'I'm here to see Jett,' I said.

'How did you get in? You've no right to be here. Are you the woman at the gate a few minutes ago?' she demanded crossly.

'That's me. You really should get someone to look at your security. We'd be happy to oblige.'

'If you're trying to drum up business, you've come to the wrong place. I'm sorry, Jett can't see anyone without an appointment,' she insisted with an air of finality. The smile she laced her reply with had enough malice to keep a gossip columnist going for a year.

For the third time, I said, 'I have an appointment. Kate Brannigan of Mortensen and Brannigan.'

She tossed her long plait over her shoulder and her cornflower blue eyes narrowed. 'You could be the Princess of Wales and you still wouldn't get past me without an appointment. Look for yourself,' she added, thrusting an open desk diary at me.

She couldn't have been more than twenty-three or -four, but she had all the steely intransigence of the Brigade of Guards. I glanced at the page she was showing me. As she'd said, there was no appointment marked down for me. Either Jett had forgotten to mention it to her, or she was deliberately trying to keep me away from him. I sighed and tried again. 'Look, Miss…'

'Seward. Gloria Seward. I'm Jett's personal assistant. I'm here to protect him from being troubled by people he doesn't want to see. All his appointments go through me.'

'Well, I can only assume he forgot to mention this to you. The arrangement was only made last night after the concert. Perhaps it slipped his mind. Now, can I suggest that you pop off and find Jett and confirm our arrangement with him?' I was still managing to be sweet reason personified, but the veneer was beginning to wear thin.

Tm afraid that won't be possible. Jett's working and can't be disturbed,” she smirked.

It was the smirk that did it. Beyond her, I could see the cool marble hall beckoning me. I pushed past her and I was halfway to the nearest door before she'd even realised what was going on. As I strode down the hall, not pausing to admire the paintings or the sculptures dotted around, I could hear her shrieking, 'Come back here. You've got no right…'

I opened the first door I came to. It was a square drawing room done out in watered blue silk and gilt. Very country house and garden. A stereo system heavily disguised as a Queen Anne cabinet was blasting out Chris Rea's Road To Hell album. The only sign of life was reclining on a blue silk sofa that looked too delicate for anything heftier than Elizabeth Barrett Browning in her last days. There was nothing tubercular about Tamar, however. She looked like she'd had more than the three hours' sleep I'd managed, that was for sure. She glanced up at me from the magazine she was reading and said, 'Oh, it's you again.'

She was wearing a cobalt blue shell suit that clashed so violently with the furnishings it hurt my head to look at her. 'Hi,' I said. 'Where's Jett?'

'The rehearsal room. Straight down the hall, down the passage at the back and first right.' Before she'd even finished talking, she'd returned to her magazine, her foot tapping in time to the music.

I emerged in the hall to find a furious Gloria standing guard outside the door. 'How dare you!' she exploded.

I ignored her and set off to follow Tamar's directions. Gloria chased after me, plucking ineffectually at my jacket sleeve. When I got to the door of the rehearsal room, I shook off her arm and said, 'Now you'll see whether or not I've got an appointment.'

I opened the door and walked in to hear a man shouting, 'How many times do I have to tell you? You just don't need anyone else to…'

At the sound of the door, he whirled round and fell silent. There were two other men in the room. Neil Webster was sitting in a canvas director's chair with an air of fascinated satisfaction. Jett was leaning against a white grand piano with a sulky expression on his face. The third man, the shouter, I recognised at once. I'd seen him talking to Jett at the dinner where we'd met. Richard had told me he was Kevin Kleinman, Jett's manager.

Before any of us could say anything, Gloria erupted into the room and shoved past me. I couldn't believe the transformation in her. She'd altered from the dragon at the gates to a sweet little kitten. 'I'm so sorry, Jett,' she purred. 'But this woman just forced her way in. I tried to stop her, but she just pushed past me.'

Jett shrugged away from the piano with an exasperated sigh. 'Gloria, I told you I was expecting Kate. Christ, how could you have forgotten?'

The effect of Jett's words on Gloria was out of all proportion to their sting. She blushed scarlet and almost seemed to cringe out of the room, muttering apologies. To Jett, not to me. Her exit did nothing to diminish the air of awkwardness in the room. With an almost palpable effort, Jett turned the full force of his charm on me and smiled. 'Kate,' he said. 'I'm really glad you could make it.'

My reply was drowned by Neil, who called across, 'You're really going to be doing all of us a big favour, Kate. I can't tell you how pleased I am for Jett that you're going to sort this business out.'

I caught Kevin's scowl at Neil before he too turned to me and gave a forced smile. 'Kate hasn't made any decision yet, if I understand it correctly,' he said. 'Maybe we should wait and see what she decides before we start dishing out the congratulations.'

I hadn't been too impressed by Kevin when I'd first seen him, and the second meeting wasn't improving my opinion. His average height and build were diminished by his lousy posture and rounded shoulders, and when he walked his feet seemed to slide over the floor. His thin brown hair was receding fast, emphasising the sharpness of his features. Richard had told me he'd had a nose job, but looking at the finished product I found that hard to believe. Judging by his outfit – a soft brown leather blouson over a toffee-coloured cashmere crew neck and a pair of Levi 501s, he was doing his damnedest to ignore the fast approaching fortieth birthday. Aware of my scrutiny, he moved over to me and extended his hand. 'You must be the lovely Kate. I've heard so much about you from Richard. I'm Kevin, I take care of business for Jett.'

'Pleased to meet you,' I lied.

'I want to make it perfectly clear that whether or not you take on this job for Jett, it's vital that you do not mention outside this room what we discuss today. In the wrong hands, that information could do Jett a great deal of damage,' Kevin smarmed, holding on to my hand for fractionally too long. I had to fight the impulse to wipe it on my trouser leg.

'I've already told Jett that our confidentiality is guaranteed. We wouldn't have so many corporate clients if we had loose mouths.' My reply came out sharper than I intended and I noticed Neil smiling wryly.

'Fine, fine, I just wanted to be sure we understood each other,' Kevin oozed.

I deliberately walked away from him and crossed the room to Jett. 'Do you want to tell me why you've asked me here?'

He nodded and, taking my arm, he steered me across the room to a group of chairs round a low table. I took the chance to look around the large room. It was the size of a tennis court and was obviously a recent addition to the beautiful eighteenth-century mansion Jett had bought five years before. In one corner was a built-in bar, the only thing in the place that looked tacky. The long windows that looked out over the house's adjoining parkland had heavy shutters that could be drawn across to improve the room's acoustics. As well as the piano, there were banks of synthesizers, a few guitars, both acoustic and electric, a drum kit and an array of other percussion instruments. It was an impressive sight and I said so.