CHAPTER SIX
Joss was not in bed when she arrived, and neither was he alone. A
scarlet Mercedes sports car was parked next to his Porsche, and as
Sarah brought the Metro to a halt, she wondered why Joss had been so
insistent that she drive down tonight, if he was already entertaining
guests.
She got out of the car and went up to the front door to ring the bell.
From outside it was impossible to see what work had already been done
to the house. Problems with the contractors had been Steven's
explanation for Joss's inability to return to London.
The front door opened, and Sarah stepped through it to confront her
host. He was dressed in black pants and a white shirt; the shirt
opened at the throat, his hair faintly disordered. For some reason her
mouth went dry, and she had to fight to drag her gaze away from him.
"You took your time."
So. there was to be no chivalrous respite. Battle was already
engaged.
"I'm not a fast driver," she responded with equanimity, 'and I didn't
leave town until nearly nine. "
"You don't need to explain...1 hardly expected you to come rushing down
quivering with eager anticipation."
His choice of words disturbed her, as she was convinced they meant to
conjure up, as they did, memories of an occasion when she had literally
quivered with eager anticipation and she was grateful for the lack of
light in the hall to hide her expression.
She was just growing accustomed to its dimness when a light, feminine
voice called out impatiently, "Joss, what on earth are you doing,
darling?"
Now even more than before she was glad of the shielding darkness. No
need any more to wonder about the racy Mercedes parked outside. Was
this another deliberate move on Joss's part-reinforcement of how little
desire he had to promote any further intimacy between them?
Punishment for the surely very small dent she had made in his pride?
Loweringly, the thought struck her that Joss was hardly likely to be
affected by her feelings one way or the other. Why should he want to
show her that there were other women in his life? That there must be
had already been perfectly apparent to her.
The owner of the voice came tapping impatiently on high heels into the
hall. In its dim light Sarah saw the pale glint of her expensively
coiffured blonde hair. She came towards them, ignoring Sarah to link
one slim tanned arm through Joss's.
"DUt. " Qg," she purred huskily, 'you're keeping me wA.^mg..." Red
lips pouted seductively and with ^ cftia^ shock Sarah realised that
despite the skilful ^alee-up the woman was much older than she h^J Qfst
thought--closer to her mid-thirties than hA- mid-twenties. Only the
faint lines on her skin bAy-ay6^ mat ^act' th^gh. Hter figure was as
slim ^ a gi^'^ her P10^ cotton jumpsuit, with its zip ppeo to her
breasts, something that Sarah herself^ ^o11^ have thought twice about
wearing.
An extro^11' used to getting her own way. and v^y very determined
under that little girl pose, Sarah suspected, waiting politely in the
shadows for ^oss to introduce her.
"Ah ... but keeping you waiting makes you all the more eager, Helene,"
he drawled softly, flicking the beautifully modelled nose with one
finger.
The blonde pouted again, and made a husky sound of pleasure deep in her
throat. Sarah suspected that the other woman was trying to embarrass
her, but it wasn't embarrassment she was feeling, it was. it was
nothing she told herself sternly. and certainly never, never jealousy.
What right did she have to feel that sort of emotion?
None. none at all. "Who's your little friend, darling?" the blonde
asked at last, when Joss made no attempt to introduce them.
"A member of my new staff," Joss told her laconically.
"Oh." The tone of the blonde's voice changed.
"I see.. one of the secretaries I suppose..." Her voice trailed away,
dismissively. Sarah felt her skin prickle with dislike.
"Actually, no." She could tell by the amusement in Joss's voice that
he was enjoying her discomfort and moreover that he was perfectly aware
afher resentment.
"Sarah is the editor ofLeichner & Holland's women's list."
"Oh." If anything Helene's voice was even cooler.
"Sarah come and be introduced to an old friend of mine, Helene
Standish. You might know Helene rather better under her stage
name--she's Rosemary Parish."
Sarah recognised the latter name immediately. She had seen the actress
in several television plays and had not liked the open sexuality she
always seemed to bring to her roles.
Even so she hid her aversion and extended her [land formally murmuring,
"Yes, of course... I've seen you on television.
