What She Wants (67 page)

companies and Titus had several bands up for big awards this time round. Sam’s biggest current problem was trying to limit the number of staff members getting the highly expensive and much-sought-after tickets.

‘Well, I’ve got some of the Americans coming over for it big players,’ Steve waggled his eyebrows knowingly. ‘You’re going, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ she said.

‘Well, I’d like it if you could sit at my table.’

Sam looked at him warily. She had her own table organized for the LBGK label.

‘And I’m having a very exclusive party afterwards in Shiva. I’d like you to come with me.’ He touched her shoulder meaningfully. ‘It would mean a lot to me.’

It had been a long time since Sam had been speechless. Was he hitting on her? Was Steve Megalomaniac Parris, the man with an Excel spreadsheet instead of a heart, actually chatting her up? No, he couldn’t be.

‘Of course I’ll come, Steve,’ Sam said carefully. ‘I can hardly miss the Lemons, can I?’

Steve’s eyes lit up.

‘Thanks, Sam. It’s important. And,’ he smirked, ‘wear the government health warning dress, won’t you? It sounds incredible.’

The lift pinged at Sam’s floor and she walked out in a daze.

Shit, shit, shit. He had been hitting on her. Why else would he want her to wear a drop-dead gorgeous dress? If only she hadn’t been such a smart ass, she’d have been able to subtly steer him clear of being flirtatious. But she’d walked right into it.

Hoist by her own sarcastic petard.

She walked to her office, her mind racing. Apart from the obvious, that she didn’t have the remotest interest in Steve, there was another reason for not getting romantically involved with him: the fact that intercompany dating was the worst career move since Marie Antoinette mentioned the possibility of letting the peasants eat cake.

At best, it would be deeply embarrassing if Steve actually thought anything was going to come from this date. At worst, he’d go ballistic when she slapped him down. And even worse, how bad could this look for her career in general? Would the all-powerful American people see Steve smiling at her and assume that here was a woman who’d made it up the career ladder by lying back and thinking of the Empire? Sam cringed at the thought of it all. Somehow, between now and the Lemon Awards (ten days away), Sam had to think of a way out of this disaster. She managed to work through the rest of the afternoon, juggling meetings, phone calls and important e-mails without betraying for a moment that she was both miserable and frantic. She left the office at seven and got a taxi home, which was her penultimate birthday treat. The final one would be opening and drinking an entire bottle of wine before having a bath and smothering the body nobody ever saw in Chanel No 5 body lotion. The solace of the lonely career woman on her birthday. She got home and saw that her answering machine light was lit up with four messages. But Sam only heard the first one, a terse-sounding Catrina: ‘Sam, I know it’s short notice, but Jay has just turned up and she’s a bit upset. I don’t suppose you could drop over?’ Even if Catrina’s words were unemotional, Sam was convinced something serious must have happened. Some disaster to do with Greg, Sam thought, forgetting that she’d been furious with Jay earlier in the day. Poor Jay. She and Greg must have split up, which was awful, because Jay was clearly smitten. Sam grabbed her handbag and rushed out. It was impossible to find a taxi at this hour of the evening in such a residential street. Then she spotted Morgan all dressed up and getting into his battered jeep. It was a filthy vehicle and he never washed it but at that moment, it looked as beautiful to Sam as a Porsche Carrera. ‘Morgan,’ she yelled. ‘Could I ask you a huge favour?

Could you give me a lift? It’s only ten minutes away by car and I’ll never get a taxi at this hour?’

‘Hop in.’

‘It’s my friend Jay,’ explained Sam when she’d given him directions. ‘Something’s happened and she needs me. I’m really sorry to ask you but it must be serious or Catrina would never have rung.’

‘No problem,’ Morgan said. ‘I hope it’s nothing bad, she’s a nice girl.’

‘I hope so too.’ Sam bit her lip with anxiety. ‘Poor Jay has gone through hell with men, I hope Greg hasn’t dumped her.’

‘They looked totally in love when I met them at your dinner party; it’s probably just a row.’ He gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

The jeep rattled through London’s streets with Morgan whizzing down back roads and sneaky short cuts until they finally pulled up outside Hugh and Catrina’s house nine minutes later.

Sam leaped out almost before Morgan had put the handbrake on.

‘I owe you,’ she said as, long dark blonde hair flying, she rushed up the path.

Catrina opened the door looking calm and unflustered.

‘What’s wrong, where is she?’ demanded Sam. ‘Is it Greg? He didn’t finish with her, did he?’

‘You talk to her,’ Catrina said. ‘She’s in the living room.’

