by Kim Lawrence
Hope could hear his feet pounding on the stairs, and she gave up all pretence of normality and ran. She’d reached the car before he caught her up.
‘Let me go!’ She spun around, panting.
Alex caught her by the elbows. ‘Calm down,’ he commanded firmly. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’ve never been more humiliated in my life.’
‘Humiliated that someone knows we were making love?’
She winced at his uncompromising assessment of the situation. ‘Do you think she guessed?’
‘Well, if she didn’t, your little act up there cleared up any doubts. I take it you’re ashamed?’ His expression was cold and forbidding.
‘Who wouldn’t be?’ she asked shrilly. ‘Rolling around on the floor like…like…’
‘Animals?’
‘If you like,’ she said with a touch of defiance. Their primal haste had certainly been something outside her own experience, but then Alex’s rampant sensuality was outside her experience too.
‘Sorry if I’m not a smooth and civilised lover, Hope, but the fact is you like me the way I am. Crude, coarse and unrefined.’
‘You aren’t.’ She couldn’t stop the instinctive protest escaping her lips.
One hand cupped her chin and forced her lowered gaze upwards. ‘I’m not what?’ His tone demanded an answer. His expression made it clear he was ready to wring the truth from her.
‘Any of those things.’
‘What am I?’ She could feel the tension in him as he waited for her reply.
She didn’t need any further prompting. In one way it was a relief to say what she felt. ‘Beautiful.’ Her tongue curled lovingly around the word. I’ve started so I might as well finish, she thought recklessly. ‘Addictive…’ The word emerged, achingly erotic, from her raw throat. ‘You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.’ A hint of belligerence crept into her voice as she looked him straight in the eyes.
His eyes searched her face almost suspiciously. ‘You’re serious.’ He drew in breath hungrily, as though he’d forgotten to breathe.
‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’ I bare my soul, she thought indignantly, and what do I get? The third degree! ‘I’m not exactly enjoying feeling like this.’
‘You should be enjoying it. Perhaps we should do something about that.’ ‘Smug’ would have been too mild a word to describe the male satisfaction that was oozing from him.
She swayed slightly as his arms moved to cage her body. Strong arms that made her feel weak and feminine. Dear God, she wondered, where in her subconscious had all these antediluvian fantasies been hiding? One whiff of a pheromone and any thoughts of political correctness went sailing out of the window.
She pressed her lips to the corner of his firm mouth. It would have been a crime to let an opportunity like this slip away. ‘What did you have in mind?’ She kissed the neglected side of his mouth lingeringly and felt his chest swell.
‘How do you feel about orgies?’
‘In general I’m fairly open-minded. Are we talking large, communal occasions, here?’
‘Smaller, more intimate occasions.’ His tongue traced the outline of her open tremulous lips with steady precision. ‘One on one, if you get my drift.’ His smile was sinfully sensual as her fingers moved to his thick hair. It felt like rich, heavy silk under her fingertips.
‘I really have got to go to London, Alex.’ If he’d asked her to stay she’d probably have been unprofessional enough to do just that. Only his silence didn’t put her resolve to the test. ‘If I get this part, things are going to get quite hectic.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘With a friend. Female,’ she added with a spurt of annoyance. ‘So there’s no need to look like that.’
‘I’ve got an apartment that you could use.’
Apartment. It smacked too much of being a kept woman, visited by her lover when it suited him. ‘I don’t think so.’ She didn’t like the image it conjured up in her mind. She was accepting a lot less than she wanted as it was, and she didn’t know for how long she could go on making concessions. She had to draw the line somewhere.
‘As you like. I can make it up there at the weekend. It’s a date, then.’
Hope nodded. A date had a nice old-fashioned ring to it. What they were arranging was nothing of the sort—more a wild, hedonistic spree of sensual delight. He didn’t want or need her love, but for the moment he did want and need her body. Later, she might regret having settled for second best, but at least she’d have something to remember.
She emerged from his savage embrace with the air of a person accustomed to such mind-shattering experiences. ‘I’ll ring you.’
