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She chewed her bottom lip, deep in thought. Apparently her estranged husband was now a well-known international company lawyer with offices in a highly prestigious block in the heart of the city. What had happened to make him change his career plan? she wondered uneasily.
But, dismissing the troublesome thought, she glanced at the number she had been given, and dialled it. Another set-back—Justin was not in his office, and was not expected back that day.
She glanced at her watch. Fool—she'd forgotten to set it forward and it was almost six in the evening. She made one more call, long-distance to Margy in Rowena's Cove. Five minutes later, with her son's 'I love you, Mom,' ringing in her ears, she brushed the moisture from her eyes and with a renewed sense of urgency and determination stripped off her clothes and quickly washed and changed.
It was a very different woman who stepped
into a taxi at the hotel entrance and gave the address of Justin's apartment. A fine jersey wool dress, the exact colour of her astonishing blue eyes, clung to every curve of her body. The simple cross-over-style bodice revealed a shadowy cleavage and fastened with two buttons at her waist; the skirt, a wrap-over that revealed an enticing glimpse of leg when she moved, ended just above her knee.
Her make-up was light but carefully applied to hide the purple smudges of worry under her eyes that marred her otherwise perfect complexion. She had left her long pale blonde hair loose, simply clipped back behind each ear with two pearl-trimmed combs. A tantalising scent added to the sophisticated image, along with a fake fur jacket draped elegantly across her shoulders.
She was dressed for seduction; braless, her only underwear was briefs and a garter belt—mere wisps of cream silk lace—and the finest silk stockings. Navy shoes with four-inch heels and a matching shoulder-bag completed her outfit.
She nervously clutched her bag and her stomach sank as the lift whooshed her up to the fourth floor of the mansion block where Justin had his apartment. She stepped out of the lift and walked to the door, taking a deep breath, and, with a quick oat of her hair, rang the bell.
The woman who answered the door was beautiful, Zoe thought dismally. She was tall and elegant, with long black hair falling in a mass of curls over her shoulders, huge, thick-lashed, dark eyes, and a complexion the colour of golden honey. Suddenly Zoe hoped desperately that Justin had moved apartment. A man with a woman like this waiting for him was hardly likely to be sidetracked by a petite blonde.
'Yes, can I help you?' Even the voice was a husky purr.
'I was looking for Justin Gifford; he used to live here. But perhaps ha has moved?' she asked hopefully. She knew she was no competition for this stunning woman.
'No, you have the right address.' The woman's eyes narrowed in puzzlement on Zoe's pale face. 'Are you a colleague of his? You look vaguely familiar.'
'Yes—yes, I am.' She jumped at the excuse; she could not give up at the first hurdle—her son's life might depend on it.
'In that case, if it's important, you'd better come in and wait; I'm expecting him back any minute.'
Grasping the strap of her shoulder-bag as if it were a lifeline, Zoe had never been more aware of her diminutive stature as she followed the elegant back of the gorgeous woman down a short hall and into a large living-room. Her hope of seducing Justin was looking more unlikely by the minute. Perhaps she would do better just to tell him about Val and trust to his good nature to do the right thing.
The woman called over her shoulder as she crossed to a drinks cabinet, 'I didn't catch your name.'
'Zoe. Zoe Gifford,' she murmured, glancing around the elegant room. A huge, curved black hide sofa was placed in front of an open fire with two large wing-back chairs set at either side of it. The only new addition she noticed was an exquisite Chinese rug in shades of pink and gold that broke the uniformity of the wall-to-wall beige carpet.
'My God, you've got some nerve, you bitch!'
Zoe's head shot up at the loud exclamation, startled by the venom in the woman's voice. 'Pardon me?'
'Don't come the innocent act with me. You destroyed Justin once and there is no way I will allow you to repeat the exercise.'
'I destroyed. . .?' she cried in amazement. Who the hell did this woman think she was talking to? The pain at the break-up of her marriage, the worry and torment over her son all coalesced together in one great, frustrating fury. She shot her a scathing glance. 'I don't know who you are, and I don't want to know. But '
'Leave now before I-- '
'Jess, what's all the yelling. . . ?'
Slowly Zoe turned towards the door, her heart in her mouth; she would have known that voice anywhere. Justin. . . Heaven knew she had heard it in her dreams, cried the name in her sleep a thousand times!
But the grim-faced stranger standing less than two feet distant, towering head and shoulders over her, was not the man she remembered. The night-black hair was liberally sprinkled with grey, the brown eyes cautiously hooded and hard in a harsh face, the grooves bracketing his mouth deeper, the lips thinner, denoting years of iron control.
'Zoe?' He drawled her name enquiringly.
She stood frozen like a statue before him, simply because her legs were incapable of movement. He was watching her, waiting for her to speak. She swallowed painfully and, gripping the strap of her shoulder-bag so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, raised her eyes to his. 'Hello, Justin,' she managed, her voice high and nervous.
'This is a surprise. To what do I owe the honour?' he asked cynically.
'Justin, get her out of here. You don't want to talk to her.' Jess spoke before Zoe could form a reply.
'Jess, I believe you have a lecture to attend. I suggest you leave. I am perfectly capable of handling the situation without any help from you.'
