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One day Judith had an interview with the managing director of the London office of her bank. He was brusque and slightly offhand; she sensed that he thought she was in a take-it-or-leave-it situation and had nowhere else to go and was therefore not intending to show any eagerness to have her working there again. Her place there was certainly open, but he made it clear that she would not be offered a salary anywhere near the one she had received in New York.
'American salaries are on a different scale,' he pointed out. 'I'm afraid we couldn't match what you've been getting.' He underlined how much he knew about her private position by asking: 'How is your grandmother? Beginning to get over her loss, I hope?' Although he smiled, Judith knew that he was pointing out that she needed a job if she was to stay in London to be near her grandmother, and she resented his attitude, without being surprised by it. She told him she would like a few days to consider the offer and left determined to see if she could get a job elsewhere. She was in an unusual position; she knew a great deal about the American stock market from having worked over there for several years, dealing with the New York end of it, and her expertise would give her an edge in London. She would have preferred to stay with the firm for which she had worked for so long, but not if it entailed taking a drop in salary and being treated the way she had been treated that morning. Judith was fascinated by the minutiae of banking and investments, she got a surge of adrenalin every time she took one of those calculated risks which are necessary if you are to make money, it was a form of gambling which could get into the blood if you weren't shrewd enough to add a cool-headed understanding of what you were doing to the flashes of guesswork which could make big money fast before the rest of the market has woken up to what is going on. It was only when you plunged heavily without having a background of solid information to back your hunch that you got into trouble. Judith was cool-headed, though; she studied world markets and world affairs all the time, she could look at a company balance sheet and see immediately whether they were under or over-valued and whether to buy or sell out.
'I'm good at my job, damn him, I don't like being treated as if I was a schoolgirl asking to be given a typist's job,' she told her own reflection that afternoon. She had just hung a new purchase in the fiat. She had spotted it in a junk shop and bought it on impulse; an oval mirror framed in gilt acanthus leaves. It was early Victorian and solid, very heavy; she herself had carried & back to her flat and her arms had ached when she put a down, but she was delighted with it, partly be
cause it had been a bargain. The man in the junk shop had cheerfully admitted he didn't like it, had too many old mirrors, they were a drug on the market and he was glad to get rid of it. 'I'm practically giving it to you,' he had said as Judith left, hugging it to her chest.
Tying her straight acorn brown hair back under a red cotton scarf, she made a face at herself in the mirror. 'I'll get a better job, don't worry,' she told her reflection, which didn't seem too convinced, her eyes distinctly looked worried.
She went off to paint woodwork; neatly dressed in jeans and an old shirt, her sleeves rolled up. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that when the doorbell rang she jumped, her paintbrush spattering white paint on her face. Impatiently rubbing the back of her hand across her cheek, she went to see who was at the door, and was amazed to see Baba.
'Oh, hallo! What are you doing here?' queried Judith before she realised that Baba had someone with her, a tall man at whom Judith glanced briefly before doing a double-take as she recognised him.
Baba giggled, 'You've got paint on your nose!'
Judith managed to smile, but it wasn't easy. Baba looked as ravishing and perfectly turned out as ever, she was wearing an immaculate white linen suit under which she wore nothing visible. The material lovingly hugged every curve of her body, and her thick blonde curls spilled down to her shoulders in a pretence of dishevelment which wouldn't fool anyone.
'We rang you at your grandmother's and she said you were here and told us the address.' Baba was looking past her at the open door of the sitting-room. 'Are you really redecorating the flat yourself? Aren't you clever? I wouldn't know where to start.' She sauntered past and Judith fell back, her paintbrush held out of danger in case it touched Baba's beautiful clothes. Luke Doulton closed the door. As his narrowed grey eyes assessed Judith's smouldering expression he looked amused.
The lazily mocking inspection put heated colour into her face. She marched after Baba, a sensation of instinctive fury filling her. This was turning out to be one of those days; what else could go wrong? At the back of her mind, she realised now, she had been debating whether or not to approach Luke Doulton's company for a job, but any idea of doing that had just been sunk without a trace. He would probably laugh like mad at the very idea, after seeing her looking such a sight.
'I'd offer you some coffee, but . . .' she began, and Baba, who had been looking around the room, turned with a smile, shaking her head.
