Fantasy Woman

by Annabel Murray

  The house, which earlier had seemed so vast and silent, was beginning to come alive. Gina could hear the movement of feet over the groaning boards of stairs and passageways; the sound of water tormenting the joints of ancient plumbing; men's and women's voices raised in conversation and laughter.

  The minx! Tod thought, as Gina paused deliberately in the doorway, her gaze coolly sweeping the room. Did she realise the effectiveness of her late arrival? Of course she did. She was a consummate, natural actress. That damned Jimmy Riley had been hiding her light for too long.

  She looked magnificent, her red hair lending a rich glow to the magnolia skin of face, neck and shoulders. The silky black bodice of her simple dress covered one shoulder only, leaving the other dramatically bare; the long full skirt with its matching tie belt was white, with enormous black polka dots. Her outfit was simplicity itself.

  'This is Gina, everyone. Gina, let me introduce you to some of the people you'll be working with.'

  There followed a succession of names and faces which, she was sure, would take her months to assimilate. She could not doubt the genuine warmth of her greeting from the men, but Gina, often intuitive, recognised the barely polite aloofness of the majority of the women.

  At the table, she was seated between the two singularly large and muscular men, Greg and Andy. Stuntmen, she hazarded? The younger of the two, about her own age, was open in his admiration of her.

  'Greg Gibson,' he introduced himself. 'We'd no idea old Tod was bringing along such a stunning addition to our number. He has a pretty taste in redheads.' Over a lull in the conversation, his voice carried quite clearly and Gina was aware of Tod's sudden frowning gaze upon them. 'Of course, it's obvious why he picked you,' Greg was continuing, when Tod interrupted him, his voice unusually harsh, even for Tod.

  'I haven't explained our project to Gina yet and I'd prefer to do so myself.' It wasn't a request but a definite command, issued, not just to Greg, but generally. Gina sensed the surprise of those around her.

  'Sure thing, Tod. You're the boss!' Greg said, but the puzzled look remained on his ruggedly handsome features for some time as he turned the conversation into other channels.

  This interchange increased Gina's unease. She'd had the idea all along that there was some underlying motive for Tod's selection of her for special training. She had never really been able to believe in his dedication to improving Fantasy Woman. As he'd said on the occasion of their first meeting, it just wasn't his kind of television.

  As she might have expected in Tod's home, the meal was superb, five courses following each other in smooth, efficient succession, and she enjoyed the food, despite her awareness of covert glances from the other women around her. Not one of them was a redhead. What had Greg meant?

  Only a girl seated directly opposite seemed disposed to be friendly. 'I'm Debbie. Never mind the second name. It's bad enough having to remember first names when you're plunged into a whole crowd of people.'

  At the end of the meal, there was a general movement to leave the dining-room.

  'Gina!' Without a word of apology, Tod interrupted her conversation with Debbie. 'I'd like to see you in the library, now.' He didn't wait for her agreement, but turned on his heel, striding away as though he confidently expected her to follow him. Like a dog called to heel! she thought indignantly.

  Determined that she was going to set the pattern for their future relationship, she lingered deliberately, pursuing the topic she and Debbie had been discussing. But all the while, she noticed the younger girl throwing anxious glances towards the door.

  'If ... if Tod wants you, hadn't you better go?' Debbie said at last. 'He ... he doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

  'Is that so?' Gina said. 'Then perhaps it's time someone made him wait.'

  A tall, statuesque blonde nearby overheard their exchange.

  'Perhaps Gina has a special dispensation, Deborah darling. After all, it does rather look as if he's traded in the old model for a new one, doesn't it? His last redhead fawned on him disgustingly.'

  Debbie flushed scarlet.

  'Shut up, Stephanie!' she muttered. 'You heard what Tod said. You know we weren't to ...'

  'Gina!' Greg was at her elbow, apologetic, but determined. 'Tod sent me to get you.'

  For a moment she contemplated prolonging her defiance, then decided that she'd made her point sufficiently clear.

  'See you later,' she told Debbie, then accompanied Greg, her pace a deliberate stroll. He left her outside the library door.

