates that I’m in Europe without her, but I hate to have her trailing behind me all the time. That’s no life.”

“Are you around this weekend? Do you wanna come over?”

Marcus shook his head. “I’m hoping to get back to Houston and pacify Louisa. She says she wants to
talk
.”

I shook my head. “Good luck, old chap.” I faked an English accent, and we both cracked up. “I don’t envy you.”

“It’s not so easy on you, either. I know she comes running to you every time we have an argument.”

The subject of Louisa and Marcus’s relationship made me uncomfortable. “I don’t want to get involved. It’s your marriage, and I keep telling her that.”

“Do you think you’ll ever get married, J? Have a family?”

“You sound just like Lou.” I stared into my beer bottle. “Maybe get married, one day. But kids? No way.”

My complicated feelings toward families were hard even for me to understand. Growing up, I hardly ever saw my father; he was too busy running his company. I’d be doing the same.

I tried to explain to Marcus. “You say it’s no life for Louisa, trailing about behind you, but what if you had kids? Would you be happy seeing them once or twice a month?”

“I guess not.” Marcus didn’t sound convinced. “But what’s the point of spending your life building the company, if you’ve got nobody to leave it to?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. More beer seemed like a good idea.

As soon as Marella and Cade left my desk, I grabbed my cellphone and darted outside, to call Rob. He refused to take my call, and I had to text him, to apologize. I went back to my desk with a sick feeling in my gut, wondering how long it would take him to calm down. He didn’t call back nor did he reply to my text, and I’d no idea if he saw my conciliatory emails either. What did I have to do?

To my eternal relief, Cade was otherwise occupied for the rest of the day. I had to face him at some point, and—God knew how—I’d have to work with him, but I was spared that for today.

Worry gave way to a churning sense of disquiet, and as finishing time drew close, I wondered if Rob would bother to pick me up or if I had to get the bus. I cleared my desk, picked up my jacket and bag, and headed out, after making sure Cade was nowhere in sight. That’d be all I needed.

Kate called as I left. “God, Jen. You won’t believe the day I’ve had. Don’t suppose you fancy going for a drink? Does Rob have football tonight?”

If Rob didn’t pick me up, I might go and meet Kate to spite him. Or not. That would be childish. “He’s home for dinner tonight. Sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’ve had a day and a half too. Is it full moon or something?”

“That’d fit with Adam turning into a vampire. He looks at me as though I’m his dinner, and it makes my flesh crawl.”

I pressed the button for the elevator and let Kate’s chat wash over me. I didn’t like Rob being pissed with me. It was unsettling. I tuned back in as she asked a question, and thought for a moment.

“I’ve heard of Colin Hooper, but I couldn’t tell you where. And talking of new starters, you’ll never guess who works here now. Cade Brisley.”

“Cade? He’s lovely. I haven’t seen him since we all worked together. How is he?” She clucked her tongue. “What was his girlfriend’s name? Tansy?”

“Tasha.”

“We should get together for a drink. You, me, Belle, and Cade. Like old times.”

Yeah, like that would ever happen. Why did I tell Kate? I shouldn’t have said anything. If they met up, Cade would be sure to tell her what happened, and I couldn’t bear that. My lungs grew tight at the thought. “I have to go, Kate. Talk to you soon.”

I stepped out of the elevator and forced myself to breathe normally. No panic attacks today. Nu huh. I walked through the reception area, waved at one of my colleagues, and then examined my phone again. No missed calls or texts.

“Jen.” It was Rob, leaning against the wall. “You took your time.” His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but by the way he lounged, arms crossed over his chest, he looked anything but approachable.

“Hi.” I took a step toward him.

“Expecting a call?” He nodded at my phone, his voice curt.

My cheeks heated. “I was hoping
you’d
call.”

“You didn’t want to talk to me earlier. What’s changed?”

I could tell from the rigid set of his jaw that he was more upset by our tiff than he cared to show. Rob was all about appearances. I walked to him and stretched up to press a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve already said
sorry
a dozen times, if you’d only check your emails and texts. I left a couple of voicemails too.” I kept my tone light and dropped a series of tiny kisses over his mouth. “Thank you for coming to pick me up. I do appreciate it.”

The tension in his shoulders eased, and he slid the sunglasses from his face. “Do you have to go out on Saturday? I really want to take you to Malcolm’s barbecue.”

