‘There’s nothing to be shy about,’ he told her quietly as she hesitated in the doorway. ‘You’re the heroine of the hour.’
But not in all quarters, Tallie thought, as her eyes rested on the woman seated on the sofa facing her, who’d signally failed to join in the general round of applause at her appearance, and was now looking her over with eyes almost the colour of turquoise that missed nothing.
For the rest, she had hair like burnished copper cut in a severe bob, skin like milk, plus long legs and full breasts, emphasised by the black silk slip of a dress that she was wearing.
‘I’m Di Harris.’ A sweet-faced blonde girl with serene grey eyes came up to Tallie, smiling. ‘And that’s my husband over in the corner struggling to decide between armagnac and Drambuie. What terrible choices men face all the time.’
She put a hand on Tallie’s arm and drew her unresisting into the room. ‘Charlie says you have to give me the recipe for that wonderful chicken,’ she went on, handing her a cup of coffee. ‘And I’m to use bribery if necessary.’
Tallie flushed. ‘It’s really very simple.’ She was about to recite the list of ingredients when she remembered the forbidden anchovies and paused awkwardly. ‘I’ll write it all out for you and ask Mr Benedict to pass it on.’
‘Or you could come round and cook it for us yourself,’ the other girl tempted. She looked around her, eyes dancing. ‘I’m sure everyone here would like a repeat performance.’
‘I hardly think the child’s experienced enough for that, Diana.’ Sonia Randall’s tone was chilly, cutting across the murmur of assent. ‘And if she’s thinking of cooking professionally, her presentation could certainly use some work. I’m not used to having my food just … thrown on to a dish. Also, she needs to hire help with the serving. It’s ridiculous expecting the host to trail backward and forward to the kitchen.’
Tallie’s flush deepened. ‘That was Mr Benedict’s own idea,’ she defended. ‘And I’ve no ambition to cook for a living.’
‘No?’ The supercilious gaze swept over her again. ‘Then how do you earn your crust?’ She added impatiently, ‘I suppose you do have a job?’
‘Not … exactly.’ Tallie bit her lip. ‘You see—I’m writing a novel.’
There was a silence, then Sonia Randall gave a harsh laugh. ‘Yes, I do see. You and a thousand others, of course, who don’t have this golden opportunity to meet socially with a commissioning editor for a major publishing house.’
She paused. ‘But if you’ve been persuaded to set me up so that this young woman can try and ingratiate herself with me, Mark darling, I assure you I shall not be amused.’
Tallie thought she heard Justin murmur, ‘Now there’s a surprise,’ but she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t be certain of very much at all—not when she felt as if she were a biological specimen pinned to a board for examination.
Mark said curtly, ‘There’s no question of any set-up. Tallie has no idea who you are, Sonia, or where you work. The topic has never been raised.’ He added coolly, ‘And I don’t suppose she’d have mentioned the book at all if you hadn’t started interrogating her. She simply doesn’t discuss it.’
‘Well, I’d like to talk about it.’ Justin moved to Tallie’s side. He gave her a coaxing smile. ‘You must tell us what it’s about.’
‘Oh, spare us,’ Sonia intervened impatiently. ‘I’m here to relax, not take part in some … busman’s holiday.’
‘Yet you’re always telling us you’re looking for the Next Big Thing.’ The ironic reminder came from Penny. ‘This could be it.’
‘I doubt that very much.’ Sonia examined perfectly manicured nails, her expression bored. ‘Anyway, there’s no chance of it coming to me. Alder House only takes scripts recommended by agents.’
‘Tallie has an agent,’ Mark said quietly. ‘Alice—Morgan, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes.’ Tallie bent her head in embarrassment, wondering at the same time how on earth he’d remembered that.
Sonia’s head lifted abruptly and she studied Tallie again, her eyes sharpening. ‘My goodness,’ she drawled. ‘I’d heard rumours that poor Alice was getting past it, and now it actually seems to be true.’
‘But didn’t you tell us earlier that she represents Madeline Connor, your latest acquisition?’ Mark asked coolly. ‘Presumably she was still sharp enough to negotiate that deal.’
Sonia’s crimson lips tightened. ‘She didn’t have much choice in the matter,’ she said curtly. ‘Maddie really wanted to work with me.’
Whereas I’d rather be boiled in oil, Tallie informed her silently, taking a gulp of hot coffee. But I should have recognised that Gould is Madeline Connor’s real name, because she rang up when I was in Mrs Morgan’s office.
Sonia’s gaze was still fixed on her. ‘Have you read any of her books?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Tallie returned. She’d devoured all the emotional, sexy, modern blockbusters that epitomised Madeline Connor’s work. ‘I look forward to them.’
‘And imagine you’re going to be just like her, I suppose.’ Sonia sighed. ‘Alice really shouldn’t encourage you in that when Maddie’s her client.’
Tallie looked back at her calmly. ‘She doesn’t—because I’m writing something completely different.’ She drank the rest of her coffee and put the cup down on the table. ‘And now I should be getting back to it, so I’ll wish you all goodnight.’
She flashed a swift smile at the concerned faces watching her—not including Mark Benedict, who simply looked amused—and walked to the door.
She’d just arrived at her room when Justin’s voice reached her. ‘Tallie—wait a minute.’
She paused reluctantly, waiting for him to join her.
‘I’ve come to apologise.’ His expression was wry. ‘I feel responsible for all that, because I asked about your book.’
‘It’s not your fault. She had it in for me before she got here.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘What on earth can he see in her?’
Justin gave a faint grin. ‘Believe me, that’s a question no man would ever need to ask.’
‘Oh,’ Tallie said, flushing a little, remembering the voluptuous breasts revealed by the skimpy chic of the black dress, and the full crimson mouth. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘But, forgetting Sonia, and how I wish we could,’ Justin went on, ‘I’d be seriously interested to hear about your book. So may I call you—take you out to dinner one night next week?’
She didn’t look at him. ‘I really don’t think that would be appropriate. Besides, I’m not even sure …’ She broke off, biting her lip. ‘Not that it matters,’ she added with an effort. ‘And now I must ask you to excuse me.’
She was aware of real disappointment when she closed her bedroom door behind her. He seems so nice, she thought wistfully, so how can he be propositioning me when he’s seeing Penny?
She sighed. But then, what do I really know? she asked herself almost resignedly. Maybe two-timing is just a way of life for men these days. And, if that’s how it is, I’m going to be spending a lot of my time alone.
She nodded, almost fiercely, as she crossed the room to her table and sat down in front of her laptop. Her vigil in the kitchen had been productive, and she knew now how Mariana was going to elude the advances of Hugo Cantrell, fuelled this time by his desire for revenge as well as lust, so doubly dangerous. It was going to be a terrific scene, she thought, and nothing Sonia Randall could say or do was going to spoil her belief in her story and her ability