The Determined Husband

Well aware that it wasn’t the answer the other woman was hoping for, Sera said steadily, ‘Yes, Keir said he’d take me.’

But, sounding more like herself, Cheryl exclaimed, ‘Lucky you! I can’t say I’m not jealous.’

When Keir finally knocked at Sera’s door on Thursday evening he was well over an hour late, and she had practically given him up.

Brushing his apology aside, she assured him, ‘It doesn’t matter. Honestly. Posh parties really aren’t my thing.’

‘How many have you been to?’

‘None,’ she admitted.

‘Then I’ll do my best to see you enjoy this one.’

He was looking devastatingly attractive in well-cut evening clothes and, knowing this gathering was certain to be a lavish affair, she asked a shade hesitantly, ‘Will I do?’

She had splashed out on a new dress, and with only a limited amount to spend had gone for simplicity, choosing a slim-fitting ankle-length sheath in muted shades of green and dull silver.

‘Not everyone can wear this kind of thing,’ the sales girl had remarked, ‘but you sure have the figure for it.’

Sera’s only reservation had been the scooped neckline, which revealed the soft swell of her breasts and more than a glimpse of cleavage.

She was wearing her only piece of jewellery, a long, thin, silver chain that looped twice. It had been her mother’s, and she had worn it ever since her grandmother had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday.

Keir’s glance travelling slowly over her, from her elegant knot of hair to her matching sandals. He raised her hand to his lips. ‘My love, you look enchanting,’ he said huskily.

Thrilled by the endearment, she asked, ‘You don’t think the neckline’s too daring?’

‘No…’ His eyes on the longest loop of the chain, which disappeared into her cleavage, he added ruefully, ‘Though it’s daring enough to raise my blood pressure several notches.’

Seeing the lick of flame in his dark blue eyes, she waited, hoping he would suggest staying at home. When he didn’t, she said prosaically, ‘If we’re going on the subway, I’d better get a coat.’

He shook his head. ‘You won’t need one. It’s a hot night, and all this finery calls for a taxi.’

When they reached the Plaza Hotel, off Fifth Avenue, the party was in full swing. People were standing in groups sipping champagne while they laughed and talked, and the air was filled with the scent of French perfume and the sweet smell of success.

Glancing around the large, handsome room at the assembled company, Sera saw that nearly all the women were dressed in top designer clothes and displaying enough precious stones to fill Aladdin’s cave. While the men, along with their immaculate evening clothes, wore that unmistakable air of confidence and authority that wealth brings.

Though knowing herself to be underdressed, with her off-the-peg sheath and simple chain, Sera held her head high. While Keir was by her side, she was well content.

She might be out of place in this glittering throng, but he certainly wasn’t.

He was a man who could, without effort, establish moral ascendancy over his peers, easily holding his own amongst the rich and powerful, and several covert glances told her that a lot of the women there envied her of her escort.

She found herself wishing that she could have fitted in better for his sake; she didn’t want him to feel ashamed of her.

As though guessing her feelings, he tucked her hand through his arm and, with calm assurance, led her over to their host and hostess.

Cheryl, her red-gold hair like a shining helmet, was wearing a dramatic dress of shimmering jade green. She had all the striking gauntness of a model, and there were diamonds around her neck and in her ears.

Her brother, looking relaxed and debonair, was impressive in immaculate evening clothes.

Though she had worked in the same set of offices for some weeks now, Sera had never actually met Martin Rothwell, only catching a distant glimpse of him from time to time.

She knew he was in his early thirties, a year younger than Cheryl, who had once playfully described him as ‘my baby brother’.

At close quarters he looked even younger and, seeing brother and sister standing together, Sera realized for the first time how very alike they were.

Both were tall and well-built, with the kind of red-gold hair that was often called ginger—though Cheryl’s was several shades darker than her brother’s. They both had pale blue eyes, the kind of skin that freckles easily, a short nose, and a long upper lip.

There, the resemblance ended.

Martin Rothwell had a rather heavy face with flat cheeks and a squarish jaw, while Cheryl’s face was a smooth oval with prominent cheekbones.

They were very good-looking in their own way, and Martin had the reputation of being a charmer where women were concerned.

‘Sutherlands, glad you could make it,’ he said expansively, and held out his hand.

Watching them together, Sera noticed that, though Keir was a good six feet and broad-shouldered, Martin was equally tall and considerably heavier.

The two men shook hands. Neither smiled.

‘You’ve met my sister, of course?’

‘Miss Rothwell,’ Keir murmured politely, taking the proffered hand.

‘Oh, Cheryl, please.’

Turning to her brother, whose light eyes were fixed on Sera’s exquisite face, Cheryl said, ‘I don’t think you’ve actually met Sera Reynolds, my new PA? Sera’s only been here a few weeks. She’s from the London branch.’

‘I can see I’ve been missing out.’ Taking her hand, Martin smiled at her and, all at once, Sera could see why he had that reputation for charm.

His clasp was cool and firm and he held her hand rather longer than was strictly necessary before releasing it.

By her side, she sensed rather than felt, Keir stiffen slightly, and saw by the gleam in Martin’s eye that he had noticed and was pleased by that instinctive reaction.

The men might do business together, she realized, but they were far from liking one another.

Smiling a little, Martin asked blandly, ‘So, how are you settling in, Sera?’

‘Quite well, I think.’

‘And you like New York?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Have you had a chance to see much of it?’

Before Sera could answer, Cheryl gave her brother a swift, conspiratorial glance and, stepping forward, slid her hand through Keir’s arm.