He looked into the shot darkness, with its shifting shadows of dancing bodies, and at first he saw nothing. Then the woman started to come towards them through the bopping crowd and he held his breath.
She was tall and graceful as a willow. As she got closer he saw she had a cloud of wild hair. He had no idea what colour. He could not tear his eyes away from her mouth. Her lips would have been voluptuous anyway, but she had painted them what looked like a dark purple. It was an aggressive colour, anyway. The whole image was aggressive. But he looked and looked, and saw vulnerability behind the image. More, there was a quivering sensitivity that their owner was trying hard to deny.
He found that he was not surprised she spent ten minutes with every no-hoper under her roof.
‘Gorgeous,’ he said, almost to himself.
Suze certainly didn’t hear.
The woman’s skin was milk-pale beneath an outrageously revealing black chiffon shirt. Under it, he could see a black bra in some shiny material. One thin strap was falling off her shoulder under the transparent sleeve. It was somehow more seductive than nakedness would have been. He felt as if he had been doused in ice water.
That graceful walk, that skin, that mouth…
Hell. Sixteen again, with a vengeance. Sixteen again, and hungry as a male animal for his conquest.
‘Down boy,’ said Jay grimly.
Suze had heard that, all right. ‘What?’ she said, startled.
‘That is your candidate for my research assistant?’ said Jay in disbelief.
‘My friend Zoe. Yes. So?’
‘Your friend?’ This got worse and worse.
‘Yes.’ Suze faced him. ‘And she really needs this job, too, though she may not want to admit it. So go carefully, right? You could be the answer to the maiden’s prayer.’
Jay groaned. ‘Have you even heard of political correctness?’ he said. He was racked by his baser instincts. The only possible solution was to laugh. ‘Maiden’s prayer, for heaven’s sake!’
‘I’m a traditionalist,’ said Suze, unmoved. She reached out an arm and hauled her friend between them. ‘Zoe, this is the man you’ve just got to meet.’
So what’s wrong with this one?
Zoe suppressed a sigh and smiled resolutely at the tall man standing next to her friend. As far as she could tell in the disco lighting he looked all right. Heck, he looked as tall as her prince from the hallway. But he had to have some mega problem or Suze would never have called her over. The party had got to the stage where you didn’t make introductions.
‘Hi,’ she yelled, trying to make herself hear above the dance beat and only half succeeding. She fluttered her fingers at him. ‘Zoe Brown.’
He did not seem to realise that that meant she had not caught his name. He looked bored. Dark as the devil, sleek as a seal just out of the water, and bored.
No-hopers didn’t usually look bored. They looked sulky or wary or too eager to please. And they couldn’t believe their luck when a babe like Zoe stopped by.
The tall dark man did not seem to notice that she was a babe. In fact he did not take his eyes off Suze. He looked as if he’d been sandbagged.
‘Hi.’ It sounded strangled.
Suze smiled and turned her shoulder on him. ‘Zoe, meet your fate.’
He looked startled.
Not nearly as startled as Zoe, though. As he bent his head she realised who he was. The deep, deep eyes. If they went somewhere where the light was normal that shirt would be flame-coloured. And silk. Definitely not a no-hoper.
And Suze said he was her fate?
‘What?’ she said, temporarily forgetting that they would not hear her. After all, she could not hear herself. She took hold of Suze’s arm and shook it hard to get her attention. ‘What—did—you—say?’ she mouthed with great care. Her eyes burned with indignation.
Suze’s naughty smile widened.
‘Nine to five for the next four weeks,’ she mouthed back.
‘What?’
Suze sighed visibly. She looked up at the ceiling. The rotating light balls, hired for the party, were making a great success of turning the Edwardian mouldings into a starship re-entry burst. She shrugged and waved them both to the French windows, with great traffic policeman gestures.