‘Of course,’ she acknowledged smoothly. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’ she added lightly as he continued to glare at her.
She would have been decidedly out of touch in the acting world if she hadn’t recognised this man. After his success the previous year the newspapers had been full of photographs and articles about him. Admittedly he was usually scowling in those photographs, but—
Not so different from now, really, she realised ruefully. She’d thought at the time that he probably didn’t like having his photograph taken, that he was one of those directors who believed it was his work that was important, not his private life. But maybe it was just that he rarely smiled, after all…
‘Not that I’m aware,’ he dismissed coldly, standing up, giving her the full benefit of just how wet he actually was.
He was wearing black denims and a pale grey shirt—silk, if she weren’t mistaken—and both articles of clothing were clinging to him. And, while the wetness of that clothing revealed just how masculine he was, his shoulders wide and powerful, his stomach flat, his hips tapered, he must also be very uncomfortable. And all because he’d thought she was drowning!
‘You underestimate your fame, Mr Byrne,’ she answered lightly. ‘And I think perhaps you should get out of those wet clothes,’ she suggested, with a guilty grimace. ‘Before you catch pneumonia!’
‘Not very likely in this hot-house.’ But be began to unbutton his shirt anyway, revealing the dark hair that grew on his wide chest as he pulled the clinging material away from him and threw the dripping shirt down on to the tiled floor, before unbuttoning his denims, obviously with the intention of doing the same thing with them.
Much to her dismay! She might be twenty-two, and not a complete innocent where men were concerned, but she didn’t usually have complete strangers stripping off in front of her, either!
‘Er—I think Uncle Edgar left one of his robes in the changing room.’ She turned away awkwardly. ‘I’ll go and check for you.’ She moved hastily away, her cheeks hot with embarrassment, as Gideon Byrne continued to strip off his denims. Admittedly, he was wearing black briefs underneath, but there was no guarantee he wasn’t going to strip those off next…!
Gideon Byrne, she thought breathlessly as she hurried to the changing room, trying to remember exactly what it was she had read about him in the newspapers the previous year. Thirty-eight, dark brown hair, grey eyes, unmarried, only child of the long-dead actor John Byrne…
But none of those cold facts could have prepared her for the flesh-and-blood man. How could the newspapers possibly describe the aura of electric energy that surrounded the man, or the cynicism that coloured every word he spoke? They couldn’t. They hadn’t!
Well, at least she had found the perfect cure for jet-lag; one dose of Gideon Byrne, and all the tiredness from her journey had completely left her!
Uncle Edgar hadn’t mentioned that he had such a famous guest staying here when he’d met her at the airport earlier, or since her arrival at the house. If he had done, she might have been more prepared!
However, she was no more prepared for the sheer physical male beauty of his body when she returned with the robe—although, thankfully, he had kept the black briefs on!
She guessed he was well over six feet in height—as he seemed to tower over her five feet eight inches. His muscular body was deeply tanned; muscles rippled powerfully beneath his skin, and there was a fine sprinkling of dark hair over all of his body, becoming much thicker on the width of his chest. He was gorgeous!
‘Thanks.’
She stared at him blankly for several seconds, wondering if she had spoken those words out loud, realising she hadn’t as he held his hand out for the robe she carried.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered awkwardly, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her own towelling robe once he’d taken the one she was holding to pull on over his near-nakedness.
‘Uncle Edgar?’ He quirked dark brows at her questioningly as he tied the belt in place.
‘It’s an honorary title.’ She was relieved to talk of something normal after the impact this man had made on her senses, hoping she wasn’t making too big an idiot of herself. Although she thought she probably was! ‘My name is Madison McGuire,’ she told him lightly, holding out her hand. ‘Edgar Remington is my godfather.’
Gideon Byrne didn’t look impressed by this explanation; his mouth twisted scornfully as he touched her hand only lightly in return. Although it was enough for Madison to feel the thrill of electricity that ran up her arm. That aura didn’t just surround him, it went right through him!
