The Baby Scandal(5)

"Before," Ruth said with a serious face. "I felt fine afterwards."

"Ruth  Jacobs!" Jack said shocked. "You're not supposed to say naughty  things  like that. Especially looking the way you do, all fetching, sexy   innocence with those two blonde pigtails and big, tempting eyes..."

He  playfully pulled the ends of both the plaits with his hands, so that   she was more or less compelled to incline her body towards his, and it   was while they were in this awkward stance, both of them laughing,  that  Alison's door opened and there was a general flurry of scattered  bodies  as Franco stood and watched what was going on.                       
       
           



       

Ruth and Jack were the last to detach themselves from the situation.


"An  office hard at work," Franco said pushing himself away from the   doorframe and strolling towards them with the friendly expression of a   barracuda on the prowl for food. "Such a reassuring thing to see   especially when I have just finished having a meeting with your boss to   work out why the magazine isn't doing as well as it should."

He  was dressed in a silver-grey suit, which he managed to transform  into  something elegant rather than functional, and a pale blue and  white  shirt with a dark blue tie. Very conservative, very traditional  yet on  him, shockingly attractive.

Jack who had been reduced to a state  of tongue tied embarrassment,  launched himself into a comprehensive  stream of apologies, which  Franco, not bothering to look at him at all,  waved aside.

He somehow managed to turn his broad back on the  assembled eight  members of staff now busily working at their desks,  heads down, eyes  focused, so that he could devote every scrap of  uninvited attention to  Ruth, who was the last one left still standing  and with nowhere to  conceal herself.

"Son' he said softly, which  just succeeded in making his exclusion of  the rest of the office from  their conversation all the more complete,  "does flirting list among your  dogsbody jobs?"

"I wasn't...flirting!" Ruth protested in a low, heated voice. "Jack was just..."

"Playing with your hair..."

She  tried to slide her eyes around him to see whether their tete-a-tete  was  being observed, but decided that she would rather not know.

"That's  r...right..." she stammered absent-mindedly, as her eyes  flitted over  the down-turned heads and rapt faces staring at computer  screens.

He  clicked his tongue impatiently. "Would you mind looking at me when  I'm  talking to you?" he snapped, sharply enough for her to literally  jump to  attention.

"Of course!" She nearly saluted, and then had to  stifle a giggle at the  thought of what his expression would be like if  she dared do any such  thing.

"Do you recall our little conversation ort Friday?"

"Which  bit?" Ruth asked cautiously. Her smoky grey eyes wandered away  as she  tried to recall what they had spoken about. She knew that if she  put her  mind to it she would have no trouble at all, although the  overwhelming  impression that remained with her of that night, like a  thorn driven  deep into her side, was the unwelcome feeling of being  bludgeoned into  the ground by something much like a steamroller.

"Could I have your attention?" he asked in a grim, irritable voice, and she shot him a nervous smile in response.

Did  he realize that he had just raised his voice one or two decibels,  and  that in the small office all those downcast eyes were quietly  boring a  hole in the back of his neck and that all those subdued voices  would be  eagerly anticipating his departure so that they could lay  into her with a  thousand and one questions?

Having never been the focus of gossip, the thought of it now was enough to bring Ruth out in a cold sweat.

She  could hardly tell him to lower his tone, though, so she compensated  by  reducing the level of hers so much that he had to bend down to hear  what  she was saying.

"I am paying attention, to every word you're  saying," she whispered  furtively, feeling like a dodgy character in a  third-rate movie.

"I've spoken to Alison about my little proposition..."

"What little proposition?"

"Do you have any concentration span at all?" he snapped.

He  glared down at her. Most of the women he knew...had ever known, for   that matter...achieved a near perfect complexion through generous,   skilful application of makeup. This girl, staring up at him, her teeth   anxiously worrying her lip, had the most perfect complexion he had ever   clapped eyes on, without the aid of any makeup at all. God, he could   feel his mind beginning to drift, again, and he glared even more   ferociously at her, further maddened by the glaringly obvious fact that   although she was hearing every belligerent word he was saying she  wasn't  seeing him at all.


Who was that boy who had been playing with her hair? Was there something going on there?

He  fought to impose a bit of self-control and managed a stiff,  artificial  smile which appeared to alarm the object of his attentions  even more  than his aggression had done a minute before.

"Maybe we could continue this conversation in Alison's office. A bit more private."

"Oh,  yes!" Ruth breathed a sigh of relief. She had just managed to   accidentally catch Jack's eye and had quickly looked away when he had   grinned and winked at her.

"After you," he said, stepping aside so that she could precede him.                       
       
           



       

Ruth,  in her usual uninspiring attire of neat powder blue skirt and   long-sleeves blouse, was acutely conscious of his eyes behind her,   following her movements.

She was also conscious of Jack shooting  her telling, questioning looks  from where he was seated at an angle away  from his desk, and with a  sidelong glance she smiled at him and flashed  him the smallest of  waves. A conspiratorial wave that combined  bewilderment at Franco  Leoni's inexplicable shepherding of her into  Alison's office and dread  at what it indicated.

"Mind if I have a  word with Ruth alone?" Franco asked, as soon as they  were in the  office, and Alison obligingly exited at speed, either  relieved to be out  of his presence or else frantic to obey his every  command.

"Take  a seat." He indicated the black chair in front of the desk and  Ruth sat  down, only to find that he had remained standing, so that to  look at  him she had to crane her neck.

He strolled across to the bay  window which opened onto the busy view of  a London street in full swing,  and, after idly staring out for a few  seconds, he turned to face her,  relaxing against the windowsill, arms  folded.

"I won't be telling  you anything that the rest of your colleagues will  not hear for  themselves very shortly, but the gist of my chat with  Alison concerns  what we briefly discussed last Friday evening. The  magazine seems to  have found itself in something of a rut. As you  rightly pointed out,  neither one thing nor another."

Ruth felt a sudden warm glow at the unexpected compliment.

"We  have three talented reporters with good, solid styles of writing,  but  their subject matter is too disparate. Sport, fashion, natural   disasters. Are you following me?"

"Of course I'm following you.  I'm not a complete idiot, you know!" She  felt a sudden flash of anger at  his patronizing attitude. Why had he  called her in on her own to give  this little speech? He hadn't made it  clear, unless it was to sack her,  but she couldn't really see why he  would do that. Her contribution had  nothing to do with the actual  running of the magazine. She was a gofer,  and a pretty good one at  that, with lots of enthusiasm.

No, the  only reason she could see for this one-to-one chat was to given  him a  chance of shooting down everything she said in flames. Maybe her  soft  nature was just too much of a temptation for a man like him.

He  simply couldn't resist walking over her. However soft she was, Ruth  had  no intention of being walked over. When pushed, there was a  stubborn  streak in her that made her dig her heels in and refuse to  budge.

"Sorry,"  he said, with a shadow of a smile. The apology, so unexpected,  was  enough to pull her down a peg or two, and she responded helplessly  to  the sincerity in his voice.