‘That would be advisable.’ There was nothing subtle about the warning in his silky words.
‘You’re late,’ Miranda snapped.
Hope stood there, her key still in the lock of her friend’s penthouse. ‘Tell me about it,’ she said wearily. She was bone-tired and close to forming the conclusion that she’d made the worst decision of her life accepting this part. ‘You know, they only gave it to me because my name would boost the ticket sales. I have novelty value,’ she said bitterly. ‘Half the people who come and watch will be hoping I fall flat on my face.’
The self-pity passed right over her friend’s head. ‘Yeah, yeah. Never mind about that,’ she said impatiently.
Miranda was the closest friend she’d made on the modelling circuit. Hope could see that she was agog. She had fair skin that went with a cloud of red hair. Her complexion always reflected her emotions, and right now she was pink with excitement.
‘What’s happened?’
‘He’s been waiting three hours for you.’ It was only at times like this that her normally accentless English betrayed her Norwegian origins. ‘Dark hair, big—very big.’ She licked her lips reflectively. ‘The sort of body that looks better without clothes on.’ She gave a crow of delight as Hope’s tell-tale blush confirmed her theory. ‘I knew I was right. Clothes can’t hide a body like that. You know, I’m tired of skinny, pretty boys. Tell me, do you think he’d pose for my life class?’ she enquired in all seriousness. ‘He could really get my artistic juices flowing.’
‘If you ask him I’ll kill you!’ Art was Miranda’s latest craze; last month it had been hang-gliding.
‘Well, if you feel like that I won’t,’ she responded with obvious regret. She half closed her eyes and a dreamy look came over her face. ‘I can just imagine him…’
‘Don’t!’ Hope said tartly. She thought it was about time she drew this speculation to a close.
Her friend’s hand on her arm stilled her impetuous entry into the open-plan living area. ‘He’s angry.’
‘What?’
‘Under the charm.’ She wrapped her arms around her slim body and sighed deeply. ‘It’s so refreshing to meet a really intelligent man.’
‘Just what have you two been talking about?’ Hope asked sharply. It seemed to her that it wasn’t Alex’s intelligence that her friend had been drooling over.
‘He’s angry, Hope—with you, I think.’
‘Well, don’t look at me. It’s par for the course. He’s always angry at me for something or other. I could spend a week in a retreat in Outer Mongolia and I’d still do something to aggravate the man!’
Miranda’s green eyes grew round as they rested on Hope’s face. ‘I never thought I’d live to see the day!’
‘Don’t talk in riddles,’ Hope responded crossly.
‘I shall go to bed.’
‘Not before time,’ Hope shouted after her.
‘Alex.’ He stood with his back to her. Alex had a magnificent back. Amazing how a rear view could give such a clear impression of disposition. Even without Miranda’s warning, she’d have known he was in a right royal fury.
‘What time do you call this?’ He spun around.
Hope took her time examining the slender watch about her wrist before replying. ‘One-thirty.’
‘And what have you been doing? Or is that a silly question?’
‘Pompous doesn’t suit you, Alex, but then I’m sure you know that. Actually—though it’s none of your business—I’ve been working my butt off. You can see if you like,’ she offered generously. She craned her head to get a view of her rear, clad in a pair of skin-tight jeans that clung lovingly to long lines of her legs.
‘At one-thirty!’ He watched as she pulled off the short leather jacket she wore. The skinny rib polo neck clung to her curves like a second skin. At one time he’d convinced himself she was unaware of how provocative clothes like that were when they covered a body like hers. That had been before he’d been forced to face a few unpalatable facts.
‘Actually, we stopped at midnight for refreshments.’
‘I just bet you did,’ he drawled. ‘Who’s we?’
‘Jonah—Jonah Cromwell, the director—and me.’
‘Cosy.’
‘I didn’t know I had a curfew.’
‘Did you share the joke with him?’
She sighed. ‘I’m tired, Alex, thoroughly fed-up and on the verge of hysteria. So if all this nonsense is leading somewhere, get to the point!’