‘Edgar is many things, to many people, but this is the first time I’ve heard him referred to as The Godfather!’ he drawled.
Madison gave him a look of amused reproval. ‘I doubt he would be flattered by that name!’
‘Probably not,’ Gideon Byrne accepted dryly. ‘But he’s a first-class manipulator nonetheless!’
She had known Edgar Remington all of her life. She knew him as a good friend of her parents, and also as her benevolent godfather, but she was aware there had to be another side to him, the side that headed one of the top film production companies in the world, and headed it well.
As a film director, perhaps that was the side of him that Gideon Byrne knew best…?
‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ Madison dismissed with a shrug; her very minor part in a film might have been in one produced by Edgar’s company, but even so she had had no contact with her uncle because of it, her almost non-existent role having been filmed on location in Scotland.
But what she did know was that dinner was going to be in an hour, and her hair was drying into tangles; she needed a shower and to wash her hair before the meal. She had half excused herself from attending dinner to Edgar earlier, saying she was too tired to be very good company for anyone, but after meeting this man she was wide awake. And hungry, she inwardly acknowledged.
‘Wouldn’t you?’
She gave Gideon a startled look, as much for the coldness of his tone as for the question itself. Was it her imagination, or was there an accusing edge to his voice? And, if so, what possible reason could this man have for feeling that way?
She gave a puzzled frown, shaking her head. ‘It’s getting late, Mr Byrne—’
‘Call me Gideon,’ he rasped harshly.
This man might be one of the most handsome men she’d ever set eyes on, but his manners certainly left a lot to be desired! And she’d always been led to believe Englishmen had the best manners in the world; obviously no one had acquainted Gideon Byrne with that fact!
She gave an acknowledging inclination of her head. ‘It was very kind of you to jump into the water to save me earlier.’
‘When you’ve known me a little longer—Madison, you’ll realise kindness is not part of my nature!’ he retorted harshly.
No, she didn’t think it would be; he came over as a hard, unyielding man, one who rarely smiled. And she very much doubted she would get to know him ‘a little longer’ their paths would never cross again after this weekend.
‘Besides,’ he added derisively, ‘according to you, you didn’t need saving!’
No, she hadn’t, but it had still been kind of him to jump into the pool fully clothed, no matter what he might say to the contrary. ‘If there’s any permanent damage to your clothes, please do let me know,’ she told him evenly. ‘I’ll be happy to replace them.’ She wasn’t quite sure how a silk shirt would stand up to the chemicals in the pool water!
‘Oh, don’t worry, you’ll hear from me if that’s the case,’ he rasped. ‘Tell me, is that the natural colour of your hair?’
‘What…?’ Madison was stunned by the abrupt change of subject—and the fact that the question didn’t just border on being rude; it was rude!
At the moment, her hair was the colour of dark honey, but once she had washed and dried it it would be the colour of ripe corn, long and straight almost down to her waist. And, yes, it was her natural colour. As was the gre
en of her eyes. And the light golden tan of her skin. In fact, all of her was real!
‘You never can tell nowadays,’ Gideon Byrne added insultingly, making no apology for the very personal remark.
‘It’s natural,’ she answered him hardly, a perplexed frown marring her brow.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have said this man disliked her. But surely that couldn’t be so—the man didn’t even know her. Probably he was just annoyed with her because of his unnecessarily wet clothing?
He nodded abruptly. ‘I thought so.’
And…? But maybe there wasn’t an ‘and’ with this man. He might be one of the top film directors in the world, with an Oscar at home to prove it, but he was also one of the coldest, rudest men Madison had ever met…
And, thinking of cold, she was starting to shiver now, and was badly in need of that hot shower she’d promised herself a few minutes ago. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I would like to go upstairs and take a shower before dinner,’ she told him pleasantly.
He met her gaze challengingly. ‘And if I do mind?’ he drawled.
Madison didn’t so much as blink at his rudeness this time. ‘Then I’m still going upstairs to take a shower,’ she said bluntly. Maybe that was the only way to be with this man; politeness certainly didn’t seem to work!
