Elusive Lover

by Carole Mortimer

  How right she was! Erin almost choked with the irony of it. Martha had hoped to make her feel better, and all she had done was make her feel worse! ‘I’m sure he does too,’ she agreed huskily. ‘Don’t worry, Martha, we’ll work it out.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Martha frowned. ‘I hate to see you both so miserable.’

  Erin lay awake long into the night, dreading the flight tomorrow, and not through any fear of flying.

  Josh’s appearance the next day came as something of a surprise to her. He was dressed in a suit! And he looked completely different, more sophisticated, more the famous artist that he was.

  The suit was a dark grey pinstripe, three-piece, his shirt snowy white, a light grey tie tied meticulously at his throat. He no longer looked like Josh but was now every inch Joshua Hawke, celebrity.

  He wasn’t driving the pick-up today either, but driving the Porsche, as far as Erin knew, for the first time since she had been here. He put her case on the back seat with his own, although the huge bear took up most of the room.

  He smiled. ‘You’re really taking that with you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said indignantly, glad she was wearing one of her prettiest summer dresses. She wouldn’t have wanted to shame him by wearing her denims.

  ‘And this?’ He held up the straw stetson he had given her the evening before.

  ‘Yes.’ She was taking everything he had ever given her, including the most wonderful experience of a lifetime, although that would have to stay locked away in her memory, only taken out when she was alone, each comment, each caress, a cherished memory.

  Josh shrugged, loading the car up. ‘We’d better be on our way, our plane leaves in just under two hours.’

  It was hard to say goodbye to Martha and Jim, knowing she would never see them again, although Martha extracted a promise from her to write to them. She knew she would keep that promise, if only in the hope that Martha would occasionally mention Josh in her own letters.

  Being a passenger on a plane accompanied by Joshua Hawke was certainly an experience. From the moment they checked in at the desk Erin found out what it was like to be one of the famous.

  They were shown into the first class lounge—Erin learned for the first time that they were travelling first class!—plied with drinks until it was time to board the plane, and the stewardess’s smile was particularly warm as she personally escorted them to their seats.

  ‘If you need anything, just ask,’ the girl told Josh softly.

  ‘I’ll bet,’ Erin muttered as the other girl moved away.

  Josh turned to look at her. ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ she snapped.

  ‘I thought you did.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t! Would you mind if I had a nap now, I’m feeling tired.’

  Josh frowned. ‘But you’ve only just got up.’

  ‘And now I’m feeling tired!’ Her eyes flashed, her jealousy of the other girl was getting the better of her.

  ‘Have you been eating? Martha said you have, but——’

  ‘Did you check up on me?’ she gasped.

  ‘I merely asked——’

  ‘You did!’ she glared her fury. ‘When will you believe that I don’t have that damned illness! I’m not your sister, Josh. I’m me, Erin Richards, and I don’t need you watching over me every minute of the day!’

  His eyes were cold. ‘Obviously not.’

  ‘Definitely not!’

  ‘Then that’s settled.’

  ‘Yes!’

  They were glaring as if they hated each other. What would have happened next Erin had no idea, but the stewardess came over to offer them both champagne.

  Champagne at eleven-thirty in the morning! She refused, and turned away, closing her eyes as if in sleep.

  But she wasn’t asleep. Every flirtatious remark the stewardess made was audible to her, as were Josh’s replies, his voice deep and attractive as he flirted back.

  The two of them barely spoke through the whole flight. Inside Erin was crying, on the outside she was acting like a shrew. No wonder Josh preferred to spend most of his time talking to the pretty stewardess!

  Leaving the Customs as Heathrow Airport was another revelation to her, although after the preferential treatment Josh had received on the plane the presence of the press at the airport shouldn’t really have been such a surprise to her.

  Lights flashed, cameras clicked as Josh was bombarded with questions. And all the time he maintained a firm hold on her elbow, refusing to let her leave his side.

  ‘Could we have the name of your companion, Mr Hawke?’

  ‘Did the two of you meet on the plane or did you fly over together?’

  ‘Is this your fiancee, Mr Hawke?’

