Perfect Partner

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

MELANIE was looking her usual beautiful self as she personally opened the door to Juliet. ‘Darling!’ she moved to kiss her affectionately on the cheek. ‘I’m so glad you could come,’ she beamed.

Juliet removed her wrap and handed it to the waiting maid. ‘You knew I would,’ she said dryly. ‘But this is positively the last dinner party of yours I come to this month. You know I often work in the evenings. Do you realise this is the fourth time I’ve been here in as many weeks?’

Her friend gave her an endearing smile, looping her arm through hers to take her through to the lounge. ‘It doesn’t hurt you to socialise now and again,’ she chided.

‘I’m too busy.’ In fact she had had to rush over here this evening, working almost to the last minute. She hated the interruptions of Melanie’s constant dinner parties into her life, but the two of them had been friends since schooldays, something Melanie took advantage of. Melanie had since married Michael Dickson, a publisher, but the girls remained good friends.

She just wished Melanie wouldn’t include her in these dinner parties. She didn’t enjoy them, and the person picked out as her partner usually managed to bore her to tears.

‘You’re always too busy, Juliet.’ Melanie wasn’t in the least concerned about interrupting her work. ‘“All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl”,’ she quoted.

Juliet laughed tolerantly. ‘I think you altered that slightly, but the meaning came through.’

‘I didn’t mean you’re dull,’ her friend instantly denied.

Juliet smiled, beginning to relax. ‘I hope not! Just as I hope tonight’s dinner partner is an improvement on last time. The judge you landed me with last week talked of nothing but bringing back the birch. Personally, I thought he was a bit kinky. I know I couldn’t wait to get away from him,’ she remembered with a shudder.

Melanie smiled. ‘You’re going to love tonight’s partner. And be nice to him, Michael wants him buttered up a little.’

‘But who—–’

The maid came quietly into the room, attracting Melanie’s attention. ‘Mr Laurence is here, madam.’

‘Thank you, Cindy.’ Melanie gave an apologetic look in Juliet’s direction. ‘We’ll talk again later,’ she promised. ‘Everyone should start to arrive now.’

‘Where’s Michael?’ Juliet asked.

‘He’s been delayed, some meeting or other,’ Melanie grimaced. ‘But he promised to be home in time for dinner.’

Juliet knew most of the people who arrived for the dinner party, and chatted amiably with them as she drank her cocktail. Melanie was called out to answer the telephone a short time later, and was frowning when she came back into the room.

Juliet joined her. ‘Anything wrong?’ she asked softly.

Melanie sighed. ‘It’s so annoying—Duncan Evans can’t make it, he has ‘flu or something. It means we’ll be thirteen sitting down for dinner.’

Knowing how superstitious her friend was Juliet now understood her distress. ‘I have the ideal solution to that, Melanie,’ she told her with a smile. ‘I’ll leave, and then you’ll be twelve.’

‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Melanie caught hold of Juliet’s arm. ‘I’ll call Michael and see if he can find someone to bring home with him. Duncan was to be your partner, by the way,’ and she hurried out of the room to call her husband.

Juliet vaguely knew of Duncan Evans. He was the editor of a popular women’s magazine, and he often serialised the books that Michael published in that magazine. For once it seemed Melanie had chosen someone she would have enjoyed meeting, so it was a pity he had cancelled. Maybe he simply hadn’t shared her interest in the meeting, after all she was just Juliet Chase, a school friend of Melanie’s.

Melanie looked happier when she came back this time. ‘Michael was just leaving, and he was bringing someone with him anyway, so he can take Duncan’s place. Thank goodness for that!’

Juliet groaned. ‘Who have you foisted on me now? I’d much rather bring my own dinner companion.’

‘It’s much more fun this way—–’

‘For whom?’ she derided.

‘For everyone. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll like the man Michael’s bringing home, he said he’s very presentable.’

‘But who is he?’ Juliet demanded before Melanie had the chance to rush off once again. She never seemed to stand still for more than two minutes at a time!

‘I don’t know,’ Melanie replied vaguely. ‘Michael didn’t say, and I didn’t think to ask. I was just so relieved he could bring someone. I suppose he’s just someone who was at this business meeting,’ she dismissed.

