‘And that is?’
‘Kissing me whenever he’s in the mood!’ Clare admitted angrily.
‘And is he ‘‘in the mood’’ often?’ Gene quirked a questioning eyebrow.
‘He—I—’ she licked her lips nervously. ‘Quite often,’ she mumbled.
‘Mm, that’s what I thought. Little Miss Sex-bomb is jealous of you, you know.’
‘She has no reason—’
‘Doesn’t she?’ he shook his head. ‘I’ve watched the two of you together, and I think she has good reason.’
‘No—’
‘Yes. Rourke can’t take his eyes off you. But then he never could,’ he added ruefully. ‘From the first day you met you sent sparks off each other.’
‘Sexual attraction!’ Clare snapped.
‘For whom?’
‘For both of us!’
‘Like hell,’ Gene smiled. ‘You didn’t even know what sexual attraction was. And Rourke looked as if someone had hit him.’
‘Rubbish!’
‘It’s the truth,’ he insisted. ‘Clare, do you have any idea why Rourke is here?’
She gave an impatient sigh. ‘To direct the film,’ she said as if talking to a two-year-old.
He nodded. ‘But why?’
‘Jason Faulkner had an accident—’
‘And Rourke was due to start work on another movie.’
‘Which he couldn’t do because of the revolution.’
Gene frowned. ‘What revolution?’
‘Oh, don’t be dense, Gene,’ she snapped irritably. ‘You were due to work on the film too, you must know the reason it was cancelled.’
‘Yes, I do,’ he nodded.
‘Well, then …’
‘And it wasn’t because of any revolution,’ he dismissed. ‘We were all put on hold because Rourke chose to direct this movie instead of Gun Serenade.’
Clare gaped at him. ‘I don’t understand. Rourke told me—He said—’
‘Yes?’
‘You mean he really wanted to do this film?’ she gasped, very pale. ‘Chose to do it instead of Gun Serenade?’
‘Obviously,’ Gene drawled.
‘But why?’ she voiced the same question Gene had seconds earlier.
He shrugged. ‘I would have thought that was obvious too.’
‘Not to me,’ she shook her head.
‘Because of you, Clare,’ he said patiently. ‘Because it gave Rourke the opportunity to see you again.’
‘No …’
‘Yes.’
Could she believe that? Dared she believe it?
CHAPTER TEN
OF course Gene had to be wrong. There was no reason to suppose Rourke had any desire to see her again. If he had felt anything like she did about the meeting then he hadn’t wanted it at all, had only discovered he still felt sexual attraction towards her after being forced to meet her again.
‘Stop torturing yourself, Clare,’ Gene frowned as the different emotions flitted across her face. ‘You know damn well it’s the truth.’
‘Of course I don’t! I never heard anything so ridiculous!’
‘And I never saw anything as ridiculous as the two of you trying to look as if you didn’t give a damn about the other. Let’s sit down,’ Gene dragged her over to a bench placed on the deck. ‘Now tell me the real reason the two of you broke up five years ago. And I mean the real reason,’ he warned.
Clare stared straight ahead of her. ‘We weren’t suited—’
‘In or out of bed?’
‘Out of—Gene!’ she gave him an angry glare. ‘That was unfair!’
He gave a rueful smile. ‘So it was out of bed. But you loved him, Clare—’
‘And he loved my mother!’ There, it was said, the dark painful secret that she had buried in her subconscious until it had ceased to cause that raw pain that she hadn’t been able to forget the first two years of being in London.
Gene frowned his puzzlement. ‘What are you talking about? Rourke loved Carlene?’
‘You know he did,’ she flashed angrily. ‘Everyone knew of their affair—except me.’
‘Affair? But there was no affair.’
‘But you said yourself—’
‘That your mother was interested in Rourke,’ he nodded. ‘But he certainly wasn’t interested in her.’
‘He was—’
‘Never,’ Gene insisted emphatically.
Clare swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. ‘You’re wrong. You see, I—I saw them—in bed together,’ she revealed shakily.
