She had a horrible feeling her heart had become involved. Her whole being, even her mind, had fallen under his spell. It seemed that with each word he had uttered this week, it became more charmed. He was intelligent, challenging, funny, kind and it was seriously impressed.
And if his words weren’t enough, there’d been that gesture, too. When she’d got back from school on Tuesday there had been a parcel waiting for her. And inside … cashmere, grey, three-quarter length, tailored, stunning … designer! She’d never heard of the designer before but had looked them up and had difficulty comprehending the financial worth of the coat she’d then had cradled in her arms. A year’s pay, give or take a few cans of baked beans, and she might have been able to afford it herself. But it was the most beautiful item of clothing she’d ever seen. And it was a perfect fit. And felt so wonderful to be in. And then there’d been his note which had accompanied it …
Please keep mine. I like the idea of that more than I perhaps should. But if you are in need of one, this may be more suitable for public use? I doubt dry-cleaning will ever eradicate the memory of Ronald Wittering from your coat, just as an eternity will never erase the memory of how you looked wearing mine yesterday.
I won’t be offended at all should you want to change it. I just couldn’t take the risk of you catching pneumonia. Fortunately they were able to make it in that fabric over night.
Yours, George
Susie closed her eyes. So much trouble …
But while her whole being was unquestionably charmed, it hadn’t stopped the alarm calls sounding from that part of her head designed to protect. That part of her was evidently resistant. But she couldn’t heed them. It was too late. Running screaming from George as it seemed to want her to do, would cause the very pain it was seeking to protect her from.
‘If rumours filtering out are true, then George has refused to spend any time at all off camera with Porsche. She’s gone to the director insisting that she needs to work through scenes with George on a one-to-one basis. George has said any work that needs doing can be done while the cameras are rolling, increasing the chances of getting the perfect moment on film. He’s not budging and has told Francis he’ll walk. She, in turn, has said she’ll walk. But Francis is apparently so impressed with some of the performances George is turning out, he’s told Porsche to get over it; they’re getting to rehearse, albeit on camera, so there shouldn’t be an issue.
‘She’s livid. She even threw into the pot the “George and the Horn stuff”, saying he needed to be controlled and shouldn’t be able to call the shots. Francis apparently laughed in her face. The studio is delighted with all the publicity. George Silbury has never been a hotter commodity and therefore interest in his films is sky high.’
Susie sank into the armchair. George was actively avoiding Porsche? She was a total utter goner.
‘I thought you needed to be off to school?’ Rachael queried. ‘You said ten minutes, that was like twenty minutes ago.’
Shit! Susie leapt from her seat and dashed to fetch her bag. She was supposed to be on playground duty first thing. Collecting her bag from her bedroom, she smiled. That beautiful, beautiful coat was currently nestled in tissue paper within its box under her bed. She so wanted to wear it, but what was between her and George seemed so … personal. Between just the two of them at the moment. And then there was what Rachael’s reaction would be!
Susie quickly repositioned her duvet, pulling it up to cover George’s coat that sat upon her pillow. She didn’t want Rachael getting her grubby mitts on it. She couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t help it. She was seeing him tonight. She turned to run out of the room … and froze when she spotted the empty hanger on her wardrobe door.
‘Rach!’ she screamed. ‘If you’ve borrowed my dress, I’ll hang, draw and quarter you!’
‘Yes Cassie, I ran after the coach. Sprint? Yes. Satisfied? And yes, I surrendered my coat and was very happy to do so. No, there was no further clothes removal … from either of us. Cassie!’
He sighed and forced himself not to visualise that scenario. ‘Rest assured that if there had been, I would not be telling you. And yes, to the Porsche stuff. Who are your sources? Michael will blow a gasket if he knows so much of this on-set stuff is getting out.’
‘How the hell did you know she was on that coach?’
‘I have no idea how I knew. I just did. I’ve answered more than enough of your questions to honour our deal. So you keep Mum away. Tell her I’ll call her next week to arrange meeting up. I’m in London again tonight. If you let me down, I’ll tell Mum about the second bedroom.’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘Try me. Book yourselves in wherever you want, in whatever kind of suite you want – for the weekend. Not just tonight.’
‘I’m not entertaining Mum for the weekend.’
‘Neither am I. Not this weekend. So—’
‘And just what is happening this weekend, George?’
‘Goodbye Cassie.’
Susie stomped into her bedroom. She’d ended up leaving work late because Joseph Robinson had managed to get his head wedged in a hole in a tree after school. How he’d done it, she still didn’t know. It seemed to be a physical impossibility, but his parents needed calming down and it wasn’t right leaving the other staff to deal with the fire brigade, particularly when members of her own class, keen to see the mooning tradition continued, kept insisting on pulling the helpless child’s trousers down.
And then she’d gone to the dry-cleaners to pick up her dress. The dress she was supposed to be wearing tonight, but which Rachael had borrowed last night and got covered in ketchup and mustard and which, under threat of painful death, she’d been ordered to drop off at the dry-cleaners first thing. Of course, with the way the day had gone, the dry-cleaners couldn’t find the damned dress. After nearly slapping the woman behind the counter and then the subsequent panic attack, Susie had had no choice but to hit the shops.