‘This,’ he said, flinging a rolled-up newspaper at her, ‘is the point!’
‘Oh, is that all?’ She slumped into the stylish red leather and chrome chair that hadn’t been created with the human spine in mind. The full story of Lloyd and Shirley had been told in inside-colour-spread splendour in a Saturday supplement. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘Pleased? Pleased to be made a total fool of?’
She blinked. This wasn’t the response she’d been anticipating. ‘You were a bit silly, weren’t you?’ The perverse temptation to taunt a tiger was irresistible in her present frame of mind.
‘You knew I was half-insane, thinking of you with that man.’ His lip curled in a savage snarl as he bit out the word. ‘You knew I half expected you to up and run when he crooked his finger. Did you get a kick out seeing me want to throttle the life out of the bastard? Do you like seeing men make fools of themselves over you?’
The extent of his unreasoning fury hit her for the first time. ‘I tried to tell—’ she began, but Alex wasn’t here to hear excuses.
‘You made yourself the laughing stock of the country for that man.’
‘The entire population doesn’t treat the tabloids as gospel. I was helping out a friend.’
‘Some friend. Some casual favour.’
‘Come on, Alex, you can’t have it both ways. A second ago you were angry that Lloyd wasn’t my lover. Now you’re mad because you think we’re tied together by some invisible bond of eternal friendship. If I’m going to be reviled, I’d like to know what for, exactly.’
‘You want it straight? Fine!’ His lips thinned to a grim line of distaste. He made a supreme effort to control his erratic breathing. ‘I think you enjoyed seeing me go through hell thinking of you in his arms—his hands all over you.’
He closed his eyes, as though seeing a particularly terrible vision. He couldn’t forget all the hours he’d spent agonising over his obsessive interest in a woman too young for him—unsuitable in every way. The way she’d flaunted her apparent affair with a married man should have put her out of bounds. He’d made a big production of saying just that. Five minutes later he’d been panting to rationalise his change of heart. No wonder she’d let him dangle; she had enjoyed the spectacle of him making a clown of himself. At my age, he thought with contempt, I ought to know better.
‘You wouldn’t listen.’
Some things didn’t change.
He continued in a driven voice, ‘It was more fun seeing me come into line, wasn’t it? You knew I’d never hold out. You didn’t tell me the truth because you got a kick out of it.’
‘That’s not true,’ she gasped. Did he actually think she was capable of playing such sordid games?
‘And you thought I’d come crawling to you, overcome with remorse, when the truth finally came out.’ Her guilty flush at the arbitrary sliver of truth made his eyes narrow. ‘You know what I think? I think you’d have to owe someone big time to place your reputation on the line. I think there’s more between you and Elliot than meets the eye. What did he promise you?’
‘Haven’t you ever helped out a friend, Alex?’
Her quiet question seemed to shake him. ‘Are you trying to suggest you had no ulterior motive?’ He resurrected his blighting scorn without any visible effort. ‘You couldn’t be straight if you tried, Hope. Has anything you’ve ever said to me been the truth?’
Hope got to her feet. Being blasted by this much raw contempt was a shattering experience. She was shaking with reaction. Later she might cry, but right now she was way past that form of release.
‘I wanted to explain to you, Alex, but I couldn’t get past that wall of cynicism you’ve erected. This isn’t about me, is it? It’s about you being human and fallible. You can’t take not being in control.’
‘If there’s a control freak here, it’s not me.’
What little control Hope had had over her temper snapped completely at this point. ‘You know what I think, Alex? I think you’re disappointed I’m not the bad girl you had me pegged as. I think naughty girls get you turned on, and the idea you could force me to give up Lloyd made you feel like a really big man.’
‘You don’t really imagine I need that sort of prurient stimulation?’ He shook his head in shocked disbelief.
