‘Hey, baby,’ he said, coming over, picking her up like a doll and planting a big smacking kiss on one cheek after the other. ‘Couldn’t miss that hair!’
Putting her down, he went to ruffle her bright yellow hair, which was piled up on top of her head, fixed with a huge black clip; JC, greatly daring, knocked Joe’s hand away.
‘Naughty,’ he said flirtatiously. ‘That took me hours to do this afternoon.’
‘Sorry, fella,’ Joe said, grinning. ‘This your man, Petal?’
‘Darling! As if!’ JC winked at him. ‘But I could be yours if you asked me nicely . . .’
‘This is Dan,’ Petal said, nudging him forward.
‘Hey, Dan,’ Joe said, giving Dan the classic American male greeting – a close handshake immediately followed by a quick hug, finished with a shoulder slap.
‘Joe, Jen’s limo is pulling up,’ an assistant in a suit said to him urgently.
‘Later,’ Joe said, raising a hand, flashing a smile and turning away.
‘God,’ JC breathed. ‘That man is sex on a stick.’
‘And totally straight,’ Tas said drily, though her eyes were as wide as the others’ from the encounter with Joe Jeffreys and his extraordinary charisma.
‘Oh, darling, I know,’ JC sighed. ‘But still. It was like being bathed in golden light. I wonder if it felt that good meeting Jesus?’
Michelle Lee-Glazer closed her eyes briefly in ecstasy: if the material kept being this juicy, Petal Takes LA was going to be a runaway hit.
Jennifer Downs’ limo was pulling up, right at the foot of the red carpet, the place reserved only for A-listers. And no one right now was more A-list than Jennifer Downs. As she stepped out of the limo, all ninety pounds of her in a heavily ruched ankle-length Christian Siriano dress that probably weighed as much as she did, the screams of her fans were high-pitched enough to get every dog in a one-mile radius barking its head off in response.
Joe bent down, taking Jennifer’s hand, helping her out. She stood there, winsomely smiling up at him, looking like a beautiful pixie, her bare shoulders gleaming against the frothy neckline of the dress. A diamond necklace was twined through her short pale blonde hair like a headband, and more diamonds glinted in her ears; as Joe raised her right hand to his lips to roars of approval from the crowd, she reached up with her other one, her left, touching his cheek, and not incidentally showing off the huge diamond engagement ring on her fourth finger.
‘Damn, that’s well-staged,’ muttered Michelle Lee-Glazer, as Carmen, sliding elegantly out of the limo, smiled approvingly at Joe and Jennifer acting out the little scene she’d choreographed.
Joe and Jennifer turned, hand in hand, to walk up the red carpet; but then a positive outcry of oohs and aaahs greeted a new arrival. Straining at the end of her leash, bouncing with the excitement of a dog awaiting serious treats if she does exactly what her trainer says, the golden Labrador who had played the name part in Him, Me and Mr Paws bounded up to Joe with great enthusiasm, jumping up at him as Joe caught her front paws and bent over to let the dog lick his face.
The spectators went insane. Screams rent the air, so piercing that Petal clapped her hands over her ears. The dog, a seasoned professional, was quite unfazed by her audience, dropping back to the ground and winding herself happily around Joe’s legs as Joe took her leash from the trainer.
Jennifer on one side, the Lab on the other, a huge smile on his handsome face, Joe started up the red carpet, enough flashbulbs going off to cause an epileptic serious health problems. JC, Tas and Petal had been to plenty of premieres at Leicester Square, walking the red carpet there, Petal twirling and posing for the photographers, a British It girl. But this was a whole different level of star wattage. Joe and Jennifer, in that moment, golden-haired, instantly recognizable, ridiculously beautiful, were the reigning king and queen of Hollywood.
Plus they had a golden Lab walking the carpet with them who was just as photogenic as they were.
Petal and her entourage stared after them with dropped jaws, as dazzled as every single fan red-faced and shrieking behind the velvet ropes.
‘Petal!’ muttered Michelle Lee-Glazer furiously, nodding at Petal to line up with the rest of the celebrities scheduled to walk the carpet.
‘Oh, right!’ Petal snapped back to full awareness. ‘Ready, Dan?’
She cocked her arm out for him to take it, and, still looking dazed, he wound his hand through it.
‘Shut your mouth, sweetie!’ she said, flicking his chin. ‘You could catch flies in that!’
