Golden Fever

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Thank you, Clare,’ he said softly. ‘You really have been very understanding.’

  ‘Just be happy,’ she told him with a catch in her voice.

  ‘Maybe I can be godmother to your first child?’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ he said excitedly, the idea of a child obviously just occurring to him. ‘Take care, Clare.’

  ‘You too.’

  ‘And I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Harvey, will you get off the phone!’ she laughed. ‘Before Shara gets fed up waiting for you!’

  She was still smiling as she put the telephone down. Lucky Harvey! At least things had worked out well for him.

  But now what was she going to do? Harvey had been her defence, her refuge that she could always hide behind when Rourke threatened to get too close. Now she was going to have to fight him on her own.

  Her engagement ring was locked away in her jewellery box from this morning, and she left it there. She would return it to Harvey when she saw him next.

  Right now she was going to have to have dinner with Gene alone, all the time pretending that Harvey was still her loving fiancé. Perhaps she wouldn’t see Rourke. Too much probing from him and she was likely to lose her temper and tell him everything.

  But maybe he wouldn’t even speak to her—the way he had slammed out of here when Harvey telephoned seemed to indicate that would be the case. Anyway, Gene would be with her, and he knew she wasn’t likely to want to be alone with Rourke.

  She was in the bath when the knock sounded on the door, and water was still streaming off her as she hastily pulled on a robe before answering it. ‘Gene!’ she frowned her consternation as he beamed at her. ‘But it’s only just gone six o’clock!’

  ‘I know,’ he nodded happily, stepping inside, carrying a jacket and shirt on a hanger. ‘I checked with the desk here and found out the tour lasts about two hours, and it closed at five-thirty, so I had to get here early this afternoon. I took a walk around the deck to waste a bit more time, and—well, here I am.’

  She closed the door. ‘Yes, here you are. And what’s that?’ she indicated the clothes on the hanger.

  He grinned, laying the things down in a chair. ‘Well, I can hardly take Clare Anderson out to dinner dressed like this,’ he looked down pointedly at the bright yellow tee-shirt he wore, ’I LIKE IT’ emblazoned across the front of it.

  Clare didn’t need two guesses what ’IT’ was, and a reluctant smile lightened her features. ‘No, I suppose not. Would you like to use the shower?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  She shook her head. ‘You never change. Give me ten minutes to dry myself—properly, and dress, and then the bathroom is all yours.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He settled himself into one of the armchairs. ‘Nice suite,’ he looked round appreciatively. ‘Did you know that over fifty-six different sorts of wood—’

  ‘Not you too!’ she laughed. ‘I heard all this from Harvey.’

  ‘No sense of history some people,’ he muttered jokingly.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ she smiled.

  It took her slightly longer than ten minutes to get herself ready, but Gene’s appreciative comments about the black dress she wore showed he wasn’t annoyed by the wait.

  ‘See you soon.’ He took his fresh clothing into the bathroom with him, closing the door.

  In his absence Clare applied her make-up, light lip-gloss and mascara—the dress was dramatic enough. It had thin shoulder-straps, dipping very low over her breasts, showing a large expanse of creamy flesh, the clinging material clearly showing the taut nipples beneath, the rest of the gown loose-fitting down to its knee-length, hinting at the provocative curves beneath, the chiffon of the material giving a ghostly outline of her body.

  It was a dress that made her feel totally feminine, gave her confidence, and for the rest of the making of this film she was going to need plenty of that.

  When a second knock sounded on the door her heart stopped beating. Rourke had a distinctive way of knocking on the door, when he bothered to do so, and she knew that this was him.

  ‘Yes?’ she greeted him coolly.

  His gaze ran over her slowly, his eyes a deeper blue by the time they reached her face. ‘Beautiful,’ he said throatily.

  She stiffened. ‘Did you want something, Rourke?’

  ‘That’s like asking a thirsty man in a desert if he would like a drink of water,’ he said sardonically.

  Her cheeks suffused with colour. ‘Would you please just tell me why you’re here and then leave,’ she told him stiltedly.

  ‘Belinda told me—’

  ‘Hey, Clare, this robe of yours is—’ Gene broke off, his expression a comical mixture of consternation and amusement.

