At the Greek Tycoon's Bidding

So step one was to get her friend out in the company of a man. And step two was to show her that there was life beyond Theo Miquel, that he wasn’t worth pining over. And what better way to demonstrate that inescapable truth than to manoeuvre her into a position from which she could glean all the evidence with her own eyes?

With breathtaking ease, Beth had arranged the evening out with military precision.

London, for the energetic networker, was a village. It had been relatively easy to find out where Theo Miquel would be on a given Saturday evening. It was prime time and already, with his relationship with Heather not even cold, he was back on the playing field. Beth had even met his latest acquisition—a tall, languid brunette—at a legal do a few months previously, dripping diamonds and hanging on to the arm of one of the law partners in a rival company. Although she wouldn’t have dreamt of telling Heather that.

And his weekends with women were not private, romantic one-on-ones for Theo. He would be going to a very expensive, very elite, smoky little jazz club in Notting Hill.

And so would Heather and her hunky dinner date. Beth had arranged it.

‘You look wonderful,’ she said truthfully. ‘Very glamorous. Scott’s going to be knocked for six.’

‘Is he desperate?’ Heather demanded.

‘Far from it. He’s quite a catch.’

‘Then how is it he hasn’t been caught yet?’ Not that Heather had any intention of catching anyone, but neither was she thrilled to be going out with a rampant serial womaniser just for the sake of it. She thought of Theo, felt her lips wobble and pulled herself together.

‘Hasn’t found the right woman,’ Beth said patiently. ‘But he’s good company, and a very kind person.’

‘Theo could be very kind, you know.’

Beth ignored that. ‘The highlights look good on you. Blonde and copper. I’d never have thought of that combination, but it suits you. And your eyes look enormous with that make-up.’

Heather gave herself a desultory glance in the mirror. Three months ago she wouldn’t have recognised the woman staring back at her. Gone was the background blob in dark colours with frazzled hair permanently tied up. In its place stood an attractive, now curvaceous woman—thanks to the shedding of nearly half a stone because misery had no appetite. Her outfit was unrevealing, but very clingy. A black dress, pinched in at the waist with a belt, and high black shoes. Beth had lent her a coat, a faux fur affair that looked wickedly luxurious.

At her insistence, Scott would be meeting her at the club: some place she had never heard of in Notting Hill, which, aside from the open-air market, was not somewhere she frequented. But she hadn’t wanted Scott in her own personal space.

Beth walked her to the door like a clucking, fussy mother hen, leaving her with strict instructions to phone first thing in the morning with an update.

It was a relief to be in the back of a taxi and no longer obliged to try and show excitement. She didn’t feel excited. Nothing excited her much nowadays. Not even the prospect of a very good job which she had been given to understand was hers but for the formalities. She thought of Theo constantly, wondering what he was up to and whether he thought of her.

The prospect of spending hours in the company of someone she didn’t know, who would expect her to be brimming over with good cheer, seemed like an exhausting uphill struggle.

It would almost not be such a bad thing if she was stood up. But she arrived to find Scott there, waiting as promised in the outside lobby, and exactly as Beth had described him.

A little over six foot, fair wavy hair, and a warm, pleasant face. He smiled at Heather, and she relaxed and smiled back because there was nothing insolent or threatening in the blue eyes that ran appreciatively over her.

‘I thought I might wear a white carnation,’ he said, helping her with her coat, ‘just in case you missed me. But it seemed a bit corny.’

His voice was as pleasant as his looks, and up close he smelled of some clean, male fragrance.

‘Beth gave me quite a detailed description.’ Heather smiled again. ‘I think she almost wished she’d had a photograph—just in case…’

‘I can imagine.’ He laughed good-humouredly. ‘Beth leaves nothing to chance. It’s why she’s so good at what she does. Been here before?’

‘The club scene’s passed me by, I’m afraid…’ They had entered the darkly lit cosy confines of a room that curled informally in a U shape around a small stage, in the centre of which a jazz band was playing some whimsical, vaguely familiar tune.

