Whatever way she looked at it, it was her worst nightmare. Just when she had finally started to get back up on her own two feet, and had got the chance of a lifetime working with Brad Clarke on some many different levels, least of all the personal, her estranged husband had once again done something to rip the rug out from under her.
She wished she could stop shaking; it wasn't like her to be so upset, she had had hard times before. Now the magnitude of all she would lose terrified her. The fame and fortune meant nothing. No, it was the fact that a future with Brad seemed now so utterly beyond reach. She could have won his heart, made him sure of their relationship, made him see that all they shared was a solid foundation to build a future upon, whatever he thought his feelings were for the lovely woman he had left behind on the West Coast. But now the happiness she had shared with Brad for a few short, blissful hours, had been snatched away cruelly, leaving nothing but a cold emptiness it its wake.
Zaira sighed heavily. She knew she had to say something soon, but so much was riding on her getting through this week in one piece. She would try to disguise her unease, and find the right time to tell Brad the whole truth. But not just yet. She couldn’t face his anger and contempt now.
Zaira tried to make a convincing appearance as Zoe Dominick in the rehearsals that day, but she was a dismal failure. She just went through the motions, and was relieved when they decided by five o’clock that they had all had enough.
Brad was his usual charming self with her, although she sensed a certain amount of concern. She had decided to wear dark glasses to avoid his penetrating gaze; she knew only too well that she was not looking her best, and there was a haunted look in her eyes that she knew had not been there when she and Brad had been together only yesterday.
She had been so happy then, had been so full of the joy of living ever since Brad had come into her life. Now Zaira realized it would all be lost soon, and with it perhaps everything she had worked so hard to build for herself out of the ruins of her old life.
“Zoe, what is it? You look pretty down today,” Brad remarked her, when all the others had gone and they were finally on their own.
“Nothing, darling,” she said, with a particularly affected Southern drawl. “Far too much partying all weekend, of course. Just a teensy bit hung over you know. But then with my glamorous lifestyle, life is one big party.”
Zaira flashed him her most flirtatious smile, and stroked his shoulder in a fairly provocative fashion. She was sure it would get rid of him, but instead he moved closer and said angrily, “Come off it, this southern belle routine won’t wash with me. I don’t know why you’ve suddenly decided to play Scarlett O’Hara instead of Ophelia, but you're not really like this at all. So stop the games, and get serious. We have to be perfect on Saturday to make all this hard work pay off. So for everyone’s sake if not your own, stop hurting yourself.”
“What makes you think I’m doing that?” Zaira responded with an arrogant toss of the head.
“I know how lonely it is at the top. Surrounding yourself with idle people and pleasures just to pass the time and escape from yourself isn't going to work, honey. You can’t escape from your inner demons. You can only bring them out into the light. It takes courage, but your real friends will be there to help. All of this partying is just fluff, but what's worse is that you’ll drive away the people who really do care about you if you keep up with these silly pretences,” Brad warned.
Zaira cringed, and her heart went out to him for his confession about his own personal life, which for such a proud man could not have been easy to make. But she knew he had said it to try to help her, and he was to be pitied for being so completely taken in by her act.
“Do you care about me, then?” Zaira asked softly.
“Yes, damn it, I do," he sighed, running his fingers through his lush dark hair, and leaving his hand on his neck to massage it. Then he flung it wide. "Damn it, Zoe, I’ve tried to avoid you, to tell myself you and I have nothing in common, that we hardly know each other, that I’m already in love with a wonderful woman whose little finger is worth more than all of me put together, and then I see you again, and my heart turns over.
“It’s like the moth being lured to the flame that destroys it. If I made love to you, I’d be lost. The new life that I’ve created, that’s made me happy for the first time ever, would be shattered. The worst of it is you're an important part of that new life! It’s like being torn in two.”
Before she could say a word, Brad caressed her arms and pulled her to his hard chest.
