She moved forward and stripped off the red dress, tossing it carelessly into an untidy heap on the floor. However much it had cost her to buy, she wasn't sure that she would be wearing it again. It would hold too many bad memories for her. The scanty underclothes that she had worn beneath it followed quickly, and then she stepped into the shower cubicle that was one of the perks of having the star dressing room. It meant that she had little space besides to spread herself and her possessions, but Nita didn't mind that. After three years of sharing washing and dressing facilities a place to herself was heaven.
The cool, stinging needles of water braced and revived her and she began to relax slightly as she stood there, soaping herself vigorously, as if by that means she could erase the memory of those long, lean fingers moving across her skin in practised caresses. If she scrubbed hard enough perhaps she could even cancel out the knowledge of her own response to them.
She refused to allow herself to wonder why that man of all men had the power to send waves of sensation rocketing through her body. She didn't want to know, she told herself firmly. She didn't care. It was an isolated incident that would not be repeated. After tonight Leon Calveto would move on. And, after tonight, she would forget his existence.
There was a tap at the door and she roused herself reluctantly. That would be Jeff, coming to collect her so that they could go on to her place for the coffee and sandwiches that she had offered him. He was quick tonight. Usually, when they had a date after the show, it was she who ended up waiting for him. He was conscientious about his work and liked to make sure that everything was in order backstage before he went off duty. Quite often he was delayed with talk about future plans and projects, post-mortems on things that had gone wrong in the night's show or arguments about lighting or staging.
She didn't feel like seeing him now. If truth were told, she didn't feel like seeing anyone. But that wasn't his fault.
'Come in,' she shouted through the noise of hissing water. 'I'm just in the shower. Hang around for a bit, will you? I won't be long.'
She heard a grunt of assent and saw his figure hazily through the frosted glass as he entered and took a seat to wait for her. Reluctantly she began to rinse herself.
'Did you hear what that madman did to me?' she called. If he hadn't seen it himself, someone was bound to have told him. It was too good a story not to circulate the length of the club and beyond. Nita could imagine the good-natured teasing that she would have to endure over the next few days. 'A fine lot of Sir Galahads we have on the staff here! No one lifted a finger to help me. And that bunch of layabouts that you grace with the name of musicians were as useless as the rest. They just split their sides laughing at me.'
Another grunt reached her as Jeff's only response.
'I'll tell you something,' she said loudly. 'If I ever see that guy again, I'll give him a piece of my mind! I should have hit him where it hurts. I wish I had now, it would have served him right. The conceit of that man!'
'Mm.' Perhaps Jeff didn't want to waste time discussing it here and now. He sounded a little impatient. He would be ready to eat, Nita guessed. She reached for her towel, rubbing herself down briskly.
'Sorry to keep you. Sling me my robe, will you?' she asked him. 'It's over by the door.'
She heard him step across the room and return, and expected the towelling wrap to appear over the top of the cubicle. Instead the door opened and male figure loomed into view.
She held a scanty towel against her breasts. 'Jeff, do you mind? This isn't a private peepshow.'
'Isn't it? It sounded like an invitation to one, from what you were just saying.'
A pair of mocking dark eyes that most certainly did not belong to Jeff scanned her figure with lazy ease.
'What the hell are you doing here?' she demanded.
'You didn't think I was finished with you, did you? I wanted to see a little more of you.' Leon Calveto's deep tones managed to make the words insulting.
'How dare you!' She snatched her robe from his grasp and manoeuvred her way into it, hoping she wasn't providing him with too much of a glimpse of naked flesh as she did so. Then she pushed past him into the room, brushing against him as she did so and recoiling at the contact as if he had been red-hot.
'It's all right, I don't have the plague,' he told her, noting the gesture as she had known that he would.
'No?' she asked tartly. 'Pardon me if I disagree.'
In a room the size of a pocket handkerchief it was almost impossible to distance oneself from anybody, friend or foe, but she did the best she could, stationing herself discreetly near the house telephone. She thought she could handle this herself, but it was good to know that assistance was at hand if she cared to summon it.
