Clarissa was unfazed. ‘I’d like a baby,’ she said.
He swallowed hard. Marriage was bad enough, but now she wanted a baby too!
Measuring his words carefully he said, ‘We’ve never discussed this.’
‘I know,’ she replied flatly. ‘I think you should consider that we’ve been together over a year. Either our relationship is going somewhere, or we may as well end it.’
‘Are you giving me an ultimatum?’ he asked tightly.
Her long face was ghostly pale in the night light. ‘I am saying we can’t drift along anymore. I want a commitment.’
He was stunned. Miss Independent all of a sudden wanted a commitment!
‘I’ve never considered marriage,’ he said truthfully.
‘I’m well aware of that,’ she replied. ‘Neither of us has. We’re both loners—’
‘You’ve never complained,’ he interrupted.
‘I’m not complaining now,’ she said evenly. ‘I’m merely suggesting a change.’ Turning away from him she stared out of the side window at the relentless rain. ‘Between us we have no family. I think I want to start planting roots.’
He stifled an insane impulse to laugh. She sounded like she was planning a garden!
‘I have a family,’ he protested. ‘My father, and Heaven.’
‘Your father lives in a world of his own, you’ve often told me that. As for your niece…’ She shrugged. ‘You pay her no attention.’
‘They’re still family.’
‘That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.’ She lapsed into silence for a moment, and then said quietly, ‘I’m not asking you to make up your mind right now. Tomorrow I leave for New York. I won’t come back until you tell me what you’ve decided.’
One thing about Clarissa, she didn’t mince words.
He had no idea what he was going to do. With Clarissa in the East he was enjoying his freedom. Good behaviour had gone on far too long. He needed a break – and a weekend with Mannon and Howard in Las Vegas was just the way to celebrate.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Howard had use of the company jet. He saw no reason why it couldn’t take him to Vegas and back, and then go to New York and pick up Zachary Klinger, who was coming out to the Coast to torment him. The man was driving him crazy. He had already cancelled two proposed visits at the last minute. Zachary K. Klinger, Howard realized, liked to keep people on their toes.
When Mannon suggested Las Vegas, Howard jumped. He needed the break. Oh, how he needed it! A weekend away from Poppy was better than ten days at the Golden Door.
Poppy was not so thrilled. ‘Baby Roselight and I will come with you,’ she said firmly.
‘No way,’ Howard countered. ‘Your luggage will ground the plane!’
‘Don’t you want us?’ she pouted.
‘I do, sweetheart,’ he lied. ‘Only you’ll be bored, and I just won’t have the time to spend with you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s a business trip, puff-pie. I keep on telling you that.’
‘What sort of business do people get to do in Las Vegas that they can’t do in L.A.?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘How many times must I explain it to you?’ Swallowing his aggravation he told her – yet again – why he and Mannon were going. He had concocted a highly original story about an old and infamous gambler who lived just outside of Vegas and refused to travel. Mannon wanted to meet him with a view to filming his life story. For Orpheus, of course. Poppy knew Howard had been trying forever to get Mannon to commit to a project for Orpheus. She bought the story. Finally.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said tearfully, as if he were going for two months instead of two days.
‘Me too, sugar-lips.’
‘What’ll I do all day?’
‘Spend money.’
She seemed to like that suggestion, and cheered up considerably, enabling him to escape from the house without further hassle.
He snorted coke in the back of the limo on the way to Burbank airport, and by the time he boarded the company jet he was in fighting shape.
* * *
‘Have a safe flight,’ Melanie-Shanna said softly.
Mannon had to admit that when it came to choosing women he certainly had an eye. He didn’t know if it was Melanie-Shanna’s pregnancy or what, but she looked a picture of glowing health as she bade him goodbye from the door of their Sunset Boulevard mansion.
For a moment he forgot Whitney. ‘What’ll you get up to this weekend?’ he asked, the first time he had bothered to inquire.
‘I don’t know – this and that. I thought I might go nursery shopping.’
‘Good idea.’ He kissed her on the cheek.