  Clare felt like laughing herself, hysterically. This was like something out of a farce, all the characters frozen into immobility. Gene had come out of the bedroom towelling his hair dry, wearing only her robe, which was obviously much too small for his muscular frame, only just decent.

  And it was obvious from Rourke’s thunderous expression what construction he had put on the situation. His expression was contemptuous, his eyes like chips of ice as he looked at the two of them.

  Gene was the first to break the stunned silence. ‘Rourke,’ he greeted politely.

  ‘Lester,’ Rourke rasped. ‘I had no idea Clare was seeing you again.’

  ‘Oh, but I—’

  ‘I never could stay away from Clare,’ Gene cut in cheerfully, obviously recovered from his surprise at seeing Rourke here and now about to enjoy the situation.

  ‘Not many men can,’ Rourke replied tautly.

  ‘No,’ Gene agreed laughingly.

  ‘Especially her fiancé,’ Rourke added pointedly.

  Gene moved forward to put his arm about Clare’s shoulders, the robe going even higher up his thighs. ‘I’m a friend of Clare’s.’ He looked challengingly at Rourke.

  ‘Aren’t we all!’ Rourke snapped before turning on his heel and leaving.

  ‘Whew!’ Gene raised his eyebrows. ‘I have this feeling I should be lying dead right now!’

  Clare’s eyes sparkled angrily. ‘If you aren’t you should be,’ she agreed angrily. ‘You deliberately let him think—’

  ‘What he was already thinking,’ Gene finished softly. ‘Boy, talk about jealous!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she snapped. ‘He was probably disgusted. I am engaged, you know.’

  ‘Rourke couldn’t give a damn about your fiancé,’ he scorned. ‘He was jealous on his own behalf.’

  ‘Rubbish—’

  ‘Hey, this is Gene, remember?’ he said softly. ‘And that guy was so jealous he would have liked to hit me.’

  ‘Then why did you bait him like that?’ she demanded.

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe I thought he deserved it.’

  ‘Oh, Gene!’ she shook her head. ‘You—’

  ‘That man has the power to hurt you,’ he insisted. ‘And I won’t let him. I’ve only just got you back,’ he added lightly, ’and I’m not going to risk you disappearing again for another five years.’

  Clare gave a reluctant laugh. ‘Go and get dressed, you look ridiculous.’

  He pulled a face. ‘That’s what I was about to tell you when I came in here and got stabbed with a pair of icy blue eyes. God, I’d hate to meet him in a dark alley when I’m on my own!’ He went off muttering to himself.

  Clare’s smile instantly faded. Gene had unwittingly stumbled across Rourke’s true nature. He was a street-fighter first and foremost. Beneath the veneer of conventionality he displayed to the world was the man who had been abandoned as a child, the man who as a boy had been cruelly rejected by his mother, the man who had been determined to get to the top even if he had to claw his way up there.

  He wasn’t a man she should ever have become involved with, in her maturity she could see that, but even knowing that, she still loved him, would always love him. And that was why tonight she had to be more self-possessed tha
n usual. As far as she knew no one else was aware of the fact that she was no longer engaged, but even so, when the news did break she didn’t intend looking an idiot.

  ‘Very nice,’ she told Gene when he came back in the clean shirt and jacket. ‘I’ll probably have a hard job keeping the women off you,’ she teased, her arm through his as they made their way to the restaurant.

  ‘I hope so,’ he grinned down at her. ‘Shouldn’t we be calling for your fiancé?’

  She blushed, unable to meet his gaze. ‘Harvey is away—on business,’ she evaded. ‘So he won’t be joining us.’

  ‘Pity. Hey, I hear music.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with some relief, glad that he had accepted her explanation for Harvey’s absence so easily. ‘They dance on deck Friday and Saturday evenings, to the ship’s band.’

  ‘And today being Friday …’

  ‘Exactly,’ she nodded.

  ‘Dancing under the stairs,’ he murmured. ‘I always knew I was a romantic at heart.’

  ‘You are!’ Clare spluttered with laughter.

  ‘Yes, me,’ he pretended insult, opening the restaurant door for her. ‘See?’

  ‘Opening the door for a woman doesn’t make you a romantic,’ she giggled.

  Gene confirmed that they had a table booked. ‘Like a drink first?’ he suggested.