  ‘Or possibly your wife?’ asked another hopeful reporter.

  ‘Mr Hawke——’

  Josh looked at them with steely green eyes, his manner composed, despite the jostling going on around them. ‘Confine your questions to my professional life and you might get some answers,’ he advised curtly.

  ‘Oh, but——’

  ‘Surely you wouldn’t mind——’

  ‘She’s a lovely young lady, Mr Hawke, and——’

  ‘Yes, she is,’ the last man was given a narrow-eyed look, ‘and your personal questions will not be answered by either of us.’ He walked through their midst, Erin still held firmly at his side. ‘Damn then to hell!’ he swore under his breath.

  Erin almost had to run to keep up with him, as the reporters were left far behind. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any embarrassment.’

  ‘You haven’t,’ he snapped abruptly, his expression grim. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ He looked for an exit.

  ‘Mr Hawke——’

  He turned with a savagery that Erin could feel in the tension of his hand. ‘I thought I told you——’

  ‘I’m Gerald Parker, Mr Hawke—Mr Smythe sent me,’ the little man explained hastily, eyeing Josh apprehensively.

  ‘Sorry,’ Josh sighed. ‘Come on, Erin.’

  She followed as if in a daze, to be helped into the back of the waiting limousine by a suddenly preoccupied Josh, the other man getting in beside him while the chauffeur loaded their luggage into the boot of the car, Erin’s huge bear included. She almost giggled with the haughty disdain with which the chauffeur viewed the latter.

  Josh and the man who had introduced himself as Gerald Parker seemed to have a lot to talk about. From their conversation Erin gathered Gerald Parker was an employee of the gallery where Josh’s exhibition was to take place, Matthew Smythe, the owner of the gallery.

  ‘He was so sorry he couldn’t be here to meet you himself,’ Gerald Parker told Josh. ‘Unfortunately Mrs Smythe chose this morning to give birth to their first child. So annoying,’ he tutted.

  Erin watched Josh trying to hide a smile as he made a suitable reply; Gerald Parker’s taste obviously did not run in a female direction, and the arrival of a baby was a great inconvenience to him.

  ‘I’ve booked both of you into a hotel as you asked, Mr Hawke,’ he twittered. He was a man of middle age, with sparse brown hair and a meticulous way of dressing, his dark suit and white shirt impeccable. It made Erin wonder what he would have made of the way Josh dressed in Canada. ‘A suite,’ he added pointedly, giving Erin a curious glance.

  ‘Thanks,’ Josh accepted curtly. ‘I don’t believe I introduced you to Miss Richards.’

  ‘No,’ Gerald Parker leant forward to shake her hand. ‘Any friend of Mr Hawke’s . . .’

  ‘And that’s all she is, Parker,’ Josh put in coldly. ‘I would appreciate your keeping her name out of your scandal sheets.’

  ‘Scandal sheets ...?’

  ‘The English newspapers,’ he explained tersely, taking hold of Erin’s hand. ‘Miss Richards’ name is not to be released to the press.’

  ‘Oh, but——’

  ‘Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘I—Yes. But——’

  ‘Good.’
Josh stretched his long legs out in front of him. ‘I know Matt and his damned publicity,’ he scowled.

  ‘Oh, but I’m sure he wouldn’t——’

  Josh gave a taunting laugh. ‘And I’m equally sure that he would. Any press release about myself and Miss Richards and I’ll remove my paintings from the gallery.’

  Erin gasped. ‘Josh——’

  ‘Understand, Parker?’ He gave the other man a cold look.

  ‘Certainly, Mr Hawke.’ Gerald Parker was becoming flustered. ‘I’ll see to it.’

  ‘You do that,’ Josh drawled. ‘Now, how are the mother and baby?’

  ‘Mother and——? Oh, you mean Mrs Smythe. I think she’s well.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘A boy, I think.’

  Josh’s mouth twitched. ‘You don’t sound very sure.’ ‘Well, I—I—They all look the same at that age, don’t they?’ Gerald Parker twittered.

