Page 97 of Wife After Wife

“Barry’s meeting me downstairs for a drink at seven,” he said. “Why don’t you join us at, say, seven thirty? Half an hour should be enough to get the business side of things out of the way, then we can spend the rest of the evening winding up Barry. He’s a professional northerner who loathes southern softies like yours truly.”

“Barry versus Harry!” said Janette as the lift bumped to a halt.

Harry’s suite was on the corner, while her room was a few doors down. “See you at seven thirty!” she said, letting herself in.

She dumped her case on the floor and flopped down on the bed, flinging her arms out to her sides. There was a massive smile on her face, and her heart was racing.

After all this time, here she was, about to have a sort of date with the man she’d fallen in love with during her first week at Rose. Dare she hope he might be starting to see her as more than a bringer of tea, a typer-upper of letters, a sorter-outer of challenging software? Was she now a friend, at least?

He was confiding in her more and more, even complaining about Ana sometimes. And his eyes often traveled down from her face, appraising, noticing. And she adored the way he called her Moneypenny.

She knew it was foolish, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she?Pretty Womanwas her favorite movie of all time. (Not that Janette was at all a loose woman, of course.) And she enjoyed reading romance novels in which the nurse ended up with the surgeon, or the millionaire bossgently pulled out his secretary’s hair clips and removed her glasses, and she swung her hair free, and he noticed she was, in fact, beautiful.

She sighed.Down, girl!She was simply meeting Harry and his colleague for a drink.

Ana’s face came into her mind. Graceful, sophisticated Ana, who looked at Janette as if she were a piece of fluff to be flicked from one of her Chanel jackets. Well, Ana might be the epitome of style, but she was colder than a midwinter’s day in Antarctica. And she wasn’t married to Harry, she was only his girlfriend.

Three hours later, after changing her outfit several times (she was aiming for not too secretary, not too date night), plus three tries with hair and makeup, Janette made her way to the bar. She was wearing a little black dress from Next, with black court shoes and a pink bouclé jacket. Her lipstick matched the jacket. She hoped her Anaïs Anaïs wasn’t too overpowering.

Yesterday she’d hovered for a good thirty minutes over the hosiery display in Selfridges. Was she crazy, thinking Harry might be interested? Harry Rose—rich, devastatingly handsome, powerful, and living with a style icon. A woman who never blushed.

When she bought the stockings, it was as if she’d taken something out of the box labeleddreamsand put it indaring to hope. By the end of this evening, she’d be feeling either stupid, or... or what? It seemed beyond possible.

Harry was sitting with a large man with a florid complexion. Both men were casually dressed.

“Moneypenny,” said Harry, rising out of his chair slightly. “You could have dressed up a bit.”

“Sorry, I thought—”

“Joking, Janette.”

She blushed.

“Forgive me, that was mean. You look very nice. Janette, this is Barry. Barry, meet my right-hand man.”

“Is he always like this, love?” said Barry in a Lancashire accent.

“Oh yes,” said Janette. “We have some fun in the office!”

“I’ll bet you do,” said Barry, his eyes traveling down her body.

Barry downed pint after pint, his cheeks going a little redder with each one. They talked business, while Janette sipped her drink and tried to look as though she understood what they were talking about.

Finally, Barry left, turning down the offer of dinner, as he had to “get back to the wife or there’d be trouble.”

“Christ,” said Harry. “And I thought I was a dinosaur. Come on, let’s eat.”

A waiter showed them to a cozy corner table in the dining room.

“How many years have we been together, Janette?” Harry said, his eyes flicking over the wine list.

“Four next week, actually!”

“Is it? Well I’d say that calls for champagne.”

The evening was straight out of the dream box. Harry was the greatest company, telling entertaining anecdotes, then talking about his daughter, Maria, his problems with Katie; he even shared some of his future plans for Rose.

As she ate the gourmet food, not tasting it at all, the glow from the candle between them reflected how she was feeling inside.