  ‘Lovely,’ she nodded.

  The meal in the Sir Winston, as last time, was superb. And as each course progressed and there was no sign of Rourke or Belinda to mar her evening Clare felt herself relaxing and enjoying herself, drinking more wine than usual as Gene entertained her with the more amusing Hollywood gossip.

  She had just finished laughing at one of the more uproarious tales when Rourke and Belinda walked in. Her humour instantly faded, and she turned to look out of the window, ignoring them.

  ‘Who is that?’ Gene asked in a whisper.

  ‘Rourke—’

  ‘Not him, woman,’ he growled. ‘The little beauty with him.’

  ‘Belinda.’ She pulled a face.

  ‘Of course, Belinda Evans,’ he nodded recognition. ‘But you don’t share my appreciation?’

  Clare shrugged moodily. The evening was ruined now. Why couldn’t the other couple have eaten in the Capstan or the Lady Hamilton, why here?

  ‘Does that mean you don’t?’ Gene prompted.

  ‘It means I’m uninterested.’

  ‘I would say you were the opposite,’ he chuckled. ‘A little jealous yourself, Clare?’

  ‘Like hell I am,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t give a damn.’

  ‘Now I know you’re jealous,’ he taunted. ‘You never used to swear, Clare.’

  ‘I’ve changed—’

  ‘Not that much. You never liked anyone who swore, I remember that very well.’

  ‘I’ve got used to it,’ she shrugged.

  ‘Not so much that you would swear yourself—unless you were provoked. Miss Evans rubs you up the wrong way, hmm?’

  ‘Believe me,’ she said bleakly, ’the dislike is mutual.’

  ‘I can see why—you’re both fighting over the same man.’

  ‘We are not—’

  ‘Liar!’ Gene admonished softly. ‘I’d be prepared to take the lovely Belinda out of the picture if you’d like me to.’

  ‘Why on earth should I want that?’ she flashed. ‘I’m engaged—’

  ‘No, you aren’t,’ Gene contradicted gently.

  Clare gave him a startled look. ‘I—I’m not?’

  ‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘Shara is a big star in this country, her marriage is going to hit the front page of the newspapers.’

  Clare picked up her glass of wine with a shaking hand, taking a deep swallow, almost choking over it. ‘You—you knew all the time?’

  He nodded. ‘ ’Fraid so.’

  She licked her lips. ‘How?’

  ‘Shara works for Dad’s studio. He was furious about the fact that she’d just gone off without telling him. It was all he could talk about at lunch. And he wanted to know who the hell Harvey Pryce is,’ he added dryly.

  ‘Poor Harvey!’ Clare’s mouth twisted.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, after finding out the facts Dad’s building it up into a really big romantic story—you know, childhood sweethearts and all that.’

  ‘Hardly childhood,’ Clare derided.

  Gene grinned. ‘By the time Dad’s finished they’ll have known each other from the cradle!’

  ‘And I’m going to come out of it looking like a fool,’ she sighed, her worst fears realised.

  ‘Not now, you have me. After all, I’m not a bad replacement,’ and he gave her a hopeful look.

  She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Not bad at all. And I really do want Harvey to be happy with Shara, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I do know. You don’t have it in you to begrudge them their happiness.’

  She pulled a face. ‘I’m not a paragon, Gene. And I am going to look pretty stupid once the news breaks.’

  ‘To Rourke, you mean?’

  ‘No, I don’t mean!’ she snapped. ‘I couldn’t care less about—’

  ‘Liar,’ he said again. ‘They’re sitting in the other room, by the way.’

  She swallowed her relief. ‘They are?’

  ‘Mm. I can’t even see them.’

  Clare visibly relaxed. ‘Are you ready to dance with me under the stars?’ she attempted lightness.

  ‘As long as you promise not to seduce me.’

  She once again spluttered with laughter. ‘You’re impossible!’ she chuckled as they left the restaurant.

  ‘But I make you laugh.’

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘And I’m grateful for that.’

  The dancing at the back of the ship was well under way by the time they joined the other couples on the Promenade Deck, with the Queen Mary orchestra playing above them.

  ‘This really is romantic.’ Gene nuzzled into her hair.

  ‘Don’t get carried away,’ Clare warned.