  Tod was seated behind the large desk, a script laid out in front of him. He was just in the act of banging down the telephone receiver and it was obvious that not all his irritation was caused by Gina's tardiness. Just as apparently, however, he intended to take it out on her.

  'When I say I want to see you, I mean right away, not half an hour later!'

  She was determined not to appear daunted by his manner, not to forsake the stand she had taken.

  'If you'd asked me politely, I wouldn't have kept you waiting,' she said coolly, taking the chair his impatiently gesturing hand indicated, leaning back to indicate her complete ease. 'I'm accustomed to a certain amount of civility from my employers.'

  'Then you'll have to get reaccustomed!' he snapped. 'Don't come the starlet with me. You may have been big time on TV, but here you're nobody until I make you somebody. I'm a busy man; I haven't time for pussy-footing around. When I say jump, that's just what people do.'

  'Not me!' she retorted. Then, before he could make an angry answer, she leant forward in her chair, fixing him with a keen glance of her green eyes. 'You want my co-operation, Mr Fallon. For some reason you appear to want it very badly; or you wouldn't have gone to the lengths you have to secure it. If you're the kind of man you purport to be, you'd have given up on me long since, told me to get lost. I wonder why you didn't?' She leant back, crossing one shapely silk-clad leg over the other, aware that he was watching the movement, that he couldn't hide his interested reaction to it. 'You need my co-operation and you can have it, but on my terms; and you must admit they're not very onerous. Simple courtesy, the odd "please" and "thank you", won't cost you money.'

  'You cool little bitch!' But there was a grudging admiration, rather than anger, in his tone. 'All right, thank you for deigning to answer my summons. And now,' his tone altered once again to impatient briskness, 'd'you mind if we get down to business?'

  She knew it had been a sarcastic, rhetorical question, requiring no reply, but she answered, nevertheless.

  'Not at all. In fact I'm dying to have the mystery solved. Why all the secrecy? Why weren't the others allowed to discuss it with me?'

  'Briefly,' he told her, 'we're in the process of making a film, a fast-moving thriller, something on the lines of a James Bond except that the agent is a woman. But that doesn't mean there'll be any punches pulled. Anything a male agent can perform, this woman can equal.'

  'Excepting in the sexual field, of course?' Gina asked, mock seriously. 'You won't be expecting her to pull birds?'

  He missed her straight-faced humour.

  'Use your head!' he snapped. 'Obviously it's the other way around. She's as ruthless in her use of men as Bond of his women. The whole point of this briefing is to warn you that the stunts aren't going to be easy. There'll be no faking, no trick photography. You'll be earning your salary, if you pass through your training successfully.'

  'But what's any of this got to do with Fantasy Woman?'

  'Not a thing,' he startled her by admitting, but only confirming her earlier suspicions.

  'But you said ...'

  'Good God, woman! Don't you realise you're being given an opportunity in a million, an opportunity to break away from that third-rate rubbish?'

  'But why was it necessary to lie, to let me think .. . ?'

  'Because you might have refused, out of some ridiculous sense of loyalty towards the programme, to Riley.'

  'Jimmy doesn't know about this?'

  'Of cour
se!' Coldly, 'It was only fair to give him an opportunity to replace you.'

  Gina leapt to her feet.

  'You high-handed bastard! You might at least have given me the choice!'

  'And what would that choice have been?'

  Trapped, she stumbled over her reply.

  'I . . . I . . .'

  'You'd have chosen to move on. You know it; I know it. So don't let's have any hypocritical claptrap.'

  The fact that the adjective was apt did nothing to improve Gina's mood, but she let it pass. His words so far had conjured up bright attractive images that she wanted to hear confirmed. If she were to train for all the skills necessary to Tod's dauntless heroine, this, by implication, must mean that she was to play the role. Surely stardom didn't come that easily? Her daydreaming was interrupted.

  'Don't you want to know any more about your duties?'

  Duties? A strange way of putting it, but then this was an unfamiliar world.

  'Yes, of course I do.'

  'Right. I understand you swim and ride passably well. Anything else?'