Sam rushed into the room.

‘Surprise!’ chorused the group of people standing under the big Happy 40th Birthday Sam banner. There was Hugh, Jay, Adam and Greg, along with Sally and Danny, whom she hadn’t seen in ages; all the gang smiling and raising their glasses at her.

Reeling with shock, Sam stepped back and collided with Morgan, who was standing behind her with an enormous grin on his face.

‘I hope I didn’t scare you,’ Catrina said, rushing forward

to embrace Sam. ‘We couldn’t think of any other way to get you here without making you suspicious and Jay came up with this idea. She just knew what conclusion you’d jump to.’ ‘Happy birthday,’ squealed Jay, flinging her arms around both Catrina and Sam. ‘As if I’d miss seeing you on your birthday,’ she laughed. ‘I had to cancel lunch today because the party was only half-organized. I thought we’d never get it all sorted. We’ve been getting ready for two weeks now and you’ve no idea the trouble we had setting it up without you guessing,’ she added delightedly. Sam thought of how cross she’d been with poor Jay earlier and how angry she’d felt because she’d assumed all her old friends had abandoned her. Emotion overcame her and she burst into tears.

‘Don’t cry,’ said Hugh, adding his birthday kiss. ‘Oh!’ Sam sobbed. ‘It’s Sam’s party and she can cry if she wants to,’ paraphrased Greg, handing her a glass of champagne and planting a chaste kiss on her forehead. ‘I’m just devastated that you’d believe I was a total bastard and had dumped my darling Jay!’ Everyone queued up to hug and kiss her. ‘You’re all so good to me,’ Sam sobbed, looking at the balloons, the banner and the coffee table covered with gorgeously wrapped presents. ‘You’re our friend,’ Hugh said affectionately. ‘What did you expect, you big silly? You’re not forty every day.’ After her second glass of champagne, Sam’s tears had dried up and she was sitting on the big squashy armchair opening presents. Catrina sat on one the arm of the chair and Jay sat on the other one. Hugh was circulating with more drink, people were chatting and laughing, and Greg was helping Morgan to hand round plates of delicious nibbles. ‘I love tapas,’ sighed Jay as she accepted more goodies

from Greg. ‘Morgan told us you were on a health food kick but he said you’d still eat normal food.’ ‘Morgan was in on it all along?’ Sam said, amazed. ‘From the start. He and Catrina organized everything,’ Jay said simply. ‘I didn’t do that much until today when Catrina had to work and I had to stay here and wait for the caterers, but Morgan chose the food in the first place and when Catrina and I worked out how to get you here, Morgan said he’d be ready with the jeep. I think he feels guilty that he was driving you, knowing there was nothing wrong and that you were upset. But he was the one who said that the ruse would certainly work because you were such a loyal person that if one of us needed you, you’d come immediately, no questions asked.’ ‘Ooh.’ Sam felt the tears welling up again. Morgan thought she was a good loyal person, how lovely. And she wasn’t, really. She’d been awful to Jay on the phone. She wasn’t worthy of anyone thinking she was good and loyal… ‘You can’t cry for your whole birthday party,’ Morgan said soothingly, appearing in front of her with a bottle. ‘I can!’ wailed Sam, feeling guilty. ‘Open your presents, darling,’ he said as gently as if he was talking to a child. Sam sniffled, “kay.’ She laughed at the furry hot water bottle cover in lurid leopardskin and sighed with pleasure over Catrina and Hugh’s gift: a beautiful watercolour painting of an orchid. Jay’s present was an exquisite sculpture of an elephant, carved out of some exotic dark wood, while Greg gave her a wonderfully planted window box. ‘It’s full of treasures that will come up over the next few weeks,’ he promised. There was a gift wrapped bottle of her favourite Rioja, perfume, book tokens and pretty silver filigree earrings. ‘Thank you all so much,’ cried Sam, touched beyond words. She stared at her friends and they smiled back at her.