"And with a bit of luck you'll soon be reading tier first novel," Joss
told her smoothly, ignoring this companion's slight pout.
"Darling...1 thought we agreed that we wouldn't say anything about my
book until it was Finished."
"Well, since it will be included on Sarah's list..."
His casual assumption that a manuscript that she herself had not even
seen yet was already on her list infuriated Sarah, but she hid her
anger and said instead, "It sounds extremely interesting, Miss
Standish. I'll look forward to reading it."
"It's Mrs.. actually," Helene told her icily.
"I've retained my married name even though I'm now divorced ... but I'm
sure there won't be any need for you to read my worker Sarah. Joss
will do that.
To be honest I prefer a man's opinion. "
Sarah was sure she did, but even so she could not resist saying
sweetly, "For women's fiction?" Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
"I
admit there are some excellent male editors of the genre but they're
very few and far between. "
Helene was looking at her as though she was having trouble believing
her ears, her silvery laughter faintly forced as she exclaimed, "Good
heavens Joss, you're going to have to teach your staff who's boss, I
think. By the way ... what is she doing here?"
So she was reduced to 'she' now was she, Sarah thought grimly, awaiting
Joss's explanation with a certain amount of acid pleasure.
She was not disappointed.
"Sarah has brought down her list for me to oversee," Joss told Helene
briefly.
Icy blue eyes flashed dangerously over Sarah.
"I see, so that's what you meant when you said you were going to be
busy this weekend, darling... This new job must be awfully important to
you."
The insult behind the words was staggeringly plain, but Sarah refused
to respond to it.
"I am," Joss agreed.
"Well, remember, darling, that I expect you to come down and stay with
me later this month. I should have finished the first draft by then
and I want you to go over it with me. It's such a nuisance that I have
to fly back to Cannes tonight... and such a pity that you can't come
back with me."
She was looking at her, as though she personally were responsible for
that fact, Sarah reflected, wondering what Helene would say if she
realised how dearly Sarah would love to see Joss go with her.
Probably never believe her, Sarah thought wryly. What woman worthy of
the name would pass up on an opportunity to have Joss all to herself?
No sooner had the thought formed than Sarah dismissed it. She had no
right to any personal interest in Joss whatsoever, she reminded
herself. None at all. And yet it was impossible not to feel jealous
as Joss slid his arm round the other woman's shoulders and guided her
back through the hall, calling over his shoulder to Sarah to follow
them.
She couldn't love him . it was impossible that she should and yet she
did. It hadn't been simply desire or propinquity that had urged her to
go with him the night of the ball . somewhere deep inside herself she
had instinctively recognised him as the man she would love. She could
come up with no rational explanation for this, but nevertheless it was
true. She had gone with him because not to do so would have been
impossible . and yet it would have been far, far better if she had
not.
She followed Joss into a large shadowy drawing room and was suddenly
and very bitterly angry with him, instinctively she sensed that he was
deliberately highlighting for her benefit the sexual relationship that
existed between himself and Helene. Almost instantly the hot heat of
her anger changed into sick misery. Could this really be the same man
who had held her in his arms;
who had made love to her in a way that. but no, she wasn't going to
think about that. She mustn't think about it.
Instead, she studied her surroundings, seeing that the large drawing
room was filled with various oddments of furniture, none of it
apparently of any particular age or style. She came out of her reverie
to hear Helene saying to Joss, "Darling, this place is such a mess. I
don't understand why you're insisting on staying here. Surely it would
be much better to stay away until the work is finished..."
"If I could trust the contractors to keep to then- time schedule then,
yes, it would be, but unfortunately I can't, which is why I, and
incidentally Sarah, are here." He stood up and glanced at his watch.
"Didn't you say you had to leave for your flight?"
"Unfortunately, yes..." Again the pout.
"Come and see me off then, darling and then you can get on with your
work in peace."
Again she linked her arm through Joss's, making no attempt to speak to
her, Sarah noticed, but she wasn't really bothered. She heard their
footsteps ringing across the died hall, the front door opened and then
there was silence. A silence that stretched for a considerable length
of time. Unwanted and tormenting mental images slid treacherously into
her mind. It was all too easy to picture Helene in Joss's arms.
