Strong Women Page 2

  ‘Any suggestions?’

  Jo hadn’t. Coming clean clearly wasn’t an option. From what she’d gathered about Laura’s bosses, they were hardly the forgiving sort. ‘But it’s so risky. Even if you do manage to get into his room, how can you be sure he won’t catch you in the act? What if he gets tired of waiting, realises you’re not going to turn up and comes back and finds you there?’

  ‘Quite,’ Laura said. ‘That’s why I could do with some help.’ She dropped her gaze to the table and slowly looked up again. Her eyes were pleading. ‘It’s a big favour, a huge one, but I was wondering … well, I was wondering if you could keep him occupied while I’m getting into the room. We’re only talking fifteen minutes, twenty max. I wouldn’t ask, I really wouldn’t, unless I was desperate.’

  Jo had no doubt as to the state of her desperation. What she did have doubts about, however, was her ability to keep Miller occupied for five minutes, never mind twenty. Since Peter had died, she hadn’t even glanced at another man. Her seduction skills, such as they were, had been placed firmly on ice. ‘I don’t think I can.’

  ‘All you’ll have to do is chat to him.’

  ‘Chat him up you mean.’

  Laura gave a small brittle laugh. ‘Oh, believe me he’ll be the one doing the chatting up. All you’ll have to do is pretend to be interested. If you’re sitting alone at the bar, it won’t take him long to notice you. He’ll make a move.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t?’

  ‘Of course he will. God, Jo, don’t you ever look in the mirror? You’re young, slim and blonde; you have the face of an angel and there’s nothing Miller likes more than corrupting the innocent. He won’t be able to resist. He’ll be all over you.’

  Jo wasn’t quite so confident. At twenty-eight she no longer felt especially innocent and her resistibility factor, on a sliding scale of one to ten, could well be into double figures. ‘But if he’s expecting you at any minute …’

  ‘That won’t stop him. Anyway, I’ll give him a call, tell him that I’m going to be late. That way he’ll think he has some time to kill – and Gabe always likes to use his time usefully.’

  Jo hesitated, twisting the glass between her fingers. She wanted to help, she really wanted to say yes, but a voice of caution was still whispering in her ear. What if it all goes wrong?

  ‘Forget it,’ Laura said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. You’ve got your own problems; you don’t need me adding to them.’

  But if there was one thing Jo valued, it was loyalty. They might only have known each other a few months but it was long enough for the friendship to become firmly established. After all the darkness, all the grieving over Peter, Laura had finally brought some fun and laughter back into her life; to say there was never a dull moment was a complete understatement. Her friend had shown that there was more to this world than pain and misery – or stressing over Ruby Strong’s unfavourable opinion of her. So maybe it was time to give something back in return. And, if she was being honest, the idea of preventing a seedy, blackmailing Romeo from profiting from his sins had a certain appeal. Laura’s plan might be slightly dishonest, even marginally illegal, but it couldn’t be said to be immoral.

  Taking a large gulp of wine, Jo swallowed it down. She breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Count me in. I’ll do it.’

  Chapter Three

  The cab turned off Euston Road and twenty seconds later drew up beside the entrance to the Lumière. It was five past seven. Jo got out first, stumbling in her haste. She quickly stood up straight and then waited as Laura calmly picked up her Louis Vuitton overnight bag, glided on to the pavement and leaned over to pay the driver.

  They stood in silence as the taxi pulled away.

  Laura smiled at her. ‘Are you okay?’

  Jo’s nerves were on edge, her stomach turning somersaults, but it was too late to back out now, even if she wanted to. ‘Just about.’

  Laura smoothed down the skirt of her cream designer suit. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Are you sure I look the part?’

  ‘Every inch. You’re positively oozing sophistication.’

  ‘Fingers crossed that our friends inside are of the same opinion.’ She got out her phone. ‘You go on in. He should be there by now. I’ll make the call.’

  Jo nodded. ‘Good luck,’ she said. Then, before her courage could fail her, she turned, walked up the steps and quickly pushed through the revolving doors.