'How did you get in here anyway?' she asked.
'It wasn't difficult.' He took a spare chair and sat down as if the visit was going to be a prolonged one.
'I shouldn't make yourself too comfortable—you're not stopping.'
'No?' A dark brow rose in what she thought was faint amusement. Damn the man! Why couldn't he treat her like a rational human being?
'Patrons aren't allowed backstage.' She didn't say she was sorry.
'So the sign said. But I didn't choose to observe it.'
'And what did you do with the house detective who sits alongside it? Did you ignore him too?' Boris was two hundred and eighty pounds and an ex-wrestler. As obstacles went he wasn't easily circumvented.
'I told him my name was Leon Calveto and that I was a friend of yours.'
'And he believed you.'
He shrugged. 'Why not? And a fifty-dollar bill is a fair inducement for a man to turn a blind eye, wouldn't you say?'
'I'm sorry you had to waste so much money,' she said coldly.
'I wouldn't call it a waste,' he said carelessly. 'I'd calculate that I've had about a dollar's worth of my entrance fee so far and I expect to see a return on the rest before the night is through.'
Any notion that Nita had that he had come here to apologise for his earlier behaviour faded rapidly. So what did he want with her? Anger flamed within her, just below the surface, ready to take hold and banish the initial fear that she had of him.
'If you've come here to be deliberately unpleasant—' she began.
'I haven't.'
'It sounds suspiciously like it to me,' she flared. 'So what do you want with me?'
'I came to ask you to have dinner with me,' he said imperturbably.
'Dinner and what else?' So that was his game, was it? Some men were so thick-skinned! Did Leon Calveto really think she fancied him in spite of all the things that he had just heard her say about him? She laughed, a hard sound, devoid of humour. 'No.'
'That's not a word I'm accustomed to hearing.'
She shrugged in her turn. 'Too bad.'
He studied her through narrowed eyes. 'Talking of being deliberately unpleasant, I've had more gracious replies when I've asked a lady out to dinner.'
'On your own admission I'm no lady!' she snapped.
'All right then. If that's how you feel about it, I'll use the other approach.' He leaned back in his chair and said calmly, 'What's it worth to you?'
She made an incredulous sound. 'Do you mean money?'
'Interested you, have I?' He voiced his contempt. 'Yes. I mean money. How much?'
'You couldn't pay my price.'
'Try me and see,' he drawled.
'If you think you can buy me the way that you bought Boris, you've got another think coming, Mr Calveto. Besides,' she smiled sweetly at him, 'I already have a date.'
'Break it,' he commanded her imperiously.
'I don't choose to.'
'Can he offer you what I can offer you, do you think?'
'If you mean money, probably not,' she said steadily. 'And before you start parading a list of your other good points, I'll concede that he's not as striking to look at as you are either. But he is kind, considerate, polite and a whole lot of other things that you'll never b
e if you try for a thousand years. Do I make myself clear?'
'As crystal.' But he still made no move to go, as insolently at his ease as ever, his long legs stretched out before him, his hands buried in the pockets of his immaculately cut trousers. 'How about breakfast tomorrow?'
'No.'
'I see. He usually stays on for breakfast, does he, this paragon of all virtues?'
Nita's first instinct was to deny the charge hotly, her second to let it pass unchallenged. If he thought she was that committed to another man he would lose interest perhaps.
'And, if he does, it's no business of yours as far as I can see.' Her head tilted defiantly at him.
'None at all.' He gave a thin smile. 'Lunch, then?'
'You really can't take no for an answer, can you? I didn't believe you when you said that before.'
'I'm used to getting what I want.'
'And that includes another man's leavings?' she taunted him. 'I wouldn't have thought you were the type.'
'A compliment at last?'
'Make the most of it. There won't be any more,' she said shortly. 'Charming though this little interlude has been, I think it's time to bring it to a halt. I want to get dressed.'