  He was well-informed.

  'I've recently taken up judo.'

  'Done any running?'

  'At school, hundred-yard sprints, that sort of thing.' But he was shaking his head impatiently.

  'This will call for stamina. Cross-country would have been more useful. Right.' He made a note on a pad in front of him. 'We'll put daily jogging on your schedule.'

  Obviously, Gina though wryly, this job was to be no sinecure; but then she hadn't expected that it would be.

  'You asked about swimming and riding?' she queried. 'Will they be of use?'

  'Well. You'll be expected to scuba dive; to learn how to make a horse fall; how to fall from a horse yourself, without breaking your neck.'

  'You must have a large staff of tutors.'

  'Not at all,' he contradicted. 'Most of your training I'll undertake personally.'

  'But ...' Gina couldn't hide the discomposure this intelligence caused her and he smiled his amusement.

  'I wasn't born a director, you know. I started out as a stuntman and found that a stuntman must also be an actor. In fact I still act in my own films and I still perform my own stunts.'

  'Are ... are you acting in this particular film?'

  'Naturally!'

  'As ... as what?'

  'Since you're so interested, not that it will affect you much, as the man who finally outruns, outrides and generally tames the wild cat of a heroine.'

  Why wouldn't it affect her? She'd have to act opposite him!

  'I met your daughter before dinner!' Gina blurted out the words.

  Tod's dark eyebrows rose.

  'Oh? I fail to see what that has to do with our present discussion.'

  'N-nothing really. I just remembered it. She ... she asked if I would play with her sometimes. I said I'd find out if that was all right with you.'

  His face still bore a look of incredulity.

  'You're not here as a nursemaid for my daughter. The one she has is perfectly adequate. Besides which,' his expression became sardonic, 'you'll have little time, or energy, left for playing games, of any kind.'

  'And just what does that imply?' she asked, though his tone had carried an unmistakable hint of his meaning.

  'That I don't encourage liaisons between members of my team while a film is in process. It distracts them, prevents them giving of their best. Stay away from the men, Gina! I've already noted your dramatic effect on Greg.'

  'Have you?' she retorted. 'I accept that I'm here to work for you; and if you refuse to let me make friends with your daughter, I'll accept that, too, though I think it's a shame. She seems to lead a lonely life, shut up in the nursery, only seeing you when you condescend to summon her, as you do your employees. But I won't accept your right to dictate my other friendships.'

  Tod's face darkened to a frightening intensity and, as he pushed back his chair and rose from behind the desk, Gina took a backward step towards the door.

  'My daughter, though it's none of your business, leads a secluded life for a very good reason, a reason which also gives me the right to decide whose company she seeks. It's true I can't physically prevent you from making assignations with Greg, or with any other man here; but if anyone's work suffers, you'll be the one out on your ear. You may think you have me in a cleft stick, because I so obviously needed a redhead, but you're not unique. If I have to, I can afford to search the length and breadth of the world to find a replacement.'

  'Then why didn't you?' she taunted. 'Why pick on me?'

  'Oh, don't get any big ideas about your own talent; you haven't any until I drum it into you. You were simply available!'

  Available? What exactly did he mean by that? She couldn't voice her suspicions, but she could put the record straight, subtly.

  'You needn't worry!' She injected scorn into her voice. 'I'm not interested in Greg or any of the men here, you included. I came here to work. You'll get your money's worth!'

  'Oh, I will!' he said with dauntingly grim assurance. Then, coming to tower over her, the closed door barring her escape, 'As for your other point, your total lack of interest in men, don't try to fool yourself, Gina! You forget,' he said softly, 'I've held you in my arms. I know just how little it takes to bring that body of yours flooding back to life. You may have had it in deep freeze for the last year or so, but it wouldn't take much to start a thaw. I've done it once. I can do it again.'

  She gasped at his presumption, sought for words to deflate his pretensions, to cool the dark warmth she could see deepening in his eyes.

  'Sorry to disappoint you,' she gibed, 'but instant coffee, instant snacks I've learnt to put up with; instant sex doesn't turn me on at all.'