  She had never been inside before and the foyer was as bright and spacious as the hotel’s name suggested. It was also, she was pleased to discover, exceedingly busy. Laura’s plan had a better chance of succeeding if the front desk was under pressure.

  Her heels clicked along the smooth marble floor. She followed the signs to the bar, pausing just before she reached it to check her reflection in one of the fancy gilt-edged mirrors. All things considered she hadn’t scrubbed up too badly. The simple navy dress was short but not too revealing. The single string of pearls was classy but not ostentatious. Her make-up was intact. It was only as she touched the nape of her neck that her face abruptly fell. The skin felt too bare, too naked; it was over three months since she’d decided to cut off her long hair and she still hadn’t got used to it.

  Jo attempted a smile but her mouth had begun to tremble. She imagined a big arrow pointed towards her head with liar written in bold black print at its end. What if he saw straight through her? What if he realised what she was up to?

  To try and bolster her confidence, she ran through the plan again. It was simple enough. All she had to do was go to the bar, find Miller and take a seat close by. She was just a nice girl waiting for a friend … a friend who was late. If Laura was right about his predatory nature, then he would do the rest. As soon as Laura had got the laptop, as soon as she had left the hotel and hailed a cab, she’d call on the mobile. Twenty minutes max. Then it was merely a case of making her excuses. Simple. Wasn’t it?

  She walked slowly round the corner. Her legs had begun to feel leaden. She stopped by the door to the bar. It was crowded inside, humming with pre-dinner activity. The lighting was subdued, the music an upbeat rhythmic jazz. For a second, assailed by another wave of anxiety, she stood by the entrance absorbing the mingling smells of perfume, aftershave and early evening cocktails. She felt frozen. She couldn’t do it. But she had to.

  Rapidly, she scanned the room. What if he wasn’t here? She almost hoped he wouldn’t be but then, as her gaze jumped from table to table, she suddenly saw him – the man in the photograph made flesh, the despicable Gabe Miller. He wasn’t at a table but was sitting at the far end of the bar where it curved into shadow, nursing what appeared to be a glass of whisky.

  Come on, she urged. Move! By now Laura could already be in the lift, ascending towards his floor. Before she could become completely paralysed, Jo forced herself forward. At the bar she was careful to keep a discreet but not too generous a distance between them. After clambering up on to one of the chrome high-backed stools – an ungainly struggle that rather questioned her credentials as a woman of elegance – she smiled at the barman. He had a name tag on his chest that identified him as Georgio.

  ‘Good evening, madam.’

  ‘A dry white wine, please.’

  While she waited, she allowed her gaze to drift casually towards Miller. He was dressed in a good-quality grey suit, white shirt and tie. His shoulders were broad and she guessed, from the length of his legs, that he must be over six feet tall. His dark brown hair was cut short and brushed back from his forehead. The best that could be said of his face was that it had been lived in. He was in need of a shave, a bluish tinge shadowing the high sharp cheekbones, and his nose had been broken more than once. His mouth was thin and faintly cruel.

  Jo tried not to stare. Had he noticed her? No, not even a glimmer of interest. He was more beguiled by the contents of his glass than by her feminine charms. So much for her sex appeal. But then, just when she had given up, he raised his eyes
and gave her a cool assessing look.

  Success! She almost jumped off her seat. It was a kick; she couldn’t deny it. A brief rush of adrenaline pumped through her body. Her instinct was to look away but that wasn’t what she was here for. Instead she held his gaze for those few requisite seconds, enough to establish an interest without appearing too keen, enough to suggest that – should the circumstances be right – she might just be approachable.

  Her drink arrived and she rummaged in her bag, giving him plenty of time to intervene, to offer to pay – except he didn’t. Disappointed, she took a fiver from her purse and passed it across the bar. ‘Thank you.’

  So what now? Jo returned her attention to the room. It had that distinctive Friday night feeling. The atmosphere was imbued with a heady almost reckless air as if the working week was a dragon temporarily slain, its resurrection still two clear and hopeful days away. In the meantime anything could happen.

