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She laughed. 'Couldn't we make it another night?'

'Of course. But I want to have dinner with you tonight as well!'

Again it was impossible for her to keep a straight face and he took her smile as acquiescence. 'No more pastries,' he warned, 'or you won't be hungry later on.'

'Don't bet on that. I eat like a horse!'

'No calorie counting?'

'Rarely.' She took another bite of her pastry. 'Food —eating as well as cooking it—is one of my hobbies. If there'd been as much money in it as modelling, I'd have taken it up professionally.'

'Surely you don't
need
to work?'

'Having a title doesn't automatically mean you're rich. My parents died when Tom and I were children and we were brought up by my mother's sister and her husband, who are far from wealthy.'

'But aristocratic, I assume?' His tone was faintly mocking.

'You assume wrong.' She said no more and glanced at her watch. 'If you don't want me to look like an old hag, I'd better go home and freshen up.'

With a nod Matt stood up and draped her jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed against her arm and she was startlingly aware of it.

Hoping he hadn't noticed, she followed him out to a wine-coloured Rolls that was parked in the half moon of the marble and glass entrance. A uniformed chauffeur nipped out smartly and held open the door.

'Will you let me take you home?' Matt asked.

Caroline nodded and gave the chauffeur her address in Hampstead.

'Where do you live?' she asked Matthew Bishop as she settled back in the seat.

'In Regent's Park. It's near my office—which saves time. Time is the most precious thing I have.'

'Yet you came to a fashion show?'

'Because it was business.'

'Business?' she queried.

'I wanted to see if the clothes were suitable for my new venture.'

'And are they?'

'Some of them—yes. I was very impressed.'

'Do you think women will buy such expensive clothes by mail order?'

'No doubt of it—and men too. Lots of people with money are still overwhelmed by smart boutiques and high-pressured salesmanship. Before I decided to go into this, I had some market research done on the subject, and I was amazed by the result. Most wives help to choose their husbands' clothes anyway, and women often like the approval of their husbands before making an expensive purchase. So if they can do it in the comfort of their own home, so much the better.'

Caroline nodded and he went on expanding the subject. He became animated as he talked about his business, and made it so interesting that she was astonished when the car stopped outside her front door.

'I'll collect you at eight,' he said.

'Come up for a drink first,' she invited.

'I'd love to.'

It was only as she entered her flat that she remembered her car was still parked in the hotel garage. What an idiot she was! Meeting Matt Bishop had made her completely forget about it!

Jane
was not in, and a note on the hall table said she was having a farewell dinner with some friends and would not be back until late. Caroline was relieved. She could do without Jane's friendly chatter at this moment. Her reaction to Matt had taken her by surprise, for she was not usually bowled over by the men she met. Yet this one had disturbed her, and she was not sure she liked it.

She ran a bath and luxuriously soaked away her weariness in the warm, scented water, trying to put Matt Bishop out of her mind. She must have dozed off, because when she looked at her watch on the stool beside her, she saw it was nearly seven.

Hurriedly she dried herself and went to inspect her wardrobe. She discarded one dress after another, and after a great deal of deliberation chose a soft green silk jersey that clung to her figure in all the right places. She put her long hair up, then decided it was too severe and let it hang loose, framing her face and making her look younger than her twenty-four years. She was a natural blonde, but unlike most blondes had a warm peachy skin and unusually deep-coloured eyes of a curious grey-green, one or other colour predominating according to what she wore. The rest of her features were small and neat, though the fullness of her lower lip betokened a passionate nature which her calm expression hid. Slender, like most models, she was well curved enough not to appear thin and was frequently propositioned to pose for nude photographs. They were offers she always turned down, though she was well aware that her days as a model would last only as long as her looks remained fashionable.

Going into the sitting-room, she made sure the room was tidy, plumping up the cushions of the sofa and emptying a dirty ashtray. That would be one of the nice things about having the place to herself. Jane was a heavy smoker and this was one of Caroline's pet hates.