'Don't let me stop you. But, if he's got any red blood about him, I'm sure he'll prefer you the way you are now.' His eyes rested on the golden expanse of skin revealed by her skimpy robe.
Nita resisted the urge to adjust the garment more securely round her. It would only amuse him. 'Are you going?' she asked him.
'Not yet.'
'I'll have you thrown out,' she threatened. Her hand went to the phone and lifted the receiver.
'Leave that.' His hand came out and covered hers. Its hard strength half thrilled, half scared her. 'You'd regret it afterwards.'
'I can't think why.'
For a moment Nita defied him, her fingers resisting the lean tension of his. She hadn't really any option, she knew. If he chose to, he could make her listen to him. Nita gave in before it came to that. Pointedly she removed her hand from his, as if his touch defiled her, and made a show of consulting the dainty watch that adorned her wrist. 'I'll give you three minutes. Make the most of them.'
'I came here because I wanted to talk to you—'
'Just to talk to me?' she interrupted him with heavy sarcasm. 'Of course, I should have known from the start that you were a gentleman, shouldn't I? You didn't want to lay a finger on me.'
'Who's being conceited now?' he drawled. 'There are men around who can resist your undoubted attractions, you know.'
'Sure. But your behaviour this evening didn't give me much indication that you were one of them,' she told him.
'Just testing,' he said. 'Besides, I wanted to establish contact.'
'You did that all right!'
'Aren't you going to ask me why?'
'If it wasn't for the usual reasons that a man is interested in a woman I really couldn't say. But I'm sure you're about to enlighten me.'
'I'm a fellow countryman of yours.'
Nita had already identified that tinge of accent. She could have conducted this whole conversation in Spanish if she had chosen to. But she had her own reasons for not doing so. It was three years since she had used that language for anything except her stage work. She had no intention of using it now.
'No, Mr Calveto,' she said coldly, 'not a fellow countryman. I'm sorry if you've been misled by my publicity, but I'm an American citizen. So now that we've discovered yet one more thing that we don't have in common, are you going to leave me in peace, or do I have to call for help?'
He ignored the question and went on smoothly, 'You can hold an American passport because you were born here. And your mother was American—from Virginia, to be precise. Your father was working over here in Miami when he met her. Strange how history repeats itself, isn't it?'
Nita said nothing.
He continued, his dark eyes on her face, studying it relentlessly for a trace of a reaction to what he was telling her. 'You lived here until you were five years old. And then your father did what he always intended to do when he'd accumulated enough money and experience at his job. He went back home to Mexico and took his wife and child with him.'
'All very interesting,' she said tonelessly. Her face had paled and one hand drummed nervously against the top of the dressing table.
'Isn't it? And I can go on, if you'd like me to—'
'No,' she said abruptly. 'I don't want to hear any more.'
'A pity, because I know all the details. Every one.'
'I'm sure you're very well informed,' Nita said scornfully.
'Aren't you going to ask me how I know all this?' he prompted her softly.
He was playing with her like a cat with a helpless mouse. He could have told her all this at the beginning. Instead he had chosen otherwise. She shivered, panic suddenly striking her. She had no doubt at all that Leon Calveto was speaking the truth. He had already said enough to convince her. She had never talked to anyone about her background—there had been no point; it no longer concerned her. That part of her life lay behind a closed door.
'I—' She started to speak and halted abruptly. She didn't know what to say to him.
'Nita, love, are you ready? I'll eat six plates of those sandwiches you promised me and then have you for dessert. How does that—'
Jeff's cheerful face appearing round the door made a sudden break in the tension that was building up in the room.
'Oh!' He took in her visitor, sitting there as if he owned the establishment. 'Pardon me, I didn't know you had someone with you.'
'Jefferson Peters, Leon Calveto.' Nita made the introductions reluctantly, then saw frowning recognition dawn on Jeff's face as he looked closer. She had no need to wonder whether he had witnessed the fiasco that had been her second spot this evening. Clearly he had. His acknowledgement of the other man was curt to the point of rudeness.
