The slats of sunlight coming through the window glinted a line of gold on his glossy head, and picked up the silk sheen in his expensive Italian suit. His shirt was the palest blue, his tie and kerchief a bold mixture of blues and yellows and greens in a splotchy design.
The only other time Angie had seen Lance formally dressed had been at his wedding, which wasn’t the same as encountering it in one’s own living-room at eleven in the morning. She realised with a suddenly sinking heart that she could have bought ten of her orange linen dresses with the money it had taken to buy that suit.
Lance’s wealth had never bothered her before. But then neither had she harboured this kind of hope about him before. Now she saw his multimillionaire status as a major hurdle in their ever becoming more than just transitory lovers. Girls like Angie Brown didn’t marry men like Lance Sterling. At best, they became girlfriends of a sort.
Or mistresses ...
Angie realised she was standing there frowning at him, and that Lance was frowning at her frowning at him while Vanessa was frowning at them both. Carefully placing that stupid dream of hers back where it belonged, she found a plastic smile from somewhere.
‘You’re very punctual,’ she said crisply.
‘And you’re very beautiful,’ he returned silkily, bringing a small sigh from Vanessa’s lips.
Angie glared at her, then bent to pick up her cream handbag from where it was sitting on the coffee-table. It wasn’t an exact match for her cream shoes, which hadn’t bothered her earlier but now did. She wished she’d gone out and bought new shoes and bag. She wished she’d bought brand new underwear. She wished her earrings were real gold and not gold-plated.
Damn it all, she almost wished she were rich!
‘Shall we go?’ she suggested airily.
‘Nice to have met you, Vanessa,’ Lance said, extending a polite hand.
Vanessa did likewise. ‘And you. So where are you two off to today?’ she asked before Lance could propel Angie out of the door.
Angie found herself pulling away from the possessive and highly disturbing touch on her elbow to look into those brilliant blue eyes of his. ‘Yes, where are we off to today, Lance?’ she echoed, amazed at how calm and casual she sounded.
Vanessa was right. She had developed a rather controlled facade over her years living in Sydney, and while it was a good cover for feelings best hidden she wasn’t at all sure that she liked it. Where had the simpler, more honest country girl gone to? Would she have wanted to be rich? Would the Angie of old have felt somehow inferior because her stupid damned shoes weren’t exactly the same colour as her bag?
‘I thought I might take you shopping,’ he said, his sensually sculptured mouth curving back into a slight smile. ‘I did promise to replace your dress, remember? Then I thought we’d go somewhere for a long lunch.’
‘Oh, so Angie will be back for tea, will she?’ Vanessa persisted, her own smile extremely naughty. ‘It’s my turn to cook, you see, and I need to know if it will be for two. Or maybe three?’ And she threw Lance a quizzical look.
‘I wouldn’t be expecting Angie home for tea,’ he returned with silky smoothness, the amused gleam in his eyes showing that he knew exactly what Vanessa was up to. ‘I wouldn’t be expecting her till very late tonight, actually. I’ve also made plans for this evening. You are free this evening, aren’t you, Angie?’ he directed straight at her, cleverly bypassing Vanessa.
‘Yes,’ was all she could manage. Dear God, why had she agreed to Lance picking her up this early? The day stretched ahead as hour after hour of sheer torture. She wasn’t even sure she would enjoy the evening, when it finally came. Maybe by then she would be too nervous.
‘Excellent,’ Lance pronounced. ‘Goodbye, Vanessa.’
‘Goodbye? That sounds like we won’t be seeing each other again.’ Angie flinched at the cynical implication behind Vanessa’s remark.
‘Does it?’ Lance drawled. ‘Au revoir, then. I’m sure that won’t be the case.’
‘I hope not,’ she muttered, and Angie rolled her eyes at her behind Lance’s back. Vanessa responded with an immediate but patently false smile. ‘Well, off you go,’ she gushed. ‘And don’t forget what I said about drinking, Angie.’