Promptly at eight the buzzer went. She pressed the catch for the entryphone, then waited at the top of the stairs to greet Matt as he came striding up the two flights.

'You're very punctual,' she greeted him.

'Since I hate to be kept waiting I always make a point of being on time.'

He followed her into the room and glanced quickly round before seating himself. She could tell from his expression that he was impressed. The room was large and high-ceilinged, as in all old houses, with one end used for dining. A round, glass-topped table with a chrome base was surrounded by six white leather chairs, and a smoked brown glass, and chrome wall-fitting containing a bar fitment and some expensive stereo equipment was used as a room divider. The walls were painted deep brown and offset by cream ceiling and skirtings, and the curtains on their Victorian brass rods were in the same orange silk as the sofa. Several antique pieces were dotted around the room, stopping it from having a stark modern look.

As Caroline prepared the whisky and ice Matt had asked for, she knew he was studying her, and womanlike, she responded to it, moving towards him with exaggerated grace and pushing back her long, streaky blonde hair with a deliberate gesture. The line of her high cheekbones was pure, and she gave him plenty of time to see it before she let her hair swing forward again.

'Aren't you drinking?' he asked.

'Only tomato juice.' She poured herself one and sat opposite him, slowly crossing her long slim legs.

'Does that mean you're teetotal?' he went on.

'Oh no. I like white wine and champagne and leave the hard stuff for the grown-ups!'

His eyes narrowed. 'I'd say you were very grown up.'

She looked at him unblinkingly and he shrugged and glanced around the room.

'I like the way you've done this. You've got some good antiques. Pricey too.'

'Do you judge everything by its cost?' she asked wryly.

'Only horses and women.'

Round one to you, she thought.

'What made you take up modelling?' he asked abruptly.

'Chance. When I left boarding school I wanted to earn my keep as soon as possible, and my uncle helped me get a job with some friends of his. They ran a modelling school, but I was general dogsbody in the office, until one day Lee Lloyd the photographer came in looking for a model to use for a fashion spread. He asked me if I would do some freelance work for him. Later on he introduced me to Penny and from then on I've never looked back.'

'Funny you should know Lee Lloyd so well,' said Matt. 'He's doing the catalogue for me.'

'That's good. We've always worked well together. Some photographers can be real swine.'

'So can Lloyd if the mood takes him, but he's the best there is.' He rose. 'I think we should make a move.'

'I'll just get my shawl.'

She reappeared a moment later with a fringed silk shawl that matched her dress, and followed him down to the car.

'No chauffeur?' she said in surprise.

'I prefer to drive myself when I'm dining with a beautiful girl,' he told her. 'I find it off-putting to have Frank discreetly peering in the mirror!' He set the car in motion. 'I've booked a table at the White Elephant.'

'Lovely! It's one of my favourite restaurants.'

From the way Matt was greeted when they arrived there she could see he was a favoured client.

'No propping up the bar tonight,' he told the head waiter. 'My guest prefers food to drink.'

They were led through the pine-panelled restaurant, with its soft lighting, to a corner table at the back of the room, and were handed large, elaborate menus. While they were studying them a bottle of champagne was brought to their table.

'Do they mind-read here?' Caroline questioned.

'They know you're the champagne type,' he said seriously. 'And I know you're the eating type. So let's order.'

The conversation centred on trivialities during the excellent meal, giving Caroline some respite from her emotions. Even the accidental brushing of their hands across the table when Matt passed the salt set her body tingling, and she was pleased to keep things on an impersonal level.

Matt did not hide his surprise at her appetite, not really believing she could eat her way through the rich meal, and when Caroline took a melange of the rich creamy desserts from the trolley, he laughed openly.

'I thought I was bad enough, but you take the cake!'

'Then why don't you take some!'

'I have to watch my weight.'

'You don't look as if you do,' she said.

'I work out every morning at a gym, and play squash whenever I can. How about you? Indoor or outdoor sports!'

