Lady of Hay Barbara Erskine (reading books for 7 year olds TXT) 📖

it through to the kitchen. "And you really can be grown up about it and not mind if I ask him and Judy to the party?"

"Not if I can bring someone too. "

He turned from the sink where he had dumped the cups and spoons. "Someone?"

"I'll think of someone. "

"Oh, that kind of someone. A spit-in-Nick's-eye someone. " He laughed. "Course you can. " He put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her for a moment. "It could always be me, you know, Jo. "

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "It couldn't, Tim. I like you too much. "

He groaned. "The most damning thing a woman can say to a man, a real castrating remark. 'I like you too much, '" he mimicked her, his voice sliding up into an uncomfortable falsetto. He burst out laughing. "At least you didn't say I was too old though. Now scram. I've got work to do. Consider yourself on for the photos, but let me know when as soon as you can. "

Nick Franklyn walked into Bet Gunning's office. She was standing at the window of her office, staring down at the river eleven stories below as she lit a cigarette. A pleasure steamer was plodding up the center of the tideway, its bows creaming against the full force of water as it plied from Westminster Pier toward the Tower.

"What can I do for you, Nick?" She turned, drawing on the cigarette, and looked him up and down. He was dressed in jeans with a denim jacket, immaculately cut, which showed off his tall spare figure and tanned face.

He grinned. "You're looking great, Bet. So much hard work suits you. "

"Meaning why the hell couldn't I see you three days ago when you called?"

"Meaning editor ladies are obviously busy if they can't see the guy who handles one of their largest advertising accounts. " He sat down unasked opposite her desk and drew up one foot to rest across his knee.

She smiled. "Don't give me that, Nick. You're not here about the Wonda account. "

"You're right. I've come to ask you a favor. As a friend. "

She narrowed her eyes against the glare off the water and said, without turning around, "About?"

"Jo. "

She waited in silence, conscious of his gaze on her back. Then slowly she turned. He was watching her closely and he saw the guarded look in her eyes.

"Does Jo need any favors from me?" she asked.

"She's going to bring some ideas to you, Bet. I want you to kill one of them. "

He saw the flash of anger in her face, swiftly hidden, as she sat down at her desk. Leaning forward, she glared at him. "I think you'd better explain, Nick. "

"She's planning a series of articles that she's going to offer Women in Action. One of them is about hypnosis. I don't want her to write it. "

"And who the hell are you to say what she writes or doesn't write?" Bet's voice was dangerously quiet. She kept her eyes fixed on Nick's face.

A muscle flickered slightly in his cheek. "I care about her, Bet. "

Bet stood up. "Not from what I've been hearing. Your interests have veered to the artistic suddenly, the grapevine tells me, and that no longer qualifies you to interfere in Jo's life. If you ever had that right. " She stubbed out her cigarette half smoked. "Sorry, Nick. No deal. Why the hell should you want to stop the article anyway?"

Nick rose to his feet. "I have good reasons, Bet. I don't know who the hell has been talking to you about me, but just because I'm seeing someone else doesn't mean I no longer care about Jo. " He was pacing up and down the carpet. "She's a bloody good journalist, Bet. She'll research the article thoroughly... " He paused, running his fingers through his thatch of fair hair.

"And why shouldn't she?" Bet sat on the corner of her desk, watching him intently.

He reached the end of his trajectory across her carpet, and, turning to face her, he leaned against the wall, arms folded, his face worried. "If I tell you, I'm betraying a confidence. "

"If you don't tell me, there's no way I'd ever consider stopping the article. "

He shrugged. "You're a hard bitch, Bet. Okay. But keep this under your hat or you'll make it far worse for Jo. I happen to know that she is what is called a deep trance subject—that means if she gets hypnotized herself she's likely to get into trouble. She volunteered in the psychology lab at the university when she was a student. My brother Sam was doing a Ph. D. there and witnessed it. They were researching regression techniques as part of a medical program. She completely flipped. Jo doesn't know anything about it—they did that business of 'you won't remember when you wake up' on her, but Sam told me the professor in charge of the project had never seen such a dramatic reaction. Only very few people are quite that susceptible. She nearly died, Bet. "

Bet picked up a pencil and began to chew the end of it, her eyes fixed on his face. "Are you serious?"

"Never more so. "

"But that's fantastic, Nick! Think of the article she'll produce!"

"Christ, Bet!" Nick flung himself away from the wall and slammed his fist on the desk in front of her. "Can't you see, she mustn't do it?"

"No, I don't see. Jo's no fool, Nick. She won't take any risks. If she knows—"

"But she doesn't know. " His voice had risen angrily. "I've asked her about it and she remembers nothing. Nothing. I've told her I think it's dangerous to meddle with hypnosis— which it is—but she laughs at me. Being her, if she thinks I'm against it she's keener to do it than ever. She thinks everything I say is hokum. Please, Bet. Just this once, take my word for it. When she brings the idea to