Eventually she heard a car engine fire, and then within a few seconds
Joss was back. Sarah blinked as he switched on the main light. In its
glare she could see how shabby the elegant room was. She knew that
Joss was coming towards her, but she kept her attention fixed firmly on
the fireplace, refusing to look round.
"You've brought everything I asked for with you?"
Sarah knew that she should have been relieved by his businesslike
manner, but contrarily she was not. Politeness if nothing else
demanded that she at least look at him as she gave him her
confirmation, but she wished she had not when she saw the lingering
imprint of Helene's lipstick against his jaw and mouth. So what had
she thought they were doing ouside . discussing their mutual work?
"Everything's in the car," she added tiredly.
"If you'll tell me where you want it, I'll go and bring the boxes
in."
"It can wait until the morning." He glanced at his watch again and
frowned.
"It's gone midnight...1 expected you earlier."
"Well, it's lucky that you were disappointed then, isn't it?" Sarah
responded with a cool mockery that surprised herself.
"Meaning?"
She hadn't expected his dulcet challenge and had to fight to stop the
betraying colour flooding her skin, as she forced herself to meet it.
"Meaning that had I arrived earlier you would have had less time with
Helene."
He smiled tigerishly and said softly, "Jealous, Sarah?"
She had a momentary and insane desire to strike out and destroy the
smiling mockery on his face, but fortunately managed to control it.
How dare he change tracks like this, twisting her remarks so that their
conversation had turned from the impersonal to the personal, she
wondered despairingly, quite forgetting that she had been the first to
make the challenge. Banking down her anger she said coldly.
"Of course not... how could I be?"
For a moment she thought she saw something akin to anger cloud his
eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure--his voice as cool but
much drier than her own as he agreed.
"How, indeed?"
"To experience jealousy one must first love," Sarah protested doggedly,
determined to have the final word.
"Where did you learn that little home truth?" He was almost snarling
at her now.
"From someone else's writing ... certainly not from personal
experience, eh, my little virgin..."
The taunt hurt, sliding through her guard like a rapier through tender
skin, reaching to Where she was most vulnerable. As she battled
against betraying her pain she saw the sardonic expression in Joss's
eyes. He had won this encounter, she would have to give him that, she
acceded painfully to herself.
"I'm rather tired. Joss," she said not troubling to hide the weariness
that suddenly seemed to have dropped over her.
"If you could tell me where I'm going to sleep."
He smiled again, not kindly, and opened the door behind him.
She followed him automatically, stopping half way up the stairs as
though the breath was driven out of her lungs when he threw laconically
over his shoulder, "What if I told you you were sleeping in my bed,
Sarah?"
She could feel time tick relentlessly by as she fought against the
insidious memory of his hands on her body, his mouth against her skin.
Slow shudders of remembered pleasure built up inside | her, threatening
to destroy her self-control. | "That would be fine," she managed to
say at ;
last.
"Just as long as you were sleeping somewhere else."
He waited until they were both at the top of the stairs before making
any comment, turning slightly towards her so that his face was in the
shadows and hers was not. It was almost eerie, listening to his voice
without being able to see his expression properly.
"You're a liar, Sarah," he told her quietly, 'and I could take you to
my bed right now and prove it to you. "
It was only the suddenly prickly sense of danger that gave her strength
to say coolly:
"And you. Joss, are a very arrogant man. I'm not going to deny that I
found pleasure in your lovemaking--I did ... but I've already told you
why I went to bed with you and that statement still stands."
She held her breath waiting for his response, but all he did was move
ahead of her down the shadowy corridor, stopping outside one of the
several doors.
"Sorry about the poor lighting," he apologised laconically as he pushed
open the door.
"The electrical contractors are half way through rewiring. The kitchen
and most of the downstairs are done, but they haven't got this far
yet... 3 " None of the bedrooms have been touched I'm I afraid--I got
someone up from the village to clean this one for you. "
Sarah stepped past him and grimaced faintly at the brightly hued,
old-fashioned wallpaper, but as he had said, the room was clean, the
bed looked comfortable, if somewhat old-fashioned, and after all she
would only be staying a few nights.
"No private bathrooms as yet, I'm afraid," he continued, going back to
her bedroom door, 'the only one in use is there. " He pointed to a
door across the corridor.