‘Joe Jeffreys hugged me,’ Dan muttered as they walked towards the photographers. ‘And it was all on film! Everyone back in Newcastle’s going to do their nut when they see that!’
Joe
In common with many other actors, Joe had never been able to sit through his own movies. Jennifer couldn’t get enough of herself onscreen: sometimes, in her huge living room in the guest house at Joe’s, she and Carmen would curl up on the sofa and watch Jennifer’s movies all day long. Joe seriously did not know how she could do it. The sight of himself, up there, acting away, looking – in his opinion – like a total jerk, pretty much brought him out in hives.
But he always gave it thirty minutes before sneaking out of a premiere. Long enough for the crowds to have dispersed, the photographers and TV cameras to have packed up their equipment, the gossip columnists to be back in their offices, filing their stories. By the time he emerged into the lobby, pulling his Marlboros out of his pocket, dragging off his suit jacket with relief, the theatre was mercifully empty.
His regular driver knew the drill; as Joe walked out into the warm evening air, the car was already waiting discreetly by the side the movie theatre.
‘Home, James,’ he said, sliding in, stretching his legs out in front of him, and lighting up.
‘Mr Jeffreys? My name is Eduardo,’ said the driver diffidently as he pulled away from the kerb.
‘Yeah, Eduardo, I know,’ Joe said, pouring himself a snifter of Glenfiddich, his favourite malt. He should really be smoking a cigar with it, but he drew the line at cigar smoke in a car. Maybe at home, later. A Cohiba Esplendido, smuggled in from Cuba. ‘It’s from an old movie,’ he explained. ‘Home, James, and don’t spare the horses. I watched it the other night.’
‘OK, Mr Jeffreys. Sorry,’ Eduardo said. ‘Home it is.’
The sight of his security gates swinging open always gave Joe a warm, relaxed feeling, anticipation rising in him of what was waiting for him at home. Hengist and Horsa, his Great Danes, had been waiting by the gates patiently; when they saw the familiar car coming through, they leaped around it in delight and then chased it along the drive, Joe winding down the windows and egging them on. He let them jump all over him as he got out, slapping their muzzles, wrestling with them for a while.
‘Hey, you’re picking up that Lab,’ he said wryly, noticing that Horsa was sniffing his hand intently. ‘It’s the last time I come home from work smelling of another dog, OK, baby?’ He patted her huge head hard, pulling her ears, as she groaned happily and butted against him with a push strong enough to have knocked over a weaker man.
My house, my dogs, he thought happily, taking a deep breath of the soft moist night air as Eduardo circled the car round the side of the compound. Boy, life is good. Tonight had been a job well done; the press coverage of his and Jennifer’s romantic greeting on the red carpet would be totally positive, Carmen had assured him. He just had to keep one hundred per cent scandal-free for the next year: three months for the film to roll out around the world, three more months to release it on DVD, and then six more months to slowly plant stories that the strain of planning their wedding was telling on him and Jennifer, that their work commitments on different continents were pulling them apart; and finally, the sad announcement that Joe Jeffreys and Jennifer Downs were no longer a couple, with a plea for the press to respect their privacy and leave them alone at this difficult time.
My house, my dogs, Joe thought
again, pushing open the main door of his mansion, sniffing, to his surprise and pleasure, the rich meat-and-cheese scent of a homecooked meal. And best of all, my woman, he added with amusement. Who’d have thought it? I was sitting in that movie theatre, counting down the minutes so I could sneak out and get back to her. No one’s ever got under my skin like this before.
He made himself stroll, rather than run, across the huge foyer, across the living room and into the equally gigantic kitchen; he didn’t want to look as eager as he felt. Skye, in an apron three sizes too big for her, and oven gloves that looked as if they’d never been used before, was pulling a pan of lasagne out of one of the Smeg ovens.
‘Hey!’ Joe said in amazement. ‘I didn’t know you could cook!’
Hengist bounded up to Skye, who deflected him with a jut of her hip.
‘Greedy bastards,’ she said crossly. ‘I fed them already, but they’re always hungry.’
‘You should be careful,’ Joe said cheerfully, leaning on the travertine L that projected round the kitchen, watching Skye struggle to close the oven and slide the heavy pan onto the counter. ‘They weigh as much as you do. If they get too hungry, they could take one of your legs off.’
