Sweetly Contemporary Collection - Part 2 (Sweetly Contemporary Boxed Sets)

by Jennifer Blake

  “Why, you—”

  “Come on, Janine. Names won’t hurt me,” Clare said, impatience threading her voice. “In any case, that isn’t all. I am also going to ask you to return to your husband’s good graces. It will be to the advantage of all of us if you can manage to convince him there was no affair; that you were infatuated for a time and are now recovered. That shouldn’t be too much to ask of someone who was once an actress.”

  “You must be crazy!”

  “No, I don’t think so. There is a reason for what I am saying. Once you have regained your husband’s trust, you will encourage him, discreetly of course, to complete the arrangements to produce Logan’s screenplay.”

  “That is blackmail,” Janine said tightly.

  “Yes, I believe it is. I think it might be more effective if I put a time limit on it, too. Shall we say that by the end of the week you will bring this business to a head?”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “I don’t think so, not for someone of your ... talents.”

  Janine stared at her with calculated rage. “If you think you can make me believe Logan is a party to this kind of underhanded trick, let me inform you I am not so stupid. He would never go through with it.”

  “No, he wouldn’t, any more than he would take another man’s wife. It’s a good thing that I am the injured party, isn’t it? If I go to the police, I don’t think Logan will ignore a subpoena, as much as he might like to.”

  “If I were to tell him what you are doing, I think he would put a stop to it.”

  This was a possibility Clare had not considered. She did not intend to let Janine know it, however. “He might try,” she replied. “Then again, he might not. It is even possible he might be grateful.”

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Janine sneered. “That’s the real reason you are doing this, because you are in love with him. Well, don’t kid yourself, honey. You haven’t got a prayer. If I can’t have him, I can at least see to it that you don’t either.”

  There was no time to go into the veiled threat. At the far end of the pool, Marvin Hobbs was on his feet and Logan had reached to pick up his terry swim robe, wrapping it around himself. “Can I take it you intend to cooperate, then? I suggest you make up your mind, since the men are about to join us.”

  “Yes, damn you, I agree,” Janine hissed, and turned toward Marvin and Logan, trying to arrange her features in a relaxed look of welcome.

  Clare’s smile was no less strained. She had won, and yet somehow the victory seemed incomplete. Now that it was over, it was incredible that Janine had actually believed she would go to the police. Only someone totally vindictive and uncaring of how she appeared in the press, could go through with such a thing. What had Janine meant by her statement that she could see to it Clare did not have Logan either? There was no point in worrying over it. Since she had no hope of Logan ever seeing her as anything more than a nuisance of a female reporter who was able to be of use in return for an interview, she had nothing to lose. Janine could not hurt her.

  “What have you two girls been talking about?” Marvin Hobbs inquired.

  “Nothing,” Janine answered with a shrug. “Just this and that.”

  “Oh? Looked mighty interesting from where Logan and I sat.”

  Janine flicked a glance at Clare, then turned to her husband once more. “If you must know, we were talking about our two handsome men,” she said with a small provocative smile. “I’m surprised the ears of both of you weren’t burning.”

  Clare, finding Logan’s blue gaze resting upon her with a query in its depths, felt the heat of a blush rising to her hairline.

  Eleven

  The next three days passed without incident. Clare progressed from lying with her foot elevated to walking with aid. She spent a portion of the time rereading Logan’s script, discovering that he had not only made the women characters stronger, but he had also softened the hard outlines of their personalities. She could take no credit for that change; still, it pleased her in some obscure way. Logan, when she had tried to express her approval, had only smiled at her with a quizzical look in his eyes.

  He spent most of his time in her company, sitting with her, reading, talking, handing her whatever was out of reach, helping her to and from meals without the least sign of impatience. Such close attendance was probably because he felt responsible for what had happened, Clare told herself, but that did not prevent her from enjoying the easy companionship.