Juliet silently fumed as her friend disappeared once again. This behaviour was so typical of Melanie. Even at school the other girl had got her into situations she would rather not be in, had almost got them both expelled at one time. This man she had given her as a dinner partner could be a bore or a complete lecher, and Melanie wouldn’t give a damn as long as he made up the numbers.

Juliet had a couple of male friends of her own, either one of which she would rather have brought with her. She wasn’t exactly unattractive—on the contrary, Ben and Stephen had individually assured her.

Her hair was deep auburn, shoulder-length, feathered either side of her face. Her eyes were a deep sherry colour, surrounded by thick dark lashes, a light sprinkling of freckles across her small straight nose, her mouth slightly curving, her chin small and pointed, angled determinedly.

At twenty-four she was simply enjoying her life. She had Ben and Stephen, enjoyed her work, and most of all she enjoyed her freedom from emotional entanglements. She dated Ben and Stephen on a casual basis, both of them knew about the other, and so far it had worked out just fine.

Melanie and Michael had been married for three years, and were always advocating the cause of marriage, hence these constant invitations to dinner, the different men she met there. Melanie assured her that if she went to enough of them she was sure to eventually meet a man she was attracted to. So far she hadn’t found one of them worth a second meeting.

The man who finally entered the lounge with Michael was completely different from anyone else Melanie had ever introduced to her. He was younger than most of them, for one thing, late thirties, possibly early forties, with thick dark hair tinged with grey at the temples, giving him a distinguished air. His face was strong and a little harsh, the dark blue eyes now narrowed on the other occupants of the room, his nose long and straight, a mocking twist to the firmness of his mouth, and there was a deep cleft in the squareness of his chin, his jaw was firm. He was very tall, powerfully built like an athlete, and yet he had long artistic-looking hands.

The dark brown suit he wore fitted perfectly across his broad shoulders, tapered to his narrow waist and tautly muscled thighs. He was a handsome devil, ruggedly so, and he seemed aware of his own attraction, if only subconsciously, his self-assurance unmistakable, his expression faintly contemptuous now.

He seemed vaguely familiar, the arrogant angle of that dark head, the determination in the broad shoulders, the mockery in deep blue eyes. Yes, he was very familiar to Juliet, and yet she felt sure she would have remembered that leashed air of excitement, the magnetism that could never be overlooked. No, she had never met this man before, but she did know him. At that moment she just couldn’t remember where from.

Michael was introducing him to Melanie now, the other girl blushing prettily as he obviously made some complimentary remark to her. And now Melanie was bringing him over to her.

His gaze was frankly assessing as it passed from the auburn gleam of her hair, down over the figure-hugging black dress, and even further down the length of her long legs to her sandal-clad feet. His gaze finally returned to her face, and Juliet met that gaze unflinchingly, seeing the flicker of interest in his expression.

Even though she was tall herself this man towered over her by several inches, putting him at about six foot two or three, close to the smell of his tangy aftershave pleasant to the senses.

Melanie smiled happily at them both, obviously relieved to at last have all her guests together. ‘Juliet, I want you to meet Jake Matthews. Jake, this is my good friend Juliet Chase. Now I’ll leave you two to get acquainted while I go and check with Cook about dinner. I do hope it isn’t ruined,’ and she moved away with a worried frown.

Juliet had stiffened as soon as this man’s name was revealed to her. Jake Matthews! No wonder he seemed so familiar to her—he hosted a book review programme once a week on television, and wrote a weekly column in one of the more outspoken newspapers. She should have recognised him, his arrogance was unmistakable, his air of mockery.

She only hoped he didn’t talk as caustically as he wrote, or criticise the way he did on television, otherwise she was in for a more unenjoyable evening than usual. This man could ruin a book’s sales with just one word of criticism from him, just as he could make it number one on the bestseller list, and she could only wonder at Michael’s apparent friendship with such a man. Still, perhaps he considered it better to be friends with one’s critics than to have them for an enemy. Michael was an astute enough businessman to have realised that.

‘Mr Matthews,’ she acknowledged curtly.