“I’m sorry, Zoe,”’ Brad said sadly, “I can’t get you out of my head, but I can’t risk letting you into my heart.”
“Couldn’t you try?" Zaira dared to whisper as she gazed up at him in the half-light, even though she knew it was wrong to keep hoping that either she or Zaira would make a difference to his feelings for the alluring blond in the photograph.
Brad pushed her away then, and she was sure he was going to leave her alone in the shadowy changing rooms. Instead she watched him slam the door and come back to her with a look of raw hunger on his face.
“Zoe, I mustn’t try, but I can’t live without you either,” he said, his voice quaking.
Brad’s mouth swooped down on hers in a flaming kiss. Her whole body rose up to meet his as she began to unbutton the front of his crisp denim shirt.
Her true feminine nature sprang to life under his caresses. Zaira was weary of denying herself for so long what she had known from the moment she met Brad was meant to be. He peeled off the blouse and trousers she was wearing, while she unbuckled his belt and undid his slacks in a frenzy of desperation. They tumbled onto the small couch, arms and legs entwined in an embrace so tight Zaira thought she would stop breathing.
She caressed him boldly, and could see the strain in his face as he sought to take control of the situation. She planted frenzied kisses and nips along the smooth column of his throat, down to his magnificent chest and midriff. Emboldened by his ardent response, she dipped her head still further and ran her mouth up and down the entire length of him, her tongue teasing and arousing him to a fever pitch.
She reveled in the power she had over him, the incredible sensation of knowing he desired her so much he couldn’t help himself. His fingers found the moist centre of her, and she felt her desire pulse through her like a seismic tremor. He tangled his other hand in her hair and forced her head up, gasping, “No, it’s too good.”
Zaira ran her hands over him wickedly, until he bucked and twisted in an effort to manoeuvre her onto him. She moved up over him, and her long hair caressed his chest and face. She brought her breasts level with his mouth. He teased each crested globe with his tongue and teeth, until she sank onto him with a sigh. He filled her powerfully, and she thought he would go on forever into her with his massive stroke. Her body, unused to such delights, poised on the brink for a moment, then took over with an urgency which shocked them both.
“Brad!” Zaira gasped as she moved on top of him and his hand held her hips until he pressed into her still deeper. He shouted out hoarsely as he poured himself into her with a shudder which Zaira feared would split her in two. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, and she could hear his heart hammer next to her ear as she climaxed against him in great shuddering burst.
After what seemed like an eternity, she could hear his heart slow, and she felt able to move. Still imprisoned against him, she moved her upper body slightly to look up at him. He kissed her deeply, and smiled.
“I knew it would be an experience making love to you, but something so superlative has left me bereft of speech.”
He smiled and kissed her, and she ran her fingers through his hair and fondled his cheek lovingly. She too had known that he was special, the one true love of her life, but never in her wildest dreams had she known that love could be like that.
Brad moved inside her again, and all thoughts fled as he began his rhythmical assault upon her senses. Zaira clung to hi
m with a feverish abandon as he drove her to peak after peak of excitement, and for a moment she wondered if they would be locked in their passionate embrace for eternity.
Zaira longed for him to lose control, to be completely fulfilled as she herself had been. She ran her hands along his entire body, and fondled him with gentle firmness as she withdrew slightly, teasing and enticing him, until he grew impatient and turned her over with him on the couch, so that she was lying on her back now. He entered her with a hoarse cry, and she watched his face as he threw his head back, caught up in the tumult of his release inside her. She climaxed again with him, the thrill of their mutual enjoyment was so great.
He lay on top of her panting, and she soothed him with her hands, which stroked his back and magnificent head of hair, and traced his face, until she felt him kiss her hand. He propped himself up on an elbow and smiled at her lazily.
“Well, my love, much as I would adore a repeat performance, it’s late. We’d better be going. We have to meet my father at the Tavern on the Green soon, and it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting. He and I have a few things to settle once and for all.”
