The Man Who Broke Hearts

‘Good luck to her.’

Tina said it as though she really meant it and her gaze was perfectly steady as she watched Mike disappear out through the door. And she did mean it. Surely? Hadn’t she just been thinking that it would be a relief when Justin and the Red Dragon finally married?

But as she sat frozen in her chair she was aware that she’d stopped breathing and that her stomach had suddenly turned to lead.

Tina remained at her desk that night until well after seven, but by then there was no point in staying on any longer. She’d done all the work she could for now on the faulty manuscript, though it definitely still wasn’t up to scratch.

She pushed it aside wearily. She’d have to fix up another interview to fill in the gaps and give it a bit more substance. And that would probably mean a trip to the Cotswolds over the weekend. She tossed down her pen. But for tonight she was through.

But she still didn’t make a move. She sat staring into space and let her mind roam over the subject she had kept shut out for the past few hours. Justin and the Red Dragon. And the long-threatened wedding. So, it was actually about to happen after all.

She’d got over the stupid paralysis that had struck her on first hearing the news. And heaven knew why it had shocked her anyway. She felt composed now and genuinely glad that it was about to happen. This was the final line in the final chapter. At last she’d be able to close the book.

At that thought she felt a wry smile touch her lips. Chapter one had promised a very different ending. Who ever would have guessed then that things would turn out the way they had?

Tina had been twenty-one years old, fresh out of college and as keen as mustard to make a name for herself in journalism when she had joined Miranda as a sub-editor nearly five years ago.

As she’d told her new boss at the interview, ‘It’s always been my dream to work in magazines. There’s nothing else I’ve ever wanted to do.’

Her new boss had been a woman nearly ten years her senior, a tall, stunning redhead with the reed-thin figure of a model and a wardrobe that came straight out of the pages of her own glossy magazine. Her name was Eunice Robinson and though Tina had guessed even then that she probably had a temperament to match her hair she’d had no idea that she’d end up dubbing her the Red Dragon!

On the contrary, she’d been excited at the prospect of joining Eunice’s team. On the phone to her parents when she’d been offered the job, she’d confided, ‘The atmosphere’s so professional and high-powered and sophisticated. I’m going to learn so much. I can’t wait to get started!’

And so she’d dived in, full of enthusiasm.

Her first encounter with Justin Marlowe had come in her second week at JM Publishing.

‘Come in. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable,’ he’d told her as his secretary showed Tina into his office. He’d held out his hand to her. ‘I’m Justin Marlowe. Welcome to JM Publishing. How are you settling in?’

Tina had taken his hand and looked into his face, feeling a shiver of awareness like electric fingers down her spine. The other sub-editors had told her about Justin Marlowe and that he was the dishiest man on the face of the planet. But he was more than just dishy, she’d decided instantly. This man had a special kind of magic.

She’d felt a ripple of innocent pleasure as he’d shaken her hand and smiled at her. Boy, I’m lucky! she’d thought. Not only have I just succeeded in landing my dream job, I’ve also got the handsomest boss!

Smiling back at him, she told him, ‘I’m settling in very well, thanks. I’m sure I’m going to love it here.’ Her eyes glowed keenly as she added, ‘I think Miranda’s a wonderful magazine.’

‘So do we and I’m very glad to hear that you agree.’ The iron-grey eyes, which she would later discover could at times look as cold as the North Sea in winter, twinkled warmly at her enthusiasm. ‘I suspect you’re going to be a most valuable addition to the team.’

‘Oh, I hope so. I really hope so. I’ll do my best.’

Justin Marlowe smiled. “Then you’re halfway there.’ He leaned back a little in his leather buttonback chair. ‘So, tell me about your ambitions, Tina. Where do you see yourself in five years’ time?’

‘Still on Miranda, I hope.’ She blushed a little. How truthful, she wondered, did he really expect her to be? For she really did have high ambitions.

He sensed her ambivalence. ‘Go on,’ he urged her. ‘You can tell me. We encourage ambition in this company.’

Tina took a deep breath and decided to take him at his word. ‘Well, first I want to learn to be a good sub-editor, but I also want to do a bit of writing. I love writing. I want to do articles on anything and everything.’

Then, as he nodded encouragingly, she decided to bare her soul. ‘And one day what I’d really like is to be an editor.’