'Jefferson is our entertainment director,' she explained. She hoped there wasn't going to be trouble. The last thing she wanted was for the two of them to be fighting over her like dogs squaring up over a juicy bone.
But Leon Calveto seemed inclined to be gracious. 'Indeed? Then let me congratulate you on an excellent show here tonight.'
'I'm glad you enjoyed it.' Jeff still looked belligerent.
'Some parts more than others, I must confess.' The other man's sardonic glance rested for an instant too long on Nita, his meaning abundantly clear.
Jeff met provocation with provocation. 'Nita's got a great act going. I'm lucky to have her. And she has some pretty dynamic off-stage talents too, haven't you honey?'
Nita frowned at him. She didn't like the way that they were both scoring points off each other at the expense of her reputation. 'That's enough, Jeff!' She didn't dare say that to Leon Calveto.
'And modest with it. She's got it all!'
'I'm sure she has.' But it was scepticism, not agreement, that Nita heard in the Mexican's reply.
'That's my girl,' said Jeff. Was it by accident or design that he stressed the personal pronoun?
There was an awkward pause. Awkward for Nita at least. Jeff was clearly waiting for his opponent's next move, expecting it to be retreat. And that opponent was equally clearly standing his ground.
Nita didn't know what she wanted. She would like nothing better than to see the door close after that tall, striking figure with the knowledge that she need never lay eyes on him again. But she couldn't afford to let him go, not without knowing what brought him here and exactly what was behind the remarks that he had made to her before Jeff's untimely interruption.
And he knew it, damn him. She could tell from the mocking lift to his mouth as he watched her. The female mind didn't present any mysteries for Leon Calveto. He could tell exactly what sort of reaction he had stirred up in her and he was relishing every moment of her discomfort.
Jeff wasn't going to like this. Men never did like losing face. But she would smooth things over with him as soon as she had th
e chance, Nita thought optimistically.
'Mr Calveto—that is—Leon has asked me to have dinner with him tonight.'
'Has he? I thought I was the lucky guy.'
'We could make it some other time?' Her tone was appealing. 'Leon's not in town for very long and he's an old friend,' she lied glibly, surprising herself.
'An old friend, huh?' Jeff gave a harsh laugh of disbelief. After all, he had seen that very public embrace. For a long moment she thought that he was going to make an issue out of it. Then, perhaps realising that he would look a fool if he did, he gave in with a careless, 'O.K., honey, if that's the way you want it. As you say, there'll always be another time. That's how you like it, isn't it?' He turned to go with a nod at the other man. 'Variety's the spice of life where our Nita's concerned. But, as you're an old friend, I guess you'd know that already.'
He didn't wait for a reply and the door banged behind him. Then the sound of cheerful whistling and he was gone.
He might well whistle, thought Nita furiously. He had just got his own back on her in the neatest way possible. Who said men weren't as bitchy as women if they chose to be? If she had been hoping for any kind of romantic evening with Leon Calveto that comment of Jeff's would have been guaranteed to kill it stone dead.
The way things stood, of course, it didn't really matter what he thought of her morals; they didn't concern him. But she didn't like anybody to get the wrong impression, and she turned to explain.
'Jeff is—'
'Of no interest at all to me, whatever place you claim that he does or does not occupy in your life,' he said in a bored tone. 'Now, the sooner you dress yourself, the sooner we can go and find something to eat.'
'I'm not hungry,' she said childishly.
'I am. Anyway, we have things to discuss and I've wasted enough time already.'
Her time was of no account, of course! Nita seethed. But she reached for her clothes nonetheless. She wanted nothing so much as to defy him, but she couldn't. Not if she wanted to find out more. And, however much she might deny it, she did want to hear more. And they both knew it.
She assumed that Leon would offer to leave the room while she dressed. But he made no move to do so and she was forced to ask him to wait outside for her.
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