She responded by turning her face towards him and kissing him on the mouth.
He savoured her cherry-fresh breath, then pushed her gently away. ‘Don’t make me miss the plane,’ he joked.
‘I thought planes waited for big stars like you,’ she said wryly.
Her eyes needed him – their message was loud and clear. He hesitated: it was weeks since they’d made love – now that she was pregnant it just didn’t seem right. ‘Gotta go, kid,’ he said decisively. ‘Have fun.’
She watched him stride towards the stretch limousine, climb inside, and vanish from sight.
Her movie star husband was off for the weekend and she would miss him. She would also spend most of her time worrying about what he was up to. When it came to movie stars women had no shame. The unspoken message was always there. I’m available if you want me.
Melanie-Shanna walked back into the house and hoped that he didn’t.
The phone was ringing. Before she could reach it their Mexican housekeeper picked up.
‘For you, missus,’ the woman said.
Melanie-Shanna took the phone and wondered who it was. She didn’t encourage friendships, preferring to be available for Mannon at all times. When he first brought her to Hollywood, the Beverly Hills wives had rallied round – inviting her to this luncheon, that charity event, this celebrity fashion show. She declined all invitations politely, and eventually they left her alone.
‘Hello,’ she said tentatively.
‘Hi, sweetie,’ said the unmistakable voice of Poppy Soloman. ‘Now I will not take no for an answer. The husbands have deserted us, and you and I are going to have lunch at the Bistro Garden tomorrow, followed by a tiny little stroll down Rodeo.’
‘Oh, Poppy, I don’t think—’
‘I told you, dear, I am not allowing any excuses. We’re having lunch, and that’s that.’
* * *
‘Welcome aboard,’ greeted Howard.
Mannon grinned, all thoughts of Melanie-Shanna and her appealing freshness forgotten. ‘It’s a pleasure to be flying with you, Mr Soloman.’
‘May the trip last all weekend,’ said Howard. ‘Do I need a touch of R&R!’
‘Who doesn’t?’ agreed Mannon, flopping into a leather armchair.
The interior of the jet was decorated like a luxurious conference room – all leather and brass, with polished tables and a curving bar. There were two attractive stewardesses – an Australian girl, and an English redhead. They both wore tight beige gaberdine skirts with matching belted jackets, and a little insignia on the right-hand breast pocket that read KLINGER, INC.
‘Can I get you anything, Mr Cable?’ asked the Australian.
‘What did you have in mind?’ Standard responses came easily to Mannon. He loved double entendres.
‘Vodka. Scotch. Rum. Perrier. Soda. 7-Up. Coca-’
‘Hold it!’ he laughed. ‘A scotch on the rocks’ll do me fine.’
She smiled – ‘Yes, sir’ – and walked away.
Mannon watched her ass. Beneath the pristine gaberdine lay great promise.
‘Where’s Jack?’ Howard asked.
Mannon stretched. ‘I don’t know. Is he late?’
Howard checked his watch. ‘A few minutes, he’s probably on his way. He h
ad to go see a house or something.’
‘A house?’
‘Yeah – you know. One of those buildings with four walls an’ a window.’
The Australian stewardess delivered Mannon’s drink with a linen napkin and a silver dish full of nuts. Curbing an impulse to pinch her ass he asked, ‘What’s Jack looking at a house for? He’s not going legit, is he?’
Howard pulled a face. ‘Whadda I know?’
‘Universal is pitching a script for me to do with Clarissa,’ Mannon said casually. ‘I’m not sure she’d be a laugh a minute to work with. What do you think?’
‘I think you should do a film for Orpheus,’ Howard said self-righteously. ‘Jesus! Don’t you have a loyal bone in your body?’
‘Come up with something, friend, and I’ll consider it.’
‘You fuckin’ actors,’ spat Howard. ‘When you’re on the way up you’ll grovel for a walk-on. When you make it you’re impossible assholes. And when you’re stars you’re so full of shit it comes pourin’ out every time you open your goddamn mouths! Don’t forget, I remember you when – friend.’