Gene’s frown deepened. ‘I can’t believe that,’ he shook his head.
‘Why not? Didn’t you warn me not to get involved with him?’
‘Yes, but not for that reason.’ He stood up to begin pacing the deck. ‘God, not because of Rourke and your mother! Rourke was never interested in her—’
‘He was in her bed!’ Clare interrupted heatedly.
‘I couldn’t give a damn about what you saw, or what you think you saw—’
‘Oh, I saw it all right,’ she recalled bitterly.
‘Whatever you saw Rourke had not been making love to your mother,’ Gene said firmly. ‘He despised her, he always has.’
All colour left Clare’s face. ‘I can’t believe that.’
‘Believe me, it’s true. My father directed them both six years ago, and Rourke nearly walked out half a dozen times.’
‘Rourke did?’ It didn’t sound like him at all.
‘Yes,’ Gene nodded. ‘Your mother was impossible.’
‘She has a temper,’ Clare agreed.
‘Not because of her temper, Clare. She wanted Rourke, and she was determined to get him in any way she could. But Rourke didn’t want to know.’
‘Just an act,’ she shrugged dismissively. ‘To make my mother more interested.’
‘So much of an act that Rourke threatened to leave if Dad didn’t get her off his back?’
She swallowed hard. ‘He did?’
‘He sure did. Dad was pulling his hair out until the end of the movie. But even then your mother didn’t give up, inviting Rourke over to the house every opportunity she could. Rourke had to give in occasionally, otherwise the press might have picked up on his antagonism, but he made sure he was never alone with your mother, that they always met in a crowd.’
‘Then that afternoon I met him …?’
‘Only the third time he’d ever been there. And even then he kept himself distant from the rest of us.’
Clare remembered seeing Rourke in the pool while everyone else lounged about it, had thought even then that he didn’t quite fit in with her mother’s usual crowd. ‘Then what was he doing in my mother’s bed?’ she asked slowly.
‘I have no idea.’ Gene put his hands in his trousers pockets. ‘But I do know he wasn’t making love to her.’ He shrugged. ‘Your mother is a very devious woman, Clare, in fact that was the reason I warned you about seeing Rourke. Your mother will stop at nothing to get what she wants.’
Nothing …? Her heart gave a sickening lurch. Could she have misjudged that situation five years ago? Impossible! Rourke had been in her mother’s bed, her mother in her négligé, there could be no other explanation other than the obvious one.
‘Maybe Rourke just changed his mind—’
‘No way,’ Gene laughed. ‘Never in a million years. There are some women who just turn you off, Clare, and your mother did that to Rourke.’
‘But he’s going to direct her next film!’
‘When he will be firmly in charge. Your mother knows that very well. But Rourke is the director of the moment, so your mother will behave herself.’
‘I see.’ But she didn’t see at all, couldn’t understand any of this. Had her mother lied to her? Why not, it sounded as if lying to achieve her objective was the least she would do.
‘There’s something else I think you should know about Rourke,’ Gene said slowly.
‘Yes?’ her voice was sharp.
‘His—lack of
interest in women has caused a lot of speculation the last few years, so much so that there’ve even been rumours that women no longer interest him—if you know what I mean.’
Delicate colour flooded her cheeks. ‘No one could seriously believe that about Rourke?’ she gasped.
‘Not really,’ Gene laughed. ‘I mean, I know it isn’t true—’
‘You mean he hasn’t made a pass at you,’ she taunted.
‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ he sighed. ‘But Rourke’s complete turnaround came as something of a shock after—well, after—’
‘After having a different woman in his bed almost every night,’ Clare finished derisively.
‘Don’t be bitchy, Clare,’ he chicled softly. ‘And he wasn’t that bad.’
‘Rumour has it—’
‘Rumour has a lot of things, and most of them untrue. Now, I’m going back to the dance, maybe I can impress Little Miss Sex-bomb with the fact that my father owns a studio. Maybe she’ll even invite me back to her room,’ Gene added eagerly.
‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised,’ Clare said bitterly.