‘Miss Chase,’ he drawled, taking a swallow of the whisky in his glass. ‘I hear your dinner partner let you down.’

Sherry-coloured eyes widened with indignation. ‘I didn’t have one,’ she bristled at his tone. ‘One of Melanie’s guests is ill and can’t make it. I’m sorry if you feel you’ve had me foisted on you, but I can assure you—–’

‘I didn’t say that, Miss Chase,’ he cut in softly. ‘And I didn’t imply it either. As a matter of fact, I was just congratulating myself on my luck.’

Juliet looked startled. He didn’t appear to be the sort of man to throw out idle compliments, so she had to assume he meant this one. Her expression was cold, her reason for disliking this man too deep-rooted for it to be charmed out of her by a few meaningless compliments.

‘Thank you,’ she accepted tightly. ‘Your programme is—interesting, Mr Matthews.’

‘Thanks. And if I can call you Juliet you can call me Jake.’

The wording of that statement made it impossible for her to refuse. ‘Please do.’ She looked over to where Melanie was frantically trying to attract her attention. ‘I think we’re being summoned to eat.’

As she had known, and dreaded, Melanie had seated them next to each other at the table, and Jake Matthews made it very clear he intended taking full advantage of the fact.

He held her chair out for her before lowering his tall frame into the chair next to her. ‘So,’ he turned to look at her, his closeness curiously intimate, ‘how do you fit in among these famous authors, television stars, exclusive barristers, and—My God, a cricket player!’ He gave a soft laugh as he looked at the leading player in the English team. ‘How do you suppose he got in here?’ he mocked.

‘He’s an old friend of Michael’s,’ Juliet supplied stiffly.

He quirked one dark eyebrow. ‘And you?’

‘An old friend of Melanie’s. And as you’re a famous book critic, the most famous book critic, it’s obvious how you got in,’ she said cattily.

‘Do I sense criticism of your own?’ he taunted.

She gave him a cool look from eyes that should have been the colour of warm sherry—only there was no warmth to them at all. ‘I don’t know, do you?’

‘I think so,’ he said slowly, his expression thoughtful. ‘Why is that, Juliet? You don’t even know me.’

And she didn’t intend to either, self-opinionated, arrogant fool! ‘Maybe I just don’t agree with some of your opinions. Your remarks can be very cutting at times.’

Jake Matthews shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘If the authors can’t take it then they shouldn’t write. A book is there to be criticised.’

‘It’s there to be enjoyed, surely,’ she disagreed heatedly, two bright spots of angry colour heightening her cheeks.

‘If it’s good I enjoy it, if it’s bad I say so,’ he told her in a bored voice.

‘I’ve noticed,’ she snapped. ‘A couple of months ago you ripped Devil’s Dare by Gregory James to pieces. I found it totally spoilt my own enjoyment of it.’ And as Gregory James happened to be one of the best-selling thriller writers in the world, and a particular favourite with her, she had found this man’s criticism infuriating. ‘All the time I was reading the book I kept looking for the loopholes in the plot that you’d outlined in your programme,’ she added disgustedly.

‘Well, if they hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have found them. Did you?’ he drawled.

‘You know I did,’ she revealed resentfully.

‘Yes,’ he acknowledged, as if his point had been proved. ‘Devil’s Dare was simply a rip-off. The man’s made his name now, and so he thinks he can dish up any old—rubbish to the public, and that they’ll buy it. The irony of it is that a lot of people went out and bought the book simply because I criticised it.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘What’s it like to be disliked so much?’

He smiled, a completely relaxed smile. ‘I can assure you that not everyone dislikes me, in fact I have quite a fan-club of my own.’

For his undoubted good looks perhaps, but certainly not for his outspoken views. ‘Your criticism of Caroline Miles was a bit unfair too. I’ve never known Michael to publish a book unless he personally thought it was good. And he hasn’t got to be a successful publisher by choosing duds.’

Jake Matthews looked unperturbed. ‘I simply said what I thought,’ he said tolerantly, obviously not taking this seriously.

‘That “Miss Miles should stop trying to relive the memories of her lost youth through her books”,’ she quoted. ‘I think by that you meant to imply that Caroline Miles is a dried-up old spinster who should stick to her knitting!’

