The Other Half Read Online Free PDF Page A

feet.
    She took a sip of wine. It was not a particularly expensive bottle (it would have seemed extravagant to uncork one just for herself) but it was a good Burgundy, bought via mail order. She let it roll over her tongue. Moments like these were rare, and a new baby would make them rarer. Still, she thought, reaching guiltily for Jamie’s razor, she’d never imagined having only one child, and if she and Jamie didn’t get a move on, Nathan would be too old to play with a younger sibling.
    After bathing, she moisturized all over and wandered around the bedroom letting the lotion sink into her skin. She phoned her sister, Fran, for a brief chat, then reached for the shopping bag and tipped its contents onto the bed. In the glow of the bedside lamps the basque was even more seductive.
    Maggie rummaged in her drawer for some knickers. She knew which ones would be right—a satin-and-lace pair she’d purchased with Fran, who had persuaded her to buy them, but which she’d never worn. She put them on, fastened herself (with extensive swiveling) into the basque, and unwrapped a pair of sheer stockings. Carefully she eased one up over each newly shaved leg, clipped on the suspenders, and stood up. Finally, shoes. The stilettos bought for a Christmas party a few years ago when she’d wanted to impress Jamie’s colleagues were perfect. The effect was astonishing—a whole new Maggie.
    At that moment she heard a key in the front door and the familiar rustle of Jamie throwing his coat over the bottom banister. Quickly she pulled on a floor-length wrap and ran out to the landing. “Hi, darling.” She spoke in a hushed voice so as not to wake Nathan.
    “Hi,” said Jamie. He sounded tired.
    “We saved you some soufflé.” She led him into the kitchen. “Though I’m afraid it’ll be past its best.”
    Jamie poured himself a glass of wine and leaned back against the counter. “Phew. That was quite a day.”
    “Poor lamb.” Maggie brushed away a stray strand of his hair.
    “You smell nice,” said Jamie, inhaling. He looked down.
    The shoes.
    “Ah, yes.” Maggie let the gown fall open. “I went shopping today.”
    “So I see…” Jamie paused and took it all in. “Wow.”
    They made love in the kitchen—for the first time in ages. And he hadn’t had so much as a bit of soufflé, smiled Maggie later as she drifted off to sleep.

 
    5
    Patsy pressed the mute button. “It’s James Slater. Are you in?”
    “Oh, er, yes,” said Chloë.
    A week had passed since their meeting, and she had begun to wonder if it would be inappropriate to call him. She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
    “Hi. Can you talk?”
    “Mm, a little.” Chloë was in the midst of debriefing her assistant on some facts that needed checking in an article and was aware Patsy was earwigging every word.
    “I’ll keep it brief. I’m afraid I’m having a frantic week and lunch is going to be difficult.” Chloë’s heart sank. Why did men always turn out to be so flaky where she was concerned? Yet James continued, “I know it’s short notice, but I usually play squash on Thursday nights with a friend up here in the West End, and he’s just canceled. So I could do tomorrow, although it would have to be dinner. Can you make it?”
    Could she make it? Of course she bloody could! She stopped herself from blurting an enthusiastic “Yes” in the nick of time. She recalled all those books that banged on about the importance of playing hard to get. Maybe it applied in business too. And then she remembered her mother’s slightly cruel (but accurate) observation that sometimes her natural exuberance could be misinterpreted as “lacking mystery.”
    “I’ll just check my diary.” She counted to five. “My week’s looking pretty hectic. Tomorrow, you said … Er, what time?”
    “I should be through around seven. What about you?”
    “I think I can make that.” Chloë rummaged through her in-tray in the hopes she sounded