Escape Me Never

Sylvie, she thought sourly, seemed well pleased with her handiwork. ‘It’s like one of those old Hollywood movies,’ she’d said, grinning. ‘All we need now is for Barney to come in and say, “My God, Ms Linton—but you’re beautiful.”’

‘I’m glad you think it’s so damned funny,’ Cass had snapped back.

Perhaps Sylvie had warned Barney to step warily, for all he said in the event was a quiet, ’Thanks, Cassie.’

No one else made any comment at all. But that, Cass thought caustically, was probably because they didn’t recognise her. To tell the truth, she hardly recognised herself. And the reflection which looked back at her from the mirror was hardly a reassuring one. It was too powerful a reminder of the vulnerable girl she had been, rather than the guarded self-sufficient woman which marriage, and the subsequent bringing up of her child as a single parent, had made her. She didn’t want to remember that girl, or any of the circumstances which had brought about that change in her.

She ran an irritable hand through her hair. Allowed to go its own way like this, it made her look years younger. Oh, she would be so thankful when this day was over, and she could retire back into her inconspicuous shell again.

She opened the door of the women’s cloakroom and hurried into the corridor, colliding as she did so with the leading figure in a group of people just walking past.

For a startled instant, she was off-balance, sharply aware of muscular strength, and a cool, clean male scent. Then firm hands took her shoulders, steadying her, and she recoiled with a gasp.

She heard Barney say jovially, ‘Cass—I’ve just sent Linda to find you and tell you that we’re on our way to the board room now. May I introduce Rohan Grant to you. Mr Grant, this is Ms Linton who will be conducting the presentation of the campaign on our behalf today.’

A man’s voice drawling slightly said, ‘If I’ve left her any breath to do it with. How do you do, Ms Linton.’

She looked at him almost dazedly, registering all kinds of things. His height, for one thing. He seemed to tower head and shoulders above anyone else in the group. His superbly cut suit accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, and the lean hips and long legs. A thin, tanned face, with nose and chin strongly and commandingly marked, and a firm, straight mouth. Long-lashed hazel eyes glinting with amusement, and something else, and brown hair curling away from his forehead.

It was as if she was making notes for an inventory. She swallowed. There was no actual facial resemblance between them, but Brett’s hair had been brown and his eyes hazel. And there was a terrible familiarity in that arrogant lift of the head, that unspoken assumption that he was male—all powerful, and all conquering … All so like Brett, she thought with a kind of sick horror.

Barney said sharply, ‘Cass, are you all right?’

She dredged up some self-control from somewhere. She said coolly, ‘Fine, thank you. I’ll join you in the board room right away. She moved her lips in a brief meaningless smile. ‘Mr Grant—gentlemen.’

Her office was empty, and she was thankful. All the material for the presentation had already been set up in the boardroom. There was only her personal folder of notes to take. She reached for it, aware that her hand was shaking a little, and her breathing ragged.

She had to get a grip on herself, she told herself sternly. There were thousands of brown-haired, hazel-eyed men in the Greater London area alone. She saw them every day on the streets, in the Tube, in the restaurants around the office. And he didn’t look like Brett, she reminded herself almost frantically. It was the colouring only—and the stance which made her think …

But she couldn’t forget that for a brief moment she had touched him. And he had touched her. She had actually felt the warmth of his hands on her through the fabric of her dress. She shuddered violently. The first time—the first time a man had touched her, apart from cursory, unavoidable handshakes, since Brett’s death.

And it was no use telling herself that it was her own fault, that she’d crashed into him purely accidentally. Just that one fleeting contact, and she felt threatened.

She wanted to run away, to hide somewhere. But there was nowhere. And they were waiting for her. At any minute, Barney would be sending someone to hurry her up. She was needed to do her job, the job which paid the rent and supported not just herself, but her child. The job she couldn’t afford to lose by keeping important clients waiting while she stayed, shivering, in her room. She must have scored zero for poise with the Grant man already. She couldn’t compound the bad impression. She snatched up the folder, and her bag, then paused again.

Obeying an impulse she barely understood, she opened her bag and unzipped a small inside pocket, and took out Brett’s ring, biting at the inside of her lip, as she forced it over her knuckle. Her hands had grown a little. The ring felt tight, alien on her finger.

She had never thought to wear it again, had kept it solely as a private reminder of her marriage, but now, suddenly, it seemed like the safeguard she needed and had abandoned with her shapeless khaki trousers and jacket.

But why should she suddenly be so sure she needed a safeguard? That was the question that followed her, tormenting her, all down the long corridor to the board room where they all waited.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_ed54a22e-2cd6-5582-a5b0-cdc38fb35f85)

‘THE problem we’ve had to face,’ Cass said, her voice clear and even, ‘has been the old one of familiarity breeding contempt. Everyone knows Eve cosmetics. The range is as established and respected as Arden or Rubenstein. Yet in spite of everything that’s been done to make sure the products moved with the times, this frankly hasn’t been reflected in your advertising campaigns over the past ten years, nor by the sales. Your non-allergic brands—the fact that you’ve produced a whole range without using animal products—all these things should have been exploited—but haven’t been.’

She paused. ‘The ideas we’ve put to you seek to put this right, and also to hammer home the message of the brand name. Eve is all woman, and Eve cosmetics are designed for all women.’

She smiled briefly and sat down, amid appreciative murmurs. But were they really enthusiastic, or merely polite. Cass couldn’t gauge any more. She felt as if she’d put through a wringer, mentally as well as physically.