‘And you should talk to Rourke the first chance you get,’ he told her seriously.
A shutter came down over her features. ‘Rourke doesn’t think we have anything left to say to each other.’
‘And you know that isn’t true. At least give him the chance you didn’t give him five years ago, to explain himself.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘I doubt Rourke has ever thought he had to explain himself to anyone—least of all me.’
Gene bent and kissed her briefly on the lips. ‘I’d hate you to lose your chance of happiness because of pride.’
She bit her lip. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘Yes,’ she said huskily.
‘Okay,’ he nodded. ‘Then I think you should go back and claim your man.’
‘Like a bounty hunter?’ she taunted to hide her nervousness. Go back there and face Rourke, ask to speak to him? Could she do it? Could what Gene had told her really make that much difference? Rourke hadn’t exactly been encouraging the morning after they made love. But what if she had misjudged that too?
‘Like a bounty hunter,’ Gene agreed. ‘Are you prepared to do that?’
‘I—I don’t know.’
‘God, what does it take, Clare?’ He was angry now. ‘A sworn declaration from Rourke that nothing happened between him and your mother?’
‘No, of course not—’
‘Then for God’s sake do something about this mess!’
She straightened her shoulders, coming to a decision. ‘I’ll talk to him. Things can’t be any worse between us than they are now.’
‘Good girl!’ Gene took her by the arm, going back in the direction of the music. ‘And don’t worry about Belinda, I’ll take care of her.’
Belinda was the last person she was worried about! Rourke just might not want to talk to her! ’I’m sure that will be a hardship,’ she vaguely teased Gene.
‘Oh yes,’ he grinned, going straight towards the other couple as they still danced together. ‘Can I cut in?’ he repeated Rourke’s comment of minutes earlier.
‘Sure,’ Rourke drawled. ‘I—’ He had turned and seen Clare, and his face stiffened. ‘If you’ll excuse me!’ He turned and walked away.
‘Go to it, Clare!’ Gene whispered in her ear.
Her movements were jerky, and she didn’t seem to be making any progress on Rourke as he strode away. She finally had to call out to him, seeing him stiffen as he heard her.
He turned slowly, his eyes narrowed. ‘Yes?’
His tone wasn’t forthcoming, and she licked her lips nervously. ‘I—I wanted to talk to you.’
‘Yes?’ His tone was even chillier.
It wasn’t pride that was holding her back, it was fear, fear of having Rourke reject her for a second time. ‘Rourke—Rourke—’
‘For God’s sake spit it out, Clare,’ he said impatiently. ‘I need to get a drink.’
‘Could we talk—somewhere more private?’ She pulled a face at the sound of the music.
He seemed to hesitate. ‘I guess so,’ he finally nodded. ‘Your boy-friend seems to be disappearing with Belinda.’
Clare turned just in time for Gene to wink at her as he and Belinda disappeared into the darkness. ‘Do you mind?’ she asked Rourke breathlessly.
‘Do you?’
‘Not in the least,’ she answered truthfully.
Rourke’s eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t?’
‘No,’ she shook her head, feeling as if they were the only two people in the world. ‘You misunderstood what you saw earlier, Gene was merely showering and changing. We hadn’t been to bed together.’
There was an air of tension about him now. ‘No?’
‘No. Rourke, could we please talk? Please!’
His breathing was ragged. ‘I never could resist you when you said please.’
‘You did once,’ she remembered with pain.
‘Because I could see you with Pryce!’ His expression was savage.
‘Harvey’s gone, Rourke,’ she told him.
‘Gone?’ he echoed sharply. ‘But he’ll be back?’
‘No. He—he got married this afternoon.’
‘Married? What the hell—! The two of you got married this afternoon?’
Was it her imagination or had he gone grey under his tan? ’I said Harvey got married, Rourke,’ she said gently, hope starting to lighten her heart. ‘Harvey married someone else.’
He grasped her arm. ‘You’re right, we need to talk. Shall we go back to our room?’
