Tasmina Perry 3-Book Collection: Daddy’s Girls, Gold Diggers, Original Sin

‘A weekend in New York staying in a loft suite at the Mercer,’ said Rich Clark. ‘Do I have five thousand pounds?’

Camilla felt her hand go gingerly into the air as it was quickly countered with a bid for six thousand.

She nodded towards the auctioneer again as Cate tugged at her arm playfully. ‘What do you want to go to New York again for?’ she whispered.

‘Eight thousand from the lovely Camilla Balcon!’ said the rock auctioneer, recognizing her. ‘Who’ll give me nine?’

With the room ever more drunk, bidding spiralled towards £15,000 as Camilla bowed out, satisfied she had been seen to take part.

When the auctioneer motioned to the rear of the tent and the gavel came down at £20,000, Camilla breathed an internal sigh of relief that it hadn’t been an unnecessarily expensive afternoon.

‘That was a close one,’ smiled Cate as diners began to wander outside to watch the start of the polo. ‘I know you probably want to treat yourself after you got on the approved list, but there are cheaper ways of getting to New York,’ she laughed.

Camilla smiled knowingly. Cate wasn’t aware that she had already treated herself, having a spree at Yves Saint Laurent and buying one pair of shoes, one shirt and one jacket that would perfectly complement Camilla’s precisely coordinated wardrobe, an exercise in restrained but elegant dressing.

‘Bloody hell, don’t look now, but guess who’s coming over.’

Josh Jackson was striding towards the sidelines in white, skin-tight jodhpurs, tall black boots, knee guards, and polo shirt in the Jackson Team’s navy-and-white colours. The sun had brought out a flame of freckles across the bridge of his Roman nose and the lines of his face wrinkled as he smiled in the bright light.

‘Ladies. Good of you to come. I’ve got to shoot in a minute, but I thought I’d come and say hello.’

Cate smiled, trying to think of something humorous or interesting to say, but gave up when she saw that his gaze was fixed entirely on Camilla.

‘Well. It’s a great day for it,’ stumbled Cate. ‘I’m not going to drink too many Pimms, though, or I’ll be stumbling over the divots.’

Neither Josh nor Camilla seemed to be aware of Cate or anyone else. Feeling uncomfortably as if she were intruding on some personal moment, Cate mumbled an excuse and moved off towards the bar. As she left, Josh pressed his fingers on Camilla’s forearm.

‘I appreciate you coming,’ he smiled.

Camilla stared at him, then, as if coming out of a trance, took a small step back, so that his hand fell away from her skin. ‘Yes, it’s a nice day out.’

‘You didn’t have to come. So I thought I’d make it worth your while.’

She smiled, trying not to be playful. ‘How do you mean?’

‘I saw you bidding for the New York weekend.’

Camilla felt a jolt through her stomach which she fought to suppress. ‘Oh. I thought you were practising. I didn’t see you at the lunch.’

‘I had to go to the auction,’ he smiled. ‘Rich Clark was there, God knows what he might say.’

‘Yes, well. The bidding got a little too hot for me,’ stuttered Camilla. ‘Anyway, I was only in New York before Christmas, so it doesn’t matter. I’ll make a donation to the charity, though.’

‘Well that’s a shame.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Because I got the winning bid.’

‘Oh, it was you!’

‘And it’s a shame because I won it for you.’

Camilla felt her throat dry. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘You bid, so I figured you wanted to go to New York.’

‘Josh. You didn’t have to … I couldn’t accept it.’

‘You could accept it. Especially if you invite me along …’

Cate returned with two glasses of kir as the klaxon sounded for the first chukka to commence.

‘Josh Jackson is hot,’ she smiled to Camilla, watching him mount a polo pony.

‘He won the bid for the New York weekend and he’s given it to me.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘And he wants me to take him too.’

Cate watched her sister’s face, so intently fixed on the polo pitch. She glanced at the field herself to see Josh astride a shiny bronze polo pony. He thundered down the boards to hit the ball up the field with his mallet.

‘You like him, don’t you?’ smiled Cate.

‘I do not.’

‘Please tell me you’re going to take the trip. Tell me you’re going to take him with you.’

‘I didn’t finish with Nat to start dating a rock star,’ said Camilla, turning to face her sister. ‘I just don’t need any distractions at the moment.’

‘But Cam, he’s gorgeous, not to mention very nice and very, very loaded!’

Camilla simply turned back to watch the match. For her, the conversation was clearly over. She had just rejected one of the country’s most eligible bachelors without a backward glance. Cate stared at Camilla and shook her head slowly. The discipline of her sister almost scared her.

29 (#ulink_42bfab77-3be0-558f-9e82-d48e7096525e)

Cate balanced on the toilet seat in Sand’s tiny office bathroom, attempting to pull on a black Pierre Hardy heel, apply her lip-gloss, and rub some bronzing cream into her legs all at the same time.

‘Cate? Are you still in there?’ said an impatient voice, followed by a bang on the door. ‘Come on, the taxi’s here!’

‘Give me two minutes, Nick,’ she muttered, swearing to herself as she dropped a huge dollop of bronzer onto the floor. She took a deep breath. ‘Ready?’ she sighed as she looked in the mirror, but was surprised to find that she was pleased with what she saw. She had poured herself into a cream Donna Karan cocktail dress. She knew it wasn’t the most forgiving colour, but if you forgot about the slight wobble around her thighs, she really looked quite pretty. Her hair fell loose and glossy between her shoulder blades and her eyes, lined with lashings of kohl and mascara, looked wide, sparkling and alert. She pulled a blue velvet box from her bag and opened it. Sitting on a little satin cushion was a pair of large diamond drop studs. Her mother’s. She hadn’t worn them for years, always waiting for a special occasion. No night had ever felt special enough. Well, if there was ever an occasion to wear them, it was tonight, for Sand magazine’s launch party. She threaded them through her lobes and smiled. ‘Ready.’

As she stepped out of the bathroom into the office, Nick was waiting for her, dressed in a one-button charcoal suit with a crisp pale-blue shirt, his sandy-brown hair swept back from his face. She caught her breath, wishing Nick wasn’t looking quite so handsome, and slid her clutch bag under her arm. She felt his eyes brush over her, but he said nothing about her appearance; the compliments had stopped long ago, but the smile on his face revealed his approval.

Quickly flicking his eyes away, Nick nodded to a pile of boxes by the door. ‘How many magazines should we take down then?’ he said.

‘I don’t know,’ said Cate. ‘About fifty?’