  They were not troubled by Janine. Her time was taken up with her husband. With brittle gaiety and high spirits that seemed only barely under control, she enticed him out onto the slopes, cajoled him into taking her shopping in Aspen, or swept him with her for late hours at the nightspots around town.

  Marvin Hobbs was kept so busy that there was little time for discussion of any kind between him and Logan. Clare was surprised that Logan did not chafe at the apparently permanent stall in the negotiations on his project. If it disturbed him, he did not show it.

  Toward the end of the third day, as the two of them sat with feet stretched toward the fireplace in sole possession of the lounge, while the more energetic guests took to the snow, Clare looked at Logan. “When we were cooped up by the blizzard, you couldn’t stand this confinement. You don’t have to put up with it for my sake now, you know. I will be perfectly fine if you want to go out, maybe take advantage of the break in the weather.”

  “Are you, by any chance, trying to get rid of me?” Logan folded the section of the afternoon newspaper he was reading and let it sail to join the rest of the paper scattered on the floor around them.

  “You know that isn’t it. I just don’t want you to feel you have to stay with me every minute.”

  “Oddly enough, I’m enjoying being lazy. I don’t remember the last time I really relaxed. I think I must have been too keyed up; it always felt like I was wasting time when I wasn’t out and doing, even if all I was doing was burning energy.”

  “Now that I have forced you into taking a rest, I suppose your career will go downhill from now on and you will blame me.”

  “I may at that,” he answered, a smile flitting across his face.

  “I didn’t ask you to devote all your time to me,” she pointed out.

  “No, it was my own idea for a change. You are a restful person to be with, Clare. Did you know that?”

  “Is that a compliment?” she asked suspiciously.

  He did his best to look apologetic. “I think it must be.”

  “Then I will accept it,” she said, “so long as you don’t go to sleep.”

  “I don’t think it’s likely. There’s no telling what you might do to attract my attention.”

  Clare turned slowly to face him, doubt shading her gray eyes. She had almost persuaded herself that he no longer believed she had wrecked her car to bring herself to his notice. As for the other incidents — her invasion of his room, her fall — surely he could not think there had been any kind of grandstand play for his attention in them.

  Abruptly Logan reached out to touch her hand, his fingers closing warm and reassuring around hers. “No,” he said, “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  Clare summoned a laugh and a quick comment, and the moment passed, but the ease between them was gone. In its place was a stiff and self-conscious strain overlaid by unreasoning apprehension.

  That fear, ill-defined but persistent, was still with Clare as she dressed for dinner. The shrilling of the telephone on the table beside her bed made her jump, spilling the makeup she was using to camouflage the marks on her face. They were fading, but a little flesh-colored makeup made them even less conspicuous.

  It was Marvin Hobbs who spoke when she lifted the receiver. He apologized for disturbing her at that time of day. Though he knew it was an imposition, he would appreciate a few minutes of her time. There was a matter of importance he would like to discuss with her, alone, if she did not mind.

  The request, and the blunt
way that it was phrased, was so disconcerting that Clare found herself agreeing before she had time to think. The instant she put down the phone, she regretted it. She could not imagine what the producer would have to talk to her about; still less could she guess why he wanted to see her alone.

  She was not given much time to consider the matter. Before she could take her robe from the closet and wrap it around her, he was knocking at the door.

  Instinctively Clare sent a glance toward the connecting door into Logan’s room. It was tightly closed. She thought he was in, but she could not be sure. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into her robe, wrapped the belt around her, and limped to answer the knock.

  “I’m sorry,” Marvin Hobbs said. “I know this is a bad time, but Janine is bathing and dressing for dinner just now, and it may be the only time I can talk to you without interference.”

  “It’s all right,” Clare said, sweeping her hair back with one hand as she gestured toward a chair. “Won’t you sit down?”

