Love in La La Land

by Lynn Forth

  Jack laughed. If only Scott had the same wicked sense of humour as his mother. He felt his shoulders relax, and realised he couldn’t just rush off without arousing Robyn’s curiosity.

  ‘Well, come on, Robyn, fill me in on the gossip.’

  ‘Actually, honey, I was hoping you would fill me in on what was happening with my son. Is it all off with Savannah? He won’t tell me a thing, but from the way he’s been flaunting that gorgeous redhead all night, he plainly wants people to think they are an item.’

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. ’Have you met her?’

  ‘Oh yes. I made sure I was introduced.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Can’t make up my mind. Gorgeous, of course. Great figure, groomed and gowned to perfection…but she’s not his usual type. Beautiful, intelligent, blue eyes, but very quiet. Can’t decide whether she’s incredibly shy, or just weighing us all up.’

  Jack gave a snort of laughter.

  ‘Yes, that’s Jane all right.’

  ‘Who’s Jane?’

  ‘The girl Scott’s with.’

  ‘I thought she was called Arabella.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course.’

  So, she’s decided to be Arabella tonight, has she? Jack thought bitterly. And she seems to be coping OK, according to Robyn, so clearly I’m not needed. If she is quite happy to be paraded around as Scott’s girlfriend, I guess I can leave her to fend for herself.

  But he knew he was trapped for a while as Robyn, pleased to have company, took him into a corner and regaled him with her own entertainingly sardonic take on all the latest gossip. In spite of himself, Jack was amused…and lost track of Jane.

  And Jane had lost track of Scott.

  After the incident in the powder room, she had stayed there for a while, knowing the gossip would permeate the party and be a five-minute wonder.

  There was a brief flurry of attention as she emerged, but she no longer cared.

  She looked around briefly for Scott. Although he had been glued to her side at the beginning of the party and introduced her to a bewildering array of people, she felt she had already served her purpose. When he stalked off after her faux pas, a pair of pretty young things had approached him, gazing wide-eyed in sheer adoration. Then he had disappeared.

  As just a girlfriend, just an appendage, she was now fully aware of her place at the bottom of the pecking order. She fended off a couple of sleazy approaches, then stopped bothering to socialise and contented herself with ‘wall-flowering’, propped up in a corner, trying to relieve the pressure on her tight, pinching slips of sandals.

  At some point, she realised the sultry jazz trio had been replaced by something louder and more frenzied. She could see people gyrating at the far end of the pool and hear squeals of harsh laughter. To her now jaundiced eyes, the whole party had lost its air of sophistication and everything seemed vaguely tacky. The ice sculptures still glittered and dripped, but the classical figures had lost their precision and now looked grotesque and faintly sinister. Frozen faces that had once held coquettish expressions, now had sunken eye sockets and ghoulish grimaces.

  From her secluded vantage point, she could indulge in one of her favourite pastimes – people-watching. And the people around her were fascinating. Her keen novelist’s eye was scooping up a wealth of material. These Hollywood people were a different species of being from any she had ever met before. What a fantasy world. Rightly called La-La-Land. So glittery, so loud, so gesticulatory, so beautiful, but so false. All these observations would be invaluable, and she could feel the flickerings of story ideas on the edge of her mind.

  But she would have to be careful to disguise the sources of her characters. Jack had warned her to be wary of making enemies in this town. For all the simulated laughter in the room, she could sense the vicious undertow.

  Each person was just out for what they could get. All the veneer of friendship and joviality was just to discover how useful you were as a contact.

  She was engrossed in observing the body language of two bull-chested men, whose lips were smiling but whose eyes weren’t, when she was approached by a distinguished, dark-haired man. Something about him looked very familiar.

  ‘Good evening. Are you enjoying the party?’

  Jane immediately slapped on her best fake smile.

  ‘Oh yes. It’s absolutely wonderful.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it. May I introduce myself? I’m Bruno. Welcome to my party.’