‘Our’ room! God, that sounded so intimate—and so right. ‘Yes,’ she agreed without hesitation.
For once they entered through Rourke’s suite. ‘Sit down,’ he invited gruffly. ‘Now tell me about Pryce,’ he instructed abruptly.
‘He—he married Shara Morgan earlier today. They’re in Las Vegas.’
‘Shara Morgan?’ Rourke frowned. ‘Where the hell does she come into all this?’
Clare explained about Harvey’s past relationship with the other woman. ‘They just realised they still loved each other,’ she shrugged;
‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘Thanks for telling me. I’ll try to make allowances for your unhappiness—’
‘Oh, but I’m not unhappy,’ she interrupted firmly.
His eyes narrowed. ‘You aren’t?’
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I wasn’t going to marry him anyway.’
‘You weren’t?’
He wasn’t really helping her very much, but then why should he, he had no idea what she was trying to lead up to. She licked her lips nervously, stopping the movement as she realised he was watching her. ‘Rourke, five years ago I—I was in love with you—’
‘Yes.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You knew?’
‘Of course I knew,’ he snapped. ‘You weren’t the type of girl to go to bed with a man you didn’t love—not then, anyway,’ he added bitterly.
‘Not now, either,’ she told him softly.
He put up a hand to his temple, as if it ached, a look of strain about his eyes and mouth. ‘What does all this have to do with the fact that your fiancé married someone else?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing …? Then what the hell—’
‘But it has everything to do with the fact that I also left Los Angeles five years ago because I loved you.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Now that isn’t true. You left because you couldn’t stand the sight of me. And I can’t blame you.’
‘Where on earth did you get that idea?’ she frowned. ‘Of course that wasn’t the reason I left.’
‘You couldn’t stand for me to touch you,’ he rasped bleakly.
‘I—But—I—Are you saying I was the exception?’
‘The one who didn’t purr?’ he derided. ‘You know damn well you didn’t—you cried.’
‘Cried? B
ut—’
‘It’s no good, Clare,’ he turned to look out of the porthole. ‘You cried, and I knew I couldn’t give you physical pleasure. The first time—God, the first time I was completely out of control, unable to stop even though I knew I was hurting you. The second time—the second time—’
‘You said you didn’t remember the second time,’ she said softly.
He didn’t turn; his back was rigid. ‘I tried not to, but I never could forget it. I let you down—’
‘No—’
‘Yes,’ he sighed wearily.
‘You didn’t let me down, I disappointed you,’ she frowned.
‘Like hell you did!’ Rourke turned now, his eyes glittering with emotion. ‘You never ever disappointed me. I loved every minute I spent with you. I loved your fresh approach to life, your spontaneity, the way you never tried to pretend. You were you, Clare Anderson, the girl I laughed with, played with,’ he paused, hesitating. ’Cried with,’ he added so softly she could hardly hear him.
She blinked dazedly, sure she must have misheard. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’m sure you heard me,’ he said bitterly.
‘I—I think I did,’ she nodded, frowning. ‘Did you say cried with?’
‘Yes,’ he snapped harshly. ‘I hurt the girl I loved, of course I cried.’
Clare gulped. ‘The girl you loved …?’
His eyes flashed deeply blue. ‘Yes, God damn you! I hurt you, I let you down. The one woman I wanted above all others I couldn’t even give physical pleasure to.’
Clare shook her head. ‘That isn’t true!’
‘Of course it is. You even told your mother how I disgusted you. She passed your message on word for word, Clare, and I bled with each one of them,’ he revealed in a pained voice.
Her mother! Oh God, her mother! ’Rourke,’ she chewed on her bottom lip, ’five years ago—’
‘Could we forget the past?’ he rasped. ‘What good does it do to talk about it? It’s over, finished.’
He looked so bleak, so utterly defeated, that she knew she had to go to him. She moved as if in a daze, her arms going about his waist, her head resting on his chest. Rourke didn’t move, standing rigid and unyielding. Finally she looked up at him, touching his cheek with loving tenderness.
Golden Fever Page 17