“I promised to see Kate, and this was arranged weeks ago. Why don’t we invite your boss and his wife to our place some time?”

“It’s not the same. They live in Didsbury, while we’ve got a one-bedroom rental in Stretford.”

“It’s the nice part of Stretford.” I slid my arms around his neck. “We’ll have them over when we get our own place, then. You know it won’t be long.”

“I suppose.” He finally relaxed enough to give me a brief squeeze. “Ready to go home?”

* * * *

I kept things light all evening. Cooked one of his favorite meals and did a mountain of his ironing, while he watched the sport channel, cold beer at his side. I was hanging up his shirts, when he sidled up behind me and snuck his hands around my waist. “Don’t ignore me again, dumpling. You know I don’t like that.”

He sounded so forlorn, it was hard to be mad at him. I paused my task. “You need to respect that I have work as well, babe. And sometimes I can’t drop everything, to talk to you.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But
she
used to do that. And it reminded me. You know.”

She
was his ex, Shari. He wouldn’t say much about her, other than she cheated on him. It had been so bad, apparently, that he now had trust issues, and I had to be sympathetic. As he pointed out, trust had to be earned, and we’d only been together a year.

“Umm, where’s my Ralph Lauren shirt? I wanted to wear that tomorrow.”

I scanned the hangers. “The blue one?” Rob needed more wardrobe space than I did.

“No, dummy. The white one with the double cuffs and the purple stripe.”

He had six other white shirts, freshly ironed. “Can’t you wear another?”

“For Christ’s sake, Jen. I asked you to have this one ready for me. We’re meeting the finance people tomorrow, and I want to look my best.” He released me and riffled through the contents of his wardrobe, pulling out one shirt after another and dropping them on the bed. “It’s not here. Fucking hell. Where is it?”

I scowled as I retrieved the clothes and re-hung them. “How should I know?”

He was stomping out of the bedroom. “Because it’s your job to do the fucking laundry, Jen. That’s what we agreed.” I heard him upend the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. Next minute, he appeared in the bedroom doorway and threw a wadded bundle of cloth at me. “This one. Is it too much to ask? Really?”

“I did all the washing on Sunday. It couldn’t have been in the basket then, or I’d have washed it.”

Rob shook his head. “You don’t have much to do, and this is one shirt. One fucking shirt. Tell you what. You pay all the bills and maintain the car—and how about you do the renovations on the property we eventually buy? And in exchange, I’ll do the laundry. Fair, don’t you think?”

I swallowed down the sarcastic comment that sprung to my lips, and instead examined the shirt he was so desperate for. A light brown stain sat front and center of the white poplin. I sniffed it. Coffee. “I’ve no idea if this stain is going to come out. You should have—”

“
You
should get a move on, then.”

Tempted though I was to throw it back at him, I didn’t. “I’ll try.”

His smile returned. “Thanks, dumpling. You’re the best.”

Isobel and I shared a taxi on Saturday night, and we set off to collect Jen.

I shared the story of Adam’s thinly veiled pass at me, and Isobel gave me a puzzled frown. “Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?”

“What? No, I didn’t. Besides, you know Adam chases anything in a skirt. I guess I was the next in line.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel good.”

She turned to stare out the window, at the busy Manchester streets, and I paused. Memories flashed through my head. Finding Isobel snogging Adam at a long-ago Christmas party, when she still worked at ComCo. Isobel’s careless mention of a fling at one of the supplier conferences last year.

“Belle, you and Adam… You’re not an item, are you?” I asked.

Her cheeks were bright red when she looked at me. “Maybe.”

“But what about Greg?”

Isobel shrugged. “It’s not like we’re married or anything, and I don’t see Adam that often.” Her lips curved up with the irrepressible smile I knew so well—the angelic expression that endeared her to customers and managers alike. She nibbled her lip while twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “He’s so exciting. Adam, I mean. While Greg is… not. I need an occasional dose of Adam. He makes me feel like a desirable woman, not a piece of furniture.”

I groped for something sensible to say. “But you know Adam isn’t exactly faithful, don’t you?”

“He talks a lot; that’s all.”

I thought differently, but she wouldn’t believe me. I leaned back in my seat. Was I so wrapped up in my job that I didn’t notice anything going on around me? First Tony having an affair, and now Isobel.

