a jolt to realise May Jarvis, the wife of one of Guy’s oldest friends, had asked her a question amid all the ramblings and she hadn’t heard a word of it.
May’s smile dimmed a little. ‘I asked you if there was anyone special on the horizon at the moment?’ she repeated.
Why was it that happily married matrons of her sister’s age always seemed to assume they could ask any pertinent question they liked at dos like this one? Robyn asked herself tersely, before her innate sense of fair play made her feel guilty. May was only trying to include her in the conversation and make small talk, she reminded herself quickly, and normally she would have passed off such a question with a light, amusing comment. But tonight wasn’t normal, and she was all out of light, amusing comments! She just wanted to go home.
‘No.’ She could feel the muscles at the back of her neck were as tight as piano wire and she had only been here ten minutes or so. How was she going to get through a whole evening?
‘Oh.’ May had clearly expected more and now she glanced across at her husband rather helplessly, who stared back at her with a face that seemed to say, What do you expect me to say?
It was Clay who spoke into the moment, his voice soothing and cool as he said quietly, ‘I understand from Cassie that all Robyn’s energies have been tied up in the business she’s involved in. Is that right, Robyn?’ he added smoothly.
Cass hadn’t. She hadn’t, had she? She wouldn’t have mentioned the refusal of the business loan and everything surely? ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she agreed evenly, gratified her voice was showing no sign of the turmoil within. She’d never forgive Cass!
‘Oh, really? How interesting.’ May was gushing but it was well-meant. ‘What sort of business is it?’
‘PR.’ She couldn’t just leave it at that, not after her abruptness before. ‘I formed my own business a couple of years ago so it’s pretty time-absorbing. If you want to get a foot on the ladder you have to put in all the hours it needs,’ Robyn said quietly to May without looking Clay’s way. ‘There’s plenty of competition who will be only too pleased to do it if you don’t.’
‘I can imagine.’ May was genuinely sympathetic. ‘I was involved in advertising before I had the baby and that’s the same. Of course I didn’t have my own company,’ she added quickly, ‘so I suppose the incentive wasn’t quite the same. How many people do you employ?’
‘Just one at the moment.’ She would have given the world to massage the taut muscles at the nape of her neck but she didn’t dare with those icy silver eyes watching her. ‘But I’m hoping to expand in time of course.’
‘So you’re a career girl.’ Clay had moved fractionally closer, his spicy aftershave subtly touching her oversensitised nerves, and Robyn willed herself to show no reaction at all. ‘Funny, but I’d got you down as a hearth-and-home type back in the good old days,’ he drawled with silky innocence.
‘Oh, so you two go back a long way?’ May was all ears.
‘We don’t go back at all,’ Robyn said politely but firmly, wondering how suave and debonair Clay would look with white wine dripping off the end of his nose. ‘Clay was at university with Guy, that’s all, and he used to come and see Cass and Guy in the holidays sometimes when I was just a kid.’ It was dismissive.
She knew the dark, handsome face was surveying her with mockingly raised eyebrows and for that reason she didn’t let her eyes connect with his. She wasn’t the young, starry-eyed sixteen-year-old any more and she was darned if she would let him call the tune tonight. He had purposefully got May interested, she knew it, with his pointed reference to the good old days. The good old days! She gave a healthy snort in her mind. Good for whom? Not for her, that was sure.
Once Cassie had got them all seated at the table and the first course—baby spinach, avocado and crispy pancetta salad—had been served, it wasn’t quite so bad.
Clay was sitting opposite her for one thing, and the few feet of space across the elaborate dining table which was a picture of glittering crystal and snowy-white linen and silver, was very welcome. May’s husband was on one side of her and was quite attentive, and she knew Guy’s friend, John, on her left, well, so she concentrated her conversation on them without being too obvious.
Nevertheless she noticed, with acid amusement, that Clay was charming the two women either side of him with no apparent effort on his part. They were twittering and giggling like teenagers! Still, from all she had heard over the last years he’d had plenty of practice at being a ladies’ man since his young wife had died. Love ’em and leave ’em reputation, according to Guy. Which was fine, just fine if that was the way he wanted to live his life, Robyn thought nastily. A tom-cat always finds its own level.
Guy served a particularly delicious red wine with the main course of pan-fried pork fillet with sage and spring onion mash, and the excellent food and good wine produced a calmingly mellow effect on her racing nerves. Especially when John refilled her glass twice. By the time Cassie brought out the triple-chocolate torte, along with an Eve’s Pudding topped with caramelised sugar, Robyn was telling herself she was quite adult enough to handle this evening with dignity and aplomb. Clay Lincoln didn’t bother her!
She’d got off on the wrong foot maybe, she admitted silently to herself, but nothing was lost, not really. The worst thing she could do, with an egoist like Clay Lincoln, was to let him think he affected her in any way. She would treat him just the same as she did everyone else: she’d be friendly, charming, amusing—everything one was at occasions like this. Once the meal was over a little polite chit-chat, a laugh or two, and then she would bow out gracefully as soon as the first couple made a move to leave and that would be that. Easy.
Cassie brought in Guy’s pile of birthday presents from family and friends during the cheese and biscuits and, as Robyn left the table briefly to help Cassie in the kitchen with the coffee, her sister whispered, ‘You’ll never guess what Clay’s given us for Guy’s thirty-fifth. I still can’t believe it. Once the baby’s born and I’m feeling okay he’s going to fly the five of us out to his beach house in Florida for a couple of weeks, all expenses paid. What do you think about that?’
‘Really? That’s wonderful, Cass.’ Robyn was thrilled for them, really thrilled, but she couldn’t help wishing it had been someone else who had provided the trip. Anyone else.
‘Apparently you just step off the front porch straight onto white sand, but there’s an indoor pool as well and the use of one of Clay’s cars for the fortnight, and a housekeeper who will do all the cooking. It’s just too good to be true,’ Cassie beamed happily. ‘It really is.’
Bit like Clay Lincoln, then.
For an awful moment Robyn thought she had said the words out loud but when Cassie’s sunny face didn’t change, she knew the sarcasm had been in her mind only. ‘How often have you and Guy seen Clay over the last years?’ she asked carefully as she tipped the box of peppermint creams onto a silver plate and placed them on the serving trolley. ‘Isn’t a present like this a bit…extreme?’ she suggested expressionlessly.
‘According to Guy, Clay’s like that, unpredictable. And Guy’s seen him now and again; they go out to lunch mostly although Clay has been to dinner once or twice. He’s got a mansion-type place in Windsor apparently although we’ve never been there. He is always jet-setting here, there and everywhere—he’s never in one place for more than a few days, Guy says. Course, with all his business interests, you’d expect that.’
Robyn nodded. ‘What does he do exactly?’ she asked quietly as Cassie loaded the trolley with another plate of dark chocolates, slices of shortbread and jugs of steaming coffee, sugar, milk and whipped cream. Her sister always made sure everyone ate to excess.
‘Well, I understand his father was in shipping,’ Cassie said in a low voice, ‘but Clay’s diversified into property and one or two other things as well. Fingers in plenty of pies.’
‘A real entrepreneur,’ Robyn said lightly, keeping all