  Even though Jack loved Robyn’s company, he knew he shouldn’t stay around any longer. It was bound to lead to a confrontation sooner or later. The last time he had glimpsed Jane, she had been still firmly attached to Scott’s side at the centre of an admiring crowd. With Scott at her side, he reluctantly conceded to himself, she was safe. Jack didn’t want to see any more.

  Eventually, he prised himself away from Robyn and discreetly made for the door, taking the long way round through the back corridors of the long, low sprawling house he knew so well.

  A flash of silver dress caught his eye. There was Jane, pinned uncomfortably in a quiet corner with a tall, powerfully-built, older man, who was leering down her cleavage.

  She looked uncomfortable, but the man’s arm was against the wall, blocking her escape.

  Instinctively, Jack’s hand balled into a fist and he strode over to her rescue.

  ‘Are you OK, Jane?’

  Her face lit up with delight…and immense relief.

  The older man’s dark brows knitted together in angry surprise.

  ‘Ah Jackson, someone said they had seen you here, but I didn’t believe them.’

  Jane couldn’t believe her eyes. Jack here…at the party. The very person she most wanted to see, and in the nick of time. She had been starting to feel frightened, very frightened indeed. Away from the bright lights, Bruno the charming host had turned into a rather menacing figure. But there had been something about the older man that had initially been uncannily familiar, so she had trustingly allowed him to prise her away from the party.

  Deeply puzzled, she now looked enquiringly between the two faces – an angry Jack and an equally furious Bruno. She could feel the animosity between them, and yet there was such a similarity in their stance, in their glares…

  ‘Are you two…related?’ she blurted out.

  Jack laughed bitterly. ‘May I introduce Bruno Vitorri, a Hollywood mover and shaker, agent to the stars, including Scott, as you know,’ he paused. ‘And…my father.’

  Jane gasped. Of course.

  Chapter Thirteen

  At first, Jane had been flattered by Bruno’s attention. She felt he had actually shown an interest in her as a person, and was curious to know about her writing and where in England she came from. Amazingly, he knew about Yorkshire, had been there a long time ago, and said it held some special memories for him.

  As they’d chatted, he had charmed her into this quiet corner of the house. But his broad shoulders and sinister advances had begun to alarm her. Scott wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and she wasn’t sure how to find Hank. This man was clearly not going to take no for an answer, and would anyone hear her if she shouted? From the unpleasant leer on his face, Bruno was obviously enjoying her discomfiture, and she had a horrible suspicion it was turning him on. Fighting a rising panic, she was frantically trying to appear composed while her brain was racing through escape possibilities.

  Then Jack had miraculously appeared.

  And this man was his father!

  They glowered at each other.

  ‘Oh, I see you already know the beautiful Arabella. I thought that Scott was her only playmate,’ Bruno sneered.

  Jane flushed.

  ‘Yes, we are collaborating on a screenplay,’ Jack said briskly.

  ‘Oh, is that what you call it?’ the older man jeered.

  ‘Yes, and I hadn’t realised what a skilful writer Jack is. I am learning a lot from him,’ Jane answered hotly, taking exception to the sleazy implications behind his wor
ds.

  ‘I bet you are.’ An ugly smirk crossed the dark face of Jack’s father, distorting his features and erasing all similarities to his handsome son.

  ‘In fact, as a writer, Arabella is only here for research. She wanted a glimpse into a baddy’s lair and to get a flavour of the dialogue our villains might use.’ Jack flashed a cold smile as he put his arm round Jane’s waist and led her gratefully away, leaving Bruno Vittori glaring at their retreating backs.

  ‘Well, Mr. Shining Knight, you’ve done it again,’ she said, when they were well away from their angry host. ‘Thank goodness you came along. Once again, undying gratitude. I didn’t even know you were coming tonight.’ Jane slumped with relief against Jack’s protective shoulder. ‘I was getting seriously worried there.’

  Unlike Scott, Bruno had seriously frightened her. His predatory assurance and powerful physique had unnerved her, and she dreaded to think what would have happened if Jack hadn’t found her.