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘Well, I——’

  ‘Of course they do,’ Erin cut in to support Gerald Parker, knowing Josh was enjoying tormenting him and feeling a bit sorry for him. ‘Josh, about the hotel——’

  His hand tightened painfully about hers. ‘We’ll talk about it later, Erin.’

  ‘But——’

  ‘Later,’ he repeated firmly.

  This was a different Josh from the one she was used to, still as autocratic, but now possessing a haughty command that had men like Gerald Parker quaking in their shoes. It was like being presented with another Josh, one it would take a lifetime to know. And she only had a few hours left!

  Gerald Parker left them at the hotel, where the receptionist and porter almost fell over themselves when they learned Josh’s name—and a hotel like this was used to dealing with celebrities every day!

  The suite was everything Erin had ever imagined it would be, although Josh seemed to accept their surroundings without a second glance.

  He was on the telephone now, having flowers sent to Ginny Smythe; the name of the hospital she was at, at least, was known to Gerald Parker. He put the telephone down, turning. ‘I suppose you’d like to rest,’ he said huskily. ‘Which bedroom would you like?’

  There were four, all of them luxurious in the extreme. ‘I can’t stay here, Josh. I tried to tell you that in the car——’

  ‘Which room, Erin?’ He threw open one of the bedroom doors. ‘This one looks okay——’

  ‘I’m not staying,’ she said stubbornly, clutching the cuddly bear to her.

  ‘Of course you are.’ He scowled. ‘And for God’s sake put that ridiculous thing down! You look about ten years old.’

  ‘Don’t order me about, Josh,’ she snapped. ‘It may work with Mr Parker, but it won't work with me.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. ‘When you’re put in a jungle you automatically become as aggressive as the other animals.’ He sat down wearily. ‘Now you know why I only appear in public for three months of the year. It takes me the other nine months to humanise myself again. When I first became famous— and I don't mean that conceitedly—when my paintings were first appreciated, I was just an innocent from Canada. What did I know about exhibitions, promoters, contracts? People walked all over me, took advantage of my ignorance. Attack before you’re attacked, Erin, that's the hard lesson I learnt.’

  She chewed on her bottom lip, seeing the sense of what he said. ‘I’m sorry about that, but I really can't stay here. It wasn't part of our deal.’

  He seemed to pale. ‘Forget the damned deal!’ he rasped. ‘I want you to stay here because I care about what happens to you. Did you really think I’d just bring you back to London and dump you?’

  ‘Well, that was the idea——’

  ‘Not mine! You stay with me until I know you have somewhere decent to live and a job to support yourself.’ ‘But that could take days, weeks!’

  ‘Exactly. How did you think you were going to live, Erin?’

  ‘I—Well, I—I——’

  ‘You stay here,’ he told her firmly, standing up. ‘Now I want you to get some rest. I have to go to the gallery for a while, but we’ll have dinner together when I get back.’

  ‘But——’

  ‘Please, Erin, let me do this for you. God knows I owe you something!’

  He was doing this because he felt guilty about making love to her! ‘Okay,’ she agreed quietly. ‘I’ll go and rest,’ and she turned towards the bedroom.

  ‘Erin...!’ Josh’s hands came down on her shoulders, turning her to face him. ‘Erin!’ he groaned, and his mouth descended to claim hers, parting her lips gently, the kiss given with slow drugging passion, his face white when he finally released her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said jerkily, ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’

  ‘Then why did you?’ she said bitterly.

  ‘Because—because—I’ll see you later.’ He turned on his heel and left.

  As soon as he had gone Erin collected up her belongings and quietly left the hotel, left Josh, not knowing where she was going—and not particularly caring.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IT was odd to see a picture of yourself in a newspaper, a really strange sensation. It didn’t really look like her; the girl in the photograph looked coolly composed, her escort tall and handsome, his hand on her arm wholly possessive.

  ‘Joshua Hawke and his new friend Miss Erin Richards arriving in London yesterday for his latest exhibition’, the caption beneath the picture read. There was also a short paragraph beneath this. ‘Mr Hawke refused to discuss his relationship with the beautiful Miss Richards, and Miss Richards didn’t say anything at all, only gazed up adoringly at the artist. But the couple were reputed to be secluded in a suite at one of London’s most famous hotels last night.’