‘As if they would,’ Skye said, reaching down to stroke Horsa’s head. ‘They love me already. Ugh! She dribbles bad.’
‘I don’t blame her,’ Joe said. ‘I’m dribbling too. That lasagne smells damn good.’
‘It needs to rest for a while,’ Skye said, pulling off her oven gloves and wiping her forehead with them. She flashed him a smile. ‘I could lie to you and tell you that I made this myself,’ she said, walking across the kitchen towards him, ‘but you’d figure out eventually that I didn’t. I ordered it in. There are these places that sell real gourmet stuff you just put in the oven. They give you all the timings and everything.’
‘Smart girl,’ Joe said approvingly. Skye was leaning on the other side of the L, elbows propped on it, facing him. ‘Save those pretty hands for more important work.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Skye smiled at him enticingly. ‘Like what, exactly?’
Joe took her wrists, pulled her towards him, and whispered a suggestion in her ear.
‘Joe Jeffreys!’ Skye pulled her hands away, feigning shock and horror. ‘I would never have agreed to any kind of arrangement with you if I knew you had that kind of dirty mind!’
‘Too late now,’ Joe said, vaulting over the counter with the ease of a man who had been doing his own stunts for fifteen years. ‘You’re all signed up, babe. I got you locked down. You’re not going anywhere.’
He bent down to plant a kiss on her lips, his arms wrapping round her waist.
‘Don’t remind me!’ Skye said, laughing and slapping at him. ‘Get off me – I can smell you’ve had a drink and I haven’t had anything yet! That’s so not fair!’
‘All’s fair in love and war, babe,’ Joe said, enjoying the way her eyes sparkled and her cheeks went pink as he used the word ‘love’.
Too early for that yet, he thought. But hell, I’m not that far off. Crazy, isn’t it? She’s only been here for a couple of weeks, and already I never want her to leave. She’s got me. Got me good.
Happily, he watched her turn away to the Sub-Zero drinks fridge and pull out a bottle of Cristal, which had been chilling there.
‘I’m sorry about making you sign that damn contract,’ he said. ‘Here, gimme that – you’ll bust your nails.’ He took the bottle from her, unpeeling the foil. ‘It’s just, that kind of paperwork is standard practice when you’re, uh—’
‘A world-famous movie star,’ Skye finished, to save him having to say it. She went up on tiptoes to kiss him back. ‘I get it, Joe. I really do. After the whole Investigator thing, I could see why Carmen insisted on the whole legal side of things.’
On moving in, Skye had had to sign a contract; she’d promised not to reveal a word about anything to do with Joe’s private life, now and for ever, in return for a healthy bank account opened in her name and an endless series of perks that came with being Joe Jeffreys’ secret girlfriend.
Joe popped the cork and filled the glass she was holding out to him.
‘In one way, it wasn’t the most romantic thing ever,’ she added, ‘but in another –’ her cheeks went even pinker – ‘it was.’
‘Huh?’ Joe poured himself a glass.
‘A year,’ Skye said, sipping her Cristal. ‘The contract’s for a year.’ She ducked her head. ‘I thought you must really like me, to be sure you wanted to spend a whole year with me . . .’
‘Oh.’ Joe felt the tips of his ears going red too. ‘Uh. Yeah. You know, I never even thought about that. I mean, I just took it for granted. Funny, huh?’
He was grinning at her like a schoolboy with his first crush. He knew he was. And she was smiling down at the floor, looking so pretty and shy and sexy all at once that he couldn’t keep his hands off her a second longer.
‘You know what I love about you?’ he said, which was as close to using that word as he dared to get, this soon into their relationship. ‘You put a smile on my face whenever I see you.’ He pulled her towards him, spun her round and bent to kiss her shoulder, his hands sliding down her arms. ‘You never bore me. You get me hard as a tree and you fuck like a runaway train. That pretty much ticks all my boxes.’
‘Wow,’ Skye said, luxuriating in his use of the word ‘love’. She ground her bottom sexily back against him. ‘You do know how to make things sound romantic.’
Joe ran his hands down her back to her waist, finding the zipper of her skirt. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said happily, as she wriggled her hips to help him push her skirt down. ‘I’m about to romance you right off your pretty little feet.’
Her skirt fell to the ground, and Skye tilted her head round to look at him.