"And in case you're wondering it has a lock on the door. Is your case
still in the car?"
"Yes."
"I'll go and bring it up for you. Luckily my study has been
finished.
So I suggest we get to work down there early tomorrow morning . say
ten-ish? "
Sarah nodded her head, studying her new surroundings as he went back
downstairs for her case.
The room was a pleasant size and had the potential to look extremely
attractive. She was dreamily mentally re-furbishing it when Joss came
back.
He dropped her case on her bed and then walked over to the door,
pausing briefly to drawl, "Sweet dreams, Sarah," and then he walked
through it and closed it after him.
Since she had heard him walk back downstairs, Sarah judged that it was
quite safe for her to use the bathroom. She had no wish to be caught
at the disadvantage of dashing across the landing by Joss when she was
only wearing her nightdress.
The bathroom was as old-fashioned as her bedroom, but thankfully there
was plenty of hot water. She showered as quickly as she could,
removing her make-up and brushing her teeth, before gathering up her
discarded clothes. It was a nuisance that she had no dressing gown.
She didn't need one at the flat, and it hadn't struck her that she
would not have the privacy of her own bathroom. Mentally shrugging,
she unlocked the door. Her nightdress was made of soft cotton, and was
surely modest enough for her not to need to feel so concerned that Joss
might glimpse her in it . after all, he had already seen what lay
beneath it. And not just seen, she reminded herself, caught off guard
by the slow burn of heat flooding over her body.
Despite her physical tiredness it took her a long time to get to sleep.
Her searingly painful jealousy on seeing Helene with Joss was something
she was going to have to come to terms with and accept.
Frowning slightly, Sarah acknowledged to herself that it really would
be much safer from her point of view if she could find another job. but
she had already sworn to herself that she would not allow Joss to
browbeat her into leaving Leichner & Holland, and besides, she could
not afford to. But every second she spent in his company only added to
the trauma and pain she would have to face, when eventually he was no
longer there. How could she bear to work with him, when she knew there
were other women in his life, when she ached to touch him the way she
had done tonight. She would have to find a way, Sarah told herself
resolutely . and who knew, perhaps in doing so she might also find a
way to destroy her love for him as well. He was not the embodiment of
all her secret inward yearnings as he had seemed that first night. he
was a man who could be cruel, as he had been tonight. She should be
feeling glad that she had had this glimpse of the man he really was,
but instead, all she could feel was pain.
She woke up early, so early that a fine spring mist still clothed the
fields in the distance. Seven o'clock . far too early to start work
and she had never felt less like sleep. On impulse she got out of bed
and made for the bathroom. Ten minutes later she was pulling on jeans
and a T-shirt, and on her way downstairs, her hair secured in its
plait, her face free of makeup.
After a certain amount of trial and error she found the kitchen, taking
in Joss's study on the way. His study was really a small library, with
some beautiful mahogany shelves running along one wall. The whole room
had a decidedly pleasant masculine ambience from the richly coloured
Persian rug on the floor to the heavy partners' desk with its leather
chairs.
It would be very pleasant to work in an atmosphere such as this.
especially on a cold winter's afternoon, Sarah thought, noting the
large marble fireplace. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell
the scent of apple logs. Sighing faintly, she went in search of the
kitchen, gazing appreciatively around its spaciousness. Plainly no
expense had been spared in its remodelling, and Sarah guessed that it
had once been several smaller rooms. She liked the solid oaken units
and the tiled work tops and the ceramic tiles on the floor.
She was longing for a cup of coffee and she opened a few cupboard doors
experimentally, discovering a washing machine hidden away behind one
set and a fridge-freezer behind another. Eventually she managed to
locate a filter coffee maker, and some coffee, although from what she
could see. Joss had not yet got round to stocking up his cupboards.
He obviously hadn't expected to move into the house as yet, she
reflected, remembering what Steven had told her. While she waited for
the coffee she looked for some bread to make toast with, but could find
none.
By the time she had poured and drunk her coffee it was gone eight
o'clock, and she was still hungry, Sarah thought wryly. She opened the
fridge door and investigated its *******s, frowning over their paucity.