Mannon laughed. ‘And I remember you.’
Jack kept them waiting twenty minutes, and then he came bounding up the outside steps into the plane. ‘Traffic,’ he said, before anyone could complain.
‘What’s all this crap about a house?’ Mannon asked.
‘I saw it. I liked it. I rented it.’
‘Let’s get this show on the road,’ Howard said impatiently. ‘We’ve waited long enough to make this weekend. If we don’t get our ass in gear we’re gonna spend it sittin’ on the goddamn plane!’ He picked up the intercom and spoke to the pilot. ‘All aboard. Let’s fly!’
Chapter Thirty-Three
They circled each other like suspicious tigers. Jade hadn’t wanted to see him, yet when Mark announced he was downstairs in the lobby, it seemed too petty to say he couldn’t come up. So she let him. And here he was. Mark Rand. English asshole.
She had wanted to remember him as he was in her bathroom the last time they met, but it was not to be. Mark looked good. Very good. He was wearing an impeccably cut blue blazer, a Turnbull & Asser white shirt open at the neck, a thin lizardskin belt, and blue slacks with a knife-cut crease. His brown hair was appealingly ruffled, and he had a slight tan.
‘It’s so good to see you,’ he said enthusiastically, wandering around the apartment inspecting her books and paintings and ornaments.
She had not had time to plan for this meeting, and wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.
‘You moved so swiftly,’ he continued. ‘When I came back to talk to you, you were gone – just like that.’
‘When did you come back, Mark?’ she asked, curious to know how long it had taken him.
‘After we…er… had our fight, I returned to England.’ He paused at a table set with her collection of glass decanters and bottles of liquor. ‘Do you mind if I pour myself a drink?’
‘Go ahead,’ she said coldly, not about to do it for him. ‘Please make it a short one, I have an appointment.’
He looked at her with honest eyes. ‘I promise not to keep you, Jade. I’ll say what I have to say and be on my way.’
His crisp English accent was a turn-on – it always had been. She stared at him warily as he poured scotch into a glass and added a touch of soda.
‘May I get something for you?’ he asked politely.
‘No, thank you,’ she replied, equally formal.
‘Well…’ He sipped his drink. ‘When I returned, you were gone. No forwarding address, everyone sworn to secrecy about your whereabouts.’ He allowed himself a tiny smile of triumph at his own cleverness. ‘But I found you.’
‘I can tell,’ she remarked, concentrating on his crooked teeth in the hope they would take her mind off the rest of him. She felt uncomfortably warm.
‘I heard about the contract with Cloud Cosmetics. Quite a coup. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’
His blue eyes sought out hers. ‘I miss you very much, Jade.’ His English accent dripped sincerity.
Oh damn! Why didn’t she just admit it? He was a lying, cheating sonofabitch, but she missed him too.
Her jaw tightened in a determined thrust. She had to get rid of him before she did something she would regret.
‘When we parted I flew straight to London,’ he continued. ‘On the plane over I thought about everything and I was deeply ashamed of the way I’d tried to deceive you.’
‘If this is an apology I accept it,’ she said, jumping up from the couch. ‘The thing is, Mark, I’ve got a date, and if I don’t get ready…’ She trailed off, waiting for him to take the hint.
‘I’m divorcing Fiona,’ he announced dramatically. ‘I have already consulted my lawyer, and we are proceeding immediately.’
It was a bombshell. For six years she had heard nothing but when the children are older. What caused this sudden change of heart?
‘I realize asking you to forgive me is not enough,’ he said gravely. ‘I can’t expect you to resume our relationship the way it was. This is my pipe of peace. When I’m divorced, I would like you to be my wife.’
She was speechless. This was the last thing she’d expected.
Laughing self-consciously he said, ‘I know this is a surprise, and I don’t expect you to make an immediate decision. I just want to be sure that you realize how very important you are to me, and that I love you very, very much.’
Oh God! Mark, full of sincerity with his crooked English teeth, tousled hair, and ‘little boy lost’ stance, drove her crazy.
