Married Lovers

by Jackie Collins

  “I told you yesterday, Mandy,” he answered patiently. “I have no idea who I’m bringing.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Do me a favor, don’t jump to any conclusions.”

  “But last night—”

  How did Ryan live with this woman? Even her voice got on his nerves. And the thought of fucking her…

  She was droning on about how much fun Spago was the night before, and how great he and Mary Ellen had looked together. “You make a beautiful couple,” she concluded.

  “Yeah, well, we’re not,” he said flatly, and hung up.

  If Mandy wasn’t married to his best friend there was no way he’d waste his time talking to her.

  But she was Ryan’s wife, so he had to put up with her–that was just the way it worked.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cameron and Cole met with Laura Lizer, Natalie’s business manager, and put their signatures on the relevant papers. Then Iris came through, and they were able to sign the lease for the space they’d seen on Wilshire. It seemed that things were moving right along.

  As soon as everything was done, Cole arranged a celebratory dinner at Obar–a fun restaurant/bar on Santa Monica.

  He and Cameron arrived together; Lynda brought her boyfriend, the very macho Carlos; Dorian walked in with a young male assistant who looked after a major singing star; and Natalie was accompanied by her latest live-in, a successful real-estate developer, and one of her best friends, Ty Morris, a talented black photographer who specialized in artistic nudes.

  Ty took one look at Cole and Cameron, and to Natalie’s annoyance spent the majority of the evening begging them to pose for him. Meanwhile the young personal assistant fell in lust with Cole, causing Dorian to go off in a snit, while Carlos strutted around acting as if he was doing everyone a favor by being there.

  “This is a nightmare,” Cameron whispered to Cole halfway through the evening. “We should never have allowed significant others to come. It was a mistake.”

  “So right,” Cole agreed, although he was quite enjoying all the attention coming his way.

  “Can’t wait to get outta here,” Cameron muttered, informing Ty for the fourth time that no–she was not planning on posing nude anytime soon.

  Meanwhile they needed a name for the new place, and everyone had a suggestion. Dorian thought Flow sounded right; Natalie liked Energy; Ty opted for Strip; then Cole came up with the winner. “We’re calling it Paradise,” he said. “It’s got exactly the right vibe.”

  And so Paradise was the chosen name.

  Apart from arranging to rent the equipment, and then having it all installed, Cameron soon realized there was plenty of hard work to be done, and that either she or Cole needed to be at the new premises making sure everything went smoothly. This meant that both of them had to give up some of their clients, then Cameron had to inform the man who ran Bounce that she would no longer be working there, which turned out to be more of a drama than she’d anticipated.

  The owner of Bounce was an Iranian in his fifties, commonly known behind his back as Mister Fake Tan. He paraded around the premises once or twice a week, usually with an interchangeable blonde in tow, favoring girls with enhanced boobs, referring to them as his new assistants.

  Since Cameron rented her space and paid Mister Fake Tan commission on every one of her clients who used the facilities, she’d felt no obligation to give him much notice. But when she informed him that she was leaving, he threw a fit. “How can you do this to me?” he screamed. “After I give you job, look after you. How can you be so ungrateful?”

  Ungrateful? He’d made a ton of commission over the two years she’d been at Bounce. What did he have to complain about?

  “Where you going?” Mister Fake Tan screamed. “Nobody treat you as good as I do.”

  His reaction had scared the hell out of Lynda, who was a salaried employee.

  Cole had taken it in stride. “Do not tell him we’re openin’ our own place,” he warned. “’Cause that’ll really get his balls in a sweat.”

  So Cameron lied and informed him she was only planning to work with private clients in their own homes. That shut him up.

  “He’ll find out, you know,” Lynda ventured.

  “And there’s nothin’ he can do,” Cole assured her. “You’d better give your notice asap.”

  “What do I tell him?” Lynda wailed.

  “Tell him you’re gettin’ married.”

  “I wish!”

  Meanwhile Cameron was wondering if she’d taken on too much responsibility. It was one thing dreaming of opening her own place, it was quite another actually doing it. And money was draining away at an alarming rate. Her money. Cole’s money. Natalie’s investment. Money was hemorrhaging out of the place. It was a big worry, but she and Cole were convinced they could make it happen. They had no choice.

  Every morning Cameron worked out Don Verona at seven a.m. Following him she had two more clients, and by ten-thirty she was at the new premises organizing painters and installers and plumbers and electricians. Cole took over at four, enabling her to spend the rest of the day working with her other clients.

  It was a grueling schedule, but as the place started to take shape, it was worth it.

  Don was still on her case about going out to dinner with him. She’d steadfastly turned down every invite, but he didn’t seem inclined to quit. She refused to flatter herself, she knew it was only because he was unused to hearing “no.”

  “You look kind of tired,” he said to her one morning as he ran on the treadmill and she stood beside the machine, stopwatch in hand.

  “Hey–I’m averaging five hours’ sleep a night,” she said ruefully. “I guess it’s catching up with me.”

  “I know you hate me asking questions–” he said tentatively. “But what the hell are you doing all night?”

