either. Nicholas’s parting barb about being bored with always having sex in a bed had been haunting her. Because he was so right. She’d never made love with him anywhere else but in bed. She’d never even made love on top of the bed!
Being on top in any shape or form was not in her limited résumé of sexual experiences. Neither were any of the other more exotic foreplays and positions. When she’d met Nicholas at twenty-five, she’d still been a virgin. Nicholas was too, surprisingly, although he had only been twenty-two at the time. They’d muddled along together and sex hadn’t been a great success for a while. But they’d finally mastered the basics, and she’d honestly thought Nicholas was happy in bed. She’d never refused him and he’d always come, even when she hadn’t. It seemed now she’d overestimated his pleasure and satisfaction in her body, not to mention her less than adventurous technique.
The telephone ringing snapped her out of her broodingly introspective mood for a moment.
‘Mr Altman’s office,’ came her automatic response. ‘Olivia Johnson speaking. May I help you?’
‘You certainly may, my dear. I’d like to speak to that son of mine, if he’s not too busy. I realise it’s party day.’
‘He’s still in his laboratory, Mrs Altman. I’ll put you through.’
‘Before you do, my dear, I just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas and to thank you for always being so nice to me on the phone.’
‘Why, thank you, Mrs Altman. And a happy Christmas to you too.’
‘What are you doing for Christmas?’
‘I’m going home to my parents’ place.’
‘And where’s that?’
‘They live near Morisset.’
‘Morisset? That’s up on the central coast, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, between Gosford and Newcastle. It’s about a two-hour train trip from Sydney. Less from Hornsby where I catch it.’
‘I see. Well, we’ll have to go to lunch together one day next year, dear. I’d love to put a face and figure to the voice. I asked Lewis once what you looked like and all he said was you were a brunette with intelligent brown eyes. When I asked what kind of figure you had, he looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, “short of medium.”’
Although piqued, Olivia couldn’t really blame Lewis. The tailored black suits she favoured in the office were not designed to stand out, or display her body. Her skirts were never too short or too tight. Any deep Vs in her jackets were always filled in with a simple top or shirt-style blouse. Today’s outfit was no exception. If she’d remembered the Christmas party Olivia might have worn something a little brighter. But she hadn’t and that was that!
‘You know, I haven’t been into the office since that other awful girl was ensconced behind your desk,’ Mrs Altman senior was saying. ‘The last time I visited, she was wearing a dress cut down to her navel. Not to mention very little underwear. As for perfume... I think she must have bathed in it. Poor Lewis. I finally understood why his ex-wife used to complain he smelt like the cosmetics counter in David Jones every time he came home at night.’
Olivia didn’t go perfumeless. But the small spray of Eternity she allowed herself every morning was very discreet.
‘Unfortunately, it’s very difficult to get rid of employees these days,’ the boss’s mother rattled on. ‘If Lewis had sacked the infernal girl, he’d have found himself in court before he knew it, trying to explain to a judge why he’d fired this suddenly prim and proper creature dressed in pin-tucks and a Peter Pan collar.’
Olivia felt the corners of her mouth crinkling with amusement. ‘I gathered Lewis was very relieved when she left to go overseas.’
‘More than relieved, I can tell you. But he’s been very happy with you, dear. You haven’t given him a moment’s worry or trouble!’
Olivia wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that, or not.
‘Although he did express some concern the other night about your having had a lovers’ tiff with your boyfriend. He said you were very down in the mouth about it.’
‘Yes, well...’ Her voice trailed off. She really didn’t want to discuss Nicholas with Mrs Altman any more than Lewis.
‘Don’t let pride get in your way, dear,’ came the unwanted advice. ‘Call him. Say you’re sorry, even if it was his fault. After all, what’s a bit of grovelling when all’s said and done?’
Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. She’d never grovelled to anyone in her life and she wasn’t about to start now. Still... Mrs Altman did have a point. Pride did sometimes get in the way of reconciliations. She reasoned there was a huge difference between grovelling and giving Nicholas a call. She could use the excuse of wishing him a happy Christmas. He would be in his office right now. She could be talking to him in seconds. Her heart raced as hope reformed.
As soon as Olivia put Mrs Altman through to Lewis she dialled before she could think better of it. Nicholas’s telephone rang several times before being picked up.
‘Nickie’s desk,’ breathed a female voice.
Olivia was taken aback. ‘Renee?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘Is that you?’ Renee was a colleague of Nicholas who sometimes answered his phone when he was away from his desk.
‘Renee resigned some time back,’ came the husky reply. ‘I’m Yvette. Her replacement.’
Renee’s replacement. Named Yvette. And she called Nicholas Nickie.
Olivia began to feel sick. ‘Could I speak to Nicholas, please?’
There was a small silence on the other end of the phone, then a melodramatic sigh. ‘Is that Olivia, by any chance?’
‘Put Nicholas on, please.’
‘I can’t. He’s not here. He’s gone to the little men’s room. You’re wasting your time, anyway. He doesn’t want to see or talk to you ever again. He has me now and I’m all he wants.’
Olivia sucked in a shaky breath. With a great effort of will, she kept her voice quite calm. ‘And just how long have you been everything Nicholas wants?’
‘Longer than you think. Face it, honey,’ Yvette purred down the line. ‘You haven’t got what it takes to keep a man. It’s not a female’s organisational and management abilities which win the day. Nickie could get that from a computer. Or a cleaner. What he wants is passion. And spontaneity. And fun.’
‘Sex, you mean,’ Olivia shot back, knowing now where Nicholas had got most of his verbal armoury during their final argument.
‘Same thing.’
‘You think he didn’t get sex from me?’ she threw at this heartless creature who thought nothing of taking someone else’s man.
‘Not the kind he wanted, honey. Gotta go. We’re all off down the pub for Chrissie drinks. Bye bye. Oh, and happy Christmas!’
Olivia was left listening to a dead line.
Suddenly, a rage began to simmer deep within her, a dark rebellious rage. Slamming the phone down, she jumped up from behind her desk, hot blood racing through her veins.
Going for Chrissie drinks, were they? Well, good for them. But she was going one better. She was going to a Chrissie party and by God she was going to party. She was going to party all day and she was going to forget. Forget Nicholas and Yvette. Forget that her future had been cruelly smashed. Forget everything but having fun!
Olivia stripped off her jacket and dropped it over the back of her chair. Having fun shouldn’t be too hard. Not once she got a few glasses of champagne into her.
She was a happy drunk. Or she thought she would be. She’d never actually been drunk before. But a couple of glasses