‘Tell me about it!’

And, surprisingly, she did. After half a bottle of wine, she even confided her doubts about the evening, and about whether she was ready to start back on the dating scene.

‘I’m relieved you said that,’ Scott told her, leaning towards her so that he could be heard over the sound of the music, ‘because I’ve just crawled out of a relationship and I’m taking it easy myself. No involvement equals no broken heart.’

‘Beth never mentioned it…’

‘No?’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘Clearly taking her matchmaking skills a bit too seriously for her own good.’

‘But she means well…’

‘And I can’t say that I’m having a miserable time. Are you?’

‘No.’ Heather surprised herself. ‘I’m not.’

‘Good. Nice to know that I’m not the hard work you expected!’ He linked his fingers through hers and gave her hand a friendly squeeze which felt just right, comfortable.

This was just the sort of man she should be falling head over heels with, Heather thought, cupping her face in her hand and thinking about Theo. Someone nice. Someone who was recovering from a broken heart which meant that he had a heart in there somewhere.

She had opened her mouth to share something of what she was thinking with him when she heard the cutting drawl of a familiar voice and her whole body went rigid with shocked awareness.

‘Well, well, well…’

Heather twisted round and followed Theo with her eyes until he was standing right in front of them.

She had to blink several times, because it was so surreal seeing him in the flesh. And a few weeks of absence had done nothing to diminish the devastating effect of his sex appeal.

Belatedly she realised that Scott was still clasping her fingers, but when she tried to wriggle free he tightened his grip, before releasing her so that he could stand up and extend his hand in greeting.

It was ignored as Theo glanced away and focused his attention on Heather, who reluctantly stood up and managed a smile.

The palms of her hands felt horrible, sweaty. She pressed them against her sides and widened her smile. ‘Theo! What a surprise.’

‘Isn’t it just?’ Theo answered with deadly politeness. ‘I had no idea that you came to places like this. I always got the impression that you were content to stay at home, doing your artwork and catching up on TV soaps.’

Heather flushed. If he had intended to make her sound as dull as dishwater, then he had succeeded. Normally slow to anger, she felt a fire begin to burn inside her, and she took a few deep breaths, feeling sorry for Scott—who had been deliberately sidelined by Theo.

‘Just the sort of woman I appreciate,’ Scott said, joining in the conversation. Although the look he received from Theo was hardly encouraging. ‘I’m not much of a club man myself. Much prefer a night in with the television—although documentaries are more my style. Name’s Scott, by the way.’

Flustered, Heather completed the introductions, but she was uncomfortably aware that Theo’s attention was focused solely on her flaming face.

‘It’s good to see you, Theo…you’re looking well. But I don’t want to keep you…’

‘You’re looking well, too…’ His eyes brazenly appraised her with lingering, insolent thoroughness. ‘Nice dress.’

‘Thank you…Are you here with someone…? Perhaps you should be getting back to your party…’ Heather looked around, but the club was dark and crowded.

‘Oh, I’m not here with a party…’ Theo drawled.

‘Right.’

‘Michelle’s waiting at a table over there, at the back…’

Heather involuntarily followed the direction of his brief nod, and miraculously the crowds seemed to fade into the background—leaving her a clear and unimpeded view of a rake-thin, tall, dark-haired woman sitting on her own, with a flute of champagne in one hand and wearing a scarlet dress that exposed a hell of a lot more than it concealed.

Heather hadn’t seriously thought that Theo would spend too long on his own after she had left, but seeing the evidence of just how quickly he had moved on made her stiffen with unaccustomed bitterness.

She suddenly felt deeply grateful that she was with Scott, and viciously pleased that Theo would see for himself that she, too, wasn’t sitting in, counting the seconds go by. Even if that was exactly what she had been doing.

‘She looks lonely, Theo.’ Heather glanced warmly at Scott and then back to Theo. ‘I suggest you hurry back to her before someone else comes along and snaps her up. These sorts of places can attract men on the prowl, in case you didn’t know.’