Chapter 3 BUILDED ATTRACTION 3

Clare put down the phone and began making notes. Janice peered in through the door. She was a plump, short woman who wore knitted twinsets whatever the weather. In combination with her tightly permed, rather thin, brown hair, they made her look at least ten years older than she actually was.

'Can I help?' she asked.

Yes. Come in.

They spent the next hour setting up meetings with all the departmental heads to advise them of Bridget's visit and instruct them what would be needed for it. The presentation they were working on would have to be a great deal more detailed if it was going to be made to Bridget in person rather than sent out to Houston by courier.

It was about an hour later when the phone on Clare's desk rang again. This time it was her private line.

'Clare Markham,' she said answering it herself.

'Clare, it's David. How are you?'

'Could be better,' she said, rather abruptly.

'We're still on for tonight, aren't we?' She heard the worry in his voice that something might have come up which she would use as an excuse not to see him.

'Yes, of course.' Actually seeing David Allston tonight was the last thing she really wanted to do, but she didn't have the heart to disappoint him.

David's attitude to their relationship was like that of a small child with a new toy. She couldn't bare to snatch it away from him, however much she would have preferred to have an early night and curl up with a good book.

'Great. Do you want to have dinner?'

'I can't cook. My kitchen's been ripped out, remember?'

'Shall I book a table at The Ivy?'

'No, no. Nothing like that. I'm not in the mood to get dressed up. The local Italian will do Bearing in mind what David would inevitably demand from her after they'd eaten, going to the Italian restaurant she frequented just off Kensington High Street seemed to involve the least effort after what was undoubtedly going to be an exhausting day.

'OK. Eight, then? Is that all right?' She could hear the excitement in his voice. The child had been given his toy again: now, she knew, he would spend the rest of the day planning what games to play with it.

It had been a long day. Every time Clare had arrived home since the building work had begun Gary had still been busying himself in the back, usually on his own, his two other workmates long gone. But tonight Clare was late and he too had gone. The house felt empty. She missed the banter they usually shared.

It was already seven thirty. She went upstairs to the bathroom at the front of the house, stripping off her black suit as she went. In the new bathroom she would have a separate shower cubicle with a powerful shower, but at the moment she had to make do with the shower attached to the mixer taps of the bath and a glass screen at the side of it to prevent the water splashing over the floor.

She adjusted the

temperature to lukewarm, pulled off the rest of her clothes and stood in the rather sluggish stream, allowing the water to wash over her.

As she closed her eyes and turned her face into the water she thought of Gary, his hard body covered with sweat. She wondered what it would feel like against her. She had had a variety of men in her life and some had been moderately fit, but she'd never had anyone like him, someone whose muscles looked as though they had been shaped in stone by a sculptor. She imagined wrapping her arms around him, hugging him, feeling his strength. The thought made her shudder.

She washed herself quickly, dried herself on a large white towel and cleaned her teeth. In her bedroom she chose a cream and pink patterned cotton dress with a V-neck and cool short sleeves.

Though it had a full skirt it was split to well above the knee and showed a lot of her slender, shapely legs. Just as she finished her make-up the doorbell rang.

'You're very punctual, she told David as she opened the front door. David was always very punctual. Punctiliously punctual. She couldn't help wishing he wasn't.

'Sorry, he said, kissing her on both cheeks and looking shamefaced.

'I've just got to get my bag, she said.

Place looks like a bomb's hit it

'Worse to come yet.'

She grabbed her handbag, took out her keys, set the alarm and double-locked the front door.

David's burgundy-coloured Bentley was parked behind the builder's skip. He opened the passenger door for her then got behind the wheel.

'Sure you don't want to change your mind about the venue?'

"No,' she said emphatically.

They dined without fuss, ordering only one course and a single bottle of red wine. Clare had the impression that her lack of appetite suited David perfectly. He was impatient for the meal to end.