Once again he smiled, a charming smile that must have captured many a female heart. But it didn’t even cause Juliet’s to flutter! She was immune to men like this, and especially Jake Matthews.

‘You understand me well, Juliet,’ he drawled. ‘That’s exactly what I meant.’

‘And is she? A dried-up old spinster, I mean?’ she asked interestedly.

He gave a soft laugh. ‘I have no idea. I’ve never had the misfortune to meet the lady.’

‘Poor woman,’ she sympathised. ‘Convicted without a trial,’ she explained at his questioning look.

‘Have you read Mason’s Heritage?’ he asked interestedly, leaning forward, his elbow on the table as he sipped his wine, but continuing to watch her over the rim of the glass.

‘Yes,’ she snapped.

He nodded, as if suspecting as much. ‘Did you like it?’

‘Yes,’ her voice was taut now. ‘And so did a lot of other people.’

‘Mm, I heard it had a very good response.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe you should be the critic and not me, Juliet.’

‘Maybe I should,’ she agreed challengingly.

His eyes openly mocked her. ‘I’ll suggest it to my producer and editor.’

‘You do that.’ She turned away angrily, eating her meal in furious silence.

Overbearing know-it-all! She couldn’t stand people who were as opinionated as this man—and he did it for a living! And Melanie must have known she would rather be anywhere than sitting next to this man. This was positively the last time she came to one of these dinner parties, friend or no friend.

‘Besides what I do for a living,’ that now familiar lazy drawl interrupted her thoughts, ‘what else have I done to offend you?’

Sherry-coloured eyes flashed as she looked up at him. ‘Isn’t it enough?’ she snapped.

‘I wouldn’t have thought so, no.’ His gaze was warm as he made no effort to hide his attraction to her.

‘I’ve invariably found that the job is the man,’ she told him haughtily.

‘I do other things besides book reviews.’

‘Oh yes?’ she said uninterestedly.

‘Yes,’ his eyes had hardened to icy chips, giving her a brief glimpse of the ruthless man beneath the surface charm. ‘It just so happens that I enjoy my work.’

‘I’m sure you do!’

He sat back. ‘Why are you taking this so personally?’ he asked easily. ‘Do you get upset at every critic’s views, or just mine?’

‘Yours tend to be more outspoken than most.’

‘You don’t have to watch the television programme, or read the column in the newspaper,’ he pointed out reasonably.

‘Oh, but I do,’ she smiled coolly. ‘I like to see what outrage you’re going to come out with next. Your attack on Gregory James was almost personal.’

‘And Caroline Miles?’

Her mouth twisted. ‘When you know nothing about the woman it can hardly be called personal.’

He looked at her for several minutes, his gaze admiring. ‘I’ll tell you what, Juliet,’ he finally said. ‘You write a book and I’ll tell everyone what a beautiful woman you are, very independent, intelligent, and prepared to stand up for what you believe to be right.’

Juliet blushed at his description of her. She had believed that, like most men, he would see only the surface attraction and not bother with the intelligent woman inside the body. But Jake Matthews was turning out to be a bit of a surprise altogether. Most people would have accepted her earlier snub, or at least avoided the subject that had caused it, but this man had gone straight back to it.

‘Wouldn’t that be rather unfair? Besides, I’d probably write a poor story.’

‘What work do you do?’ he asked interestedly.

‘I work for Michael.’ She sipped her wine.

Jake smiled. ‘Then you’re in the right place to get your book published.’

‘Have you ever written one?’ She couldn’t ever remember seeing a book written by this man, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Besides, if he had any sense he would write under a pseudonym, as the nature of his profession meant his fellow-workers were likely to be over-critical about any book bearing the name Jake Matthews.

‘Never,’ he laughed softly. ‘And I’m never going to. You?’

‘I wrote one once,’ she revealed slowly.

‘What happened to it?’

Juliet shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s at home somewhere, turned down by a publisher. Perhaps I should let you read it, get your opinion. On second thoughts, maybe I’d better not. The sort of criticism you dish out would break me.’