  Except it didn’t appear to be happening to her.

  Almost ten minutes had passed since she’d first entered the hotel. Only another ten to go. She was drinking too fast, too nervously. She was halfway through the glass of wine and he still hadn’t made an approach. On a personal level it wasn’t doing much for her ego; on a more practical one she was growing increasingly anxious that he might get up and leave.

  It was only when he looked at his watch for the third time that Jo decided she had to do something. Leaning across she said: ‘Excuse me, but is there another bar in this hotel?’

  He raised his head slowly. ‘I don’t believe so.’

  His voice was deep and husky. She wondered if it was naturally seductive or simply the product of a bad chain-smoking habit.

  ‘Oh, right,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Are you waiting for someone?’

  ‘Well, I thought I was but …’

  Miller nodded. His eyes, which she had presumed from the photo were brown, were actually a dark, almost charcoal, shade of grey. Their scrutiny seemed more pitying than predatory. ‘Sorry.’

  Jo stared at him. Sorry? What kind of a response was that? She waited but he made no further comment. He’d already returned his attention to his glass and there was only a mouthful left. She fought off a frown. Sympathy was bad enough but utter indifference was a hundred times worse. Was she really that undesirable? She felt like giving up, like walking away, but knew that she mustn’t.

  ‘I could be in the wrong place.’

  Miller looked up again, his dark brows lifting a fraction. ‘Well, we’ve all been there at one time or another. I wouldn’t worry about it.’

  Jo realised that he thought she had been stood up, that she was here on a date rather than waiting for a girlfriend. Still, so long as he was talking to her it didn’t really matter what he thought. She may as well play along. ‘Easy for you to say, Mr …?’

  He leaned across and put out his hand. ‘Gabe. Gabe Miller.’

  It was only as his fingers squeezed hers that she realised she hadn’t thought of a suitable pseudonym. Bearing in mind the circumstances, it would hardly be smart to provide him with her real identity. Her brain scrabbled for an alternative. ‘Helen Seymour,’ she finally blurted out, the name of a girl she’d been at school with.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Helen.’ His hand held on to hers for a little longer than was strictly necessary. ‘And yes, although I hate to admit it, it’s happened to me more often than I care to dwell on.’

  Jo smiled. ‘I hope you’re not trying to make me feel sorry for you. Isn’t this supposed to be my moment of supreme humiliation?’

  ‘No need to be selfish. And I don’t suppose you have much to worry about. He probably just got overexcited and stepped out in front of a car.’

  She laughed. ‘There’s a thought worth holding on to.’

  He lifted his empty glass. ‘Would you care to join me?’

  Unwilling to appear too enthusiastic, she took a few seconds to pretend to think about it.

  ‘All right then. Why not?’

  Miller ordered the drinks. When they arrived, he stood up, paid for them and then sat down a little closer to her. He chinked his glass against hers. ‘To absent friends.’

  ‘I’m not sure I should toast to that. A girl has her dignity to consider.’

  ‘An overrated virtue,’ he said. ‘Along with modesty, purity and—’

  ‘Honesty?’ she suggested, thinking about the laptop, about how he was blackmailing Laura.

  Miller shrugged. ‘I don’t object to honesty – in its place.’

  She tried to keep the contempt from her voice. ‘And what place would that be exactly?’

  His gaze slid down to the wedding ring on her finger.

  God, she had forgotten all about it! Jo suddenly realised what was going through his mind. A rosy flush suffused her cheeks. He didn’t just think she was on a date but that she was cheating on her husband too. ‘I-I’m not …’ she began but then stopped abruptly. She didn’t have to explain herself to this lousy scumbag. She glanced at the clock behind the bar. Time was almost up.

  ‘I wasn’t passing judgement,’ he said.

  She nodded and quickly changed the subject. ‘I’ve never been to this bar before. Are you staying in the hotel?’

  ‘Just for the night.’