“But Brad, I’m not suitably dressed to meet you father, and I dread to think what my make-up looks like.”
“The hell with it, I don’t care what he thinks.”
“Yes, my dear, but I do. You go up in a taxi to fend him off, and I’ll come as soon as I’ve gone back to my place to change,” Zaira suggested, trying to get rid of him so he wouldn’t catch her at the apartment.
“I’ll come with you,” he insisted, nibbling an ear lobe playfully as he nuzzled her neck.
“No, Brad, I have an awkward roommate at the moment, so I’ll just meet you there, all right?” Zaira said hastily.
“Of course,” Brad agreed, and after one final lingering kiss, he withdrew from her and began to clean up at the sink and then dress. She briefly admired his nakedness in the half-light of the changing room, before pulling on her own clothes hastily.
They kissed again and again before he finally hailed a taxi and waved goodbye to her. Zaira immediately fled around the corner to change at the apartment.
She had one good dress, a midnight blue velvet cocktail dress with thin shoulder straps, which showed off her lovely figure and gorgeous long legs to perfection. She jumped into the shower, her whole body still tingling with Brad's touch and the incredible lovemaking they had shared. She quickly towel-dried herself, trying not to linger sensually on her all too aroused flesh. She wriggled into her dress, then brushed her hair until it crackled, and applied her makeup quickly and to good effect.
She certainly looked glamorous, she thought, taking in her appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. She felt as though she were floating, she was still so blissfully aroused. But then she reminded herself that this was not going to be an intimate dinner for two with Brad, but a power one with his father. As her blood thrummed in her veins, she felt more than a match for anyone.
She straightened her shoulders with determination. She put her earrings in her lobes and found a small black bag to go with her high-heeled shoes. She checked her appearance once more, then flung open her door and marched out of it and her apartment with steely determination.
Cormac Clarke was not going to be an easy man to deal with, especially when he discovered that there was no way in the world she would betray Brad to him. But she had everything to fight for now, and she wasn't giving up her Dark Lady project, or the man she loved, without a fight.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Zaira sailed into the restaurant feeling as if she could dare anything. She couldn’t wait to see Brad again, and was even looking forward to doing battle with Cormac Clarke. She immediately spotted Brad across the crowded room, and she could see that he was looking harassed and irritated. But when she came close to the table, he jumped up and smiled, his gaze caressing her own intimately in an unspoken question. She gave a slight nod, and he smiled, kissed her on the cheek, took her hand and sat her down at the table next to Cormac.
“Father, this is Zoe Dominick. Zoe, this is my father Cormac, who is here on a flying visit to see how my project is going.” Brad laid stress on the word ‘my.’
But Zaira barely heard a word he said as the sherry brown eyes across the table bored into her with unmistakable amusement not unmixed with jealousy.
Brad had hold of her firmly by the hand, and it was pretty apparent even to his father that this was the woman who had turned his son’s head. Zaira had not even stopped to consider that Jonathan would be there. What if he said something to the Clarkes?
Cormac’s hostility was all too apparent in his shimmering green eyes, so similar in colour to Brad’s, yet so cold and harsh. But then Cormac began to relax and chat to her amiably. If she and Brad were a couple, it would be pretty difficult to snatch the project out from under his nose, and in truth, Cormac hadn’t really wanted to do that anyway. He had merely welcomed the opportunity to see Brad, to pose him a challenge.
Secretly, Cormac admired his son, who was so like him and yet so infuriatingly different. Cormac watched Brad as they ate their meal, as his son kept up a flow of easy conversation with Zoe, and even played the kind host with Jonathan Wyman, whom Cormac knew Brad disliked. Cormac wondered once again why he resented his own son, why they never seemed to get on, and then realized that he envied Brad. Envied him his innocence, his decency, which Cormac had sacrificed early on to further his own career.
