The folder proved to contain what looked like the draft material for a profile of Culp and Christopher Public Relations. Zoe looked at their client list with interest—she had worked for at least three of the large public companies who figured on it. But what was really intriguing was the staff—former newsmen, sports stars, politicians, even a token aristocrat.
Above all the stuff about Jay Christopher, Olympic medallist, adviser on track and field sports to a series of government bodies and all round public relations guru, made compelling reading. Hermann had said he was running with the great and the good, Zoe thought. Now she saw what he meant.
‘Coffee?’
She looked up and found that Blonde Mark II was standing beside her, waving a glass jug. It steamed.
‘Thank you,’ said Zoe, surprised. Jay Christopher’s PA ought to be too senior to get coffee for an incoming temp.
Her hostess fished a tall thin mug out from a disguised cupboard in the coffee table chest.
‘Jay drinks the stuff by the tanker load. If you get desperate there’s always coffee brewing in here.’ She poured dark fragrant liquid into the futuristic crockery. ‘He’s passionate about it. If you give him half a chance he’ll give you a history of coffee-drinking from the year dot.’
Privately Zoe doubted that the great man would give his new temp thirty seconds of his valuable time. Her father was a busy and ambitious man. On the whole it was a type she was not keen on.
‘Milk? Sugar?’
Zoe shook her head.
Poppy did not disguise her relief. ‘Good. Jay takes it black, no sugar. There are packets around here somewhere, but I can’t always find them.’ She poured some for herself and perched on the edge of the chest. ‘Find anything interesting in there?’
‘Well, now I know what a public relations company does, I think. And what a big cheese Jay Christopher is.’
‘Well, that’s an improvement,’ said a cool dark voice from the doorway.
Zoe rocketed to her feet, spraying coffee widely. Poppy was unmoved. She got up more slowly and kept her cup horizontal.
‘Hi, Jay. This is—’
‘We’ve met,’ he said crisply.
This morning he was wearing a soft dark suit even more beautifully cut than Isabel Percy’s. The shirt underneath was imperial purple.
More silk, thought Zoe, eyeing it with mixed feelings. On the one hand she always wanted to touch silk, let it run through her fingers. On the other, she really, really did not want to touch Jay Christopher.
He was still tall, dark and handsome. Sexy as hell. And mad as a hornet?
He strode through the foliage to a door so discreet it was nearly invisible. ‘Bring in the life-giving, Poppy, my love. And we’ll see what Zoe has to offer Culp and Christopher. Other than her assessment of my place on the cheese index.’
Face rigid, Zoe followed.
He flung a small document case across the room so that it landed neatly on a glass coffee table and turned to her.
He was exactly as she had remembered, Zoe thought. In the light of day she could see that his skin was an even golden ochre and his eyes a strange greeny-hazel. But for the rest he was exactly what her nightmares had told her: too tall, too sleekly dark, too handsome. He even had a haughty nose and beautifully kept hands, which she had passed over on her last inventory of his assets. Well, face it, she had not got further than that controlled and passionate mouth.
She looked anywhere but at his mouth. ‘If you remember, working here was not my idea,’ she said with spirit.
She saw him put the irritation away from him like a jacket he’d taken off. He was no longer mad as a hornet. He was charming. Determinedly charming.
She watched the beguiling smile which put an indentation in one cheek and thought, Your performance is nearly as good as mine. The smile was—almost—irresistible. Zoe regarded him with total suspicion.
‘Right. Now, what can you offer us?’
She outlined her office skills stiffly. All the more stiffly as he didn’t seem to be listening very hard.
His smile grew. ‘You really don’t like me very much, do you?’ he said.
Zoe breathed hard. ‘Do I have to like you?’
He beamed. ‘You’ll do.’
Great. More and more like the slave market.