  His accent was hard to pin down. She tried to figure it out but there was nothing distinctive about it; a hint of London perhaps, but a more neutral, smoothed out version. ‘Business or pleasure?’

  ‘Business,’ he said, ‘although I’ve never been averse to combining the two.’ As if to add unnecessary emphasis to the statement, his eyes made a fast lecherous sweep from her face to her breasts, down the length of her legs, and back up again.

  Jo felt herself stiffen under his gaze. The guy had about as much subtlety as a randy teenager. ‘And here was me believing it was only women who could multitask.’

  He grinned. ‘You’d be surprised.’

  And so would he, she thought smugly, if he had any idea of what she was really doing here. ‘So, what brings you to London? What line of work are you in?’

  ‘This and that,’ he said evasively. ‘And you?’

  ‘Oh, much the same,’ she replied, playing him at his own game.

  ‘There’s a coincidence.’

  Jo sipped her wine. What was Laura doing? She should have called by now. The twenty minutes had come and gone. How long did it take to search a room? Something must have gone wrong. Perhaps Miller had the laptop with him. She looked down at the floor, scanning the space around his feet, but it wasn’t there. She began to have visions of Laura being arrested, of being led away by the police in handcuffs.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he said.

  She looked up brightly. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘I don’t know. You just seem a little—’

  Suddenly she heard the series of beeps that heralded an incoming message. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the phone. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. Keeping the screen shielded from him, she eagerly read the text. It was from Laura. GOT IT! TIME TO GO. She read it again, relief streaming through her.

  ‘Good news?’ he said.

  ‘Er … Yes, I guess so. I’m afraid I have to go.’

  Miller pulled a face. ‘Good news for you, maybe.’

  Jo smiled as she got to her feet. ‘Sorry, but thanks for the drink.’

  ‘A pleasure,’ he said. ‘Give me a call if you ever find yourself at a loose end.’ He took out his wallet and produced a small white card. It had only his name and mobile number printed in it – no address and no occupation.

  She dropped it into her bag with the phone. ‘I will,’ she lied. It took every inch of her willpower to walk from the room without breaking into a run.

  Chapter Four

  Jo hurried across the foyer, pushed through the door and clattered down the steps. She was awash with a stream of nervous elation, the kind of rush that made her want to jump up and down and laugh out
loud. All they had to do now was to make their getaway before Miller discovered the laptop was missing!

  She ground to a halt on the pavement, her high spirits giving way to a confused surprise. The black cab should be idling by the entrance but it wasn’t. Frowning, she scoured the street. No sign. The plan had been to meet again outside the hotel – she was sure of it. She walked a few yards and then retraced her steps. She unzipped her bag and got out her phone. Almost immediately it began to ring. It was Laura.

  ‘Hey,’ Jo said, smiling again. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m really sorry but something’s come up, an urgent call from work. I’ve had to take off.’

  ‘Work?’ Jo repeated. Her face fell. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a client, some idiot who’s got himself in trouble. Thanks for everything – you’re a real darling. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  ‘You’ve gone?’ Jo said. She gazed stupidly up and down the street again.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you stranded. I feel like a real bitch but you know what it’s like – I couldn’t say no. Just grab a cab and I’ll pay you back when I see you.’

  ‘You haven’t even told me how it went.’

  Laura’s voice sounded impatient. ‘Great, perfect. It went like a dream. You’re a real mate. Look, I’m almost there. I’ve got to go. I’ll give you a buzz tomorrow and fill you in on all the details.’

  ‘But I thought we were supposed to be—’

  Jo didn’t get to the end of the sentence. The line was already dead. She put the phone back in her bag. Her disappointment at the lack of any victory celebration was coupled with a deeper sense of irritation. Why couldn’t Laura have waited for a few minutes? It wasn’t much to ask after what she’d just done for her. And somehow the whole work thing didn’t quite ring true; Laura wouldn’t have been on call tonight – not when she’d planned all this.

  But there was no time to dwell on that now. It wasn’t smart to hang around; she might bump into Miller again and that wasn’t a prospect that appealed.