To her surprise, he smiled. And it transformed his face from austere coldness to friendly warmth. Well…almost, she decided. Friendly was perhaps going too far! But he did look more approachable, Madison tried to convince herself. Not that she intended ‘approaching’ him; she was quite happy to just part on that one smile, sure that it was more than a lot of people got out of him.
‘Maybe you and I are going to get on after all, Madison McGuire,’ he murmured enigmatically.
She wasn’t sure she would go quite that far on the basis of one smile! Besides, there must be mere hours left of his visit—hardly long enough for them to need to ‘get on’…
‘If you say so,’ she acknowledged noncommittally. ‘Nice to have met you, Mr Byrne,’ she added politely before turning to leave.
‘Liar!’ came his softly taunting reply from behind her.
Madison paused, turning slowly back to face him. ‘I’m not in the habit of lying, Mr Byrne—’
‘I thought I told you to call me Gideon,’ he rasped harshly.
She frowned. ‘Perhaps you did—Mr Byrne,’ she felt stung into replying; really, the man was nothing but an arrogant bully! ‘But—’
‘We haven’t been formally introduced?’ he cut in derisively. ‘I think it’s a little late in our acquaintance for that; after all, I did attempt to save your life a short time ago!’
‘Attempt’ just about described it! If he hadn’t startled her in the way he had, she wouldn’t have fallen into the water in the first place!
‘I was about to say—but I really couldn’t be so familiar with a film director of your calibre,’ she finished forcefully. ‘But on second thoughts…! I’m not in the habit of lying— Gideon, and it hasn’t been nice meeting you at all!’ She turned on her heel and walked away, going up the stairs that led back to the main part of the house.
And, as she did so, she could swear she heard the sound of Gideon Byrne chuckling down in the pool-room.
Ridiculous. That man didn’t even know how to chuckle!
What a monumental pain in the—! She had never met anyone like him. Cold. Rude. Arrogant. If that was what being awarded an Oscar did for you, she hoped she never got one!
Not that she was ever likely to, she groaned inwardly, if she went around upsetting directors of Gideon Byrne’s calibre.
Oh, hell!
Best just to forget she had ever met him. With any luck, he would have left before dinner…
Gideon’s humour faded as soon as he heard the loud thud of the door closing behind her.
She had pluck; he would give her that. She was also incredibly beautiful, in exactly the way he had noticed on the screen last night as he’d sat watching the Tony Lawrence film.
He had immense respect for the other director, and as he hadn’t had the chance to see his new film yet he’d enjoyed watching it from a technical angle, anyway. But when the serving girl had walked across the screen it was as if he had been given an electric shock…!
He’d been looking for just such a girl for the last six months, seen dozens of would-be-hopefuls, but none of them were exactly what he wanted. When Madison McGuire had walked across the screen last night he’d known he had at last seen his Rosemary.
She was everything he wanted Rosemary to be: the delicately beautiful face of an angel, the deep green of her eyes as she looked briefly at the camera a bonus he hadn’t been expecting, her neck long and creamy, looking too fragile to support the weight of that long, corn-coloured hair, her body boyishly slender, her legs, he had discovered only minutes ago, long and coltish.
Yes, she was everything he was looking for, and as he’d avidly studied the credits, looking for her name, he had read ‘Madison McGuire’ next to ‘serving girl’.
Madison McGuire! The very girl Edgar had been trying minutes ago to persuade him to stay on and meet. And as he’d glanced sideways at Edgar he’d seen that smile of satisfaction on the older man’s face. Damn him!
Part of Gideon had wanted to say to hell with Edgar and this Madison, and just leave as he’d planned. But the other part of him, the purely professional part, had known he would be a fool if he left without even seeing her. Although it had gone against the grain to tell Edgar he had decided to stay on another day after all. Especially as Edgar had taken his decision so calmly, only the twinkling blue of his eyes giving away the fact that he was well aware of exactly what—and who!—had changed Gideon’s mind!
Well, now he had seen Madison.
