Rosanna frowned. ‘You’ve got a job?’
‘Only for a few weeks. Their usual administrator’s baby arrived sooner than expected.’
‘Baby okay?’
‘Baby’s fine.’
‘So why couldn’t they get a temp? Why did it have to be you?’ Rosanna rolled her eyes. ‘Who asked you?’
‘Cara, the new mother, is a good friend of Victoria’s.’
‘Of course she is. Of course you couldn’t say no.’ Rosanna gave a theatrical sigh as she went to the pantry and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘So where’s the job?’
‘You heard of the Whistle Fund?’
Rosanna wolf-whistled as she unscrewed the cap of the bottle. ‘Alex Carlisle and Lorenzo Hall. Who hasn’t heard of them? Alex got married recently and Lorenzo’s someone you don’t forget. Ever.’
Well, that was true. His image was burned on Sophy’s brain, every inch of skin, muscle and pure man.
‘Every bit as good as he looks, apparently,’ Rosanna drawled.
‘You’ve hooked him?’ A hot flash of envy sliced through Sophy.
‘No,’ Rosanna said, pausing as she poured the crimson wine. ‘Not that I’d turn him down. But the one time our paths crossed I didn’t even score a second glance.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Sophy was able to smile again. ‘Every man gives you at least four glances.’
‘Sweetie-pie.’ Rosanna flopped into a chair, giant wine glass in hand. ‘No, I’ve heard he’s impossible to catch. Tangles in the nets now and then but always swims free.’
Sophy was quite sure he tangled and then ripped free. ‘I think he’s a shark.’
‘Do you now?’ Rosanna giggled—half choking on her wine.
‘Absolutely,’ Sophy said. ‘I think he’s far too used to seeing any fish he wants and getting the kill.’
Rosanna held her glass up to the light and with a flick of her wrist let the liquid swirl inside it. ‘At the very least you might score some wine.’
Sophy shook her head. ‘I don’t know that we’ll be getting on well enough for that.’
Rosanna tilted her head on the side and appraised Sophy, a sly smile on her lips. ‘You’re interested.’
‘No I’m not.’ Sophy lied. And then immediately started to laugh.
Rosanna laughed too. ‘Of course you are. We all are. But—’ her nose wrinkled ‘—I don’t think he’s your type.’
‘No?’ Sophy felt irrationally put out.
‘He is a shark,’ Rosanna said. ‘You need a dolphin.’
‘Oh, great. Someone with a big nose.’
‘And with a habit of rescuing rather than destroying. It’s true.’ Rosanna sat up. ‘You need a good guy, Soph, someone safe and cuddly, not some dangerous type you couldn’t handle.’
‘You don’t think I could handle him?’
‘I know you couldn’t.’
‘So you’ve no advice for me?’
Rosanna looked up sharply. ‘I’m the last person you should take advice from.’
How did she figure that? She was the one who had them all eating out of her palm.
‘You were wearing that when you saw him?’ Rosanna’s expression clouded.
‘What? What’s wrong with it?’ Had she committed some terrible fashion faux pas? She couldn’t think what.
‘Nothing. But if he has a Grace Kelly fantasy, then you’re in trouble.’
Sophy snorted. ‘Now who’s the sweetie-pie?’
‘He’d gobble a kitten like you.’ Rosanna frowned. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Anyway, I’m grumpy, we don’t have time for a pedicure now. I’ve had to sit here all day doing nothing.’
Kitten? She thought she was a kitten? ‘Poor you.’ Now Sophy had zero sympathy. ‘It’s about time you stopped and did nothing for half a day.’
Rosanna cupped her hand round her mouth, making a pretend megaphone. ‘Pot calling kettle, come in, kettle.’ She stood. ‘At least I’m busy pushing my career. You’re just busy doing everything for everyone else.’
‘You’re going to miss your next flight. Go have a good trip.’ Rosanna was a buyer for one of the major fashion chains. Knowledgeable, chic, damn good at her job and away more nights than she was at home.
Rosanna picked up the handle of her chic trolley case. ‘I love Wellington.’
‘The boys are going to miss you.’
‘It’ll be good for them.’ Rosanna bent and flicked an invisible speck of fluff from her black trousers.
Sophy watched the studied indifference with a smile. ‘Are you ever going to make a decision?’
Rosanna appeared to think on it for a moment, then smiled shamelessly. ‘I don’t think so, no.’
Rosanna had been dating two men for the last month. They knew about each other. Hell, they all went clubbing together, the boys’ rivalry half jest, half serious. Rosanna, the black widow, liked to have as many in her web as possible to play with. And once they were caught, they were never freed. She had carcasses all over the globe. Emmet and Jay were her latest victims yet somehow she pulled it off with such charm they didn’t seem to mind—in fact they salivated over her.
Sophy knew there was a heart of gold underneath the glam. It was just that Rosanna wouldn’t admit to it, certainly wouldn’t let anyone near it. She spent her life fencing, flirting on a superficial—if somewhat bitchy—plane. Sophy knew why; Rosanna’s heart had been broken and she wasn’t letting any man near it again. She was only about having light, harmless, fun and keeping any seriousness at a distance.
Sophy’s heart had also been broken. Frankly she wanted some of the fun now too—and she knew who with. She walked with Rosanna to the door, waited for the taxi to arrive and tried to absorb some of her friend’s zest for life.
Rosanna did all the things Sophy was too ‘responsible’ to do: she had crazy flings, she went to far flung destinations, she was impulsive and a risk-taker. She did danger—she’d do dangerous like Lorenzo Hall kind of dangerous.
But Sophy had always had more than herself to consider. She loved her parents and had never wanted to embarrass them. As she was the judge’s daughter it would have made the perfect salacious storyline—if she’d gone off the rails, been a teen drinker, teen pregnant, or got into drugs. But she’d done none of those things. She’d tried to be the perfect kid—even when she knew she was a disappointment in not following them into the law. She’d even tried to find the perfect boyfriend. If she couldn’t live up to the family name she’d marry someone who would. She’d been so naïve—her ex had only wanted her for what he could get out of it—the connection to her family. She supposed it served her right.
She was the boring, goody two-shoes who’d been embarrassingly naïve. Now she was in the habit of playing safe. Not playing at all. Not taking risks.
She never discussed her family with anyone at all now. Privacy had been important anyway, discretion a must. People were put off just as much as they were intrigued, as if they thought she’d run to her father if they mentioned anything even slightly shady. It was as if they expected her to be a pillar of morality, never once veering from doing right.
And in truth she was.
‘Is