Bought With His Name. Penny Jordan

over Genista’s pale lilac and cream separates. ‘You always have such lovely clothes,’ she complained. Jilly and her fiancé were saving up to get married and consequently there was very little money to spare for new clothes. Genista had bought her outfit from Jaeger—one of the benefits of having private means, she reflected wryly. No one could have been more surprised than Genista herself when, six months after the death of her parents in a landslide in the tiny Alpine village where they were spending their ‘second honeymoon’, she had received a letter from a firm of solicitors in Australia informing her that she was the sole beneficiary under the will of her mother’s uncle. Genista had vague recollections of her mother talking about an uncle who had left England in disgrace, but she had never dreamed that he had built up a vast sheep station in the Australian Outback, which had been sold to his partner on his death, with the proceeds going to Genista as his only surviving relative. The money would keep her in modest luxury for the rest of her life, carefully invested, but she could not envisage life as a lady of leisure, so she had come to London, bought her apartment and set about finding herself a job which would fill the huge gap the death of her parents had left in her life.

      ‘Hey, come back! Where were you? Having second thoughts about last night?’ Jilly teased. ‘So would I in your shoes. He was gorgeous—and very plainly fell hard for you. When he walked into the room and saw you he was almost transfixed—just like something out of the movies!’

      Jilly was making her feel uncomfortable.

      ‘It wasn’t at all like that,’ she protested. ‘You’re seeing things through rose-coloured glasses. All he wanted to do was go to bed with me. That’s all men like him ever want.’

      ‘If you believe that then you’re the one with eye trouble—like you’re wearing blinkers,’ Jilly retorted spiritedly. ‘Honestly, Gen, I sometimes don’t think you’re for real! The most gorgeous male I’ve ever seen in my life walks into a party, takes one look at you and gives a pretty fair impression of a man who’s met the love of his life, and all you can do is say that he wanted to go to bed with you. You haven’t the faintest idea! If that was all he wanted, why didn’t he accept the invitation Mary was offering so blatantly?’

      ‘Perhaps he prefers redheads,’ Genista said flippantly. Jilly was being absurd. People in love were notorious for it. So she thought Luke had fallen for her, did she? She hadn’t noticed!

      ‘Who was he anyway?’ Jilly asked. ‘I’ve never seen him around before, have you, and most of the others were the usual crowd.’

      ‘I’ve no idea,’ Genista admitted. ‘We didn’t get as far as exchanging life stories.’ She had no intention of telling Jilly what had happened after she had left the party; Jilly’s questions awakened her own curiosity. Luke had come to the party alone, and had plainly not known many of the other guests. If it hadn’t been for his air of arrogant command, and the powerfully expensive Maserati he had driven she might have put him down as one of Greg’s ex-university friends; or someone who lived in the same block, but now that she thought about it, there had been an air of aloofness about Luke; a sort of aloneness, which didn’t tie in with his being one of Greg’s gregarious friends.

      ‘I don’t suppose you exchanged phone numbers?’ Jilly pressed wistfully, plainly convinced that her friend ought to have encouraged Luke’s attentions.

      ‘No.’ Genista purposefully made the word sound final, although a tiny part of her mind wondered what Jilly would have said had she told her that Luke did have her key.

      ‘Join me for lunch?’ Jilly questioned.

      ‘I’ll try. We might have to work through. Bob wanted to work late last night, but he had to go home.’ A small frown furrowed Genista’s forehead. She glanced across to where Bob Norman was still bent over his papers. He hadn’t seemed his normal calm self after he had spoken to his wife the previous evening, and Genista hoped there was nothing wrong at home. Elaine was a charming person, although very much lacking in self-confidence. She and Bob had one son who attended a small public school, and privately Genista thought it was wrong that Elaine should live so much through her husband and son, although of course it was none of her business.

      Bob smiled at Genista when she sat down at her own desk.

      ‘Sorry I’m late. I overslept, and then Jilly collared me to chat about last night’s party,’ she apologised.

      ‘So I saw,’ said Bob with a smile. ‘Don’t let it worry you. Oh, by the way,’ he added almost as though it were an afterthought, ‘I’ve heard that our new boss is going to pay us a visit this morning. He rang me at home last night. He was hoping to get back from Amsterdam in time to do the honours, but there’s been a hold-up with the Van der Walle deal.’

      ‘Do you know much about our new owner?’ Genista asked him, abandoning the chart she had been studying.

      Bob shook his head. He was a tall, well-made man, still very attractive, his dark hair tinged with silver, a twinkle in his blue eyes as he studied Genista’s downbent head. His manner towards her was fatherly, teasing almost, and Genista was able to enjoy his company without worrying that he might think she was attracted to him—Bob was very happily married; one of the very few who were, Genista often thought.

      ‘All kinds of rumours were floating about while you were away,’ he told her, ‘but nothing concrete. The entrepreneur who built up the L.F.N. Corporation is something of a mystery man, apparently, and doesn’t go in for publicity. Greg’s met him. He called round at Brian’s flat when he was there.’

      ‘And promptly found himself a new job,’ Genista commented dryly. ‘Hardly a good omen.’

      ‘Oh, you know Greg—or you should do by now. An easy life and a lavish expenses account and he was happy. I suspect when he heard the firm was being taken over he saw the writing on the wall. Brian Hargreaves is an excellent man in his field, but as an administrator he’s inclined to be a little lax.’

      Genista knew that this was true. Computerstore had a good reputation and did very well, but it could have done even better with tighter financial control, and certain members of the staff had very light duties in proportion to their generous salaries.

      ‘You’ve no need to worry,’ Bob assured her, as though he had read her mind. ‘You’re a very able worker, Gen, and there’s no way I could manage without you.’

      His phone rang, and Genista moved away as she heard him say sharply. ‘Elaine!’

      It was unusual for his wife to ring him at work, and she wondered again if something was wrong at home. Although they worked closely together and she had met Elaine, Bob was inclined to keep his private life private, and Genista had no wish to pry. She busied herself with her own work, which had piled up during her holiday, and when a sudden disturbance by the main door broke her concentration she glanced at her watch, surprised to see that the morning was almost gone.

      Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bob leave his desk, and rather than appear curious she bent her head over her own work again, even though she had guessed that the disturbance had been caused by the arrival of their new boss. No doubt Simon, their commissionaire, had shown him up from their reception area. Genista could hear the familiar sound of Bob’s voice; his introduction as he paused by the desk used by the technical sales team. Her desk was next in line, and it was very tempting to glance up while the newcomer was talking and snatch a quick look at him, but Genista fought the temptation, and was glad that she had done when he and Bob moved away from the technicians after a very brief exchange of conversation, and walked towards her.

      ‘Now let me introduce you to Gen, my assistant,’ she heard Bob saying. ‘She’s a real asset to the firm. A hard worker …’

      ‘Yes, I’ve already heard a great deal about Jennifer.’

      Genista felt as though someone had just poured ice-cold water down her spine. She would have recognised that voice anywhere!

      ‘Jennifer?’ she heard Bob say in a puzzled voice. ‘Oh, I see! No, the Gen is short for Genista, not Jennifer. I suppose really