Past the birds and the garden, searching for
people who wanted to do her harm.
Jazz knew that if she cried now, she would blow the whole day. She would fail the test, and Terence
would likely never trust her again.
She never had her own life to lead. She always led mine for me, worried about me, building
fears about me.
She watched his back, staring at a point between his shoulders and concentrating on the way his shirt
moved as he walked. Damn him, not only was he smooth and intelli-gent, he was also fit. Damn him!
And I know what she was thinking... when they held her down, came at her with the knife...
She was thinking... about... me!
"Wait for me, for Christ's sake!" Jazz said, blowing her anger and venting the pressure behind her
eyes. Terence looked back, hiding his surprise well. The doorman glanced at Jazz, a small smirk touching
his face, and she rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"Sorry, babe," Terence said, recovering sharply.
Jazz shook her head and blew air up at her new ragged fringe. "S'okay. Hot, that's all."
They reached the security point at the entrance and Terence strode straight to the desk. "Afternoon,"
he said. "I don't suppose I could leave this with you for safekeeping? I'm an antiques dealer and I've just
bought this, but it's bulky and heavy."
"No problem, sir," the tall doorman said. He tore a ticket from a small book and handed it to Terence,
tying its corresponding number around the bag's handles. "I'll just pop it in our bag room."
"Many thanks." Terence waited for Jazz this time, offer-ing her a smile, but she could also see the
hint of something else behind his eyes. Anger? Maybe. She hoped so. She liked the idea that something she
did would shake him up.
The doorman opened the door and they stepped in, Jazz giving him her most dazzling smile.
"What was that?" Terence asked quietly as they walked inside the great shop.
"Attracting attention to ourselves. We're good, honest people, leaving our bag at the entrance."
"Really?"
"Yep. Really. Oh, look at this!"
They walked the floors of Harrods, the cheerful couple, the wealthy shoppers. Jazz pointed out some
suits and Terence looked, felt the fabric, and nodded appreciatively. They passed the waxwork of
Mohamed Al Fayed and swapped a whispered comment, Terence smiling and Jazz giggling as they passed
into the cosmetics sections. Jazz had had enough of cosmetics for one day but she browsed nonetheless,
squirting a couple of testers onto her wrists and pressing them up to Terence's nose. He sniffed dutifully,
screwed up his nose, and shook his head. The second time she touched his lips with her wrist, accidentally,
she thought, but as she turned and walked into the cheese section of the store she wasn't so sure.
Terence seemed more at home here. The smells were tremendous, and Jazz followed him as he
cruised back and forth along the counters. He asked for samples of several cheeses and offered her a bite,
but they all smelled too strong for her taste. They moved through into the tea and coffee section, then the
chocolate and cakes, and while Jazz perused the grand displays, Terence acquired small bags of produce.
He did not seem especially excited about any pur-chase, and Jazz wondered whether he shopped here
regu-larly.
For her part, she did her best to hold back her sense of awe. She smiled as she contemplated the
wondrous choco-lates and the mountainous cakes, never quite able to exude boredom but happy with a
middle ground. She took a few chocolate samples when they were offered, nodding in sump-tuous
appreciation. She checked out the prices on a couple of the cakes and tried not to let her shock show.
Terence stood beside her and put his arm gently around her, cupping her elbow in his hand. "Left
here is the meat section," he said. "I want to pick something up for dinner. You like lamb?"
Jazz was amazed at his presumption. "Dinner?"
"Unless you were planning on going home this evening?"
She looked away, confused, silently cursing him for do-ing this to her here and now. Testing me, she
thought. He knows I nearly blew it on the way in, so now he's trying to distract me. One wrong word
or movement from me, and the whole nick is off. She knew that if that happened, the distance between
them would expand rapidly, and by the time they left Harrods, Terence would likely take the blade from her
—by force if necessary —and that would be the last she ever saw of him.
"Lamb's good," she said. "I assume you know how to cook it properly?" Jazz herself had no idea, but
she wanted