  She looked up gratefully at the grim face of her rescuer, as his strong hand steered her expertly through a warren of corridors. His dark DJ fitted snugly round his broad shoulders. The top button on his gleamingly white shirt was undone, and his loosened bow tie draped roguishly down his chest. He had never looked so sexy, so strongly male. Desire leapt through her limbs.

  She was acutely aware of his guiding hand on her bare back, knowing it was the only thing that was stopping her legs from buckling under her. If only they could be alone.

  ‘Is there anywhere we can go to talk? Away from that horrible, noisy party.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ agreed Jack, ‘but I thought you would be enjoying yourself at your first Hollywood party.’

  She grimaced, catching the cynicism in his tone.

  ‘So did I. But…well, it wasn’t quite what I expected.’

  ‘No, they never are,’ he said curtly.

  Was he annoyed at her for coming?

  ‘In here is always quiet,’ said Jack, opening a door to a small book-lined room. He didn’t switch on the light, but there was enough illumination coming from the party. Through the large open window, they could hear the thudding music and shrieks of forced laughter.

  Dizzy with desire, Jane bumped into a small coffee table. She daren’t look at Jack in case her eyes betrayed how much she wanted him. Clumsily, she kicked off her flimsy sandals and pretended they were the cause of her unsteadiness.

  ‘Ouch. These shoes are horrendously difficult to walk in. I sort of teeter around, looking for something to lean against, vaguely elegantly. I suppose being a bit tipsy doesn’t help either.’

  Collapsing with relief onto a large leather settee, she tried to steady her erratic breathing. A confusion of feelings dazed her. Jack still looked angry and she was overcome with guilt, feeling she was the cause of it. Without a word, he sat down on a swivel desk chair opposite her.

  How she would have loved him to sit next to her so she could snuggle into his protective embrace and feel his strong arms around her. But one glance at his preoccupied face told her she must curb her emotions and wait for his anger to abate.

  She realised she also needed time to come to terms with the intensity of her feelings for him.

  He had appeared so miraculously, just when she needed him, and she hadn’t been able to hide her relief and joy when she saw him, nor her sudden flare of pure desire. His father had clearly noticed this flush of attraction and drawn his own conclusions, but he’d made her feelings seem sordid and dirty.

  So, Bruno was Jack’s father. And, from what she could gather, this had once been Jack’s house. But the hatred between them was plain to see.

  So many questions buzzed round her head. But from the forbidding look on Jack’s face, she knew she mustn’t ask any of them.

  His intense gaze swept over her, making her very aware of the plunging neckline on the skimpy dress.

  Blushing, she clasped her arms around her chest in an attempt to cover all her exposed flesh.

  ‘This dress is far more revealing than I would like,’ she admitted nervously. ‘But Scott bought it for me for the party, so I had to wear it.’

  Unable to interpret the expression on his face, she felt impelled to explain more about her appearance.

  ‘I know this is how I’m supposed to look. After all that grooming and stuff today, for the first time in my life I feel beautiful. And yet I hate it. It feels so plastic, so fake. I don’t feel like me at all…and it’s made me realise that I would rather feel like me, than feel beautiful.’

  Jack leant forward in his chair and sighed. ‘Jane, when are you going to realise you don’t need all this stuff? You are beautiful.’

  Unconvinced, she gave him a withering look. ‘Don’t you start. That’s what Scott keeps saying…and all the men out there.’ She waved a contemptuous hand towards the party. ‘But, let’s face it, it’s all soft soap. They’ve all got ulterior motives.’

  Jack was silent for a while. The last thing he wanted was for Jane to think he had an ulterior motive.

  Had he?

  Yup, he had to admit it. He definitely wanted her; with every fibre of his being, he wanted her. He had fought his jealousy earlier when he’d thought she was enjoying Scott’s company, and tried to convince himself he wanted nothing more to do with her. But seeing her afraid and in danger, from his own father, had reignited a fire in his blood that he couldn’t control.

  Choosing to sit opposite her, not next to her, had been an attempt to dampen down his desire. Was this just lust? Was it the fact that he knew he shouldn’t trifle with her feelings that caused him to ache for her? Was it just the lure of ‘forbidden fruit’?

