Golden Fever

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘What are you doing now?’

  ‘As little as possible,’ he grinned.

  She laughed. ‘That sounds like you!’

  He pretended to be insulted by her humour. ‘I’ll have you know I’m a valued man with a camera—a movie camera.’

  ‘Why, Gene, I didn’t know that. Congratulations. But if you’re such a valued man,’ she added teasingly, ’what are you doing loafing about on Malibu Beach?’

  ‘Like I told you, as little as possible.’

  ‘Seriously, Gene,’ she chided.

  He shrugged. ‘The film I was due to be working on has been cancelled for a few months.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ she grimaced, joining him down on the sand, sitting cross-legged beside him. ’Gun Serenade?’

  ‘Yes. But how did you—’

  ‘Rourke is directing the film I’m in at the moment,’ she explained reluctantly.

  Gene’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘He is?’

  ‘Mm,’ she nodded.

  ‘So that’s where he is,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘Yes,’ she laughed, but it was a laugh without humour. ‘How is your father?’

  ‘The same as ever. Oh, he’s married again,’ he added as an afterthought.

  ‘He is?’ Clare’s eyes widened.

  ‘Mm,’ Gene grinned. ‘I think he had a brainstorm—Lucy is only five years older than me.’

  ‘Is she nice?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ She had always liked Perry, he deserved to be happy.

  ‘Your mother and my father broke up years ago,’ he supplied.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So,’ Gene said briskly, ’who’s the lucky man to put that ring on your finger?’

  Clare felt on safer ground talking about Harvey, and blushed as she realised how much she was talking about him. ‘Sorry,’ she said ruefully.

  ‘You’re very fond of him, hmm?’

  ‘Very,’ she nodded. ‘And you—is there a special girl in your life?’

  ‘Not at the moment,’ he shrugged.

  ‘Still playing the field?’ she teased.

  ‘You could say that,’ he drawled. ‘Did you bring your bikini with you? We could go for a swim.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ she said regretfully. ‘I only came out for a drive.’

  ‘Rourke gives you days off, does he?’ he quirked one blond eyebrow.

  ‘He—he didn’t need me today,’ she evaded.

  ‘How does it feel to be a big star?’ Gene teased.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll let you know if I ever become one.’

  ‘From what I’ve heard you’ve already made it. One of these days you’ll be invited to put your mark outside Grauman’s Chinese Theater.’

  Clare knew this distinction was only enjoyed by about a hundred and fifty actors and actresses—and she doubted she could ever add to their number. ‘One member of the family is enough,’ she dismissed.

  ‘Of course, your mother,’ he nodded. ‘How is she nowadays?’

  Her expression became shuttered, her arms clasped about her bent knees as she gazed out across the water. ‘I have no idea,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘You don’t see her?’ Gene seemed surprised.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ he shook his head. ‘Did it have anything to do with Rourke?’

  ‘You knew, didn’t you?’ Clare was suddenly remembering another conversation she had had with Gene when he had warned her against getting involved with Rourke. ‘You knew all the time,’ she realised.

  ‘About your mother’s interest in Rourke? Yes,’ he sighed. ‘I think the whole of Hollywood knew.’

  ‘Except me,’ she recalled bitterly.

  ‘Except you,’ Gene nodded. ‘You got hurt badly, didn’t you?’

  ‘At the time I did,’ she dismissed tightly. ‘But I’m over it now.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she flushed. I’m engaged to Harvey, we’re getting married soon.’ It was a slight exaggeration, since she had no idea when she and Harvey were getting married, but she felt she needed the added protection in front of Gene. He had always been too astute where she was concerned. ‘Maybe you would like to come over one evening and meet him?’ she invited warmly.

  ‘Come over where?’ he mocked.

  ‘Sorry!’ she smiled. ‘We’re staying on the Queen Mary.’

  ‘In that case I’d love to come. She’s been there for years now, but somehow I’ve never got to see her. Maybe I’ll come early and take the tour.’

  ‘I think all men are boys at heart,’ she said ruefully. ‘The tour was the first thing Harvey did when we got here,’ she explained.