‘I wasn’t sure what to get you,’ Morgan said. ‘I did think of a few things but I mean, what would you do with a twenty-six-year-old Californian surfer …’ Everyone laughed. ‘She’d think of something,’ Hugh roared. ‘Our Sammie is very inventive.’ ‘But,’ Morgan continued, ‘I thought of the one thing you’d love. I wasn’t sure if it would be a good present, because they say you should never give things like this.’ Sam goggled at him. What on earth was he talking about and why was he so unaccountably nervous? ‘If you don’t want them, the lady will take them back, and don’t worry about when you’re away, because I’ll look after them then.’ He handed her a big cardboard box. Sam sat it on her knees and looked inside. There, wriggling and mewing furiously were two kittens, one marmalade and one tabby. Both looked insanely cross to be stuck in a box when they could be out testing their baby claws on the furniture. ‘Oh,’ she breathed, picking them up and cuddling them against her, ‘they’re beautiful. I adore them. It’s a wonderful present.’ And suddenly she laughed uproariously. ‘Talk about ironic,’ she added. ‘I’ve become a lady with two cats!’ Her laughter was infectious but nobody was totally sure what she was talking about. ‘Do you really want them?’ Morgan’s face was more anxious than she’d ever seen it before. ‘I know animals aren’t meant to be given as gifts,’ he said, ‘and if you change your mind, I’ll understand. I thought that two would be company for each other when you’re not at home and any time you’re away on business, I’ll look after them, I give you my word. I mean …’ ‘Stop,’ she said, handing him the wriggling ball of marmalade fur. ‘My aunt had cats and I know how to look after them. What’s more, I love the idea of having cats.’ She held the tabby up and kissed its pink nose. ‘I’ve been thinking about getting one and these two are so beautiful. Aren’t you, babies?’

The tabby nuzzled against her shoulder and began to purr loudly.

‘Jay tells me you helped organize the party?’ Sam said.

Morgan’s kitten’s claws were stuck in his white shirt as she tried to mountaineer up his chest. It took him a while to unhook her.

‘Girls love getting their claws into you,’ Sam teased gently.

Morgan smiled. ‘I have a card for you too,’ he said, fishing in his inside pocket.

He handed it to her and took the tabby kitten so she could open the envelope.

It was a simple card: a romantic oil painting with a frilly dressed heroine sitting on a swing. Inside, there was Morgan’s scrawl: Happy Birthday Friend, to an exciting new year, I hope. Love Morgan.

Jolted by how touched she felt at both his present and his tender card, Sam had to joke.

‘Is this recyclable?’ she demanded.

‘Of course,’ Morgan said. ‘No trees were harmed to make it.’

Sam felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards.

‘Except four baby shrubs were battered to death to make the envelope. Only kidding,’ he laughed. ‘I like you all New Agey. It suits you.’

‘Better than being a career bitch?’ she said, her eyes hard for a second.

‘Calm down,’ he said gently. ‘Conversation is not a contact sport.’

She grinned. He could always do that to her: defuse the situation until it was useless to get all hot and bothered.

‘I liked you before you were New Agey, remember? Ouch.’ The marmalade kitten had scratched his hand. ‘Did your mummy tell you to do that? Thank Christ I didn’t get tiger cubs instead.’

The kittens were adored by all and were soon flaked out in their box, sleeping off a bowl of milk and more exercise than they’d ever had in their short lives.

She enjoyed the party more than she’d enjoyed one for years. The reason was simple: everywhere she went, Morgan seemed to end up there too. It was as if they were a couple and no matter how far apart they were, some hidden magnetic force drew them back together again to exchange a joke or a few words. ‘Are the kittens all right?’ Morgan asked her as they met in the dining room. ‘Peaceful and dreaming happily,’ she replied, touching his arm softly. ‘We’ll have to think up names tomorrow.’

The tabby kitten had a sweet, trusting face, while the marmalade one was autocratic, with a disdainful sweep to her tail. ‘She’s very orange,’ Morgan said the next day, examining her on the floor in Sam’s apartment. ‘We could call her Orange.’ The kitten swiped him with a paw. ‘She’s far too classy for Orange,’ Sam said. ‘Anyway, she’s apricoty not orange.’ ‘Apricot?’ said Morgan. ‘You could call her Apricot. I can just see you hanging your head out the window at night yelling “Apricot! Your dinner’s poured out!” at the top of your voice.’ Sam grinned, busily making tea. ‘Or maybe Marmalade?’ he suggested. ‘Too long,’ Sam said. ‘And it’s not something you can shorten.’ ‘How about Spike,’ said Morgan. ‘She’s definitely spiky.’ Sam didn’t look convinced. ‘It’s a boy’s name.’ ‘It suits her,’ protested Morgan. He peered deep into the kitten’s clear amber eyes. ‘Spike. You like that name, don’t you pet?’ Spike made her very distinctive husky mewing noise. ‘She does!’ crowed Morgan. ‘Spike. Now you’ve got to name the other one.’ ‘She’s a Tabitha,’ Sam said fondly, abandoning the tea making to cradle the sweet tabby kitten. ‘Tabitha and Spike. What could be simpler.’ Morgan

looked delighted with himself. ‘Are you cooking tonight or shall I? What do you fancy eating?’