  Yet he knew, when he was away from her, she invaded his every thought. Despite his determined attempts to banish her from his mind, he couldn’t stop feeling protective about her and worrying that her honest naivety was going to be exploited, especially by his father. Jack had feared that soft English accent would be the magnet that would draw Bruno’s attention – and, once in his sights, she wouldn’t stand a chance. That was the reason he had come to this house which he hated so much.

  And those instincts had been right. His father had fixed her in his predatory sights, recognising and pouncing on her innocent freshness.

  Facing her, Jack tried to avert his eyes from the barely-concealed cleavage and the elegantly naked thighs. Though Jane definitely had the figure for the dress, she lacked the brazen self-confidence to carry it off.

  In the dim light of his old study, underneath the too-dark tan, the impeccable bright nail varnish, the expertly-applied make-up, sitting there shoeless and curled on the sofa, Jane just looked vulnerable and alluringly shy.

  She was looking at him curiously and gazing about the room, obviously trying to piece together his presence there. He could see she was gearing up to ask him about his father, about this house, and he wasn’t in the mood to revisit all the bitterness of his past.

  Deflecting her questions, he said abruptly, ‘I thought you had reservations about staying at Scott’s, but you decided to stay after all. And to come to the party. Has Scott gone up in your estimation?’

  Surprised, Jane paused, clearly considering her answer. He knew by the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes that she was contemplating a diplomatic reply, so different from the blazing honesty of her normal observations.

  ‘Well, he has been very good to me. And I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. After all, he is a famous movie star, yet he took an interest in me. Also, he said his influence could help me place my other book here. The last thing I want is to offend him by hinting that I’m not happy staying. I’m so lucky…’ Her words tailed off uncertainly.

  ‘Do I sense a “but” coming on?’ he teased, knowing her well enough to realise she was weighing her words carefully.

  ‘Um…not a “but” exactly…however, if I’m being honest, which I will only be to you,’ she added hastily, ‘he’s not the most interesting conversationalist, and his favourite subject seems to be
himself.’ She stopped, flushing guiltily, then continued quickly, ‘Obviously, he’s very good-looking, charming…’

  There was a pause and a slight frown appeared between her eyes. ‘Everyone at the party wants to know all about him and what his place is like. I kept telling everyone I was just a guest. But I know no-one believed me. Scott said I should come to the party and see if I could get any takers for the movie rights on my new book. That’s the main reason he persuaded me to come. But no-one was interested in me at all. I just existed as an accessory to Scott. And some questions were really quite personal.’ She blushed.

  Knowing all too well the politics behind a party like this, Jack was worried. ‘Have you expressed any reservations or criticisms of Scott to anyone at the party?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Jane said, shocked. ‘I wouldn’t be so ungracious. As I said, I’ve only voiced my real thoughts to you. But I really, really would like to leave his house.’

  Jack was troubled. But Jane hadn’t said anything that made him think she was unhappy staying with Scott for any reason other than adjusting to a different lifestyle.

  And she was a newcomer to Hollywood undercurrents. Leaving wasn’t that simple; he really would have to advise caution.

  ‘Look, the last thing you want to do is offend Scott.’

  ‘I know. He’s been so kind, I wouldn’t—’

  ‘No, listen to me very carefully. The last thing you want to do is offend Scott.’

  Jane seemed to catch the seriousness in his voice.

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Look, Scott’s a nice guy, but he’s big in Hollywood just now and, like all stars, he has a fragile ego so any offence is taken pretty hard. Upset him and, as the saying goes, “you may never work in this town again”.’

  ‘But I don’t.’

  ‘No, but I thought you wanted another of your books to be optioned for a movie.’

  There was a pause as this sunk in.

  ‘Yes, you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

  ‘Sorry, Jane, but you definitely have to be careful. I suggest you stay there until he says you can go. But at least you know enough not to voice your reservations. And not to be so trusting when people ask questions. There are gossip columnists who would pay a fortune for a kiss-and-tell story about Scott. As I said, he is very hot right now in Hollywood.’