Jigsaw Lovers Read Free

shelves lined with books, in languages other than English, that there were paintings on the walls, fine rugs on the floors, and a collection of many different bottles of wine. He knew she had a computer and that she wrote articles for a magazine in America. She must write very well, for it seemed she earned a lot of money, if all the beautiful things she had were any indication to go by.
    It was not only her possessions that were beautiful. Diana Johnston herself was beautiful. She was twenty-five, with silky ash-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a slim, trim figure that made other women envious, and stunning legs, with delicate small ankles and petite feet.
    Whenever she walked down the street, she was aware of the stares and admiring glances she was attracting from every man that caught sight of her. She was used to it, and had long ago learnt how to exploit it.
    Men were overwhelmed when they first caught sight of her, and had been known to profess love after only thirty seconds’ conversation. She seemed to be the typical young, successful, beautiful business women, and she had an array of material attributes that backed-up that impression. There was the expensive car, the cellphone, the designer flat and wardrobe, which, coupled with her natural assets, made most men find her overwhelmingly and irresistibly attractive.
    She told those that asked that she was a freelance journalist writing articles on London life and fashion for publication in overseas magazines. This wasn’t true. She had never written a single article that had been published, although she did have a file of clippings, with her name in the by-line, to satisfy the curiosity of those who were persistent about reading some of her work.
    The reality of what she did to earn a living would, in fact, have made exceedingly interesting reading, were she ever allowed to commit it to paper.
    She was a leader in her field with very little competition at the level at which she worked. If asked, she herself would be hard-put to find a suitable word to adequately describe her chosen career.
    Some, if they found out what she did, might consider her to be a prostitute. In the broadest sense of the description this might be true, but she didn’t actively solicit or accept payment for sexual services. Quite often sex played a part in what she was expected to do, but the person who was benefiting from her talents in this direction was not the person paying her. She was normally given an assignment with an end objective, and if, in order to achieve that objective, she had to sleep with someone, then she did. The people she slept with on these occasions would never have believed in their wildest imaginings or dreams that she was going to bed with them for any other reason than that she actually wanted to.
    More often than not this was the case, for her assignments frequently involved her associating with men who were prominent and powerful; men who held high positions in industry, business, and the political arena. Such men attracted and interested her. She found their company, their experiences and their conversation stimulating, and they were more than flattered by the attentions of such a beautiful, sophisticated and intelligent young lady.
    It was an ideal combination which James’s organisation had used and exploited successfully on many occasions.
    James, whom she only knew as James, was her employer. He was the one person from his company that she had seen and had any dealings with. He had said that they were a firm of specialist private investigators. She had never asked but she was convinced that there was a lot more to the company than she had been told. She had felt that from their very first meeting, but she also sensed that it would be wise not to ask too many questions. She was given a set of instructions and an objective. It was not for her to question or concern herself with the reasoning behind those given aims.
    She had been living in Clapham North, in a