  The producer put a hand under her elbow to help her to an armchair, then took a seat across from her. “It’s like this, Clare. I’ve never claimed to be the most intelligent man around, but I’m smart enough to know when I’m being given a snow job — if you will excuse the pun. My wife has been sweeter to me in the last three days than in the past three years, and while I won’t deny it’s been a nice change, it makes me wonder. The first question that comes to mind is, what does she want? This afternoon I found out.”

  “I don’t see how that concerns me, Mr. Hobbs,” Clare said.

  “If you will bear with me, I will attempt to make it clear. You know that I flew up here expecting to find my wife with Logan, don’t you?”

  Clare, staring down at her hands in her lap, gave a reluctant assent.

  “Janine swears to me there was nothing between the two of them except friendship, that the fact she happened to fly off in the same direction he did when the going got rough was strictly a coincidence. I don’t mean to pry; still, I can’t help wondering if Logan has given you an explanation of their relationship.”

  “He did mention it, yes.”

  “May I ask your opinion of what he told you?”

  “My opinion? Why?”

  “You do have a stake in this as Logan’s fiancée. I don’t believe you are the kind of girl who would settle for a marriage based on lies.”

  Clare looked at Janine’s husband, aware of the pain threading his tone. He was not enjoying his role as inquisitor, nor the necessity of speaking of his wife. There was only one answer to his question. She gave it “Logan told me essentially the same thing as your wife told you.”

  “And you believe it?”

  “I am satisfied that Logan is not in love with Janine and never had any intention of meeting her here, if that is what you mean.” As she spoke, Clare realized that in spite of Janine’s insinuations, she believed exactly what she had said. If she could dismiss all idea of an affair between Logan and Janine, couldn’t she also rid herself of the suspicion that he had tried to use the other woman to get what he wanted, just as he was using her?

  “I noticed you say nothing about what Janine might have felt for Logan.”

  Clare flicked him a brief glance. Logan had mentioned this man’s intuition about people once. It had not been an idle observation. “I can’t answer for her, of course.”

  “You think I should have some idea of my wife’s feelings?” he suggested in recognition of her carefully neutral tone. “I think I do, Clare, I think I do, and that is what troubles me.” He got to his feet and moved to the window. Standing with his back to the room, he leaned with both hands on the sill.

  Clare felt a little sick. She gripped her hands tightly together. “I don’t understand.”

  “I told you I found out what Janine wants; she wants me to do this picture for Logan.”

  “I ... So do I, Mr. Hobbs.”

  “Yes. You want it because that’s what Logan wants. Isn’t that it? You may admire the concept, but you have no personal ax to grind.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Now, Janine, just a few days ago, was dead set against it. That was along about the time she came to Aspen. A week before, in L.A., she thought it was the greatest thing since Gone with the Wind. Don’t misunderstand me. I love my wife, but I am not blind to her faults. I’m used to the way her mind works. I ask myself why she has been blowing hot and cold, and the reason I keep coming up with is you.”

  “Me?” The word was jerked from Clare by her surprise. She had thought that nothing short of clairvoyance could connect her to Janine’s change of heart. It appeared she was wrong.

  He swung around, crossing his arms over his chest “Yes, you, Clare, and what Logan feels for you.”

  “What do you mean?” There was wariness in the look she gave him.

  “First Janine likes the screenplay of Logan’s, then he leaves to come up here. She follows him, or so it looks to me, finds out about you, and immediately she hates the script, though she still wants to spend as much time as possible in the company of the man who wrote it. Then you have an accident caused by another skier. I happen to know Janine was on the slopes alone that morning, though when she came in she never said a word about what happened, just looked white and scared. Two days later she has a talk with you, and from that time on she acts like it’s our second honeymoon. About the time I start to enjoy it, she begins to tell me how she has changed her mind again. She wants me to get serious about this project of Logan’s.

  What am I supposed to make of it all?”