How did Joss envisage they were going to live over the next few days?
She remembered that the local village shop opened early on Saturdays,
and on impulse decided she might as well use her time advantageously,
rather than simply waiting for Joss to come downstairs.
The woman behind the counter recognised her and looked slightly
surprised to see her.
"I thought your sister was away," she commented, when Sarah gave her
her order.
"She is." It was plain that the woman was curious, but Sarah did not
explain, simply smiling her thanks as she packed away her groceries.
The shop did not sell bread, but by the time Sarah had left the village
store, the small, family run bakery had opened.
The delicious smell wafting through the open door was far too tempting
to resist. Sarah went in and emerged several minutes later carefully
carrying a bag containing freshly made croissants, and another with
still-warm whole meal bread.
She had no idea what, if any, plans Joss had made for their meals, but
at least she would not starve, she decided cheerfully as she started up
the Metro.
A little to her surprise there was still no sign of Joss when she
returned.
It was gone nine o'clock now and she still had not had her breakfast,
and according to Joss they were starting work at ten. Shrugging
mentally and telling herself that it was no part of her dudes to act as
Joss's unpaid housekeeper, Sarah set about making fresh coffee, and
then her conscience smote her. It wouldn't kill her to go upstairs and
ask him if he wanted a drink. She had turned the oven on to warm her
croissants, and the smell filling the kitchen was making her
practically dizzy with hunger.
Sighing faintly, she hurried upstairs, stopping abruptly when she
realised she did not even know which was Joss's room. As she hesitated
she heard the bathroom door open and she turned round, her eyes
widening slightly as she took in the powerful breadth of Joss's
shoulders; the tiny droplets of water that still clung to the smooth
suppleness of his skin. Helplessly her glance skittered over his body,
naked apart from the towel wrapped round his hips. A great wave of
intense longing hit her, obliterating everything else, including the
reason she had come upstairs in the first place.
"That's no way to look at a defenceless man, Sarah."
The mocking words filtered past the shock of seeing him and
remembering. The hand she had automatically lifted to touch his skin
fell to her side, her face white with shock. It was impossible for her
to speak; her throat seemed to have closed up completely, the weakness
washing over her, frightening in its intensity.
"Breakfast..." she managed to say weakly eventually.
"I...1 didn't know if you were awake ... if you wanted any
breakfast..."
"Breakfast..." He laughed softly.
"And what were you proposing to give me, sweet Sarah? The bewitching
nectar of your mouth? The honey sweetness of your skin?"
At his words a deep, flooding tide of aching desire spread through her
body. He was making love to her as surely and as effectively as if he
were touching her, Sarah thought despairingly, and she was powerless to
stop her body's response to him.
"You want me, Sarah..." The arrogant certainty in his voice brought
her back to sanity and reality, desire changing to bitter anger as she
looked at him and saw the mockery in his eyes. Suddenly she wanted to
hurt him as badly as he was hurting her. Her anger was so intense that
it blotted out everything else, she moved instinctively, reacting to
the pain tearing at her, only realising what she had done in the thick
silence that followed the sound of her palm against his skin. In sick
dismay she looked at the spreading imprint of her hand, her eyes cloudy
and dazed, unable to accept that she had actually hit him. Suddenly,
the dangerous elemental quality of the silence enshrouding them struck
her and she took a step backwards, but Joss moved faster, imprisoning
her wrists with cruelly hard fingers, no trace of amusement or mockery
in his eyes now. They were as dark and unreadable as the deepest ocean
and she shivered beneath their cold bleakness.
"Don't take your frustration out on me, Sarah," he told her grimly,
shocking her with the brutality of his judgment.
"At least not in that way... What's the matter?" he goaded softly,
watching her with eyes as merciless as those of a falcon guarding its
prey.
"Too shy to ask for what you really want?"
This couldn't be happening, Sarah thought despairingly. Why, oh why,
had she come upstairs? Why hadn't she stayed in the kitchen where at
least she had been safe? She gave a small moan, a release of pain both
physical and mental, closing her eyes as she tried to blot out the
sight of Joss's bitterly derisive face.
"Don't do that, you little fake." He muttered the words against her
ear, causing shivers of fear to spread through her.