And she was everything, if not more than he had been looking for in the lead for his next film. The American accent had come as a bit of a surprise; Edgar had forgotten to mention that little fact when he’d spoken of her, and in her part in last night’s film she had merely murmured ‘Thank you, sir’—which had given him no idea where she came from. But she had proved minutes ago that she was perfectly capable of adopting an English accent if she needed to—if only to mock him with!
Yes, he had seen Madison McGuire. Now all he had to do was offer her the part of Rosemary. It was whether or not she would accept that he wasn’t altogether sure of. She would be a fool if she didn’t; the film would be the making of her career. It all depended on just how much she’d decided it hadn’t been nice meeting him!
‘Been for a swim, Gideon?’
Edgar! Just his luck to walk straight into his host in the hallway, Gideon decided as he slowly turned.
Or was it luck? Edgar looked confidently amused—as if he was well aware under what circumstances Gideon had been for a ‘swim’. Perhaps his ‘goddaughter’ had run to Uncle Edgar with the tale of the terrible Gideon Byrne?
Or maybe not. Madison, for all she looked so fragile, had been perfectly capable of fighting her own battles a few minutes ago—at least, verbally!
‘I met Madison down at the pool,’ he told the other man dryly.
‘Yes?’ Edgar returned confidently.
It was that confidence that rankled so much with Gideon. It bordered on smug—and it made Gideon want to wipe the smile right off Edgar’s face!
He shrugged. ‘I didn’t have a costume, but that didn’t seem to bother Madison too much,’ he told the other man challengingly.
Edgar’s humour faded, his eyes taking on that steely quality that would be a warning to lesser men than Gideon. ‘I sincerely hope you’re joking, Gideon,’ he bit out tersely. ‘Madison is here for a little TLC, not to deal with idiots who choose to go skinny-dipping in my pool!’
Gideon could tell that Edgar was more than a little annoyed; he would never have called him an idiot otherwise. But it was his reference to Madison needing TLC that intrigued him. Madison had looked no more than twenty or so, hardly old enough
to be recovering from a broken marriage or something like that. Which begged the question, what could be the reason she needed TLC? But it wasn’t a question he intended asking Edgar—he wouldn’t give the other man the satisfaction!
He shrugged, smiling grimly. ‘I told you, Madison didn’t seem to mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ he added as Edgar seemed intent on pursuing the subject, ‘I think I’ll follow her example and take a shower before dinner.’
Edgar’s eyes were narrowed to steely slits. ‘I thought you were leaving before dinner?’
Last night he had decided he would take a look at this Madison McGuire and then leave, and he had told Edgar the latter, at least. But now that he had seen Madison there was no way he was leaving here until he had spoken to her, and looked at her, some more. There was a hell of a lot of work to do, and he didn’t have too much time left in which to do it. In fact, now that he had seen Madison, there was no time to lose.
He shrugged again. ‘I changed my mind. See you later, Edgar,’ he told the other man firmly before walking away.
Edgar had brought Madison to his attention, and that was the end of the other man’s involvement in the situation as far as Gideon was concerned. He didn’t give a damn what she was to the other man; if she was going to work for Gideon, she was going to do it on his terms.
Or not at all!
CHAPTER TWO
‘WELL, well, well, if it isn’t Madison McGuire; I wondered if I would recognise you with your clothes on!’
Madison had tensed at the first sound of Gideon Byrne’s infuriating voice, but at his last remark she spun round indignantly. What did he think he was doing?
She had been relieved earlier when she’d entered the sitting-room for a pre-dinner drink to discover that Gideon Byrne wasn’t there, breathing easier when she realised she wouldn’t be having another verbal fencing match with him all evening.
She’d even relaxed enough to indulge in a mild flirtation with Drew Armitage, a man she knew slightly from working on the film in Scotland some months before. Drew was boyishly handsome, and she’d easily been able to see his admiration for her, dressed in the figure-hugging flame-coloured dress, her hair newly washed, cascading in loose golden curls down her back, her subtle make-up highlighting the deep green of her eyes.
Bound by Contract Page 2
