Page 4 of His Last Gamble

‘Charmaine! Hey, there you are. I thought I saw you wandering down this way.’

Charmaine smiled brightly at Jo-Jo as he wound his way across to her, and she smiled even more widely as his dark brown eyes widened at the sight of the Adonis.

She could see his interest quicken.

‘Hello. This is my part— er, the owner of Jonniee,’ Charmaine said, stumbling over her near mistake. For although, to the world in general, Jo-Jo was Jonniee, only those in the business were aware that Charmaine Reece was the creative and designing force behind the fashion house. Jo-Jo, although occasionally coming up with the odd stunning creation, was much more the ‘front man’. He did the television appearances and the magazine interviews. He was more than happy to play the fashion guru and reel in the big buyers.

And although he’d often nagged Charmaine to be far more than his near-silent partner, she seemed to like living in the shadows. The limelight had never been for her.

The gardener’s eyes narrowed on hearing her slip. He glanced at Jo-Jo with weary eyes. Saw a thirty-something, good-looking man, who could boost an up-and-coming model’s career into the stratosphere.

The smile he gave Charmaine was of grim irony. So much for the maidenly blushes. Or maybe she was just an old-fashioned girl after all? When all was said and done, sleeping with the boss to get on was an old and trusted tradition.

Charmaine had no trouble reading his thoughts, and felt herself go cold all over. She lifted her chin, hoping for a proud and haughty look, but inside she felt herself shrivelling up. This man thought she was cheap.

But what did it matter? He was nothing. Meant nothing. She’d probably never even see him again.

‘Well, we’ll leave you to get on,’ she said, but her voice merely sounded hurt. Not at all haughty and proud.

‘Jo-Jo, let’s have some champagne,’ she said brightly, watching as her business partner’s eyes widened in surprise. He knew as well as she that she didn’t drink. But, bless him, he didn’t let her down.

‘Sure, sweetheart, just what I was thinking. The sun doesn’t have to be over the yardarm formeto break out the Bolly.’

She took his arm and let him lead her away, but all the time she could feel the glare of glacial grey eyes boring into her back.

And she felt, absurdly, like crying.

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