  She hadn’t mentioned her new venture to him. She’d thought of doing so when they were ready to open, which didn’t appear to be any time soon as none of the workmen they’d hired seemed to be capable of completing on time. And their so-called contractor was useless. The bathrooms weren’t finished, the phone lines weren’t in, the lighting needed attention, and only half the exercise equipment had arrived. It was totally frustrating, not to mention expensive. She was getting more worried each day that they’d run out of money before they even got started.

  “I’m opening my own place,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Five more minutes, then we’re moving on to weights.”

  “What kind of place?” he asked, continuing to run.

  “A fitness studio.”

  “You’re opening it?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned it before,” he said, wondering why she was always so damn secretive.

  “I hardly plan on being a personal trainer all my life,” she said. “This is my dream.”

  “Good for you,” he said, slightly out of breath. “How’s it progressing?”

  “Slowly,” she sighed. “It’s an ongoing saga of no job gets finished on time, which means I’m kind of stuck there permanently, overseeing everything. If I’m not around, my partner is.”

  “You have a partner?” he said, on immediate alert. Was this why he was getting nowhere with her? She had a goddamn partner! Did she live with him? Were they fucking? Shit!

  “Yes, I have a partner,” she answered coolly. “Cole de Barge. He’s a personal trainer too.”

  “You didn’t tell me that you’re involved,” Don said, frowning.

  “Involved?”

  “A partner.”

  “Oh!” She started to laugh. “Cole is my business partner. I’m hardly his type.”

  “You’re everyone’s type.”

  “Cole is gay.”

  Now why did he feel so relieved? “No shit?” he said, keeping it casual.

  “He’s a great guy, and his sister, Natalie, is our investor.”

  “You have inv
estors?” he said, slowing down the treadmill.

  “Only one. Natalie de Barge.”

  “I think I know Natalie,” he said, stepping off the treadmill. “She’s on that early evening entertainment show, right?”

  “That’s her,” Cameron said, handing him a towel.

  “Yeah, she’s one of the good ones,” he said, throwing the towel around his neck.

  “I hope so, ’cause we’re running out of money fast.”

  Damn! Now why had she said that? Too much information.

  “You are?” Don said, sensing an opening.

  “I might be forced to increase your rate,” she said quickly, lightening things up. “Think you can afford me?”

  “Maybe you should bring in more investors,” he suggested. “I mean I could—”

  “No thanks.”

  God! She certainly didn’t want Don Verona thinking that she needed his money, because she didn’t. They’d manage. They had to.

  “When’s the opening?” he asked.

  “Two or three weeks is our goal,” she said, as they moved over to the free weights. “Perhaps you’d like to come.”

  “Ah…” he said wisely. “She needs me for publicity.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her before, but having celebrities at their opening couldn’t hurt.

  “Can I count on you to be there?”

  “Tell you what,” he said, sitting down on the bench and picking up a pair of hand weights. “I’ll make a bargain with you.”

  “Uh-oh,” she said warily. “This doesn’t sound great.”

  “I’ll come to your opening, if you’ll come with me to a friend’s birthday party Sunday night.”

  “You know I don’t—”

  “Yeah–I know, I know–you don’t mix business with pleasure. But think of the coverage you’ll get if I’m at your place when you open your doors to the hungry public. They love me, you know,” he added dryly. “I have many loyal fans.”

  “That’s blackmail,” she said sternly.

  “Never said it wasn’t.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “You’re something else, Mr Verona.”

  “And you’re not?” he responded, shooting her a quizzical look.

  “Okay, it’s a deal,” she said, thinking how thrilled Lynda would be to finally meet him.

  “You’re sure? You’re not going to back out on me at the last minute?”

  “As if I would! And if you like,” she added, “bring some of your famous friends.” They may as well make the opening as star-studded as possible; after all, this was L.A., and getting the word out with some positive P.R. was a smart move.

  “Got no famous friends,” he said, going through a series of upper-arm reps. “Merely acquaintances.”

  “Then bring your girlfriend.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “According to the press you do.”

  “Yeah? And who would that be?”

  “Mary Ellen Evans.”

  “Aw, jeez,” he groaned, putting down the weights. “Do not believe everything you read.”

  “It’s all over the Internet.”

  “It is?”

  “Not that I’m glued to the Internet, but it’s there.”

  “Jealous?” he said, teasing her.

  “Oh sure,” she drawled. “Losing sleep and everything.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you’re only sleeping five hours a night,” he said, grinning. “You’re sad and disappointed that you didn’t get me first.”

  “I hardly think so,” she demurred.

  “You don’t, huh?” he said, still teasing.

  “Nope.”

  “Then what can I do to make you lose sleep?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Quite sure, thank you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Oh my! You have a very big ego!”

  “And that’s not all!”

  “Okay, okay,” she said quickly. “I don’t need to hear any more.”

  Don flashed another of his famous grins. She was coming around. His charm had not deserted him.