He gave a husky laugh, a deep attractive sound that caused several of the other women present to turn and look at him. Juliet realised for the first time that she was actually being envied her dining companion, that most of the other women here would gladly take her place.

She looked at Jake Matthews with new eyes, seeing a wealth of experience in the deep cynicism of his face, a knowledge of women in those narrowed blue eyes that hadn’t been learnt just by looking at them. This man was at least thirty-five, there would have been many women in his life, could even be one now. He could even be married for all she knew!

‘I’d be very gentle on you, Juliet,’ he promised softly.

She searched his strong features for some sign of a double meaning, but could find none. But Jake had been flirting with her, she knew that. She hadn’t reached her mid-twenties without learning something of men, and Jake Matthews definitely found her attractive. ‘What would your wife think of you showing such favouritism?’ she asked pointedly.

His mouth quirked with humour, seeing right through her line of questioning. ‘I’m not married, Juliet.’

Her eyebrows rose as she couldn’t hide her surprise at his single state. ‘Have you ever been?’

‘No. Have you?’

‘No,’ she replied tightly.

‘I’m sure you’ve had offers, though,’ he taunted.

‘Several,’ she confirmed stiffly.

‘And I’ve never offered once,’ he drawled.

She knew that. If he had offered he would have been accepted. There would be few women who would turn him down. ‘You’re quite old not to be married,’ she said bluntly.

‘So are you,’ he replied as candidly. ‘What are you, twenty-three, twenty-four?’

‘Twenty-four. And you, over or under forty?’

‘Under,’ he grinned. ‘I’m thirty-eight. Now that we have the question of married status and age out of the way perhaps we can get to know each other a little better. Do you have any family, Juliet?’

‘Just my mother. She lives in Devon. And you?’ If he could ask personal questions then so could she!

He shrugged. ‘No parents, just a sister. She’s married to an American, living in California with her husband and two unruly brats.’

‘You don’t like children?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ he denied. ‘I like them well enough, and probably one day I’ll have a couple of my own. I certainly don’t intend remaining single for ever. I just haven’t found my other half yet.’

Juliet held back her gasp of surprise. ‘You really believe that everyone has a perfect partner?’

‘Yes,’ he nodded, grinning suddenly. ‘It’s a pity they rarely meet.’

‘You’re cynical!’ Juliet snapped.

‘Realistic,’ he corrected. ‘But I’ll marry one day, if only to have children. But they won’t become beach-bums,’ he added grimly.

‘Is that what’s happened to your sister’s children?’

‘Yes. The eldest one has already dropped out of school, the other one will soon follow. It’s a damned waste.’

‘And you?’ Juliet eyed him with amusement. ‘Did you dutifully finish your education?’ He didn’t appear to her to be the sort of man who would welcome the leash of authority, and she doubted he had been any different in his youth.

‘No,’ he smiled, that devastating smile that even Juliet was finding she wasn’t immune to. If anything he looked even more attractive when he smiled, his eyes a deeper blue, crinkled at the corners, his teeth very white against his tanned skin, the cleft in his chin more prominent. ‘But then you knew that, didn’t you?’

‘I guessed,’ she smiled back, and then stopped herself. The unaccustomed wine was making her enjoy talking to a man she should despise, in fact she was starting to like him, which wouldn’t do at all. ‘What did you do instead?’ Her tone was more stilted.

‘I went to sea for a couple of years. You grow up fast that way.’

‘I can imagine,’ she grimaced. It was a hard life, and Jake still kept himself very fit by the look of him, very lean and firmly muscled. It wasn’t the body of a man who sat behind a desk all day. ‘Did you like it?’

‘I enjoyed the stops in port—and I didn’t have a girl in every one,’ he added at her knowing look. ‘Just a couple of them,’ he grinned. ‘Believe me, after several months on board it’s nice to have someone to—go home to.’ He grimaced. ‘I stuck it for a couple of years before hitch-hiking over America. I really liked that. I did any work going to pay my way. Then when I got back to England I got a job as an errand boy on one of the big newspapers. I loved it—the tension, the excitement, the sheer hard work that went into putting out a newspaper every day. It was as if I’d come home.’ He shrugged. ‘I knew that atmosphere was for me.’