  Erin’s cheeks had blazed with colour after reading this. Had her adoration of Josh really been so obvious, or was the reporter just embellishing on the truth to make it more of a story? She hoped it was the latter.

  After leaving the hotel she booked into a much cheaper one, and the next day she got herself a job in a restaurant in town. The tourist season was still under way, and temporary staff were much in demand.

  Luckily no one seemed to connect her with the photograph in the newspapers, probably because they weren’t expecting Joshua Hawke’s ‘friend’ to be waiting at table in a restaurant. And that was the way she liked it, wanting to just sink back into obscurity, forget she had ever known someone called Joshua Hawke.

  But that wasn’t so easy. As the date for his exhibition came closer so more and more appeared about him in the newspapers. Once there had been a photograph of him at a party with a pretty dark-haired woman, and that night Erin cried herself to sleep.

  ‘You don’t look well, love,’ one of the other waitresses sympathised the next day. ‘Maybe you’re working too hard. You don’t have to do all the overtime Simpkins asks you to, you know.’

  She had been working as often as the manager asked her to because when she was at work she couldn’t think about Josh. His exhibition was in two days’ time, and after that he was supposed to be travelling to Europe, leaving England probably until next year. Erin knew she would have to go to the exhibition, and intended asking for that time off; she knew she had to see the paintings even if she couldn’t see the man himself.

  She almost dropped the tray of afternoon tea she was carrying when Josh walked into the restaurant. There could be no doubting his knowing she was here, for he walked straight towards her, his expression grim.

  It was over a week since she had last seen him, and she gazed hungrily at him, at his animal grace, his handsome face, his air of command.

  ‘What the hell do you mean by walking out on me?’ he snapped, his green eyes blazing.

  ‘I——’

  He looked about them restlessly. ‘Put that damned tray down and let’s get out of here. I want to talk to you.’

  Her mouth twisted. ‘As arrogant as ever, I see.’

  ‘Erin!’
he warned in a controlled voice.

  She flushed. ‘Wait a minute, then.’ She delivered the tray, leaving the bill on the table before returning to Josh’s side. ‘I don’t finish for another hour——’

  He took hold of her elbow. ‘You’re finished now,’ he told her grimly.

  ‘No——’

  ‘Yes! Go and get your coat, I’ll talk to your boss.’

  ‘Josh——’

  ‘Do it, Erin. Or else I’ll just drag you out of here.’ One look at his determined expression told that he would too. ‘I don’t have a coat,’ she scorned; the weather was hot. ‘And I’ll talk to Mr Simpkins myself.’ He shouldn’t mind her leaving an hour early, not with all the overtime she had been doing for him.

  Josh nodded. ‘I’ll be waiting outside.’

  She joined him about five minutes later, her hair now loosened from the clasp at her nape, her light make-up reapplied. Josh didn’t even seem to notice her changed appearance, but took her arm and led her over to the limousine that had collected them from the airport, the glass window between them and the driver firmly closed.

  ‘How did you find me?’ she turned to ask Josh’s grim profile.

  ‘Not easily,’ he growled.

  She licked her lips nervously. ‘But how?’

  ‘Matt had someone look for you.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘A private detective?’ she gasped.

  His mouth twisted. ‘Nothing so dramatic. Just a friend of his who had the ability to find out where a young girl could disappear to in this town.’

  ‘But why did you want to find me? I mean——’

  ‘You walked out on me!’ his eyes were dark. ‘I’ve been worried out of my mind about you. What the hell did you think you were doing, leaving like that?’

  She shrugged. ‘I thought I was saving you embarrassment——’

  ‘Embarrassment!’ he thundered.

  ‘Yes,’ Erin sighed. ‘I thought the press would leave you alone if I wasn’t staying with you. You seemed angry that they might put something about us in the newspapers——’

  ‘I was angry for you, not me.’

  ‘For—for me?’