And Roger enjoyed this, she thought limply. How could he, but she knew what the answer to that was. If Roger had been here, the line of questioning would have been very different. It would have been taken for granted that Roger knew his job, because he was a man. As a woman, Cass had had to prove she knew what she was talking about over and over again. And the man heading the Inquisition had been Rohan Grant.

At first his questions had bewildered her a little, and she’d begun to flounder. Then she caught Barney’s warning glance, and realised that she was being tested. She resented this, and it put her on her mettle. She believed in the product—if women had to wear make-up, then Eve cosmetics were as good as any and better than most and she believed in the campaign which she’d been instrumental in designing. And if Rohan Grant was used to high-powered performances from bigger agencies, then that was just too bad.

Now, he said, ‘Very interesting, Ms Linton, but isn’t the image you’re trying to create a little—low-key?’

Cass shook her head, ‘I don’t think so. Whatever the situation may be on the other side of the Atlantic, I don’t think women in this country go for the hard sell over anything as personal as make-up and scent. The appeal has to be to the individual, and we have to intrigue her sufficiently to get her into the store, and up to the counter.’ She ventured another smile, this time at Mr McDowell. ‘The sad fact is that a lot of women feel intimidated by beauty counters. The choice is too vast, and the whole concept of being beautiful rather overwhelming. I want this campaign to interest them so much that they won’t just grab the first jar or bottle they see, but ask for Eve by name.’

‘And are you—overwhelmed by the concept of beauty, Ms Linton?’ Rohan Grant asked smoothly. ‘I notice you wear the barest minimum of make-up yourself.’

‘How very observant of you, Mr Grant,’ Cass said calmly. ‘And does your eagle eye also tell you what that minimum consists of?’

‘Why, yes,’ he drawled. ‘You’re wearing Silver Jade shadow, and Rose Blush on your lips. But no scent,’ he added reflectively. ‘I understood sample bottles of both our new fragrances, Sundance and Moonglow had been sent here.’

‘They have.’ Cass shrugged slightly. ‘They—don’t happen to be to my particular taste, I’m afraid.’

He smiled, leaning back in his chair, the hazel eyes surveying her from head to foot with smiling insolence. ‘Eve cosmetics,’ he murmured. ‘Designed to appeal to all women—except Ms Linton, it seems.’

‘Perhaps,’ Cass said coolly. ‘But that does not mean I don’t know how to persuade other women to like them—Mr Grant. I never allow my personal judgments to get in the way of work,’ she added sweetly.

‘Don’t you, Ms Linton?’ It was his turn to shrug. ‘Well, you’ll have a chance to prove that to the hilt in the weeks ahead. We’ll give your campaign a trial, and see how it works out.’

She swallowed, managed a feeble, ’Thank you,’ and began to gather her papers together. She could sense the jubilation in the air around her, but seemed to have no part in it. She’d been walking the high wire for too long. Rohan Grant’s almost laconic bestowal of the account, whether it was on trial or not, could only be an anti-climax. And a glance at her watch revealed that even if she could slip away now, she would be too late for Jodie’s open day. She felt weary to death suddenly.

And, of course, there was going to be no chance to slip away. An elaborate cold buffet had been laid out in the next room, and champagne was being poured.

‘Honey babe, you were sensational,’ Barney whispered, as he pushed a glass into her nerveless hand. He gave her a wicked leer. ‘I don’t know whether it was your arguments which turned the balance, or those fabulous legs of yours.’

‘Thanks,’ Cass said drily, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

‘But you had me worried a couple of times,’ he went on. ‘I had no idea you liked living dangerously. However—it paid off in the end. Expect a big bonus from grateful Uncle Barney.’

‘Thanks,’ she said again, this time with real gratitude. Barney might make her grind her teeth a lot of the time, but he was unfailingly generous when rewards were called for. She might be able to afford to have some redecoration done—or to take Jodie abroad for a couple of weeks later in the year. It had been a tough winter, with Jodie succumbing, it seemed, to one virus after another, although Cass herself had escaped unscathed. Some Mediterranean sun might be what they both needed.

She put down her untouched glass, and looked for an unobtrusive exit, but her way was blocked.

‘Not leaving already, Ms Linton,’ Rohan Grant said pleasantly. ‘Or may I copy Barney Finiston and call you Cassie? After all, we shall be seeing quite a lot of each other in the coming months.’

Cass looked past him. ‘I doubt that, Mr Grant. I’m sure you have far more pressing concerns in your empire than Eve cosmetics.’

‘Most of my empire, as you call it, seems to be flourishing,’ he said drily. ‘Which gives me more time to spend on the ailing sections of it, like Eve.’ He paused. ‘It happens to be rather close to my heart. Would you like to know why?’

‘Not unless I can use it in one of my campaigns, Mr Grant.’ She met his gaze fully for the first time. ‘Otherwise it’s not really any of my business. Now, perhaps you’ll excuse me. I think Barney—Mr Finiston—wants to speak to you.’

His mouth twisted slightly. ‘He probably does at that. However there are still several points from today’s presentation I would like to go over with you—perhaps over dinner tonight?’

Cass’s jaw dropped. She said stupidly, ‘I don’t understand.’

He looked faintly amused. ‘What’s so baffling? You eat, I presume, and you’ve heard of dinner—a meal, consisting of several courses, taken in the evening.’