never breathed a word about him…I presume it is a him?’
‘Of course it’s a him!’ Charlotte said indignantly.
‘Well, come on, spill the beans. Tell all.’
‘There’s not much to tell.’
‘Rubbish! You have the look of a woman who’s on the brink of falling in love. I want to know whether to hold you back, or give you a push.’
‘Do you need to do either?’
‘Of course. What are friends for? So what’s his name? Paul? David? Jeremy?’
Throwing in the towel, Charlotte said, ‘Rudolf.’
Sojo gave a croak of laughter. ‘Bit of a soppy name, Rudolf—’ she pronounced it Wudolf ‘—unless you’re a reindeer.’
‘His friends call him Rudy.’
‘Well, they would, wouldn’t they? Anything’s preferable to Wudolf. What’s he like?’
‘Rather special. He’s—’
‘You’re blushing!’ Sojo exclaimed. ‘Dear me, you have got it bad.’
‘Do you want to know or not?’ Charlotte asked with a show of exasperation.
‘I’m all ears…What an unfortunate phrase! But do go on.’
‘He’s slimly built and just about the same height as I am—’
‘I wondered why you’d taken to wearing flat shoes. Fair or dark?’
‘He has curly black hair and brown eyes.’
‘Handsome?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sexy?’
‘Very.’
‘Rich?’
‘He dresses well, and has what he describes as a “bachelor pad” in Mayfair.’
‘Definitely not poor, then. Been to his pad?’
‘No.’
‘I take it he’s asked you? Yes, I can see he has. What does he do?’
‘I discovered, quite by accident, that he’s with one of the leading merchant banks.’
Sojo whistled through her teeth. ‘He’s not one of their top men, by any chance?’
‘I don’t think so. But to say he’s only twenty-six, he seems to be fairly high up the ladder.’
‘So what’s his surname?’
‘Bradshaw. He’s only been in England for about three years. He comes from the States.’
‘How did you meet him?’
‘He wandered into the shop one morning, a few weeks ago, just to browse. We got talking, and then he asked me out.’
‘A quick worker. Been to bed with him yet?’
‘Certainly not!’
‘Want to?’ Sojo asked knowingly.
‘Yes,’ Charlotte admitted.
‘So why haven’t you? Don’t tell me he hasn’t tried to persuade you.’
‘I won’t.’
Feeling her cheeks grow warm again, Charlotte gave the other girl a forbidding enough look to prevent her commenting.
‘Well, if you both fancy each other like mad, why are you holding back?’
‘It’s too soon. Even if I am attracted to him, I can’t jump into bed with a man I scarcely know.’
Sojo sighed. ‘You’re so beautifully old-fashioned. I’m not sure you live in the real world. If you’re not careful you’ll end up a desiccated virgin.’
‘But we’ve only been out four or five times.’
‘Is that all? I’m surprised he doesn’t want to see more of you.’
‘He does,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘But he isn’t free as often as he’d like to be. In his line of work it seems social contacts are very important, and a lot of his evenings are taken up by business commitments—dining out with clients and suchlike. It was touch and go whether he could get tonight off.’
‘Where are you off to? It must be somewhere special as you bought a new dress. Unless that’s just for Wudolf’s benefit?’
Ignoring that last crack, Charlotte said, ‘He’s escorting me to a supper party at St John’s Wood, given by Anthony Drayton.’
‘The literary agent?’
‘Yes. He hosts one every year. Half of London gets invited—anybody who is anybody. His parties always have a different theme. Last year it was timed to coincide with a new moon, and all the ladies were asked to wear something silver.’
‘What is it this time?’
‘Candlelight.’
‘Let’s hope the fire brigade’s been alerted,’ Sojo said wryly.
‘You’re going out, I suppose?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Nope. I’ll be all on my little lonesome.’
‘Then why not come along with us? I’m sure Anthony won’t mind.’
‘It’s not Anthony I’m worried about.’
‘Rudy won’t either.’
‘That’s a whopping great lie, and even if it wasn’t, playing gooseberry is not my favourite role.’
‘I’m surprised you’re not going out with Mark. He seemed keen enough.’
‘If anything, too keen. A regular Mr Touchy-Feely. I got so fed up with peeling his hands off, I showed him the door.’
Watching Charlotte collect a squashy evening bag and a silver fun-fur, she queried, ‘Going by taxi?’
‘No, Rudy’s offered to pick me up. He should be here any minute.’
Stationing herself in the bow-window, where she could see the street in both directions, Sojo suggested casually, ‘Why don’t you ask him up for a nightcap when he brings you home?’
‘Yes, I might. It’s about time you and Rudy met.’
‘So it’s getting serious!’
‘I’m not sure,’ Charlotte admitted.
‘In that case I’ll give him the once-over before I make myself scarce, not forgetting to mention that I’m a heavy sleeper.’
‘Don’t you dare!’ Charlotte exclaimed.
‘Only joking, honestly. Hello! This looks like him now…Or at least a posh-looking car has just drawn up outside. A man with dark curly hair is getting out! He’s gazing up at the window!’ She heaved a rapturous sigh. ‘Oh, Romeo, Romeo…’
Gathering up her coat and bag, Charlotte fled.
The September evening was cool and grey and slightly foggy. Street lamps cast an amber glow onto the damp pavements, and, surrounded by a halo of mist, shone like luminous ghosts.
Rudy was waiting for her on the pavement. Taking her hand, he drew her close and kissed her with a barely restrained passion.
After a moment, well aware that Sojo was almost certainly watching, Charlotte drew away.
Damn it, Rudy thought as he jumped into the car and started the engine. He was practically desperate. He needed to make some headway before Simon returned, and time was getting short.
But with