"We both know this haunted pallor and mock martyr air are false. No
woman hits a man unless she either wants him to hit her back or kiss
her... Now which was it, Sarah? Are you going to allow me to make my
own choice?"
She struggled then, tugging desperately to be free, hating him for what
he was doing to her and hating herself as well, for her inability to
forget what it had been like to be held in his arms as a lover.
It was pointless to struggle. He dragged her against his body, freeing
her momentarily to secure her there with the arm he closed round her
waist, holding her so tightly against him that it was too dangerous to
struggle. His free hand imprisoned the back of her neck, his mouth
descending to hers with punishing fierceness.
His grip on her was so tight that she could feel his heartbeat thudding
into her body; the heat coming off his naked torso; the male strength
of him compared with her own vulnerability. And she could also feel
the potent force of his desire. It made her go weak with tormenting
memories, her mouth opening beneath his, reality fading.
Humiliatingly it was Joss who dragged his mouth from hers, lifting his
head and breathing hard as he muttered savagely, "Oh, my God...
that..."
His harsh voice was all it took to remind her of the truth. His grip
had slackened sufficiently for her to pull away from him, which she
did, her body trembling as she forced herself to say huskily:
"I came here to work with you. Joss... Nothing else." Tears blurred
her vision as she continued shakily, "You can believe that or not as
you choose, but I want it clearly understood that I do not want you to
" Make love to you? " His mouth twisted, as though he was having
difficulty in believing what she was saying and fully intended her to
know it. And why shouldn't he? She couldn't hide from herself never
mind him the fact that she had responded to him just now with
unmistakable hunger, and she hated herself for it.
"I don't even want you to touch me..." she told him fiercely, stepping
back from him.
He was looking at her with a peculiar intensity, his skin surely paler
than it had been? Frowning, Sarah glanced down at herself, tensing as
she saw the way her T-shirt clung to her body, clearly revealing the
tormented thrust of her breasts and nipples, the fabric damp from its
contact with Joss's body.
She took a couple of steps backwards, and then for no reason that she
could analyse later when she was calmer, flung at him bitterly, "You
can believe what you like but I did come up here to see if you wanted
any breakfast." And then, before her composure deserted her
completely, she fled back downstairs to the kitchen.
The warm, yeasty scent of the croissants, which had so tormented her
taste buds earlier, now only made her feel sick. She switched off the
oven and sat down at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. She
couldn't stay here if Joss was going to torment her like that again.
In his arms it had been all too easy to forget all that had happened
between them since the night of the ball. In all honesty she could not
deny to herself that for a few insane seconds she had actually wanted
him to pick her up and carry her to his bed . to make love to her as
he had done before. She shuddered and forced herself to get up, and go
blindly through the motions of making herself fresh coffee. How could
she stay here now and work with Joss? How could she not? She had her
job to think of.
He came into the kitchen several minutes later, dressed as casually as
she was herself, jeans moulding the masculine length of his legs, a
thick cotton check shirt with short sleeves, snugly outlining his
torso.
As he walked in through the door, he stopped, frowned slightly and
asked, "What's that I can smell?"
"Croissants and coffee," Sarah told him listlessly. She couldn't bear
to look at him.
"I was hungry when I got up...1 couldn't find any bread and then I
remembered that the village store opens early on Saturdays. You didn't
seem to have much in the way of food ... so I bought a few things."
He was silent and she couldn't bear to turn round to face him. Now
what she had done suddenly seemed unbearably encroaching. She had no
idea what plans or arrangements he might have had in mind for their
meals, she reminded herself. With hindsight it was easy to see that
she would have been much wiser to stay hungry.
"Sarah..."
She felt the light touch of his fingers on her shoulder and tensed.
"I'm sorry...1 owe you an apology for what I said earlier."
For what he'd said. but not for what he'd done, Sarah noticed, forcing
herself to turn to face him. She managed a careless little shrug as
she slid away from his grip.
"That's all right," she said coolly.
"I don't suppose it's any more your fault that you're used to women
inviting themselves into your bed, than it's mine that I'm not..."
"Mmm ... rather ungrammatical but I get your point. This time I'll let
you get away with your acid little barb, Sarah ... but don't try
pushing me too far."