‘I won’t have to be a secret for ever, will I?’ she said hopefully. ‘I mean, I know I have to hide out here for now – hole up in hotels when you’re filming – but if things work out between us –’ she blushed again – ‘I won’t have to keep doing that . . . will I?’
‘Hey, you’re going to do that part for Jeff Ringquist over at Clearwater,’ he pointed out. ‘If it goes well, you can snag some more. In a year’s time, you’ll be an up-and-coming actress. No reason I can’t date an up-and-coming actress, is there?’
He snagged his thumb into her thong and started pulling that down too.
‘Might as well take everything off,’ he mumbled into her hair. ‘Since I seem to be going that way.’
‘But I’ll always be that stripper you screwed in rehab,’ Skye said sadly. ‘There’s video of us all over the net. You could never date me for real. I mean, out in the open.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Joe took hold of the hem of her T-shirt and lifted it up to her armpits. His hands came round to her breasts, sliding over the lace of her bra, feeling for the clasp. ‘Front-fastening,’ he said appreciatively. ‘My favourite. Mmm. Anyway –’ he undid her bra, letting it fall open, and closed his hands snugly over her breasts – ‘that’s even better! You and I meet in rehab, we get up to stuff, we work through the programme, we clean up our act, realize we like each other and settle down – isn’t that the cutest redemption story you ever heard?’
He pulled the bra straps off her shoulders, and Skye wriggled to make it easier for him, dragging her T-shirt over her head. When she turned to face him, she was completely naked.
‘You’ve got way too many clothes on,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with happiness at what he had just said. She reached for his belt, leaning up against him, pressing the full length of her naked body into him as she went up on her toes to whisper in his ear: ‘You know what you wanted me to do with my hands? Get ready, baby.’
‘Later,’ Joe said happily. ‘Right now, I’m thirsty.’
He picked her up by the waist, sat her on the marble counter, and said, picking up the bottle of champagne: ‘Lie down, will you? I’ve got an idea.’
‘Oh, no,’ Skye fake-pro
tested. ‘You and your damn ideas.’
She leaned back on her elbows so her back arched up to the ceiling and her head tilted back, her hair spilling onto the marble. Joe moved between her legs, sliding one over each shoulder, then pouring champagne slowly and carefully into her navel, filling it up, letting it spill over; he leaned forward and lapped it up, his tongue so hot and sexy as he licked up the bubbles that she moaned, arching her pelvis up towards him. Joe filled her navel with more champagne, letting it flood down between her legs.
‘Ooh! Too cold!’ Skye said, wriggling happily.
‘Really? You’re complaining now?’ Joe said, licking down her stomach, flicking her with his tongue, making her moan and buck beneath him, her hips pumping as he said, his voice mock-hurt: ‘And there was me thinking you liked my ideas,’ a second before he closed his mouth over her and made her scream so loudly that Hengist and Horsa, who had wandered off to slump onto the living-room floor, raised their heads, looked at each other in disgust and got up heavily to find a less noisy place to have a nap.
Amber
In her career as a model, Amber had travelled all over the world. She had posed in fluttering silk on the Great Wall of China, emerged in a minuscule bikini from the Caribbean sea onto the pink sands of Eleuthera Island in the Bahamas, and done a shoot in Venice that required her to lie in a gondola wearing only lingerie as a photographer hung off the Accademia Bridge, pointing his lens down at her near-naked body while a bevy of excited tourists snapped her frantically on their phones and digital cameras.
But she remembered very little about her travels. She had been on a combination of pills the whole time, in a pleasant, half-tranced haze of medication that had given her a cushion of psychological padding, allowing her to do things like step into a rocking gondola in broad daylight, wearing only a transparent lace bra and knicker set, and a pair of Louboutins.
I could never do that now, she thought ruefully, looking down at the water below. She was standing on the little balcony of her hotel room, which faced onto the white dome and belltower of the church of Santa Maria della Salute; the church and the hotel were separated by a narrow canal, a little tributary that ran between the Grand Canal on one side and Giudecca on the other. Ca’ Maria Adele, the hotel, had its own little pier, at which a motor taxi was pulling up to unload a lone passenger, an elegant silver-haired man in a white linen suit. He stepped onto the wooden pier, into the pool of golden light cast by the lamps above the hotel entrance, and took his leather overnight case from the taxi driver, entering the hotel without a glance up at Amber half-hidden in the twilight shadows above.
Bad Girls Page 43