Her temper rising, she stared at him. ‘Of course I’ll be civil. I told you, I didn’t mean to be rude.’ Her words were clipped, frosty. How dared he tell her what to do in her own home?
She thought she saw the hard mouth twitch for a moment. ‘That’s very reassuring.’
He was laughing at her again. How dared he? But the hot words quivering on her tongue fortunately never got said. Jennie chose that moment to open the front door of the flat, calling out, ‘Zac? Are you here?’ as she entered the hall.
Rachel saw her friend’s eyes widen when they took in the tall handsome man her cousin had become, and then, in true Jennie style, she’d flung herself into Zac’s arms and planted a smacking kiss on his mouth before he had a chance to object.
Not that he would have objected, Rachel told herself as she left them to it, murmuring something about opening a bottle of wine. Jennie was gorgeous with her black hair and dark brown eyes and the sort of Marilyn Monroe figure that turned men on from schoolboys to geriatrics. And she was between men at the moment, having just dumped her latest boyfriend. They never lasted long with Jennie, she bored easily.
When she re-entered the sitting room Jennie had drawn Zac down beside her on the sofa and was asking about the family, one hand resting on his arm as she gazed up into his face. Rachel knew that look. And when Jennie set her sights on a man they didn’t stand a chance. It normally amused her when Jennie went into her femme fatale role. Tonight, though, she felt rattled and disturbed. She was careful to give no sign of her feelings when she poured the wine, filling the fourth glass on the tray when Susan’s key sounded in the lock.
Susan joined them, slender, beautiful Susan with her white blonde hair and the face of an angel, smiling charmingly and saying all the right things as Jennie introduced her to Zac. And Zac was as charming back. He’d stood up when Susan had entered the room and now displayed the most perfect manners, his conversation witty and amusing as they sipped at their wine.
Rachel sat watching the other three and said little, she didn’t need to. Jennie and Susan and Zac were getting on like a house on fire. She felt a growing sense of déjà vu but she didn’t have to search her mind long for the cause. How often in the past, before she’d escaped the family home for university, had she sat and watched her two older sisters be the life and soul of the proceedings while she’d sat dumbly by? Dozens of times. Hundreds probably. And yet every time had hurt just as much.
After two sweet, girly, blonde little girls, her mother had decided her third child would be a boy to complete their perfect family, and her mother always got what she wanted. Except she’d had another girl. And this girl had been long and skinny with straight brown hair when she’d finally grown hair at the embarrassingly late age of eighteen months. Embarrassing for her mother, that was, Rachel thought grimly. She had been brought up on stories of how mortified her mother had been in producing such an ugly duckling. Or perhaps cuckoo in the nest was a better description. Lisa and Claire, her sisters, with only fifteen months between them, had always been inseparable, and she’d grown up feeling the odd one out in more ways than one. It wasn’t until she’d met Jennie and Susan in the first week of university that she’d come to understand the meaning of true friendship and support from members of her own sex. The three of them had gelled instantly; it was her misfortune the other two were quite stunning.
Her forehead creased as she sipped at her wine, her gaze now inward looking. What would Freud say about her choice of friends? That she was unconsciously trying to right the wrongs of her childhood or that she’d been programmed to purposely seek out friends who would overshadow her? She mentally shook her head at the path her thoughts had taken, suddenly annoyed with herself and the self-psychoanalysis.
She and Jennie and Susan were genuine, rock-solid friends and had been from the first—it was as simple as that.
‘I’d better see to the dinner.’ Jennie jumped up in the next moment, flashing Rachel a smile as she added, ‘Thanks for putting it on, Cinders.’
‘Cinders?’ Zac’s eyes shot to Rachel’s face. ‘Why Cinders?’
As Zac immediately homed in on the nickname, Rachel could have kicked Jennie, who’d already sailed out of the room. It was Susan who said, a little uncomfortably, having seen Rachel’s glare, ‘It’s just a pet name, that’s all.’
‘But Cinders?’ There was a note in his voice that told Rachel he wasn’t going to let this drop.
Silently calling Jennie every name under the sun, Rachel sighed before saying resignedly, ‘I’ve two older sisters, that’s all.’
‘And you don’t get on with them? Or are they ugly?’
Rachel stared hard at Zac and he stared back. She could tell he was trying to keep a straight face in view of her antagonism. ‘I get on with them just fine and they are far from ugly.’ The understatement of the year, she thought wryly. She had been foolish enough to follow her sisters to the same university and within days some wit had dubbed her Cinders, a tongue-in-cheek play on the fairy-tale. Somehow the nickname had stuck and within a couple of weeks everyone had forgotten her real name. Even Jennie and Susan had adopted it, but she knew with them it was said with warm affection. And she didn’t mind. Normally.
The handsome brow wrinkled. ‘Then why—?’
She shrugged as she rose to her feet. ‘Lisa and Claire are outstandingly beautiful; I suppose someone thought it was clever. I’ll just give Jennie a hand with the dinner.’
She left before he could make a comment.
CHAPTER TWO
RACHEL found dinner a trying affair. But not Jennie and Susan. They positively sparkled. In fact, Susan seemed to have completely forgotten she was on the verge of becoming engaged to her long-standing—and extremely patient—boyfriend, Henry. Rachel liked Henry and she didn’t think he’d appreciate Susan’s fluttering eyelashes as she gazed at Zac.
Still, it was none of her business.
She told herself this during Jennie’s delicious shepherd’s pie—that was another thing about Jennie, she was a fabulous cook—and also during dessert, which was equally fabulous. By the coffee and mints stage of the meal, her eyes felt gritty and her head ached. She had never felt so tense in the whole of her life. The trouble was, she was aware of Za
c Lawson in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Even when her eyes weren’t directly on him—and she’d taken care that was the case for most of the time—she found herself registering every slight movement, every turn of his head or quirk of his lips. It was annoying and irritating but her nerves seemed sensitised to a humiliating degree in his presence. And for the life of her she didn’t know why.
She had said very little throughout the meal but the other three had more than made up for her lack of conversation. She didn’t think anyone had noticed her quietness, so it came as a shock when Zac turned to her, coffee cup in hand, and said softly, ‘So, Rachel, I know Jennie’s a fashion buyer and Susan works in a lab—what do you do?’
She tried to get beyond the fact that she felt the golden gaze was drawing her in and answer coherently. ‘I’m in marketing.’
He nodded. ‘Enjoy it?’
‘Very much.’ Her voice emerged in a husky croak and she quickly cleared her throat. ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything else.’ Of course, she might have to if Jeff sacked her and wouldn’t give her a reference after today’s fiasco.