‘Oh, dear!’ she trilled, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘Have I insulted your virility? Tough!’ She spat the word out and her eyes grew hard. ‘You can sail in here and throw every vile insult that your sordid little mind can conjure up. But if I draw what is a perfectly logical conclusion, you’re offended. I’d say that about sums up perfectly what passes for our relationship.’
‘Then possibly now is the time to end what obviously disgusts you.’ Nostrils flared, eyes like ice chips, he managed to give the impression of looking down on her even though they were eye to eye.
‘Sounds good to me.’ She rocked on her heels and smiled.
‘Fine!’
Miranda discovered her half an hour later, standing still as a statue staring out of the window blindly at the glittering lights. Her soft words of sympathy opened the floodgates.
Amidst the storm Hope heard her friend say soothingly, ‘I’ve got a little mask I keep in the fridge that works wonders for puffy eyes.’ She wondered if there was anything there for a broken—no, bruised heart. ‘Broken’ implied the damage was irreparable. She couldn’t contemplate that possibility.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I’VE taken the liberty of placing you in one of the alcoves, sir. The large party is a little boisterous—an engagement, I believe.’
‘Scotch, no ice, please,’ Jonathan said as he took his seat. ‘Mineral water, Hope?’
‘No, I’ll have the same as you. Make it a double.’
Jonathan looked surprised, but nodded at the waiter. ‘Never seen you drink anything but wine before, Lacey, love. Are you feeling OK? You look a bit pale. Not anything catching, is it?’
‘Don’t worry, Jon, you’re safe.’
‘It’s you I was concerned about, love.’
Hope threw her agent an ironic look which failed to penetrate his armour-plated skin. ‘Do you mind if we swop seats? I feel a bit on display here.’ This wasn’t much of an excuse; between the greenery and the strategically placed screens, she was scarcely visible from the main dining area.
Jonathan got obligingly to his feet. ‘You’ll never learn. If you’ve got, it, love, flaunt it.’ He looked expectantly at her and she smiled obligingly. It was one of his favourite sayings and he always wheeled it out as though it was a witty and original gem.
‘You’ll never guess who’s over there,’ he said as he took her seat.
‘No, who?’ she asked brightly.
‘That big guy who gave me the run-around with that compensation deal. You fell
down that hole in his factory. You know, love, I never could understand what you were doing there.’ He chuckled reminiscently and picked up the menu. ‘He wasn’t as clever as I thought. Apparently there were signs all over saying, “No admittance to the public”. We’d never have got a penny out of him if we’d gone to court.’
‘Aren’t I lucky my agent’s so clever?’
‘Want to go over and say hello?’
Hope stared at him in horror. ‘Are you mad?’
Jonathan shrugged. ‘I feel quite mellow about the whole thing. We’d be quids in if you hadn’t insisted on giving the whole bundle to charity, Lacey.’
Hope took a deep swallow of the whisky. ‘Leave it, Jon.’
Her agent contented himself with an unhappy mutter. He cast his eyes down the expensive menu. ‘Is this on you?’
‘It would seem so,’ Hope said drily.
‘In that case…’
‘Are you going to eat that?’ Jon looked at the untouched salmon on her plate, floating in an interesting-looking dill sauce.
‘Feel free,’ she said, leaning back in her seat. Jon had already polished off his own meal and she wondered idly where he put all the calories. He was a thirty-something man with a thin, wiry frame. When he wasn’t eating he was talking, and sometimes he did both simultaneously, which didn’t make him her favourite dining companion. Hope found him exhausting company at any time. Only tonight she was quite glad of his chatter.
‘You can’t afford to sit back on your laurels, Hope,’ he observed with his mouth full. ‘People forget quickly. You want to move ahead while your success is still fresh in people’s minds.’
‘I won’t,’ she agreed vaguely, or should that have been, I will? she wondered. Strange how empty success was. She’d always thought it was an end in itself. But she wanted someone to share her pleasure—not just her family, someone special, someone of her own. Was that so much to ask? The gaping hole in her life wasn’t empty; it was filled with pain.
‘In the good old days she’d have been convalescing for months with a burst appendix, not a measly three weeks.’