She was brought out of her painful reminiscences by the sight of her dress, hanging in its dry-cleaning film upon her wardrobe door.
‘Arrrrgggghhhhhh!’ She flung her bags down and stomped her feet.
‘What?’ Rachael asked from her doorway.
‘Out! Out! Out!’
‘By the way, I picked up your dress to save you some time.’
Susie slammed the door.
It was 6.45 p.m. now and she was due at George’s at 8.00 p.m. She had to have a bath, do her hair and make-up, shave her legs and underarms, and address the major deforestation required down below. No man had seen her down below for, mmm … three years. She hadn’t let Peter anywhere near it.
Susie groaned and sank to the bed.
She was terrified. How could she possibly please George Silbury? Oh she’d go through the beautifying motions, but what was the point? She was dreading him seeing her with no clothes on. How could she have ever thought he’d seen her looking bad on Monday?
He’d dated the most beautiful women in the world. Of course he had, because he was so darned beautiful himself. He’d done love scenes with countless more. She clenched her fists and firmly dismissed such a horrid thought. The idea of George naked with other women …. And she was overweight, at least when compared to those body-beautifuls he’d dated. And she did have cellulite. Thank you Porsche Sutter-Blythe for pointing out the painfully obvious.
Seeing her naked would most certainly restore George to his senses. He’d run screaming. Perhaps she should cancel. But God she wanted him: body and soul – and partially sighted. She was so screwed. Lights off. The lights would have to be off. Because the moment he caught a glimpse of her, the George and Susie Roadshow would be no more.
George sped along the M2 in his BMW 6 Series thinking he would no doubt get caught for speeding. Michael had waylaid him and he was only now driving back. He was not
in the best of moods and was furious with Michael, not only for delaying him, but for what he had said.
Apparently Michael had received countless calls about Canterbury and very much hoped it wasn’t anything to do with ‘that bint’ George had publicly humiliated himself over. She was most definitely not worth ruining his career for. And it would be ruined, should he choose to settle down with someone not in the business. Anyone outside of the industry couldn’t take the media pressure or stomach the filming schedules.
Not that any of that really mattered, Michael continued to say, because she was clearly playing the hard-to-get card and that was the only possible reason George could be interested. He suggested George hurry up and ‘fuck her’ so she was out of his system and he could get back on track. It was at that point George had given him two black eyes and left.
He was still livid. Some of the stuff had hit home, such as the media pressure. But if Susie couldn’t cope with the media then he wouldn’t hesitate in moving out of the public eye. It was that simple. He had made an obscene amount of money and never had to work another day in his life.
And then there was the Porsche stuff that Michael had started off their ill-fated meeting with. She’d evidently got Michael on board and the man had put considerable effort into encouraging him to spend more time with her: publicly to aid publicity for the film; privately to help her with the role she insisted she was struggling with. And then he’d said, yet again, how good George and Porsche would be together!
Rumours getting out of the rift between him and Porsche wasn’t good, George knew that, but to be honest – so what? Her public comments about Susie were inexcusable. And it could only be down to a bruised super-ego. He was probably the only man to have ever turned her down. There was clearly no accounting for taste.
George winced as he recalled that night seven years ago. She’d appeared so vulnerable. His rejection had been as kind as possible, yet, somehow, she’d been even worse since, particularly in recent weeks. It made no sense. He should never have accepted this role. And that was Michael again.
George was going to have to sack him. Michael had already left countless messages apologising for what he had said, but the damage was done. Not only with what he had said about Susie. He was beginning to wonder whether Michael was even acting in his best interests anymore. George had never wanted to do this film. What they were paying was ludicrous, but he didn’t need it. But did Michael? In hindsight, he’d been seriously railroaded and Michael’s cut for George doing the film was as ludicrous as the sum being paid to him.
George took a deep breath. He’d deal with it all on Monday. He refused to have anything impinge on his time with Susie.
Which brought him to tonight. And … He clenched his fists around the steering wheel. He was terrified. What if he messed it up? Their conversations this week had revealed Susie to be perfect – completely and utterly perfect. Just as he’d known she would be. She was intelligent, witty and he was so under her spell. He could just imagine what their arguments would be like. She was strong-minded, as was he, and they would challenge each other. But dear God … the making up.
Everything about her brought out feelings so extreme their force was staggering. She had him hook, line and sinker. Mind, body and soul. He was laid wide open and that was a vulnerability that scared him to hell.
But there was nothing on this earth that would keep him from her. She was the one. He knew it. There was a connection there … soul deep, and with her fears, he was sure it went both ways. It was too strong not to. But that hadn’t stopped her dumping him. He had to attempt to rein himself in. He mustn’t scare her off. He was scaring himself with the depth of his feelings, so he was going to have to keep himself in check. If he lost her again … he couldn’t allow himself to contemplate it, not if he was going to keep sane. But the fear of losing her … haunted him.