Come clean, Johnson. You’re infatuated with this guy. You want to jump his bones. Why hold back?
She took a deep breath. ‘This is a little too much for me to digest in one sitting,’ she said, striving for a light-hearted approach. ‘Why don’t we talk tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to… uh… think this over?’
He nodded, and raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘This is a proposal, Jade. I have come to you hat in hand, so to speak. Please don’t punish me for the past, let’s think about the future. Our future,’ he added pointedly.
She walked him to the door.
‘I’m staying at the L’Ermitage,’ he said. ‘Maybe you might care to visit me later, after your… date.’
‘I’ll call you,’ she said.
He held her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. ‘I know I’ve been foolish. I’ll never risk losing you again. Am I forgiven?’
She wanted to forgive him, only something held her back. She wasn’t going to be sweet, wonderful trusting Jade anymore. She was going to check his story out before she committed herself.
He leaned dose to her. He smelled of peppermint breath spray and Hermes aftershave. ‘Cancel your date,’ he said urgently. ‘We’ve been apart too long. I want to touch you… stroke your glorious body. I want to make love to you, Jade. You must feel the same way.’ Pulling her to him he began to kiss her.
For a moment she allowed his insistent lips to press against hers, his familiar tongue to invade her mouth. Hard against her thigh she felt the pressure of his desire. She wanted to say – The hell with everything, Mark is back, and I’m glad.
But she didn’t. She had her pride. He wasn’t going to walk into her life just like that and take over.
With supreme willpower she disengaged herself. ‘Please, Mark, go back to your hotel. We’ll see each other tomorrow.’
He was disappointed, but determined to behave like a gentleman. ‘For breakfast?’
‘Lunch.’
‘Where shall we meet?’
‘I’ll come to your hotel.’
‘Who’s your date with, Jade? You know I’m an extremely jealous man.’ He smiled when he said it, but she knew he was in agony. Mark was unreasonably possessive.
‘Just a friend,’ she said lightly.
‘Why can’t you cancel it?’
‘Don’t push me.’
‘I miss you.’
‘Tomorrow.
’
She closed the front door on him. Her head was spinning. For six years she had waited for this moment. Now that it was here she wasn’t sure what she wanted…
She paced restlessly around her apartment. There was no date arriving to take her out. Shane had wanted to see her, but she had begged off, claiming exhaustion. On impulse she called Antonio. He had mentioned something about going away for the weekend. She wouldn’t mind going with him. Anything to get away from Mark while she thought things out.
Antonio was still at his studio.
‘Where are you off to?’ she asked.
‘Las Vegas, bella. You want to come?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘Definitely.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
The ride back to reality took Wes twenty minutes. That’s how long it was between Silver Anderson’s Bel Air mansion and his run-down house on the Venice boardwalk. Silver had loaned him what she referred to as her ‘spare car’. It was a snappy red Mercedes Sports 350 SL. A classic model. ‘Nobody uses it,’ she had said airily when seeing him off the morning after their night of passion. ‘Why don’t you return it around eight tonight, and we’ll have dinner at the house?’
She certainly wasn’t backward in coming forward. He liked the fact that she didn’t leave him hanging. She was obviously used to calling the shots, and enjoyed doing so.
‘I’m not sure I’m free for dinner,’ he’d said lazily.
Her eyes challenged his. ‘Make yourself free.’
‘I just did.’
He gave her his phone number at her request, and took off in the red Mercedes. What a trip! He had a feeling he had fallen into one peachy scene. Only how to proceed? When she found out he was nothing more than a broke barman she was not exactly going to be thrilled to death. Right now she had no idea who he was or what he did. And how to keep it that way?
Parking her Mercedes in a side street he walked briskly to his house. Silver obviously trusted him. She had lent him her car, hadn’t she? If she thought he was a bum she wouldn’t have done that. Although what did a car mean to Silver Anderson? Probably nothing. She was insured if he did a quick vanishing trick. All rich people were insured. And she was probably loaded.