'We can't stop, thanks, I just wanted to know whether you'd be at our party tonight or not. Your grandmother didn't seem to know, anything about it and I. . .'
'Party? Tonight?' repeated Judith, and Baba stopped talking to stare at her.
'You did get my invitation? I wrote the card myself and it was posted with the others.'
'I didn't get an invitation,' Judith said flatly.
'You didn't? Oh, but ... how irritating! It must have gone astray in the post, maybe I didn't have the right address. The party's tonight. Can you make it?' Baba looked at her pleadingly, biting her lower lip. 'Oh, do try to be there—most of the guests are Luke's friends and I want some of mine to come too. Ruth will be much happier if you're there, she's a bit nervous, she's never been to the Savoy before.'
Aware of Luke Doulton prowling around the room behind her, staring at the wallpaper and the half completed paintwork, Judith couldn't think clearly. 'Well, I'd love to, of course . . .'
Before she could add the 'but' which was hovering on her lips Baba burst in eagerly, 'Oh, that's terrific! It should be a great evening, shouldn't it, Luke?'
'It certainly won't be dull,' he said in a deep voice. Judith heard the New England accent with something of a shock, which was absurd, because she knew very well that he was an American, but she had already got used to hearing English voices all around her again and to hear that familiar accent took her by surprise.
As she looked round at him he moved into a patch of sunlight which showed her his thick hair, a rich dark brown with an almost reddish tinge and threads of silver which gleamed as the sunlight streamed through the windows behind him. Judith felt dwarfed, he lowered over her. He must be well over six foot tall, she thought, and every inch of him seemed to be bone and muscle. He was wearing a well-cut lounge suit, a dark grey with a hint of a paler stripe in it, but beneath the immaculate formality of the clothes his shoulders were wide and powerful, his body leanly fit. He was a very impressive male animal, Baba might almost have been designed to hang on his arm. She was nestling close to him at that second, her hand slipping up his sleeve in a confidently possessive gesture, very female beside that aggressive masculinity.
'Judith has just got back from New York—I told you, didn't I, darling? She's in banking, she's terribly clever. She knows all about investments and that sort of thing.'
Judith's teeth met, and she forced a polite smile as Luke Doulton stared at her, his brows lifting. 'I gather you were with Schewitz and Quayle?' She nodded. 'Handling clients?' Judith nodded again.
'Are you transferring to their London office?' 'Possibly; I'm thinking about it.' She felt distinctly at a disadvantage in her paint-stained jeans, with a gaudy scarf tied round her head and white paint on her nose. Quite apart from the obvious fact that she was no beauty, her appearance would hardly inspire confidence in her ability. She looked a mess, and she felt so furious she could have broken things. Baba shouldn't have sprung Luke Doulton on her. If she had known she was going to run into him she would have spent hours getting ready; he wasn't going to get the chance to call her 'office furniture' again.
'Feel like a change, do you?' he asked in a slow drawl, and she watched the way his mouth curled up at the sides. His cheekbones were hard, angular beneath his tanned skin; his firm, well-shaped mouth conveyed a cynical amusement. The last time she had seen him, at the 21 Club, he had radiated threat, those eyes dangerous as he talked to poor John. Now he was relaxed, exuding charm, but only a fool would forget that Luke Doulton could be dangerous and Judith hoped she was no fool.
'Couldn't you find her a job, darling?' Baba coaxed, leaning against him like a small, confiding cat, and he looked down at her with aware, amused sensuality. Judith got the impression he enjoyed looking at Baba, but she still did not get the feeling he was as madly in love with her as his sudden proposal suggested.
'I won't have any trouble finding a job,' Judith said tightly. 'Thanks all the same.' She moved towards the door pointedly. 'Thanks for the invitation—I'll see you in the party, Baba.'
They followed her; the sound of their footsteps very loud in the flat, which echoed with every tiny noise in the way that rooms do when they hold no furniture. Luke's head only just cleared the sill of the door, Judith noted, and although he was still smiling she found it nerve-racking to have him around.
He halted and looked down at her, one brow curving quizzically. 'Why don't we have lunch and talk about your career? I'm free this Friday. How about you?'
Judith was taken aback, she hadn't expected him to take Baba's coaxing seriously, and she didn't know if she wanted to have lunch alone with him, anyway. He bothered her.