  It had been a mistake to provoke him, to issue what he must only see as a challenge. She realised that at once from the expression on his face. And simultaneously with her recognition of his intention his arm shot out, snaking around her waist, hauling her, tall as she was, clear of the floor and hard up against him. At once her violent trembling betrayed her own rising desire, which not even his triumphant words could quell.

  'No? I think I've just disproved that.'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  His hand reached behind her for the key of the library door, turning it, securing the room against intrusion or escape.

  'I warn you,' she said breathlessly against the bronzed flesh of his throat, 'I shall scream.'

  He lowered his head, his breath fanning her temple, his mouth nuzzling the point of her cheekbone.

  'Scream away! No one's going to come to your assistance.'

  She tried to keep her tone light, sarcastic, tried to lean away from him.

  'They'll think you're giving me my first acting lesson, I suppose?'

  'Possibly,' he agreed drily. 'In any event,' he mumbled the words down the side of her neck, 'no one would dare to intrude.'

  Frantically, Gina's fists pushed against his shoulders.

  'Oh? Not even your wife? Isn't she curious about what you get up to with actresses, behind locked doors?'

  'I should hardly thinks so, no, since she's been dead for some years.'

  'Oh!' Gina gasped, shock almost deadening all other reactions to this intelligence. He was free then? But she didn't know whether or not she should express conventional sorrow. How could he speak so callously, so unfeelingly? Didn't he have any heart, any regrets for the mother of that lovely little girl upstairs? But she was given no opportunity to voice her opinion, to ask her question.

  'Shall we get on with the experiment?' he asked huskily. It wasn't a question, but a declaration of intent.

  She began to struggle more violently, but he had her backed hard against the door.

  'Let me go! Don't you dare!'

  'Oh, but I do dare.' One arm was completely encircling her, holding her immobile, his free hand performing the same service for her chin, so that she was powerless to evade the dark, descending head, the threat of the firm, shapely mo
uth lowered to hers.

  She gave a little moan in her throat as her lips parted to his ruthless invasion of them. Her head forced back against the hard panels of the door, kept there by the pressure of his mouth, left his hand free to go marauding over her body, caressing the shoulder bared by the sophisticated drape of her dress, revealing the other shoulder to match, then sliding the silky material to her waist, seeking the softness of her breasts, necessarily, because of the cut of the dress, unencumbered by a bra.

  Hard, exploratory fingers brushed vulnerable peaks, played provocatively with them, until of themselves they seemed to strain against his hand, inviting further, tantalising caresses. She knew she was letting him prove his outrageous claim, but somehow there was nothing she could do about it; she didn't want him to stop, ever.

  His mouth moved on now, descending to her breasts, then lower still, growing impatient of the remaining barrier caused by the folds of her dress. He fumbled for the zip, dealt competently with it, and Gina felt the material cascade down over hips and thighs to pool about her feet. Now only the scantiest triangle of lace protected her and as his hand sought to explore beneath it, she went curiously still, even the trembling of her body ceased, as, with a cold shock, sanity returned.

  'All right, damn you! You've proved your point! But that's as far as you go. Now let me get the hell out of here.'

  He met her damp-eyed defiance with an implacable stare.

  'Conceding victory so soon? And it was just getting interesting!'

  But he released her and watched with what appeared to be clinical detachment as she bent to retrieve her dress with hands whose trembling she could not conceal, though she hoped he was not aware that her whole body vibrated with an unassuaged quivering; he seemed so cool, so unperturbed.

  In reality, Tod was finding great difficulty holding himself in check. He had been on the point, he knew, of removing that final garment, of carrying her to one of the chesterfields, of taking his seduction scene to its ultimate conclusion. But something had prevented him. A belated sense of loyalty to the absent Marcha? Strangely, he didn't think so. True, there had been no other women in his life since he'd met Marcha. Physically she was all that a man could desire, always avid for his possession of her, a demanding, skilful lover. They were well matched, he and Marcha, but without any emotional complications, and that was all he wanted, wasn't it: the satisfaction of his natural needs?