‘Yes, he is, isn’t he?’ Nicola was eager to add, ‘He needs very little sleep, you see—only four or five hours every night. He said it used to drive Mummy crazy!’
‘Really,’ said Harriet faintly as she absently paid for her earrings, thinking that it would certainly drive her crazy to wake up to Marcus Fox prowling around in the dark, looking for a way to work off some of his excess energy. And he was like that every night? It must have made for a very active marriage…
‘Yes, he says that’s why he’s such a high achiever— because of all those extra hours when there was nothing else to do but read or work!’
‘Really,’ murmured Harriet again, pinkening. But of course Marcus Fox would only tell his daughter the innocuous stuff!
‘Oh, look at those, Nicola.’ She tapped the glass over a pair of pearl studs to distract herself from wicked thoughts. ‘They’d look perfect on you and you can’t say they’re too garish. Come on; why don’t you get it done? It doesn’t hurt…that is, only for a second or two.’
‘Well…’
It took a little more persuasion, but ten minutes later they strolled back out onto the busy city pavement, self-consciously sporting matching gold sleepers. Knowledge of her own daring had brought a flush of colour to Nicola’s pale, composed features and her eyes were sparkling. Harriet felt a guilty pang at the sight of her subdued delight, aware that her own motives in encouraging the girl to do something that went against her cautious nature were scarcely altruistic.
‘Where shall we go now?’ she said, ruthlessly ignoring her niggling conscience.
Nicola looked at the small gold watch on her wrist. ‘We only have seventeen minutes left,’ she calculated. ‘Perhaps we’d better start heading back to the office.’ She adjusted her spectacles as she added tentatively, ‘We haven’t had anything to eat yet either.’
‘Shopping is much more important than eating,’ said Harriet, grinning in satisfaction at the clutch of paper carrier bags they were both carrying. ‘We can pick up some sandwiches to have at our desks.’ A late-model car pulled into the kerb inches from their toes and inspiration came to her in a flash. ‘I know! Let’s go back to the car.’
‘Why, where are we going?’ asked Nicola, trotting at her heels like an anxious puppy. ‘More shopping? It won’t take long, will it?’
Harriet laughed as she strode along the pavement, aware of the male attention that she was attracting with her dazzling hair and bright dress and the over-large dark glasses which masked her face and made people wonder whether she was a celebrity in disguise. ‘No, it won’t take long. I know exactly what I want and where to buy it!’
It didn’t come in green, to match her dress, so she had to settle for white, which, as the salesman pointed out, choking slightly on the words, would go with everything in her wardrobe.
Harriet
was still laughing over his shock as they swooped into the entrance of the underground car park used by Trident employees, Nicola clutching the dashboard on the Porsche as if she expected to be hurtled through the windscreen at any moment.
‘Relax; I’ve never had an accident in ten years of driving,’ Harriet said, thrilling to the power that throbbed under her control. The Carrera was a new cabriolet, and the wild ride with the soft top folded down had whipped her hair into a frenzy that matched her spirits.
‘Yes, but I bet you’ve never driven a Porsche before,’ Nicola gasped.
Harriet laughed again. ‘I did bunny-hop a bit, didn’t I, when we started off? Did you see the salesman’s face when I said I wanted to trade in my Mazda?’ The car had been her mother’s, lovingly cared for but undeniably old.
‘He thought you were just kidding until you brought out your cheque-book,’ recalled Nicola, relaxing slightly now that they were out of the dense traffic. ‘And then you asked if there was a discount for cash and he nearly fell over himself to give it to you!’
‘It just goes to prove the saying “who dares wins”!’ Harriet said smugly, aware that her former self would never have dreamed of wasting so much money on a car, or have had the temerity to demand that a haughty salesman knock a few thousand dollars off the price.
The Porsche’s tyres squealed satisfyingly as she went down the ramp which opened out into Trident’s reserved parking spaces. She glanced in her rear-view mirror as she cut smartly in front of a car filtering sedately in from another entrance. In the next instant she spied a small white sign above a yawning parking space. Obeying a sense of sheer devilry, she pulled into it and cut the engine.
‘You can’t park here,’ squeaked Nicola, pointing to the stern warning that said ‘CHAIRMAN’.
‘I just have.’ Harriet ignored the impatient blast of a horn and hopped out of the car, leaning over to rearrange the carrier bags that she had crammed behind her seat. ‘Come on; we don’t want to be any later than we already are.’
‘But—’ Nicola’s protest was drowned out by another toot and a terse male voice taking up her cause.
‘Excuse me, but would you mind moving your car? That space is reserved, as you can see from the sign directly in front of you.’
Harriet turned and smiled brilliantly at the irritated driver leaning on the open window of his dark green Volvo. ‘Is it? Oh, dear, silly me. Still, first in, first served, I always say.’
The expression on Marcus Fox’s face was priceless. ‘Harriet?’ His momentary disbelief was eclipsed by a dark frown as he watched her lean a slender hip against the dashing white car. ‘Where did that thing come from?’ he rapped out.
Harriet removed her dark glasses and dangled them carelessly from a manicured finger. ‘The Porsche fairy left it under my pillow. Aren’t I lucky—?’
‘We bought it, Daddy,’ interrupted Nicola, scrambling out of her seat and hurrying around the rear bumper. ‘Just now…at least, Harriet did. Isn’t it beautiful? It’s brand-new.’
‘I can see that,’ he grated. Ignoring the fact that his car was blocking the narrow lane between the parked cars, he thrust open his door and got out, striding over to stand beside Harriet, hands on hips as he surveyed her flashy acquisition with deep disapproval. ‘This vehicle is way too over-powered for your needs—’