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Somehow, at some point in the last few weeks when they had been playing that insane game, she had committed the ultimate crime and fallen in love with Quinn Ellington.
It made all the other mistakes she had ever made—including her unquestioning blind devotion to Harper—pale into insignificance. She was the most stupid person in all the world, in all the universe and beyond. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Hadn't she learnt anything in the last long, painful fourteen months? she asked herself fiercely. How could she have made such a fundamental error?
'…in about an hour or so?'
'What?'
Candy came out of the abyss with a start to find her eyes had been glued on Quinn's dark face, but without seeing or hearing anything but the black morass of her thoughts.
'I asked you if you could be ready in an hour or so.' Quinn's voice had a steely note now. He obviously didn't appreciate a female daydreaming in his exalted presence, Candy thought bitterly, as Mary's words about the constant adoration he had received from the opposite sex stung painfully.
'I…I suppose so.' She swallowed hard. If he was determined not to take her home until the next day a party was a darn sight safer than a cosy night at home.
'Good.' If he was surprised at her sudden capitulation he didn't show it. 'We needn't stay to the bitter end,' he added smoothly, for all the world as though it was his ancient granny he was escorting. 'I can see you are a little tired.'
What did that mean? That she looked awful? Candy's back straightened as hot colour flooded into cheeks that shock had made creamy pale.
She'd show him.
And an hour later show him she did.
She had only brought one faintly partyish dress with her, on the vague off-chance that Quinn might have a few friends round, but the silk-mix short-sleeved mini-dress in ice-blue with silver edging round the low neckline and sleeves dressed up very nicely when teamed with strappy silver sandals and long silver earrings.
She spent some time on her hair, looping the thick copper strands in deliberate disarray on the top of her head and securing them with pretty silver flower grips, before setting to work on her face, stroking silver eyeshadow on to her eyelids and then applying several coats of mascara to her naturally thick, curly lashes until her eyes resembled deep midnight-blue pools. Sexy plum lipstick, a brush of colour on her cheeks and one or two cheeky little glittering stars scattered on the cream swell of her breasts and she looked ready enough to party, she told herself firmly as she surveyed herself in the mirror an hour later.
There was a brittle smile on her lips as she walked into Quinn's sitting room a minute or two later, and it remained stitched on her face as she surveyed him lounging on the sofa as he waited for hen He looked simply gorgeous, but then he always looked simply gorgeous. It was just that tonight he looked especially gorgeous, which meant she had to be even more careful than normal, she warned her treacherous heart, which was pounding so hard it hurt.
One more night and then she could bow gracefully out of his life without him ever knowing she had made the ultimate fool of herself—like every woman he came into contact with, she added with bitter exaggeration. And she would do it. Oh, yes, she would. Bad as the experience would be, the alternative—of remaining close to him and one day giving herself away—was too debasing to contemplate.
The party was in full swing by the time they reached Monty Hardingstone's big grand stone house, and almost the first person they saw as they crossed the gracious threshold was a beautifully coiffured Joanna in the sort of slinky black strapless and backless dress that left nothing to the imagination.
'Quinn, darling…' Joanna was in distinct vamp mode, but was lovely enough to carry it off perfectly, and, judging by the number of men gathered around her, Quinn was the onl
y one who was oblivious to the cool ash-blonde's charms. 'You must be the last to arrive. Naughty boy!' She had made her way to their side as she spoke and now tapped Quinn on the chest lightly, her eyes flashing a message that was blatant She utterly ignored Candy.
Quinn's mouth had tightened ominously at Joanna's overt rudeness to the woman at his side, but .whatever cutting comment he had been about to make was lost as Monty spoke just behind them in the next moment, forcing them to turn and acknowledge their host.
That Joanna had decided it was all-out war was obvious, Candy thought ruefully, when the other woman moved smoothly to Quinn's side as they stood chatting with Monty. Joanna immediately clung to Quinn's free arm, making a cosy little quartet, and when Monty took Candy's elbow and suggested she might like a glass of champagne it seemed as though there was nothing else she could do but walk with him into the massive crowded drawing room, leaving Quinn and Joanna bringing up the rear.
It set the tone for the evening. In spite of Quinn's frosty attitude with the sensuous Joanna she was never from their side for more than a few minutes, and brazen in her pursuit She had obviously heard that Candy was staying at Quinn's apartment, and just as obviously didn't intend to bow out quietly.
You had to admire her sheer tenacity and confidence in her own desirability, Candy thought more than once as the hours raced by in a haze of conversation and dancing. Joanna clearly considered herself the best thing since sliced bread, and even the most direct of Quinn's sardonic and often sarcastically cutting remarks just seemed to go right over the lovely blonde's immaculate head. She really couldn't believe that she wouldn't manage to snare Quinn in the end.
And somehow Joanna's determination to refuse to accept Candy and Quinn as a couple had seemed to rub off on Monty too. The big, jolly and slightly dim country gent was making no bones about the fact that he found Candy attractive, in spite of Quinn's dark hostility and barbed remarks that increased as the evening progressed.
It came to a head—as it was bound to—just after midnight, when Candy returned to the drawing room after visiting the cloakroom and searched the throng—many of whom were dancing to the strains of an old pop song—for Quinn.
'All alone, m'dear?'
She just managed to stifle the groan of irritation as she heard Monty behind her and felt his damp hand on her arm as he turned her to face him.
'Care for a little dance with old Monty, then?' he asked her loudly, his red moist face looking as though it was ready to explode.
She had already danced with him a couple of times and had no wish to repeat the experience; the second time she had had her work cut out to keep his big thick hands from wandering. 'I'm looking for Quinn, actually,' she said with a polite smile. 'He was going to fetch two platefuls of that wonderful buffet you've provided.'
'You don't want to worry about Quinn, m'dear.' The heavily perspiring face moved closer to Candy's and Monty's voice was loudly confidential when he said, 'Joanna's looking after him, if you know what I mean.'