  ‘Allow a man his dreams,’ he murmured.

  Gene’s lighthearted flirting was exactly what she needed to bolster her ego, and she was glowing by the time she saw Rourke and Belinda standing on the edge of the crowd watching the people dancing.

  She instantly felt selfconscious. ‘I think I’ve had enough for now, Gene,’ she muttered.

  ‘Mm?’ Gene raised his head to look down at her.

  ‘Let’s rest a while, hmm?’

  ‘Okay,’ he shrugged. ‘I—’

  ‘Can I cut in?’ drawled a familiar voice.

  Clare stiffened, turning to face Rourke. ‘We were just going to sit down.’

  ‘I only want one dance, Clare.’ His eyes were icy.

  Her mouth twisted. ‘Won’t Belinda mind?’ She looked pointedly at the glowering girl standing where he had left her.

  ‘No, she won’t mind.’ Surprisingly it was Gene who answered her. ‘Because I’ll go and keep her company.’

  Rourke’s eyes narrowed. ‘You will?’

  ‘Sure,’ the other man nodded. ‘I’ve been longing to meet her. See you later, Clare.’

  She glared after him, as she moved mechanically into Rourke’s arms. She could kill Gene later.

  ‘Not very flattering,’ Rourke drawled.

  She was very conscious of being close to him, of the sensuously male aura that never failed to weaken her resolve not to be affected by him. And he was wearing a tangy, elusive aftershave, his hands warm and possessive as they rested on her hips.

  ‘Gene is perfectly free to dance with whom he chooses to,’ she said stiltedly.

  Rourke’s hands tightened painfully. ‘As you’re free to go to bed with whom you want?’ he rasped.

  ‘If I want, yes,’ she nodded coolly, surprised at her confidence. It was as she had thought, Rourke believed she and Gene had been to bed together earlier this evening.

  ‘And you did want, didn’t you!’ His fingers dug into her flesh. ‘Hell, Clare, why not me?’ he groaned. ‘If you ha
d to go to bed with some man to get back at Pryce—’

  ‘Get back at him?’ she echoed sharply.

  ‘For going off and leaving you,’ he dismissed tersely. ‘Belinda told me he’s gone—’

  ‘Only on business!’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Yes!’

  Rourke closed his eyes momentarily, those same eyes blazing into hers as he lifted his lids. ‘I couldn’t give a damn whether he’s gone for good or just a few days. If you had to sleep with someone why couldn’t you have chosen me? Why, Clare?’

  She licked her lips nervously. ‘Because I don’t want to go to bed with you—’

  ‘You do, damn you!’ he rasped. ‘I can’t believe your reactions to me don’t mean something.’

  ‘It means it’s easier to give in to you than fight. Fighting never got me anywhere last time,’ she added bitterly.

  Rourke’s hands instantly dropped to his sides. ‘Why must you always remind me of that?’

  ‘Because I can’t forget it!’

  His mouth was a thin, angry line. ‘I’ll take you back to Lester.’

  She wasn’t sure Gene wanted her back. He was laughing and joking with Belinda as they approached them, the other girl basking in his flirtateous attention. Gene shot Clare a wink as he turned, his arm going about her shoulders.

  ‘Back so soon?’ he asked mischievously.

  Her fingernails dug into his side where her own arm was about his waist. ‘Mr Somerville realised I was—tired.’

  ‘Would you like to dance, Belinda?’ Rourke held out his hand to the other girl.

  Belinda didn’t even hesitate, moulding herself to him as they moved slowly together to the music.

  ‘Could we leave, Gene?’ Clare asked him raggedly.

  ‘Sure,’ he agreed easily. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

  She would rather have gone to her room, but she fell into step beside him. After all, he was her guest for the evening, it was hardly polite to run to her room and hide just because Rourke had once again unnerved her.

  ‘Does Rourke know about Harvey yet?’

  The question was to be expected. ‘He knows he’s gone, he doesn’t know why,’ she answered dully.

  ‘Clare, is Harvey a shield to you?’

  She frowned. ‘A shield?’

  He nodded. ‘Against Rourke.’

  ‘Hardly,’ she scorned. ‘Believe me, my engagement hasn’t stopped Rourke doing exactly what he wants to do.’