What he could contemplate was whether he would be up to scratch tonight. George momentarily shut his eyes and let his head rest on the steering wheel as his car came to a stop at a junction. He was experienced, he couldn’t deny that and should be taking comfort. He’d never before had a complaint. Quite the contrary. But he might as well be a virgin when it came to Susie. He had never been with a woman where his feelings were involved like this. He never knew such feelings existed. He’d thought himself in love once, but had clearly been delusional. What if he disappointed her?
Why didn’t he just cut to the quick! He was like a horny teenager around her, and they were hardly known for their control and staying power. Perhaps they should just talk? But he knew from their reaction to each other that it wasn’t likely to stop at that. He’d been imagining slowly undressing her and taking in the view all day. He was going to disgrace himself tonight, he just knew it.
As he headed through London, George passed the turning he would take should he be going to Susie’s. He instinctively slammed his foot down on the brakes. Cursing, he belatedly checked his rear-view mirror. He was normally a safe driver, but there was nothing normal – or safe – about his reaction to Susie Morris.
If he continued driving he could just about be home for 8.00 p.m. He could call Susie and tell her he might be a little late, just in case he hit traffic. On the other hand … he’d already showered and changed at the hotel before checking out. If he took that turning, he could be with Susie in two minutes rather than thirty.
George did a U-turn.
‘Rach? Rach? Can you do something with my hair? I’ve used half a bottle of anti-frizzing serum and it’s still—’
Susie froze in her bedroom doorway. Much as she had when she’d watched a 2D George Silbury say all those lovely things about her on the television. Today he was most definitely 3D.
Why didn’t she learn? Hot and flustered and tingling all over meant George Silbury. Next time she felt it without him in her sights, she was going to have to immediately rectify her appearance – or hide.
Okaaaay … the calm side of her brain said. It could be worse. She wasn’t standing in her greying knickers and jeans hanging off one leg. The less than calm side of her brain reminded her that she was standing before George Silbury in her fluffy grey dressing gown and … Oh God! She had those ridiculous Bagpuss slippers, courtesy of Rachael, on her feet. And her hair! Shit Shit Shit!
And he was grinning and his eyes were dancing. But, of course. Because that just meant she lost any ability to sound remotely coherent and …
‘Hi,’ he said, in a way that should be illegal. Oh yeah. He’d just added his voice into the equation. Needing a little support she put her hand on the door frame, attempting to look casual.
‘Hi,’ the frog in her throat croaked, because she clearly wasn’t capable of speaking for herself quite yet. Realising what she sounded like, she sent it packing and had a go herself. ‘Hi.’ That sounded gushy and girly and breathless.
She gave up, unable to do casual in the circumstances. She’d never be able to do casual around him. ‘I can’t believe you’ve seen me looking like this. I was going to attempt sophisticated tonight and …’
He took two strides over and was now … If she reached out, she could touch him. She’d had to stop speaking to gulp.
His eyes were looking that way … Heated, no … ablaze. And she was clearly combustible because that look seemed to be setting her alight from the inside out. Evidently her body knew exactly what it wanted tonight. What it had always wanted. What it had always needed. To be joined as one with George Silbury.
‘Susie,’ he said, in a way that made her feel so precious she wanted to start crying. She wanted to say ‘George’ in the same way and just cling to him and never ever let him go. Seriously … never ever let him out of her arms. And just how nuts would that look? He gently pushed a strand of her treacherous hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. ‘I was passing by and … it was the right decision.’
&nbs
p; ‘Susie! George is here!’ Rachael yelled from the direction of her room. ‘Oh!’ Her voice was nearer, evidently now in the main room. ‘Sorry. I had to take a call … you can see for yourself.’
George leaned forward and spoke in Susie’s ear, his warm breath whispering across her skin in a way so deeply erotic, foreplay became pointless. ‘I’ve missed you. And red is now my favourite colour.’
She tried to get her head functioning. He’d missed her? That was so lovely. So, so lovely … But red? Why would red …? It was taking way too long to process the question but … No! She’d long ago lost the cord of her dressing gown and, standing as she was, it was gaping open and revealing her new undies. She used her free arm, the one not holding her up, to try and close the gap before he saw any more of her imperfections.
‘It was the best decision I have ever—’ That voice. But it cut off.
Susie became vaguely aware of another male voice, calling out. ‘Rach? Suse? I’m heading down the chippie. Do you—?’
George was suddenly taking control of her dressing gown situation. Indeed, he wrapped it around her gently, yet more tightly than she could have ever thought possible, and then positioned her arms so they acted as clamps, keeping it firmly closed.
Rob. It finally came to her. He must have let himself in and be after takeaway orders. Not that she could see him, as she was now faced with the wall that was George Silbury’s back.
The very broad, muscular wall that looked incredible in the charcoal T-shirt, stretched taut across his shoulders. She itched to reach out and touch, to wrap her arms around his slim waist, to bring their bodies together. She would rest her cheek on his back, feel his warmth and strength and his life force. It was almost a compulsion.
Instead, she found fortitude from somewhere and took the opportunity to dive back into her bedroom to get dressed. George had been more than eager to cover her up. Lights off. It would be fine with the lights off she desperately reassured herself.
Romancing the Soul Page 16