  Gene laughed. ‘We all like to imagine what it would have been like to be the Captain of such a ship.’

  ‘It still has a Captain, so why don’t you ask him?’

  He shook his head. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Harvey and I met him last night at dinner. Captain John Gregory,’ she supplied, having liked the friendly man who had been introduced to them the previous evening in the Sir Winston Restaurant, finding him absolutely charming.

  ‘It’s a nice touch,’ Gene nodded. ‘But I suppose he’s just a figurehead, only there for the tourists.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Clare disagreed. ‘From what I understand from the staff he’s still the ultimate command.’

  ‘Interesting job. Well, when do you want me to come to dinner?’

  ‘I don’t remember asking you to dinner,’ she teased. ‘Just for the evening.’

  ‘If you aren’t going to feed me I’m not coming.’

  ‘Okay,’ she laughed, ’I’ll treat you to dinner. How about tomorrow?’

  ‘Great,’ he nodded agreement.

  ‘No previous engagements?’ she quirked an eyebrow.

  ‘If I had I’d cancel it, for you.’

  ‘You always were a flirt,’ she chuckled, putting her shoes back on as they reached the road.

  ‘I never flirt,’ Gene complained. ‘You just never take me seriously—you never did. I must have asked you to marry me fifty times in the past.’

  ‘And you would have run a mile if I’d said yes.’ She wiped the sand from her hands.

  ‘Probably,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow some time.’

  Clare hugged him. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, Gene—especially today. I—I was feeling a bit—down.’

  He nodded. ‘You looked it. Still, look at it this way, Clare, it can’t last for ever.’

  She blinked up at him. ‘What can’t?’

  ‘Working with Rourke.’

  She flushed. ‘I’m not down because of working with Rourke.’

  ‘Of course you aren’t.’ Gene held her car door open for her.

  ‘I’m not!’ She slid in behind the wheel.

  ‘I agreed with you, didn’t I?’ he said with exaggerated innocence.

  She gave him a look of irritation. ‘It was the way you agreed.’

  He gave her a wide-eyed look. ‘You imagined it, Clare.’

  ‘I’m sure!’ she scorned, flicking on the ignition. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. And, Gene, please don’t mention my knowing Rourke to Harvey, he doesn’t know we—knew each other in the past.’

  ‘ ‘‘Knew’’ in the full meaning of the word?’ he quirked a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Mind your own business!’ she snapped.

  His mocking laughter followed her as she reversed on to the road. Maybe she had been wrong to invite him on to the ship, to meet Harvey. Gene was a mischiefmaker, and she wasn’t sure she could trust him as regards mentioning Rourke and herself to Harvey.

  Oh well, it was too late now. She would just have to make the best of it. And it had been nice seeing Gene again, had taken her back to the happy times.

  It was almost dinner time by the time she parked the car in the car park next to the ship and walked over to the hotel, unknowingly
graceful in her fitted white outfit. For the first time she noticed one of the many English telephone boxes in this area. They were the wrong colour! In England the telephone boxes, like the buses in London, were red, these were orange. She shrugged; not everything was perfect, after all.

  Harvey wasn’t in his room, Clare went back to the main desk to see if he had left a message for her. He hadn’t. It wasn’t like Harvey to just go off and not leave her word where he had gone.

  There was a worried frown marring her brow as she let herself into her suite. She didn’t know why she was surprised to see Rourke lounging on her sofa, but somehow she was. And he was asleep!

  He looked more vulnerable in sleep, younger too, with no lines of cynicism to add the years. For long, timeless minutes she just drank her fill of him, knowing that as soon as he was awake the antagonism would be back, the anger they had for each other.

  How she wished she could lie down beside him, could draw him into her, could once again know his full possession, be close to him.

  She slammed the door hard behind her with the intimacy of her thoughts, coming fully into the room, her mouth twisting with satisfaction as Rourke gave a start and came awake with a jerk, blinking dazedly as he became aware of his surroundings.

  Clare threw her handbag and keys down on the table. ‘Comfortable?’ she asked sarcastically.

