The Bedroom Incident

‘It is,’ she acknowledged, then added, ‘Though the column isn’t always funny. I do write about serious matters.’

‘Maybe, but I often hear chuckling. Hey, Bea,’ he called, and his wife turned in their direction. ‘This young lady writes the column in Trend that you think is so terrific.’

‘You do?’ the woman said, smiling. ‘I just love your wicked streak.’

Matthew raised a thick dark brow. ‘Wicked streak?’ he enquired.

Kristin’s heart sank. The couple were making her sound frivolous, wacky and faintly troublesome, but this was not the kind of image which she wanted to put across.

‘When I was younger, much younger,’ she emphasised, ‘there was a time when I rebelled and went a little... haywire. I’ve referred to that period in my column.’

‘Perhaps you’d tell me something I’ve always wanted to know,’ said the bespectacled woman. ‘Is everything which you write true?’

‘Most of it,’ she replied, ‘though sometimes I use a little poetic licence to give an extra punch.’

‘Like when?’ the woman enquired.

‘Well, for example, I once wrote about—’

As Kristin leaned forward to speak past him, Matthew was aware of the closeness of her body and smelled the faint fragrance of her perfume. His eyes followed the line of her profile—smooth brow, lightly freckled straight nose, determined chin—and travelled down the line of her throat to her bare shoulders. His gaze dipped deeper, to the neckline of her dress where her breasts nestled as smooth and succulent as two ripe peaches.

She was the most striking woman in the room, he thought, by far. Know-it-all Freddie had spent the evening drooling and trying frantically to impress her, though she did not appear to have noticed.

‘Was changing into a suit very painful?’ Kristin enquired.

Matthew’s head shot up and, lifting his knife, he concentrated on dissecting a piece of Brie. He had, he realised, been staring at her and could be accused of drooling, too. Had she noticed his interest? Heaven forbid!

‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.

‘I wondered whether being unable to wear your Levis this evening had had you in tears?’

Matthew grinned. ‘There was a slight watering of the eyes, but I gritted my teeth, stiffened my lip and sallied forth.’

‘In style,’ she said, thinking how dignified he looked in his charcoal-grey suit.

‘You’re looking pretty stylish yourself.’

‘Thank you,’ Kristin said, and took a belated mouthful of the chocolate mousse.

His grin, the first of the evening, together with the compliment, seemed to signify a softening of his mood which, in turn, seemed to offer an opportunity to tell him more about the asset he would gain by employing her.

‘In addition to writing my column, I’ve been involved in many other aspects of the magazine,’ she said, putting down her spoon. ‘We run on a shoestring and everyone mucks in where needed, so I’m an all-rounder. I’ve compiled fashion pages, organised surveys, researched and written articles on such subjects as green issues, prison visiting, impotence.’

‘Impotence?’ he queried.

‘I know all about it—’ she tilted him a smile ‘—so if you require any advice?’

‘Thanks,’ Matthew said. ‘I don’t.’

‘I’ve interviewed people from all walks of life.’

‘Movie stars?’

She frowned. ‘Yes, amongst others, though—’

‘Whilst you may have gone down a storm with Sir George,’ he said, ‘I have my doubts about whether dishing the dirt on the latest screen idol fits you to be editor of The Ambassador’s features section. We aim to be popular, but, like I said before, The Ambassador is a quality paper and it’s my intention to maintain that quality.’

‘Aren’t you being just the weeniest bit stuffy?’ Kristin enquired, restraining herself from stretching her vocabulary and saying something really impolite.

‘Stuffy? Me? I’m not,’ he protested.

‘Yes, you are. People like to have an insight into what makes the rich and famous tick.’

‘Maybe, but—’

‘And you’re being bloody-minded.’ She shone him a smile which was somewhere between merry and murderous. ‘I told you I write about serious subjects, but you ignore that and focus on movie stars instead.’

‘Look, I’m sure you’re very good at what you do,’ Matthew said placatingly.

‘You’re patronising, too!’ she flared.

‘Stuffy, bloody-minded and patronising. If I ever need a character reference, I know where to come. However,’ he carried on grittily, ‘I shall have enough problems getting the new Ambassador off the ground without worrying about you messing up.’

‘I won’t mess up,’ Kristin declared. ‘I’m a professional.’

‘So am I,’ he shot back, ‘and it wouldn’t be professional of me to hire someone because their column happens to appeal to Sir George’s teenage daughter. Anyway you’d be way out of your depth.’

Her hazel eyes flashed. ‘How do you know? You don’t. You have entirely the wrong perception of me, a perception which is based on complete and utter ignorance!’

Matthew swung a look around the table. The increasing heat of their exchange had started to turn heads and draw glances.

‘We should drop this discussion,’ he stated.

Kristin nodded and reined in her temper. It was not the time or the place to argue—and, indeed, she had never meant to argue. She had intended to be sweetness and light and to ooze charm, but he was so frustrating.

‘For now,’ she said.

She finished her pudding and a few minutes later their host announced that coffee and liqueurs would be served in the drawing room. People began to move. As the mumsy brunette skewered Matthew in conversation again, Freddie sidled close. She gave a silent groan. A glint in his eye warned he intended to stick to her like glue for the rest of the evening and bore her rigid. And she wished he would stop ogling her breasts.

‘Krisdn!’ someone called, and she looked round to see Emily waving and weaving her way towards her through the guests.

‘I must go. Nice speaking to you. Please excuse me,’ she rattled off, and swiftly made her exit.

‘It’s lovely to see you again,’ Emily said, smiling and hugging her.

She hugged her back. ‘And you.’

When they had met earlier in the week there had been an instant rapport and immediate friendship. The girl, who was shy and a little awkward, reminded her of how she had been at eighteen. An innocent, Kristin thought wryly.