She was irritated at his obviousness and he was quick enough to sense it.

'Sorry,' he said. 'Old habits die hard. But take the question at face value.'

'I don't need to play any sports. My job keeps me thin. It can be pretty exhausting.' She sipped her wine. 'I occasionally play tennis in Regent's Park when I can muster up the energy.'

'I usually walk there at weekends—if I have the time.'

'You work pretty long hours, don't you?' she commented.

'Some days aren't long enough. To stay in this rat race you've got to be one jump ahead of the next guy.'

'You sound cynical,' she remarked.

'I am. I came up the hard way—not via the old school tie network,'

'How did you get started?'

Unlike most self-made men he seemed reluctant to discuss his beginnings and tried to brush her questioning aside.

'It's a long story, and it will bore you.'

'No, it wouldn't. Do tell me.'

Realising she was not just idly curious, he began to talk, and Caroline learned that his father had kept a tiny drapery shop in the poorest part of Bradford.

'Money was always short,' he said, 'and half the customers bought the stuff on tick.'

'Tick?'

'They owed for the goods and paid when they could,' he explained. 'But when work was short they didn't pay at all. My mother helped out by charring at the Town Hall. My parents scrimped and scraped to let me stay on at school and I took all sorts of part-time jobs to earn a few extra quid. Fortunately I was a bright lad and won a place at grammar school.' He leaned over, refilling her wine glass. 'My father wanted me to go to university—I was clever enough—but I wanted to start earning money so that I could help them.' He paused, his expression so reflective that she knew he was deep in his past. When he spoke seriously he was a different person and far nicer than the brash, playboy image he wore at other times. 'Like you, I had a lucky break,' he went on. 'I got a job in a local brewery firm and after I'd been there a year the chairman stopped to talk to me. It was his principle to talk to the highest and lowest, and that day it was my turn. He must have taken a fancy to me, for the next thing I knew, I was promoted to head office and became his protégé. By the time the old boy retired I was running the company, and a few years after that I was chairman. My next step was to diversify. We went into property at the right time, and we used the profits to buy into a dozen other companies.'

'Are you chairman of them all?' she asked.

'I'm chairman of the main board—which is the one that controls all the companies.'

'It's a wonderful success story. You must be very proud of yourself.'

'From rags to riches?'

'In a way. I mean, you began with nothing, didn't you?'

'Only a good education,' he said so dryly that she was discomfited.

'I'm sorry if I sounded patronising. I meant it as a compliment.'

'No need to apologise,' he said. 'I'm not as sensitive about it as I was when I was young and broke. My money makes me acceptable in
any
circle now.'

'People are such snobs, aren't they?' she agreed.

'You aren't,' he said.

'How do you know?'

'Because of the way you reacted when you thought you'd hurt me. You're a sensitive young lady, Lady Caroline.'

'Thank you very much, Mr Bishop.'

They smiled at one another, and Matt leaned back in his chair.

'You've done well too,' he said. 'According to Rick you're at the top of the tree.'

'Professionally,' she said.

'Socially too. Rick filled me in on your background.'

Caroline was chilled. She did not like the idea of this man questioning Rick about her background, and even less did she like the idea of the lurid way in which Rick might have answered him.

'Don't look so upset.' Matt leaned forward. 'Rick was highly complimentary about you—and I discarded half the scandal he dredged up.'

'Scandal?' She felt herself stiffen.

'About your family. Though personally your father sounded like a hell of a good guy.'

'He was,' Caroline agreed, 'and he and my mother were as much in love on the day they died as when they got married.'

'Then they were lucky people.'

'My grandparents didn't think so.' Caroline was back in her own past. 'They refused to have anything to do with my, father from the moment he ran away and married my mother. They had an American heiress lined up for him and they never forgave him for marrying the daughter of a publican.'

Matt chuckled. 'I knew we had something in common.'

'Have we?' She was mystified.