'A little bird with a big mouth. I suppose it will be joke of the month now.'
'Are you kidding? Of the year! Did you really—!' She broke off to give Sarah a sharp nudge. 'Speak of the devil!'
Near the door at the other end of the room was Julie, still in yellow but looking as fresh as a daisy, her arm tucked smugly through that of the tall dark man.
'Oh, Sarah,' breathed the girl beside her. 'How could you?'
Very easily, thought Sarah, her nerves tightening a notch. The dark head was tilted to one side as Max Wilde listened to Julie’s introductions. He looked totally at ease, the supreme confidence of power and wealth unmistakable. And the men he was meeting were shaking hands with the hint of deference that showed their awareness of it. He was wearing a dark suit, blue shirt and tie, yet he looked considerably cooler than many of the more casually dressed men around him. A state of mind rather than a physical condition, thought Sarah enviously.
'Lucky Julie,' drooled Chris. 'It looks like a take-over in more ways than one. Steven Somerville will have to look to his laurels. Hey!' Another nudge. 'He's looking at you! Give him a smile, Sarah.'
She had no choice. Forcing her reluctant cheek muscles into action she achieved a polite smile and inclined her head. To her intense embarrassment, conscious of the audible gasp beside her, he made no answering sign of recognition. He continued to look straight through her for several moments, a blank expression on his face. Then he turned away.
Sarah's whole body burned as she stared unseeingly at the back of his head, feeling as if the whole room had witnessed that snub. She knew precisely what he was doing—paying her back in Rind, but most unkindly, and unfairly. In the midst of her angry embarrassment she w*as surprised that he would stoop to such a thing. Perhaps spite was part of his nature—look how he had enjoyed watching her squirm at the airport when she found out who he was.
'Do you think he didn't recognise you?' Chris looked from Max Wilde to Sarah's pale face. 'It's a big room, maybe he's short-sighted.
In a pig's eye! thought Sarah, but she didn't say if. Stout-hearted Chris was unwilling to think badly of anyone, particularly a man whom, she had cheerfully informed everyone that morning, she had lusted after for years from afar.
'He was probably miles away,' Sarah said stiffly.
'Sure. But—'
'Forget it, Chris.'
Sarah could see her friend was dying to ask a flood of questions, but those three final words told her she would get nowhere. Her colleagues knew that there were clearly defined lines within which it was unwise to step where Sarah was concerned. One heavily scored line involved men and her personal relationships with them, her husband included. Sarah could take good-natured ribbing with the best of them but real curiosity was an intrusion. Because they liked and respected her they obeyed the unwritten rule, knowing that Sarah reciprocated by respecting the privacy of others.
'Okay, but seeing as you're obviously not going to introduce me, I'll drift on over myself. Maybe I can pry him away from Julie long enough to try my luck!'
Luck would have nothing to do with it, Sarah decided as she elbowed her way through to the buffet. That man made his own luck! His arrival seemed to have taken her appetite away but she piled her plate with chilled o
ysters in the shell, crayfish mayonnaise and salad, anyway. She would eat every scrap, just to prove to herself that it made no difference what he thought or did to her. She wasn't going to let herself be intimidated by someone else's opinion. It had happened once before in different circumstances and had brought nothing but stress and strife.
She had almost finished her meal and was sitting alone at her table after sharing it with a succession of companions, sipping on a light, cold white wine, when she suffered the shock of seeing Max Wilde sit down on the vacant chair opposite.
At her sharp intake of breath some of the wine went down the wrong way and sent her into a fit of coughing and spluttering, eyes watering furiously. The man was a jinx!
'Drink some more wine.'
She did as she was told and immediately felt better. Why did her common sense desert her in his presence? 'All right?'
She nodded, not trusting her voice, hating that grin.
'Good.' He sat back. 'Lost your tongue? Or minding your manners? How did it feel to be on the reverse end of a glacial stare?'
Struggling for composure, Sarah stole Chris's line without compunction. 'You mean when you arrived?' She shrugged casually. 'I assumed you must suffer from shortsightedness.'
He followed her further than she meant him to: 'And too vain to wear glasses?' She got a view of a hard, olive throat as he drew back his head to laugh uninhibitedly. If Sarah hadn't disliked him so much she might have found it an attractive sound. 'Nicely said. Unfortunately—for you—I know you better than to believe you thought anything so innocent.'
'What makes you think you know me at all?'
Lids veiled the glitter of his eyes. 'I told you. I've read your file.'
He made it sound like a scandal sheet, although Sarah knew it only contained unadorned facts and figures.
'And I've read yours, Mr. Wilde,' she said, imitating his tone.
'Checking up on me?'