  Soon he and the delectable Cameron Paradise would be a couple.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As she walked into the dinner party upstairs at Mr Chow, Cameron realized two things. One, she was the youngest woman there. And two, the other women did not take kindly to a stranger in their midst–especially a stranger who did not resemble a wanna-be actress/model with the requisite fake tits, plumped up lips and Botoxed forehead. And especially as she was with Don Verona.

  It soon became patently obvious that even though they were married, every woman in the place felt that she had a strong claim on Don. He was their favorite famous, straight single man, and given half a chance they’d all be willing to hop into bed with him were he to ask.

  The party was full of couples, and the women descended on Don as if he were a rare steak at a barbecue. Mandy was at the forefront, sparkling in a silver sequined Valentino cocktail dress, diamonds dripping, her hair swept up in a chic chignon, which didn’t really work because she was too short to carry it off.

  “Hello, dear,” Mandy gushed, her eyes inspecting Cameron from head to toe. “And your name is—?” she trailed off, not really interested. She’d hoped that Don would bring that TV girl, Mary Ellen, the one whose husband had dumped her, making her Queen of the tabloids, poor thing. At least she was famous in her own way.

  “My assistant told you her name,” Don said good-naturedly, plucking a spring roll from the tray of a passing waiter. “It’s Cameron Paradise. Surely even you can’t forget a name like that, Mandy.”

  “Hi,” Cameron said, feeling awkward and out of place in her simple white pantsuit, with no diamonds in sight.

  “Welcome, dear,” Mandy said, distracted as more people entered.

  “Mandy is the birthday boy’s wife,” Don revealed. “Get her to your gym and every Hollywood Wife in town will follow. Mandy gets off on discovering new places.”

  “I’m not sure Hollywood Wives are the clients I’m looking for,” Cameron said coolly.

  “You want to make money, don’t you?” Don questioned, going for another spring roll. “Believe me, getting Mandy on your side is step number one.” He paused for a moment and raised an eyebrow. “You do know who she is, don’t you?”

  “Yes. You just told me, she’s Birthday Boy’s wife.”

  “And the daughter of Hamilton J. Heckerling, the mega-producer with power up the kazoo.”

  “The what?” Cameron asked, suppressing a giggle, because she sensed Don was a little bit nervous bringing her here, therefore he wasn’t his usual smooth in-control self, which she was rather enjoying.

  “Let’s go find Ryan,” he said.

  “That would be Birthday Boy?”

  “It sure would. He’s probably having a major melt-down somewhere quiet.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause it’s his fortieth, and he’s freaking out like it’s the beginning of the end.”

  “What does he do?” she asked, attempting to sound interested.

  “Indie producer. We went to college together. Ryan’s probably my closest friend.”

  Three over-dressed women descended on Don, enveloping him in clouds of Angel, Sapphire and Something Very Exclusive. They all started talking at once, and even though he attempted to introduce Cameron, their interest level was nil.

  “I’ll be right back,” she whispered, discreetly slipping out the door.

  She’d thought about taking a break in the Ladies Room, but it was filled with chattering women, so feeling claustrophobic, she made her way downstairs and out to the front of the restaurant, where a gathering of paparazzi jumped to attention for a moment, then realizing that she was nobody, they chose to ignore her.

  She walked a few steps away from the front of the restaurant and took a deep breath. Ah…fresh air, although smoke was in the air from a few resolute smokers w
ho lingered outside indulging their vice.

  It had been a mistake to come with Don tonight. This wasn’t her world, filled with powerful men and rich women, some of them famous. Her idea of a fun night out was a movie and dinner at a small neighborhood restaurant. Don couldn’t do that, he was a star; his freedom to do whatever he wanted was non-existent.

  No more nights out with Don Verona. He was off her radar.

  A man was pacing agitatedly up and down in front of her muttering to himself He did not look like the kind of man who spent his time spilling expletives under his breath. He had on a well-cut suit with a blue shirt and a darker blue silk tie. And when the street light caught his face, she noticed the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Blue and intense, in a craggy face with generous lips and a slightly crooked nose. For a moment she couldn’t help staring. He was not perfectly handsome like Don, but he was extraordinarily attractive.

  As he passed her for the third time she couldn’t help herself. She took a tentative step forward. “Uh, are you okay?” she asked.

  He stopped abruptly; now it was his turn to stare at her. “Yes,” he said, after a moment of silence. “I’m letting off steam before I explode.”

  “Exploding is not a good plan,” she said lightly, wondering why her heart was starting to beat at an accelerated rate.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Oh, I’d like to, she thought. I’d like to take you to my bed and tell you all about it.

  What the hell was happening here? She was getting turned on by a total stranger. A man who muttered under his breath and had blue eyes that mesmerized her. She hadn’t felt like this since the first day she’d met Gregg. It was instant attraction.

  How to get his attention, that was the problem, although he didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

  “Uh, are you eating at Mr Chow?” she asked, knowing that she probably sounded utterly foolish.

  “Kind of,” he said.

  And suddenly their eyes locked into an intense sexually charged exchange that neither of them seemed inclined to break.