The Other Half Read Online Free PDF

busy.
    “There’s a charming little restaurant on Lexington Street,” he continued. “It’s called Louisa’s, and it’s unusual in that you can bring your own wine, which means we can enjoy something particularly good. How about if I pick up a couple of bottles and meet you there?”
    “Sounds great.” Excellent! Nice and near the office—and two bottles of vino. She hated people who scrimped—but then, he could probably charge it. It sounded like he knew a bit about wine too. How sophisticated. “I’ll see you there.”
    “Looking forward to it.”
    She put the phone down, and immediately had to get up and walk around to calm herself.
    “So?” asked Patsy, when she sat down again. “When are you meeting Prince Charming?”
    “Tomorrow. Though he’s not Prince Charming—it’s business.”
    “Then why are you blushing?”
    “I am not!” cried Chloë, going ever redder. She didn’t want Patsy knowing she was meeting James outside office hours. “It’s work,” she reiterated, hoping her assistant wouldn’t pry further.
    “If you say so.”
    “He’s married!” Chloë tried to laugh it off.
    “So was Prince Charles,” quipped Patsy. “Didn’t stop him and Camilla.”
    *   *   *
    “Chloë,” said Rob, with the air of one with insight into such matters, “you’re telling me that this man cancels lunch, rearranges it for dinner, says he’s going to buy two bottles of wine, and that he’s looking forward to seeing you, and you reckon he doesn’t fancy you? Dear girl, at times I may find the male psyche hard to fathom, nonetheless this seems a classic case of get-this-woman-intoxicated-on-the-pretext-of-a-business-liaison-so-I-can-try-to-get-into-her-knickers.”
    “But he’s married!”
    “So are half the men I sleep with, darling.” They were watching television but the ads were on, allowing two minutes for a chat.
    “That’s different,” said Chloë.
    “How, exactly?”
    “The men you sleep with obviously want something they can’t get from their wives.”
    Rob raised an eyebrow.
    “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter what his motives are—though I think you’re wrong. Mine are quite pure.”
    “So why ask me what to wear?” asked Rob, who at times seemed to know Chloë better than she knew herself. “I’m sure nuns don’t give a fig for such worldly matters.”
    “Because it’s vital I create the right impression.” Chloë was firm. “This man could help me get my magazine off the ground.”
    “Well, be careful. If your motives are so pure, wear your Whistles suit. That’ll show him you mean business.”
    This was not what Chloë had been planning on; she’d in mind something rather less formal. “Mm,” she muttered, aware she’d be gone before Rob got up.
    “I just don’t want you falling for another inappropriate male.”
    “I won’t!”
    “OK. Only don’t make the mistake of being one of those women who uses flirtation to get what she wants professionally, then gets in a muddle because she’s not been clear about the distinction between business and pleasure. Now shush.”
    The ad break was over.
    *   *   *
    Perhaps it was a sign of growing maturity that Chloë was finally learning not to be early for dates. (Though this wasn’t a date but a business meeting, of course.) Restless by nature, she’d discovered the best tactic was to keep herself occupied till the last minute. So she remained in the office and rattled off a couple of e-mails—including a long one to Sam—and before she knew it, it was six fifty-five.
    Quick trip to the ladies’ room, third (but most thorough) repair of the day to her makeup, and she was off. Fortunately it was only a few minutes from Covent Garden to Lexington Street and she knew which backstreets to cut through.
    If she checked her appearance in one window she must have checked it in twenty, and by the time she arrived she was convinced she looked a right state. But at least James was there before her. As