looked forward to Gordon’s random, eclectic messages which came like machine-gun fire when he was seeking inspiration then stopped when he hit a productive vein. His questions were a welcome distraction as she grew increasingly nervous at the prospect of seeing Francis again.
Allegra,
How long could you personally hang off high scaffolding if gripping with only your bare hands?
GL
I have not tested my scaffolding-hanging abilities recently, but I can conduct an experiment in Piccadilly at lunchtime should you wish. A
There is no need to test scaffolding. Julie has climbed off and is now trapped in a lift with Jimmy Jimee. Warehouse is on fire around them. They could be forced to take off their clothes to create an escape rope. I may need you to research the scene. GL
As you know, I take my role as research assistant very seriously, but I should point out that our office lifts are glass. A
As well as bombarding her with hypothetical questions, Gordon forwarded a manuscript originally sent to him by a fan,
The Girl Who Checked Out
by Delia Meare.
Do look beyond her abhorrent spelling and grammatical lapses. You will find out why when you read it. Of course, you are far better qualified than I am to judge if this is what you have been dreaming of or the stuff of nightmares. And before you ask, Delia is not my new pen name.
Touched that he valued her opinion, she printed it out ready to take with her to Devon.
As the weekend approached, Legs tried not to think about Francis, or the fact that securing a coup at Farcombe could make or break her heart as well as her career. Conrad was careful not to mention her ex by name, keeping her focus on Gordon and the agency’s duty to orchestrate his Reveal perfectly. Under increasing pressure from the slavering press and Gordon’s anxious publisher, he couldn’t be more delighted by the burgeoning friendship between his most lucrative and tricky client and his flirty assistant. ‘Keep him sweet’ was becoming his catchphrase. He didn’t even kick up a fuss when she accidentally blind-copied him into a message she sent to Gordon mentioning Julie and Jimmy. Julie Ocean could have been a codename for a rival agent for all he cared, as long as Gordon remained willing to reveal his true identity to the media and public that summer.
While seducing Legs in his Wandsworth house on the eve of her departure to the West Country, Conrad insisted she kept her phone on standby in case Gordon made contact. Having gone to considerable lengths to make her feel special by treating her to a night at the Proms followed by supper in The Ivy, he ruined it by handing her the iPhone halfway through a candlelit massage as her message alert chimed. ‘It’s bound to be him. You know how he hates being kept waiting.’
But it wasn’t Gordon; it was Francis:
Please tell me you’re coming tomorrow?
She quickly replied
I’m coming,
and then cast the phone aside,turning jumpily to Conrad who had rolled off the bed to fetch more oil. The knots in her stomach suddenly seemed tied to her vocal cords and she could only nod when he asked her if all was well.
He was a consummate lover. Tonight, however, she found her body barely responding to those firm hands and expert moves that usually drove her wild with delight. In her head, she could hear her own voice repeating ‘I’m coming, I’m coming’, but she knew she wasn’t talking to Conrad.
Legs hesitated telling Gordon she was going to Farcombe on his behalf until the last minute. Despite their short and largely abstract acquaintance, she knew he would disapprove.
So Fellows Howlett is sending an unarmed sergeant to do the Chief Super’s job?
he fumed through the ether.
I will wear short sleeves,
she cracked back nervously,
that way I have the right to bare arms. Julie Ocean has Tai Chi on her side. White stork spreads wings. Grasp bird’s tail.
Don’t fly too close to the sun.
‘The sun or the son?’ she wondered aloud, thinking about
Allegra,
How long could you personally hang off high scaffolding if gripping with only your bare hands?
GL
I have not tested my scaffolding-hanging abilities recently, but I can conduct an experiment in Piccadilly at lunchtime should you wish. A
There is no need to test scaffolding. Julie has climbed off and is now trapped in a lift with Jimmy Jimee. Warehouse is on fire around them. They could be forced to take off their clothes to create an escape rope. I may need you to research the scene. GL
As you know, I take my role as research assistant very seriously, but I should point out that our office lifts are glass. A
As well as bombarding her with hypothetical questions, Gordon forwarded a manuscript originally sent to him by a fan,
The Girl Who Checked Out
by Delia Meare.
Do look beyond her abhorrent spelling and grammatical lapses. You will find out why when you read it. Of course, you are far better qualified than I am to judge if this is what you have been dreaming of or the stuff of nightmares. And before you ask, Delia is not my new pen name.
Touched that he valued her opinion, she printed it out ready to take with her to Devon.
As the weekend approached, Legs tried not to think about Francis, or the fact that securing a coup at Farcombe could make or break her heart as well as her career. Conrad was careful not to mention her ex by name, keeping her focus on Gordon and the agency’s duty to orchestrate his Reveal perfectly. Under increasing pressure from the slavering press and Gordon’s anxious publisher, he couldn’t be more delighted by the burgeoning friendship between his most lucrative and tricky client and his flirty assistant. ‘Keep him sweet’ was becoming his catchphrase. He didn’t even kick up a fuss when she accidentally blind-copied him into a message she sent to Gordon mentioning Julie and Jimmy. Julie Ocean could have been a codename for a rival agent for all he cared, as long as Gordon remained willing to reveal his true identity to the media and public that summer.
While seducing Legs in his Wandsworth house on the eve of her departure to the West Country, Conrad insisted she kept her phone on standby in case Gordon made contact. Having gone to considerable lengths to make her feel special by treating her to a night at the Proms followed by supper in The Ivy, he ruined it by handing her the iPhone halfway through a candlelit massage as her message alert chimed. ‘It’s bound to be him. You know how he hates being kept waiting.’
But it wasn’t Gordon; it was Francis:
Please tell me you’re coming tomorrow?
She quickly replied
I’m coming,
and then cast the phone aside,turning jumpily to Conrad who had rolled off the bed to fetch more oil. The knots in her stomach suddenly seemed tied to her vocal cords and she could only nod when he asked her if all was well.
He was a consummate lover. Tonight, however, she found her body barely responding to those firm hands and expert moves that usually drove her wild with delight. In her head, she could hear her own voice repeating ‘I’m coming, I’m coming’, but she knew she wasn’t talking to Conrad.
Legs hesitated telling Gordon she was going to Farcombe on his behalf until the last minute. Despite their short and largely abstract acquaintance, she knew he would disapprove.
So Fellows Howlett is sending an unarmed sergeant to do the Chief Super’s job?
he fumed through the ether.
I will wear short sleeves,
she cracked back nervously,
that way I have the right to bare arms. Julie Ocean has Tai Chi on her side. White stork spreads wings. Grasp bird’s tail.
Don’t fly too close to the sun.
‘The sun or the son?’ she wondered aloud, thinking about
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