Her stomach was quivering like jelly but she refused to let him see
it.
"What else did you buy besides croissants?" he asked her, carelessly
opening the oven and removing them.
"I had intended to go out and get some supplies later on, but it seems
that you've saved me a chore."
"Only the barest necessities," Sarah told him.
"I wasn't sure what sort of eating arrangements you had in mind."
He sat down and put the plate on the table. Now he looked at her,
frowning slightly.
"Meaning what exactly?"
Sarah shrugged.
"Well, if my sister had not been away I would have stayed with her and
only come here to work. I don't know what social commitments you may
or may not have."
"Meaning that you really believe I'd leave you to eat here alone while
I was swarming off willing and dining elsewhere?"
"I'm here as an employee ... not as a guest," she reminded him
stiffly.
"And as your boss it's my duty to see that you're properly fed," he
retorted blandly, adding with a faint grimace, "There's so much work
for us to get through. I was rather hoping you wouldn't mind if we
took it turn and turn about to organise our meals. It will be chaotic
I know... with the contractors here and everything else. I had no
intention of moving in at this stage, and so I haven't even attempted
to engage any staff. However, if you prefer it I can arrange for you
to eat at the local pub if my company is such anathema to you."
What on earth could she say? If she insisted on eating alone now she
would be childish and petulant.
"I've only got enough food to last us the weekend," she told him
eventually.
"Then first thing Monday morning we'll go and get some more. These
croissants are delicious," he added, biting into his second.
"Aren't you going to have one?"
"I'm not hungry."
But in the end she did eat one, and she cooked Joss bacon and eggs. A
dishwasher meant that there was no need for them to wash up but Sarah
couldn't help herself from smiling slightly when he said, "Well, I
suppose I'll have to make lunch... what did you plan for us to have?"
"Chicken salad," she told him gravely, watching the laughter leaping
into his eyes.
"I think I might just about manage that ... or I could, if you're very
good, make you my piece de resistance, this evening instead. Steak au
poivre... I'm very good at it, and I happen to know there's some fillet
in the freezer."
"Okay you're on..."
It was deliciously heady stuff, sharing this teasing banter with him
but it was also very dangerous, Sarah reminded herself as she followed
him into the study. The boxes from her car were standing beside his
desk, and as she sat down at it she could almost feel him distancing
himself from her.
Nervous now, knowing that he would soon be judging her professional
ability, Sarah rummaged through the boxes for the financial statements
of last year's list.
They worked until lunchtime. Joss painstakingly thorough as he
listened to her explanations of her reasons for last year's choices,
sometimes making notes, sometimes not.
When she had finished he asked her, "And how do you feel about the
books you chose last year, in view of the financial statements on their
sales?"
He was asking her to substantiate with figures, her choices, Sarah
realised. She took a deep breath.
"There are one or two surprises," she admitted hesitantly.
"The saga, which I personally liked, but wasn't too sure would have
mass appeal, sold extremely well ... so well that we've commissioned a
follow-up. James was disappointed that David's book didn't do as well
as he'd hoped. I know that Steven is very well pleased with the profit
on the women's fiction list so far."
Joss waited a few seconds and then said evenly, "I asked you for your
opinion Sarah. Your opinion of your own judgment. or don't you feel
able to give me such an opinion?"
He was coming dangerously close to uncovering her vulnerability
concerning her selfconfidence and Sarah could not allow that.
"So far I'm quietly pleased with my success rate," she told him
calmly.
"Quietly pleased?" One eyebrow rose.
"That's something of a contradiction, isn't it? Why aren't you loudly
pleased, Sarah? It's my experience that most editors are only too
eager to let others know just how well they've done.. just how
invaluable they are to their employers."
What was he hinting at? That she wasn't to think herself invaluable?
Was he deliberately trying to undermine her; because he was certainly
succeeding.
"I said quietly pleased. Joss, because that's exactly what I meant,"
she told him firmly.
"I haven't been doing the job for long enough yet to be any more
confident than that. Of course I'm pleased that my choices have done
so well, but that isn't enough to tell whether it was good judgment on
my part, or simply good luck."
