He was wearing dark trousers of some sort, and a wonderful shirt in sunset colours. Silk, she was sure. You would not have got that purity of colour in any other material. Zoe could not afford silk, but that did not stop her dreaming over it in the shops. She knew the way the material moved on the body, catching the light in a thousand different ways. As the man had stood there, arguing with Harry and his suspicious mates, she’d been almost dazzled by that sheen, thathint of gold, those little wasp stings of tangerine and apricot and purple among the principal colour.
What sort of man came to a suburban party in flame-coloured silk?
And then she’d looked at his face.
And stopped dead. Her heart had seemed to contract in her breast.
He hadn’t been looking at her. He had not even seen her. If he had, he wouldn’t have known her. But somehow—she knew him. She always had. Though she did not know his name.
She knew the face, though. The proud carriage of the head, like a Mogul Prince. The deep, deep eyes. The sculpted ascetic mouth, with its eloquent self-discipline and its alluring hint of passion suppressed. The energy. The fire. Banked now, certainly, but fire nonetheless. Oh, yes, she knew that face all right.
Zoe had retreated a step, backing round the corner into the shadows. She’d felt cold and very serious, as if she had just come face to face with her future.
Oh, wow! That’s all I need.
It was ridiculous, of course. Nobody believed in love at first sight. It was an adolescent fantasy. A myth.
A myth like the twenty-three-year-old virgin? said a voice in her head ironically.
Well, all right, maybe it wasn’t exactly a myth. Maybe it was pheromones. Maybe it was the party. They had a habit of lowering your inhibitions, parties! It was not important, anyway. It was not a feeling you could rely on.
It still gave you a hell of shock, thought Zoe ruefully. She felt as if she had walked into a wall.
Who on earth was he?
You don’t want to know, said that voice in her head. There was a distinct warning note in it.
And it was right. Of course it was right. If she had to come face to face with the man she’d probably be as tongue- tied as a new teen with a pop idol whose poster she had had on her wall for years. That was about the level of substance to her feelings.
She did not want to have to deal with fantasies she should have outgrown ten years ago, Zoe told herself. She wanted to have a good time. That was what tonight was all about. Forget her money worries! Forget her non-existent career and her life on hold! Dance and have fun!
She would dance and have fun if it killed her, she resolved grimly.
So she had resumed her journey to her bathroom. And before she’d come downstairs again, she’d splashed water on her face so vigorously that she’d had to rebuild her makeup from scratch.
Suze took Jay back to the drawing room. Now that he’d had time to adjust, he saw it ran the depth of the house, from the street to the garden. At the far end the French windows were open to the night air. He moved towards them gratefully, picking up the rhythm of the dance as he went. Beside him Suze gyrated, a lot less rhythmically.
‘She’ll be here somewhere. When last seen she was listening to a man in a checked shirt talk about megabytes.’
Jay bent his head to her. ‘Why?’ he said simply.
‘Zoe takes being a hostess seriously. She does ten minutes per no-hoper.’
Suze was twining herself round him sinuously as they walked. It would have been sexy if she hadn’t been scanning the room all the time and talking nineteen to the dozen. Jay smiled at her with affection. God bless Susan, who didn’t fancy the pants off him and wasn’t going to break her heart over him.
‘You’re a star,’ he said, taking her hand and dancing her powerfully through a little knot of wild arms and bouncing shoulders.
‘Love it when you butter me up,’ said Suze, unmoved by his touch.
They got to the windows.
‘Maybe she’s in the garden,’ said Jay, with a longing look at the tall shadows of trees and laurel hedges.
‘Maybe.’ But Suze was not looking outside. He felt her jump under his hand. ‘Ah, there she is.’ She raised her arm above her head and waved vigorously. ‘Zo! Over here!’