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your Beth is not what you’d call a big entrance girl.’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’
    â€˜Your date won’t come out—a first for you…?’ she observed, trying to disguise her amusement.
    A sound of irritation emerged from between Theo’s clenched teeth. ‘So she’s hiding in the bedroom. Presumably the makeover was not a success.’
    â€˜The makeover was…’
    â€˜What colour did they put her in?’
    â€˜Black.’
    Theo clicked his tongue with exasperation. ‘I expressly said she needed some colour.’
    â€˜You did,’ Nicola agreed calmly.
    â€˜The woman spends her life in dull colours.’ Black would drain her already pale skin and make her look more colourless than ever. Even he knew that and no one was paying him to know about fashion.
    Nicola stopped as Theo held up his hand.
    â€˜All right, I get the picture, but she can’t look that bad.’ If the girl had unrealistic expectations it was not his fault. You raised her expectations said the voice in his head.
    â€˜Well, actually she—’ Nicola found herself talking to thin air. She reached the hallway in time to see her boss gain the top of the curving flight of stairs.
    Theo made a quick detour into his own dressing room, grabbed a fresh shirt and tie from the nest rack of similar items and, shrugging himself out of the one he’d been wearing all day, left the room.
    He banged on the door before barging in, stopping dead when he found the room empty.
    â€˜Go away!’
    The small voice came from the adjoining bathroom.
    â€˜Come out, Beth.’ He struggled to inject a coaxing note into his voice. Female dramatics did not amuse him. Less still did the feeling of guilt he could not shake.
    Inside the bathroom, Beth shook her head, then stopped as her new hairstyle bounced before settling back into place.
    She had been unable to contain her disquiet as the drifts of shorn hair on the floor became a deep soft pile.
    â€˜I don’t really think short hair suits me.’
    We have kept most of the length , the man who called himself simply Anton had explained, conveying the strongimpression as he did so that he was not accustomed to defending his artistic efforts.
    When he had finished, the loose curls down her back did still reach her shoulder blades but it didn’t stop Beth feeling naked and exposed—though not, obviously, as exposed as this dress made her feel—with the heavy, long hair around her face reduced to feathery tendrils.
    Both he and the make-up artist had raved about her cheekbones and said it was criminal that she had been hiding them.
    Theo leaned his shoulders on the wall and consulted his watch. ‘What do you intend to do? Stay in there for ever?’
    Beth turned on the tap to drown out his voice. She could think of worse ideas at that moment than never leaving the bathroom, and a person could actually live for a long time on water and she had plenty of that. She dabbed a wet tissue to her lips and scrubbed hard. The colour stubbornly stayed put; it didn’t even smudge.
    Beth leaned on the wall and, close to panic, shut her eyes. She took a deep breath—this was ludicrous, but not life-threatening.
    She walked over to the mirror and stared at her reflection. No, it’s not ludicrous, but I am, for getting sucked into this entire Cinderella scenario.
    Theo had dangled a carrot and she had fallen for the bait.
    The hair, the make-up, even the clothes, she thought, glancing down at the close-fitting black sheath that clung to her waist and hips like a second skin before flaring out from the knee—they had all been part of the bait.
    â€˜Well…?’
    Ignoring the impatient voice on the other side of the door, Beth turned her back on the person staring back at her fromthe mirror; it was bizarre to see a stranger looking back at her. What she needed was an industrial cleaner to get this stuff off her