  ‘Not very.’ He straightened, obviously still a little dazed. ‘What time is it?’ he asked groggily.

  ‘Seven-thirty,’ she answered abruptly. ‘What are you doing in my room after saying you wouldn’t invade my privacy again?’ she demanded to know.

  Rourke swung his legs down off the coffee-table. ‘I’m damn well waiting for you! Where the hell have you been?’

  She got herself a drink of water from the bathroom, feeling suddenly thirsty. ‘Out,’ she supplied curtly. ‘Now I want to change for dinner—’

  Rourke stood up, completely in control now, towering over her ominously. ‘Where have you been, Clare?’ he repeated, dangerously soft.

  ‘I told you—’

  ’Where?’

  She flinched at the anger he conveyed in that one word. ‘I went to the beach—’

  ‘Malibu?’ His eyes were narrowed.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed resentfully.

  ‘You actually went to the beach?’ His eyes glittered dangerously now.

  ‘I—Yes.’

  ‘Do you know I’ve been worried out of my mind about you?’ He shook her roughly, glaring down at her.

  ‘A-about m-me?’ Clare felt as if her teeth were being rattled out of her head!

  ‘Of course about you!’ His fingers bit painfully into her shoulders, with little regard for the way she winced. ‘I was a bit rough on you earlier—’

  ‘Rough!’ she found the strength to scorn. ‘You were downright nasty!’

  ‘I know that.’ He thrust her away from him. ‘I have no excuse—’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t!’

  ‘Except that you’re driving me insane!’ he groaned, looking at her with tortured eyes. ‘I don’t find it any easier working with you than you do with me.’

  ‘Where’s your professionalism?’ She was driving him insane! What on earth did he mean?

  ‘Where’s yours?’ he derided.

  She sighed. ‘This situation is impossible. If I’d known—if I’d guessed you were going to be here I would never have come.’

  ‘Strange, I had the opposite reaction. By the way, I have a message for you from Harvey.’

  Clare was frowning. ‘What do you mean, the opposite reaction?’ He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he meant—could he? No, of course he couldn’t! It was merely wishful thinking on her part.

  Rourke raised one dark eyebrow. ‘Don’t you want to hear the message from Harvey?’

  ‘I suppose so. I just—’

  ‘You only suppose so? Shame on you, Clare,’ he taunted.

  ‘All right.’ Her mouth set angrily, as she decided she must have imagined that look of desperation in his eyes seconds earlier. ‘What did Harvey want me to know?’

  ‘Apparently he’s been delayed on business—’

  ‘Business?’ she echoed in a puzzled voice.

  ‘That’s what he said,’ Rourke shrugged.

  ‘Maybe he’s made contact with someone at one of the studios—What he said?’ she realised sharply. ‘You mean you actually spoke to Harvey yourself?’

  He looked at her steadily. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t have done?’

  She turned away, trying to digest what he was telling her. ‘No, of course not. I just—How did you speak to him?’

  ‘I just picked up the telephone when it rang and there he was,’ Rourke derided.

  Clare was still puzzled. ‘Harvey rang you? But why would he do that? Unless of course he—’

  ‘I picked up your telephone, Clare,’ he put in softly.

  Her eyes widened. ‘My telephone?’

  ‘Mm,’ he nodded unconcernedly.

  ‘You came in here and answered my telephone?’ she repeated indignantly.

  ‘Any reason why I shouldn’t?’

  ‘You know damn well there is! What on earth will Harvey think?’ she groaned.

  ‘The truth, I suppose. That I heard your telephone ringing and answered it,’ Rourke taunted her.

  ‘But he doesn’t know you’re next door,’ she said in exasperation.

  Rourke frowned. ‘Why doesn’t he?’

  ‘He just doesn’t,’ she muttered.

  ‘It isn’t a secret, is it?’ he proved softly.

  ‘Maybe if you didn’t keep just walking in here I might have—mentioned it.’ She was becoming more and more agitated by the minute.

  ‘Well, he knows now,’ Rourke shrugged.

  ‘Yes, he does, doesn’t he,’ she said irritably. ‘Heavens, I hate to think what construction he’s going to put on this.’

