at the interruption, she couldn't tell Andrew now. Hurriedly she said, "He's not in my office, I'm in his," and looked up to see one white brow arch arrogantly. "I can't talk now, as we're very busy. I'll explain tonight. You are coming for dinner?"
"Yes, but—" he began, but Anne cut him off. "I have to go now, Andrew, see you at the house. Goodbye." Before he could reply, she hung up, sat down at the desk, and picked up the folder she and Jud had been working on.
"So the legal eagle is back," Jud chided smoothly, the very smoothness of his tone irritating. "How nice for you. Now, do you think we could finish this folder before you have to rush home to get ready for him?"
"Jud, really—" Anne began warningly.
"Anne, really," Jud cut in sarcastically but his tone softened. "Okay, I'm sorry for the dig. Tell you what. I promise to be on my best behavior tonight at dinner, if you will."
"What do you mean, if I will?"
"Just what I said. I'll be polite and charming to Andrew, if you'll reciprocate with Lorna."
"Lorna?" Anne repeated, stunned. "Lorna is coming to dinner tonight?"
"Yes."
"But—"
"But nothing," Jud said icily. "I called Margaret this morning and told her. She understood, even if you don't."
Oh, I understand perfectly, Anne thought scathingly, trying to ignore the sudden twist of pain that shot through her chest. What's to understand? A man brings his mistress to town, what else does he do but invite her home to dinner! Oh, God, I feel sick. Why? Before she had to face an answer to that qestion, she rushed into speech.
"Of course I'll be polite to her. Why shouldn't I be?" She hesitated before adding, "She's a very beautiful woman."
"Yes, she is." Hard finality in his tone, cold and flat as his eyes. Unable to maintain that intent stare, Anne turned back to the work on the desk, shocked at the way her fingers were trembling.
* * * *
Sinking into the scented bathwater, Anne sighed wearily. She was tired. It had been a long, emotionally charged day, with Jud not letting up until almost six o'clock. Now, little less than an hour later, Anne wished for nothing more than to lie back in the tub and forget the evening ahead. She couldn't, of course. In fact, she should be downstairs at this moment as Andrew would be arriving any minute.
Sighing again, Anne finished her bath, stepped out of the tub, gave herself a quick, vigorous rub with a large bath towel, and swung around to lift her robe from the hook on the bathroom door. A flashing reflection made her pause, then stop completely to contemplate the nude young woman gazing back at her from the full-length mirror on the door.
Beginning at the top of her head, Anne's eyes critically evaluated the image before her. Her hair, dark and sleek, was cut close to her head on the top and sides, a natural wave giving it a sculptured look. The back was a little longer, turning in softly to caress her neck. The face, to Anne's eyes, though pleasing, held a sad, somewhat wistful look, too thin, too pale, and the eyes seemed enormous, with a vaguely lost expression. Her small frame was slender, too slender. Although Anne admitted it was well formed—the small breasts high and rounded, the waist tiny, the hips and legs smooth and supple, ankles narrow.
Anne's sigh this time was deeper, almost painful. Her head and shoulders sagged and she closed her eyes to shut out the vision before her. The girl in the mirror was pleasing, yes, but hardly competition for the tall, willowy, exquisitely beautiful redhead who would be joining them for dinner.
The thought jerked her upright and eyes wide and incredulous stared back at her. Competition? Why had she thought that? She was in no way in any kind of competition with Lorna or any other woman in connection with Jud, Jud was everything she disliked in a man. Arrogant, ruthless, probably even conceited. Also, probably not above using his blatant good looks to get what he wanted.
A picture of him formed in her
"Yes, but—" he began, but Anne cut him off. "I have to go now, Andrew, see you at the house. Goodbye." Before he could reply, she hung up, sat down at the desk, and picked up the folder she and Jud had been working on.
"So the legal eagle is back," Jud chided smoothly, the very smoothness of his tone irritating. "How nice for you. Now, do you think we could finish this folder before you have to rush home to get ready for him?"
"Jud, really—" Anne began warningly.
"Anne, really," Jud cut in sarcastically but his tone softened. "Okay, I'm sorry for the dig. Tell you what. I promise to be on my best behavior tonight at dinner, if you will."
"What do you mean, if I will?"
"Just what I said. I'll be polite and charming to Andrew, if you'll reciprocate with Lorna."
"Lorna?" Anne repeated, stunned. "Lorna is coming to dinner tonight?"
"Yes."
"But—"
"But nothing," Jud said icily. "I called Margaret this morning and told her. She understood, even if you don't."
Oh, I understand perfectly, Anne thought scathingly, trying to ignore the sudden twist of pain that shot through her chest. What's to understand? A man brings his mistress to town, what else does he do but invite her home to dinner! Oh, God, I feel sick. Why? Before she had to face an answer to that qestion, she rushed into speech.
"Of course I'll be polite to her. Why shouldn't I be?" She hesitated before adding, "She's a very beautiful woman."
"Yes, she is." Hard finality in his tone, cold and flat as his eyes. Unable to maintain that intent stare, Anne turned back to the work on the desk, shocked at the way her fingers were trembling.
* * * *
Sinking into the scented bathwater, Anne sighed wearily. She was tired. It had been a long, emotionally charged day, with Jud not letting up until almost six o'clock. Now, little less than an hour later, Anne wished for nothing more than to lie back in the tub and forget the evening ahead. She couldn't, of course. In fact, she should be downstairs at this moment as Andrew would be arriving any minute.
Sighing again, Anne finished her bath, stepped out of the tub, gave herself a quick, vigorous rub with a large bath towel, and swung around to lift her robe from the hook on the bathroom door. A flashing reflection made her pause, then stop completely to contemplate the nude young woman gazing back at her from the full-length mirror on the door.
Beginning at the top of her head, Anne's eyes critically evaluated the image before her. Her hair, dark and sleek, was cut close to her head on the top and sides, a natural wave giving it a sculptured look. The back was a little longer, turning in softly to caress her neck. The face, to Anne's eyes, though pleasing, held a sad, somewhat wistful look, too thin, too pale, and the eyes seemed enormous, with a vaguely lost expression. Her small frame was slender, too slender. Although Anne admitted it was well formed—the small breasts high and rounded, the waist tiny, the hips and legs smooth and supple, ankles narrow.
Anne's sigh this time was deeper, almost painful. Her head and shoulders sagged and she closed her eyes to shut out the vision before her. The girl in the mirror was pleasing, yes, but hardly competition for the tall, willowy, exquisitely beautiful redhead who would be joining them for dinner.
The thought jerked her upright and eyes wide and incredulous stared back at her. Competition? Why had she thought that? She was in no way in any kind of competition with Lorna or any other woman in connection with Jud, Jud was everything she disliked in a man. Arrogant, ruthless, probably even conceited. Also, probably not above using his blatant good looks to get what he wanted.
A picture of him formed in her