NATALIE picked up the green receiver as the telephone began to ring on her desk, pushing some of the clutter out of the way to continue making notes on her pad as she took the call. These figures for the Jackson account just couldn’t wait, not if she wanted to get the bill paid and her own outstanding debts dealt with at the end of the month.

Consequently her response into the telephone receiver was a little distracted. But not for long!

‘Natalie Faulkner?’ The husky voice on the other end of the line was definitely male—and definitely angry! It was a voice that put over a wealth of authority and command in just the sound of her name.

Perhaps Natalie should have heeded that tone, but she was still preoccupied with balancing the figures on this account so that it at least looked reasonably correct. Oh dear, she was hopeless at figures. But Dee, her secretary and general assistant—another name for general dogsbody!—had too much to do in the office already, without the added burden of accounts.

‘Yes?’ she replied vaguely.

‘Miss Faulkner,’ the voice was icy now. ‘You may have time on your hands to waste, but I can assure you I don’t,’ the man rasped. ‘I had to rearrange my schedule this morning to fit in your appointment, the least you could have done was turn up here on time.’

To say she was taken aback was an understatement—she was astounded! Just who did this man think he was, that he could call her like this to rant and rave about an appointment they didn’t even have? Her morning was free, she had made sure of that last night before leaving the office, the model agency she ran from this two-roomed office in an ultra-modern office block, the brown-shaded windows giving the building an added elegance from outside. She had checked on her morning being free simply because she knew she had to make the time to deal with the accounts; her own bills had to be paid, not least of them being the rent and upkeep of this office.

Style, that was what she had been told she needed to open an agency like this—the sort of agency that had the best models, the sort of agency that would attract the best clients in town. And style she had here, with the white and silver furniture in both offices, the comfortably white leather chairs for clients, the more practical chair behind her desk in the same soft white leather, the lush green tropical plants that were arranged about the room in abundance. It was all designed to give the impression of wealth and elegance—and it cost her a small fortune.

She could certainly do without complete strangers—for she didn’t know this man, would have remembered that cold grating voice if she had ever heard it before—calling her up to tell her she had a non-existent appointment with them.

Still, she was in business, and maybe this man was a prospective client. She never turned away customers. ‘I think there must have been some sort of mistake,’ she began in a placating voice.

‘If there has,’ he ground out, ‘you made it. Now, with a great deal of more rescheduling I can give you fifteen minutes in an hour’s time. Be here!’

‘I’m not accustomed to repeating myself, Miss Faulkner,’ he rasped in that husky voice. ‘I explained to your secretary last night that it was urgent I speak to you, and that hasn’t changed.’

Dee! Dee had made the appointment after she had left last night—and she had forgotten to tell her. Natalie found the brown appointment book buried beneath the papers on her desk, found the appropriate day, groaning inwardly as she saw the name written down next to ten o’clock. Adam Thornton! That was all she needed. Her most valued client to date and she had missed her one and only appointment with the head of Thornton Cosmetics and Beauty Aids!

She had hardly been able to believe her luck when Jason Dillman, the head of Thornton Cosmetics and Beauty Aids advertising department, had got in touch with her about a Beauty Girl for the new brand of make-up they were introducing. Natalie had been running the agency for about a year, and had enough work to keep ticking over, but the T.C.B.A. contract had been a real feather in her cap, and for the past six months she had been working closely with Jason Dillman supplying the Beauty Girl and other models they needed for their advertising. It was a lucrative contract, even after the models had been paid, and not one she wanted to lose.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Thornton,’ she was aware of sounding breathless, ‘there seems to have been a mix-up this end. I would be pleased to come and see you at eleven-thirty.’

‘Very well,’ he agreed abruptly, and rang off.

The clatter of the receiver landing in its cradle resounded in her ear, and she slowly put her receiver down. Not a very auspicious beginning to her first meeting with the head of T.C.B.A.! She had known Adam Thornton headed his own company, had even heard Jason Dillman talk of him, but so far she had only dealt with the other man; her role in their advertising was obviously not big enough to attract the attention of the most wealthy man in cosmetics in the country today.

Maybe the successful launching of Beauty Girl, one of her own models, had changed all that? Maybe she was to receive verbal thanks from Adam Thornton himself for finding him exactly the right girl. And there could be no doubting Judith’s success, her photograph displaying the new make-up was appearing everywhere at the moment. And yet Natalie didn’t think that could be it, not when he had sounded so angry. Of course, that could have just been because she hadn’t turned up when he had decided to give her an audience, and yet she didn’t think that was it either. Something appeared to be very wrong, and she only hoped she could smooth it over. She really couldn’t afford to lose the Thornton contract, for prestigious reasons as much as any other. Business had doubled at the agency since Judith had become Beauty Girl.

She stood up, pacing the room, listening for the return of Dee to the outer office; the older woman had gone down to the central copy room to photo-copy several reports. Poor Dee was rushed off her feet too, Natalie knew that, and normally an important appointment such as the one with Adam Thornton would not have slipped her mind.

A frown marred her brow as she continued to pace the room, the accounts forgotten, beautiful enough to have been a model herself, her hair a gleaming black bob framing her face, her skin like magnolia, her eyes neither blue nor green but somewhere in between—aquamarine, some people said, her black lashes long and thick, her nose short and straight, the perfect bow of her mouth painted a vivid red, emphasising its sensual fullness. In fact, she had been a model for a time, but the work didn’t really appeal to her; it didn’t offer enough of a challenge. Well, she had a challenge now, and with one of the most powerful men

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Fantasy Girl Carole Mortimer

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

Fantasy Girl

Carole Mortimer