  ‘Doesn’t he trust you?’

  ‘Of course!’ Her indignation rose.

  Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?’

  ‘Of course I have something to worry about,’ she snapped. ‘If the roles were reversed, and a strange woman picked up Harvey’s telephone when I called him, then I would demand a full explanation.’

  ‘Then you don’t trust him,’ Rourke said simply.

  ‘I do—’

  ‘You can’t, not if he would need to explain himself. Loving is trusting, Clare.’

  ‘And what would you know about it?’ she scorned. ‘You’ve never loved anyone in your life.’

  ‘And how do you know that?’ His eyes were narrowed ominously.

  ‘I just know,’ she said bitterly. ‘Now if you wouldn’t mind leaving, I would like to change for dinner.’ Perhaps she could join Rena and some of the others—she had heard them discussing meeting in the Lady Hamilton Restaurant tonight.

  ‘I—God, I just don’t believe this!’ Rourke grimaced. ‘I came to see you to apologise and we end up arguing again.’

  ‘You—came to—apologise …?’ She couldn’t believe it! Rourke apologise? ’What for?’

  ‘For the way I acted this afternoon. I lacked understanding, and I was damned cruel to you.’ He sighed. ‘But I still think we’ll be able to work something out.’

  ‘I wish I could be as sure,’ Clare said ruefully.

  ‘How about we talk about it over dinner?’

  ‘Dinner …?’ she looked at him sharply.

  ‘Yes.’

  Her mouth twisted mockingly. ‘What will Belinda have to say about that?’ she taunted bitchily.

  ‘Nothing,’ he rasped.

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘I told you, Clare,’ he snapped, ’there’s nothing between Belinda and me.’

  Clare gave a deep sigh, tempted beyond endurance to have dinner with him. After all, why not? Harvey wouldn’t be back in time, and she might already be too late to join Rena. Oh, why didn’t she just admit, she wanted to have dinner with Rourke.
>
  ‘I’d like to have dinner with you,’ she accepted shyly.

  His eyes widened. ‘You would?’

  She laughed, a slight catch to it. ‘Changed your mind?’

  ‘No,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll meet you in ten minutes.’

  ‘Make it fifteen,’ she smiled, feeling suddenly lighthearted.

  ‘You’ve got a deal. And, Clare,’ he paused at the communicating door, ’I’ll behave.’

  ‘Behave …?’

  He nodded. ‘I won’t try and force myself on you.’

  Force! God, didn’t he know by now that he didn’t need to use force! She gave a bright smile. ‘The minutes are ticking away,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Yes. Oh, and by the way, I’ve remembered something else Harvey said.’

  ‘Yes?’ she looked at him expectantly.

  ‘He mentioned that he was at your mother’s, so maybe he met someone there and went on to dinner.’ Rourke went into his own suite, whistling softly to himself.

  Her mother’s! And Harvey had been delayed. She didn’t like the sound of that, not at all. Lord, not Harvey too!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CLARE had a quick shower, feeling hot and sticky after her drive and time on the beach, and all the time she was dressing she was thinking of the implications of Harvey going to her mother’s and somehow being delayed there.

  Harvey was a handsome man, although not her mother’s usual type, she would have thought. But then did her mother have a type? And as far as Carlene was concerned couldn’t it be poetic justice?

  That last fateful meeting with her mother had certainly opened Clare’s eyes to her faults, so much so that she wouldn’t be in the least surprised if she had made a play for Harvey. And she couldn’t exactly blame him for being flattered by that attention, although she hoped he wouldn’t get hurt. Her mother could be a bitch, and she wouldn’t hesitate to get back at her for Rourke through Harvey, she knew that.

  ‘Nearly ready?’ Rourke strolled through from his own suite, buttoning his light blue shirt before tucking it into the low waistband of his navy blue trousers.

  Clare’s breath caught in her throat at the rugged virility of him, admiring the way the shirt and trousers fitted his masculinity, deepening the colour of his already deep blue eyes.

  Those blue eyes widened now as they took in the clinging yellow dress she wore, revealing quite clearly that she wore little beneath it.