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'Oh, but you have to! Everyone's expecting David to be there—'
'David, yes, but not me,' said Clare firmly.
Or she thought she had been firm. An hour later she was in the boutique of a friend of one of the visiting parents, trying on a selection of very exclusive and expensive dresses—offered at a generous 'family' discount—the shock of David's reaction to her refusal ringing in her ears.
When she had finally run the elusive Russian to earth in a conference with his principal and his music director, he had told her calmly that it was fine; if she didn't go, he wouldn't either.
The two men with him had looked at Clare with renewed interest, as she floundered in her embarrassment.
'David, don't be ridiculous. You can't not go just because I don't have a dress. Take someone else.'
'I don't want to take anyone else. And if a dress is your only problem, that's easily solved.'
Clare's mouth tightened into a little knot of annoyance, and David's eyelids drooped. 'Or perhaps you're trying to let me down lightly. Perhaps you have another date for the night?'
She would have liked to have claimed one, but those narrowed dark eyes warned her not to lie. She sensed that David would have no qualms about dragging the details from her in front of his interested staff.
'I… I'm just not very good at parties,' she said truthfully.
'I can take or leave them myself. Which shall we do to this one?' And as she hesitated he added silkily, 'You must know by now, Clare—I can be twice as stubborn as ever you can…'
Hence the black dress, defiantly demure with its high-necked, cross-over bodice and long, slim skirt. Demure, that was, until she moved and the dramatic slit up one side revealed a breathtaking amount of thigh. Even the self-
absorbed accountant couldn't help his gaze wandering down every time Clare shifted her weight, and she did so now, just to break the monotony. After six years of faithful wedded bliss and two of celibacy, in the space of a single evening she had apparently become a mindless sex object!
An arm slid around her waist, and then the accountant's eyes jerked guiltily up as Clare was drawn briefly back against a hard body.
'Sorry to break this up, but I have some people I want you to meet, darling,' David's voice shafted past her ear, sounding anything but apologetic. The young man actually took a step back at the stony, black-Russian stare. 'Excuse us, won't you?' It was a command, not a request, and Clare found herself marched unceremoniously away.
'How dare you ?' she stuttered.
'Ten seconds later and you would have been swimming in drool. Couldn't you find someone more mature to cosy up in corners with?'
Clare gaped at his rigid profile, but before she could voice her outrage she was forced to smile stiffly at a new set of introductions. So furious was she with the cavalier way that David was behaving that she had trouble keeping up with the polite conversation that followed. When she was asked whether she knew many people in Auckland, after explaining that she was visiting from Rotorua, she murmured that she had lost touch with most of her old friends, but that most of her late husband's family were Aucklanders.
'What about Julian? You've kept in touch with him, haven't you?' David interjected, irritated by her cold-shouldered vagueness in front of his friends. 'Or perhaps he's family, though I'm sure the 'uncle' is only an honorary title.'
'Uncle Julian?' At least he had her attention now. Clare was staring at him in horror. Surely he wasn't going to embarrass her in such sophisticated company.
David's smile was not reassuring. 'Tim told me all about him. I'm surprised you didn't bring him along tonight. I'm sure he must be fascinating company…'
Clare would never have believed that David could be so small-minded. She was blushing brilliantly at the speculation she sensed around her, cringing inside at what they would all think if David kept up his taunting. If they had thought she was a dumb blonde before, they would consider her a real case of arrested mental development if he told them.. ? Suddenly her hideous embarrassment was swamped by anger. This really was the last straw!
'Well, I must admit, after an evening in your company, I realise I infinitely prefer his. At least he's always there when I need him, which happens to be right now. If you'll all excuse me?' she said with a glacial dignity that awed those of the group with personal experience of the Russian temperament now openly smouldering. 'I have a pressing engagement elsewhere.'
Aware that she was making something of a spectacle of herself, but too angry to care, Clare sailed across the room, closely followed by a furious Deverenko.
He caught her in the cavernous foyer of the hotel, where staff, who were trained to discreetly ignore public displays of the personal problems of the rich and famous, pretended not to notice.
'Where are you going?'
'Back to the school.' There were no taxis at the front, and the uniformed doorman was so busy being discreet that she had to tap him on the shoulder to request him to do his job.
'If you can bear to wait a few minutes for me to get my coat, I'll come with you,' said David tautly.
Sure the pun was an intentional sneer, Clare rounded on him. 'No, thanks, I've had enough of your company for one night. I don't know what the matter is with you, but I don't have to put up with your attacks of temperament! I came up to Auckland, I came here tonight, because you insisted. You're the one who walked off and left me in a crowd of strangers. What did you expect me to do, twiddle my thumbs and wait for you to notice me again? In Rotorua you couldn't wait to get me on that helicopter, and yet ever since we took off you've treated me as if I've committed some sin—'
'And we all know how impossible that is—'