“We’re keeping things quiet at the moment, Kate. It’s just a matter of timing, but I know you won’t tell anyone. Nobody else knows. Not even Jenny.”

I wanted to ask if she was going to end things with Greg, but we’d arrived at Jen’s house, and the moment was lost.

Jen scrambled into the cab to join us, looking flustered. She pushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead and blew out a breath. “I didn’t think I was going to be ready in time. Rob’s going to a barbecue at his boss’s house tonight and wanted me to make some food for him to take with. I made a giant batch of chocolate brownies and a trifle. Do you think that’ll be enough?”

“Your chocolate brownies are to die for, Jen.” I gave her a quick hug. “Rob doesn’t know how lucky he is.” Her cheeks pinked, and I remembered our conversation from the other day. “Cade used to be obsessed with your baking. Is it nice working with him again?”

Isobel’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about Cade Brisley? He’s as yummy as your baking.” She smoothed a hand over her immaculate hair. “If he didn’t have Tasha glued to his side, I’d have made a play for him a long time ago.”

Jen smiled, but it looked brittle. “I probably won’t have much to do with him. I’ve got some gossip for you, though.” We both looked at her. “I can’t remember if I told you my boss, Marella, asked if I knew Adam?” We both shook our heads, and Jen sat forward in her seat. “I didn’t know where to look when she said they were living together. I mean, what could I say?
Your boyfriend is a sleaze, with all the morals of a randy tomcat and wandering hands that would put an Italian gigolo to shame?
”

I couldn’t help laughing, but Isobel didn’t join in. She gazed out of the window, and then clapped her hands. “We’re here. And there’s Pippa and Lucy, waiting for us.” Her voice was too bright, and I wondered again why she’d ever gotten involved with Adam.

* * * *

The play was hilarious, and the five of us walked to a nearby Italian restaurant afterward. Pippa was another ex-ComCo person, and Lucy was Isobel’s sister. We’d been out together many times as a group.

Pippa was describing someone in her office. “He’s as big a lech as Adam Jones.”

I glanced at Isobel, who selected a fresh breadstick. “Adam’s not so bad,” she said. “He’s just got a bit of a reputation.”

Jenny was scathing. “Reputation, my arse. He’s the reason Pippa and I left ComCo.”

“Come on, Jen, you said you wanted better prospects, the usual stuff.” Isobel’s voice was strained.

“Only because my prospects at ComCo dwindled to absolute zero. Adam was furious when I wouldn’t sleep with him. He was waiting for the staff reviews and then he was going to transfer me. To Exeter.”

The table fell silent. Everyone looked at Isobel when the breadstick snapped between her fingers.

“I couldn’t handle it any longer.” Pippa’s soft voice drew our gazes to her. “Every time I stayed late, he was there. At first, I thought he was charming. He knew I was seeing someone, but he kept pestering me to go to the pub. When we got there, we were alone, though he said there was a group going. It got worse when he gave me the Lythgoes account. He had lots of excuses for us going to Kent, to see the customer. And always with an overnight stay.”

She flicked her long hair back from her face and took a drink before continuing. “After a while, Mark got fed up. I didn’t like all the overnight stops either, and he became convinced I was having an affair.” She shuddered. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t go near Adam—but Mark didn’t believe me. After Mark broke up with me, in September, Adam tried endlessly to charm me into his bed, but I still said
no
. Like Jenny, my future included a transfer. Do you think I really wanted to move to Kent?”

When Isobel slipped away to the toilets, I followed. She gazed into the mirror, her hands clenched tight around the washbasin. She was close to tears. “He’s not like that, Kate. Not with me.”

I hesitated. “He’s bad news, Belle. Why don’t you stick with Greg? He’s lovely.”

She exhaled slowly, relaxed her death grip on the basin, and turned away to rummage in her handbag. “Yeah. Greg.” She produced a hairbrush and dragged it through her hair, before touching up her makeup. “Let’s go clubbing.”

I admired her stamina. We danced until the early hours, and she hardly stopped for breath, with a succession of handsome men buzzing around her. It reminded me with a pang of dancing with Jordan. Where was he now? Back in London?

Yet again, I kicked myself for not staying in Exeter with him.