‘An editor, eh? Aiming for the top.’ Justin nodded his dark head approvingly in response. Then he winked across at her almost conspiratorially. ‘We’d better not tell Eunice. I don’t think she’s quite ready to retire yet.’

Tina felt herself flush crimson. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean that! I didn’t mean editor of Miranda! Some other magazine. Some time in the future. A long time in the future,’ she plunged on in embarrassment.

Oh, lord! she was thinking. Talk about putting your foot in it!

But Justin, if anything, seemed to approve of her revelation.

‘Never apologise for your ambitions,’ he told her straightforwardly. ‘We encourage ambitious people at JM Publishing—as long as you have the talent to match the ambition, of course.’ He smiled at her. ‘And we’ll soon find out if you do.’

Tina left his office feeling the world was hers to conquer. I’ll show him I have talent! I’ll show him how good I am! I’ll show him I have it in me to achieve all my goals! she vowed.

And, over the next few months, that was precisely what she did.

Tina worked like a madwoman, loving every minute. Pretty soon she became a first-class sub-editor, renowned for her precision and witty, attention-grabbing titles. And pretty soon, too, she had a couple of short articles published. And Justin wasn’t slow to acknowledge her progress.

He appeared in the office one day and stopped by her desk. ‘I thought you might like to have a go at this,’ he suggested, dropping an invitation on her desk. ‘Have a word with Eunice. I think it might be worth a full-length interview.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ Tina’s eyes widened as she looked down at the invitation to meet an up-and-coming young actor who’d recently been taking the British film world by storm. She looked up at Justin gratefully. ‘I’ll make a good job of it. I promise.’

And she made an excellent job of it. Even Eunice agreed on that and gave her piece a four-page colour double spread, with a prominent byline as the icing on the cake. Tina was over the moon with delight.

She phoned her parents in Shropshire. ‘I’m sending you a couple of copies. Your daughter’s a proper journalist at last!’

There was just one tiny fly in the ointment, however, as, with Justin’s encouragement and guidance, Tina proceeded to move from success to success. And that fly in the ointment was the red-haired Eunice.

Tina had rapidly realised that she could be a difficult woman to work with, much given to furious outbursts when anyone displeased her. Tina had escaped her wrath at first. She’d just kept her head down and worked hard. But more and more she was finding herself in the firing line.

‘These pages are late, you stupid girl!’ Twice in one week Eunice stormed the accusation at her when the pages, in fact, were not late at all. ‘Instead of trying to be the star of the editorial department, you’d do better to keep your mind on what you’re paid for!’

That was unfair and uncalled for. Tina knew her responsibilities and always put her sub-editing duties first—though, to be truthful, the accusation had not surprised her. She’d been aware for some time that, far from wishing to encourage her, Eunice would rather like to clip her wings.

But she kept that to herself and confined herself to pointing out, ‘I think if you check your diary you’ll find the pages are dead on time.’ Unlike some members of staff, she wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself. ‘Just as they always are,’ she added firmly, but respectfully, simply ignoring the fulminating black look that that provoked.

For Eunice’s increasingly frequent attacks were not anything Tina couldn’t handle. In fact, to be truthful, they barely registered. Because suddenly something much more exciting was occupying her mind.

Justin. For something was happening between them.

It had all started with an unexpected invitation to lunch at London’s Dorchester Hotel on fashionable Park Lane.

‘It’s part treat and part work,’ Justin had told her when he’d invited her. ‘We’re to be the guests of a group of major travel agents and naturally I’ll expect you to write a small piece for Miranda. But only a very small piece, so just relax and enjoy yourself. You’ve been working hard. You deserve a treat.’

Tina’s workmates had been almost as excited as she was. ‘You’re obviously in the good books,’ one of them had observed admiringly. ‘He only issues these special invitations when he’s really pleased with someone.’ Then she’d pulled a mock-scowl and poked Tina in the ribs. ‘I hate you, Tina Gordon, you lucky devil!’

Tina struggled to appear cool in the face of this development. The invitation was purely professional, she told herself. And certainly nothing to get all het up about.

But she was het up. She could barely see straight at the thought of it. Lunch with Justin Marlowe! The very idea made her breathless!

For, though she’d admitted it to no one, the truth of the matter was that over the six months or so she’d been at JM Publishing she’d really rather fallen for her magnetic, handsome boss. Which hardly made her unusual. Every woman he met fell for him. The entire female staff of JM Publishing was hopelessly in love with Justin Marlowe, so why should she be any different?