"I couldn't have put it better myself," Joss agreed drily, plainly
amused to see her fall into the pit she had dug for herself.
"And the only way we will have of knowing will be to let you select
this year's list and possibly next's. And, of course, if it was only
good luck and that luck fails..."
Sarah wanted to protest that he was hardly being fair. But she was too
unsure of her ground to do so. She felt instinctively that she did
have a flair for her work, but she was naturally unassuming and
hesitant to take credit for herself without someone else there to back
her up in doing so.
"Steven seems to have confidence in me," she said stiffly.
Joss grimaced.
"Steven is a sucker for a pretty face," he told her blightingly.
"Which is one of the reasons he's more than happy to hide behind me and
let me be his hatchet man if, of course, it should ever come to that as
I was just saying, it's really early days as far as your abilities are
concerned, isn't it? Now I think we'd better break for lunch."
Childishly, Sarah wanted to tell him that she didn't want to eat. He
had thoroughly upset her, leaving her feeling tense and drained.
Joss was watching her and Sarah felt thoroughly unnerved when he said
softly, "Hasn't it ever occurred to you that you're somewhat on he
sensitive side for this job, Sarah? How do you ;ope for instance when
you have to deal with a itubbom writer, when you have to ask for alt
erit ions or do I already know the answer to that?"
Sarah knew that he was referring to David Vandal.
"That's not fair," she burst out, very close to be verge of tears.
"Most writers aren't a bit ike David."
"I should hope not," he agreed blightingly, adding: "By the way, I've
been through his nanuscript, and I don't like it. It takes an attitude
o women that could do us a great deal of harm is a publishing house
from a feminist point of dew. He'll either have to abandon, or
rework."
"I'll tell him." Her relief that Joss agreed wither own view of
David's book was swamped by the knowledge that she would have to
confront David again.
"No." Joss's sharp refusal jarred through her.
"I'll tell him," he told her grimly.
"Somehow I Think it will be much more effective coming from ne..."
His eyes told her mercilessly exactly what he meant and Sarah quailed
beneath the derision in them. He was undermining her authority again,
and she knew she had to object, and yet a cowardly part of her wanted
to hand over the responsibility for dealing with David to him. "It's
my job--' she began only to fall silent as loss intervened crisply.
"And it's mine to see that yours gets done, as quickly and efficiently
as possible. You'll have to forgive me, Sarah, if I say that I can
hardly see that being accomplished after what I witnessed in your
office the other day. David Randal terrifies you."
It was all too uncomfortably true, and Sarah lapsed into an unhappy
silence. In a few short hours Joss seemed to have possessed himself of
every one of her weaknesses. How long would it be before he told her
that he intended to recommend to Steven that she was demoted?
Not very long, she suspected miserably.
"Come on, lunch."
The fresh salad and chicken might just as well have been sawdust, Sarah
reflected as she pushed her plate away, barely touched. If this was a
sample of what working with Joss was like, then perhaps she ought to
give in her notice. But how could she? How could she let him see that
he had bested her? How could she manage without her salary?
They were two questions that returned again and again to torment her in
the days that followed.
Joss had a capacity for work that she could only marvel at, and she
could not hide from herself the knowledge that he was an extremely able
and accomplished editor. Somehow in the few days he had available he
managed to read all through her past and current lists, possibly in bed
at night, Sarah reflected, because he was certainly far too busy to do
so during the day. If they weren't being interrupted by the
contractors, the telephone was ringing it amazed Sarah how quickly he
could switch his attention from one thing to another without apparently
losing track. The more she saw of his own professional ability, the
more insecure she felt about her own. He had given her the odd word of
praise it was true . but all in all when she returned to London on
Wednesday afternoon it was with the distinct feeling that her days as
Leichner & Holland's women's fiction editor were numbered.
The very last thing Joss had said to her before she drove off was that
immediately he got back he intended to write to David.
"If he gets in touch with you before then you can refer him to me."
"And the work I'm doing on this year's list?" she asked hesitantly.
His response had been distinctly noncommittal, and all in all Sarah was
relieved to have been granted a couple of days off work, in lieu of the
previous weekend, before she need face him again
14-11-07, 01:03 AM
chapter Two
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