Cormac could see now that Brad would never be like him in that respect. Did he really want him to be? As he saw his son laughing and smiling and kissing the girl’s hand, he was reminded of Brad’s mother, and how they had looked in the first days after having met and fallen in love. No, all the glamour and prestige was worth nothing without people to share it with, and now with his wife and only daughter dead, Brad was all he had left.
“Well, Brad,” Cormac said, trying to make his voice sound cold, “I must say the glamorous host is never a role I’ve seen you play before. I hope Miss Dominick isn’t too dazzled by your charms, however, for it's time to get down to business.”
“I also play the role of Hamlet, father. It’s a pity you can’t come to see us. Zoe is my Ophelia,” Brad added with a smile, and in spite of himself Cormac was moved. They looked so happy together.
“How nice for you. Just don’t make the mistake of sending her to a nunnery. Not that they’d take her,” Cormac added sardonically, and then wished he hadn’t fallen into his usual sarcastic way of cutting people down to size.
Brad sucked in his breath, and Zoe turned hostile violet eyes on him.
“Yes, Mr. Clarke, I think it is about time that we got down to business. I don’t wish to seem ungrateful after the lovely meal you’ve given me, but really, Brad has told you that you are wasting your time. It was only with the greatest difficulty that he persuaded me to agree to “The Dark Lady” being made into a film at all. Now that I have, and have signed my contract with him, I have absolutely no intention of backing out and selling the rights to you.”
“But what if I offered double, triple, what Brad is giving you?” Cormac inquired in a hard, business-like tone, while he admired the girl’s spirit as he observed her under veiled lids.
“It wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I trust Brad, whereas I don’t trust you. I know he will make the film with dignity and artistic integrity, and not turn it into a Hollywood blockbuster.”
“May I point out that that's all he has ever made before? Pulp, rubbish, trash, every picture.”
Brad bristled, but Zoe jumped to his defense. “And whose fault is that? You tell me you run Clarke Studios, so you are the one who's to be blamed for commissioning the rubbish in the first place!
“In any case, he now has the financial success to get out from under your shadow and do what he really wants to do, and his first great picture in a long line of many will be “The Dark Lady.” But then, that’s why you resent him and me. Because you
know he is independent now," Zaira accused Cormac in a softer tone, and her violet gazed locked with his hard, flat one.
He gruffly said, “Nonsense,” but even Brad could see that he was blustering.
Cormac tried to get the upper hand once more. “You drive a hard bargain madam, so I shall offer you five times whatever Brad is paying you, and under the exact same terms of the contract that you signed with him, and him as director.”
Even Brad was shocked, and put a hand on Zaira’s arm. They both sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then Brad urged gently, “Think about it, my dear. It is a great offer, and it couldn’t change anything, except how much you’d get.”
Zaira shook her head. “No Brad, under no circumstances would I accept your father’s offer. I trust you. I don’t trust him or Clarke Studios, who could sue me if I didn’t go along with their way of doing things, and even you wouldn’t be able to protect me then. No, if he’s willing to poach the project right out from under your nose, then he’s not someone I’m willing to work with.”
Brad’s pride shone in his eyes, but he wanted what was best for her as well. “But the money, Zoe, think...”
Zaira’s patience snapped. “When are you people going to realize that I refuse to be bought? Money has its uses, but that’s as far as it goes. It doesn’t make me happy, and what you offered me will be fine.”
Cormac’s eyes gleamed, and Zaira could sense his patronizing attitude. She burst out heatedly, “Look, the only reason I wrote the damned book in the first place or even considered your offer, was that my husband’s business collapsed.”
She caught the brown eyes glittering at her, and she faced Jonathan squarely.
“If it hadn’t been for me being left abandoned and in dire straits, we wouldn’t be sitting around having this conversation. With the money Brad will be giving me for the rights and fees, I will clear the last of my debts and free myself of the past once and for all. So don’t waste my time trying to convince me to get mixed up with an even worse pack of vultures than I did the last time!” Zaira said contemptuously, and the brown eyes shifted away from her.
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