In the Market for Love - By Nina Blake Page 0,33

stillness and solitude could stop time, stop her world as it tumbled down around her.

She looked at the photos and she knew.

They weren’t indecent. But the story they told was indisputable.

She’d recognised the woman with her husband as someone who worked at Nick’s office. She was probably a bit older than Rachel, perhaps in her late twenties at the time. She’d always thought her quite pleasant.

There was a photo of them at a bar, a blurred glass of white wine in the foreground. It must have been hers. Nick didn’t drink white wine. There was just the two of them in shot, heads close together as they smiled broadly. Rachel knew Nick had taken the photo himself by holding the camera in the air in his right hand and pointing it at them.

He’d taken photos of the two of them, Rachel and Nick, the same way. When they first started dating. When he had loved her more.

In other shots, the two of them were at the beach, lying side by side, sharing a towel by the looks of it. Then they were embracing. And in another photo, kissing.

Someone else must have taken those photos which only led to more questions. How many other people knew about this relationship? For that’s what it was.

Instantly it had all made sense. The late nights Nick said he worked. His sudden interest in tennis. The credit card bills for extravagant new clothes, hotels, restaurants, even airfares for what was supposed to have been a business trip. She only found out after Nick’s passing, that he’d taken a second mortgage on their house and sold his share of the architecture business. All to cover his new obsession.

All for this woman.

Rachel had held the photos. Her tears had fallen on them and she’d run her fingers over the pictures to wipe them dry.

She hadn’t known then that she would see the woman one last time.

* * *

The following Monday, Rachel’s boss, Patrick Flanagan, swept into the office she shared with Samantha.

He leaned in the doorway, an enormous smile on his face. “I hope you two are free on Friday night because you’re both needed for a very important job.”

“On Friday night?” Samantha said. “What kind of work are we supposed to do on a Friday night?”

“Agency 66 is having a cocktail party for their clients and suppliers,” Patrick replied. “At Café Balthazar. We’re all invited. Jake Austin called me about it.”

“Jake?” Rachel nearly choked.

“He apologised for the short notice but he only decided this morning to go ahead with it,” Patrick said. “His secretary is going to email the invitations later today. He wanted to make sure we’d all be going.”

“I’ve heard about their parties.” Samantha’s face was awash with excitement. “They’re a really big deal. Full open bar. Real French champagne. Everybody who’s anybody will be there. Café Balthazar, I can’t wait.”

“Well, you’ll both be there.” Patrick smiled. “Unfortunately I’ll be in Melbourne for the weekend.”

“It’s very short notice,” Rachel said.

“Come on, Rach,” Samantha said. “I’m sure you can squeeze it into your social calendar.”

Jake had already phoned Rachel earlier that morning but he hadn’t mentioned anything about this Friday night function. She’d limited their conversation to the campaign because she needed time to work out if he’d told her the truth about his marital separation.

She’d have refused this invitation if he’d spoken to her about it. It was little wonder he’d sent it down through her boss.

A stray thought flitted across her mind. But, no, it wasn’t possible for Jake to hold an enormous function simply for her benefit.

“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” Patrick said. “I expect you both to be there. We might be their clients but the agency is doing us a huge favour by taking the campaign pro bono.”

Samantha beamed. “No problem.”

Rachel forced her lips into a smile. “Certainly.”

If only there was no problem. If only it were just an opportunity to get dressed up and drink cocktails and champagne. How lovely that would be.

The problem was that Jake affected her as no man had before. Her mind was telling her to stay away from him. He was in a different league.

Her heart was telling her something else.

She couldn’t deny the overwhelming physical attraction.

And more.

* * *

Rachel walked into Café Balthazar on the rooftop of the recently refurbished Imperial House. Floor to ceiling glass doors opened out onto the terrace with its spectacular views. Circular Quay, the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House at a single glance. In contrast, the interior