  “What do you make of it, Mr. Hobbs?” “I think,” he said slowly, “that Janine wanted Logan, but he wouldn’t play, because of his attachment to you, I think when she pushed him too far, he came up here to get away, and also to meet you. Janine didn’t like the situation she found when she got here, and when she couldn’t change it to suit herself, she let her temper run away with her common sense. You were quick enough, and smart enough, to turn that to advantage, so Janine is now on your side.”

  “I am sure,” Clare said slowly, “that you don’t expect me to confirm any part of that.”

  “No, but I feel sure you would not have hesitated to deny it if there wasn’t more than a little truth in it.”

  Clare let her gaze move to the door between her room and Logan’s. She realized that by her silence she stood condemned. She had thought her scheme would help Logan; instead, it had put an end to the small chance that had been left. She lifted her chin. “I think you should know that Logan had nothing to do with ... with Janine’s recent change of heart. I don’t believe he is even aware of it.”

  “I expected as much.”

  “I would rather he didn’t find out, but I suppose that’s too much to ask.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Marvin Hobbs cleared his throat, almost as if he were affected by the tears rising in her eyes. “You must love Logan very much.”

  Clare, her gray gaze held by his look of brooding concern, could only tell the truth. “Yes ... yes, I do. I ... May I ask what you mean to do now?”

  “What I should have done in the first place, consider this script of Logan’s on its own merits. I doubt it will take me long to decide to do what I should have done weeks ago if it hadn’t been for my own stubborn jealousy.”

  “You mean…”

  “Exactly. I’m going to put the screenplay into production.”

  “Oh, Mr. Hobbs,” Clare cried, coming to her feet.

  “Careful there,” he said, stepping forward to catch her arm as she swayed. “You don’t want to put yourself out of commission before dinner. I want you and Logan to have dinner with us tonight. If you and he will come to my suite for a drink a little ahead of time, we can discuss it. I just happen to have a contract with me, brought along just in case. The terms are reasonable, since I don’t expect Logan to accept anything less. We can sign it on the spot.”

  “I ... don’t know what to say,” Clare said. “You are a g
enerous man.”

  “Logan may not think so.”

  “That isn’t what I meant.”

  “I know,” Marvin Hobbs said, looking away as he moved toward the door. “You’ve been pretty generous yourself, all things considered. Logan is a lucky man. He’s getting a fine girl. I hope he realizes it.”

  The door closed behind him. Clare stood staring at the wood-grain panel, trying to decide if the producer’s words had more than their surface meaning. Could he suspect? Had Janine mentioned her suspicions to him? Surely not, or he would have said something. He had shown no reticence on anything else. Oh, but what did it matter so long as he produced Logan’s screenplay?

  Logan had won. She had won. After tonight, the purpose of this week with the producer and his wife would be finished. No doubt the party would break up. Janine and Marvin would go back to California. Logan, too, more than likely. She would spend a few days with Beverly, letting her ankle mend, and then back to Louisiana. Back to ... whatever. Finally, once and for all, it would be over.

  It would be over. The interlude would be finished. She would no longer be the fiancée of Logan Longcross. She would go through the days without seeing him, without speaking to him. His picture in magazines and newspapers would haunt her. She would torture herself watching his flickering image on the movie screen, knowing full well that though he seemed near, he was really thousands of miles away.

  A few hours, that was all that was left. A few hours, but already she could feel the pain of the parting beginning inside her. Not the least of it was knowing she herself had cut short the days they would have together.

  Turning sharply from the door, Clare picked up a tissue from the dresser and began to repair the damage to her makeup caused by the tracks of her tears.

  For dinner Clare wore the same long skirt and blouse of dusty rose that she had worn on that first night at the hotel. Removing the elastic bandage from her ankle, she buckled on a pair of high-heeled sandals. There was still some soreness in her foot, but she felt able to use it for short distances, even if she wasn’t quite ready to dance or run. Her hair, freshly washed, she left in a shining mass on her shoulders. To put it up might give her a more sophisticated look, but that was not how she felt this evening. She felt vulnerable, out of her element, and much in need of some form of protective screen.