by kps
Beside Anne, Yves Pleydel sighed with Gallic resignation. "Ah-I suppose it happens to everyone at some time or other, eh? Claudia was the first one of my wives to leave me. I nick-named her my golden bitch-and believe me, she is one! I think, though, that in this instance she has met her match. He is not kind to his women, I have heard, although he loves them hard for a time. It will do Claudia good to learn a little lesson!"
Oh yes-Webb was so good at teaching lessons! Close to Anne a woman sighed audibly and whispered to her wooden-faced escort, "Oh Jesus! What I wouldn't give to be her!"
And in spite of everything, all her stout resolutions, Anne felt her nerve-ends tingle, sending a quiver down the length of her spine. She didn't want to see him again-God, Harris was crazy, and she was crazier yet. She didn't want to meet his eyes, flickering and burning on her like tongues of fire some-times ... like ... why did she have to remember? Why now?
She wasn't far enough away to avoid watching him. Hypnotized, Anne couldn't move her eyes away. The sure way he moved, the sound of his laughter when one of the clustering reporters asked a low-voiced question with a sly look at Claudia.
"I think you should ask Signorina del Antonini that yourself. Excuse me ..." "Webb darling!" That was Carol; and how heartlessly he left Claudia pouting while he kissed Carol.
"I think we should go up and say hello," Yves said suddenly. He flashed Anne a gamin grin. "You don't mind if I want to make that bitch Claudia a little bit jealous?
Wait till she finds out her boyfriend will be making his next picture with you! Oh-she will be like a spitting cat-ha!"
"But I don't think Harris wants anyone to know yet!" Anne whispered desperately.
"And besides I-I haven't really made up my mind yet, you know!"
Yves shot her a disbelieving look. "No? But of course you have. Do you realize how many women would give all they have just for the chance to try out for the part you have been offered? You would be stupid not to accept, and I do not think you are stupid, Anne. Besides-with me directing you, you have nothing to worry about!
Claudia couldn't act when I first picked her up. Yes, right out of the chorus line in some sleazy little place that called itself a theater. All she knew about was showing her body. I taught her everything else!"
Fortunately, Harris came up just then, sliding his arm through hers, whispering confidentially to Yves that perhaps he'd better go rescue poor Claudia from those nasty reporters, especially as she seemed to have been deserted by her escort.
"I suppose I should take pity on the poor creature," Yves said magnanimously. He kissed Anne's hand again, turning her palm up this time, pressing his lips passionately against it.
Oh, thank goodness for Harris! She wasn't ready yet ... As if he'd sensed her sudden panic, Harris said briskly: "You might as well meet our celebrity and get it over with, Anne. That is," he added dryly, "if we can manage to tear him away from present company."
The affected, public embrace of Claudia and Yves Pleydel was being photographed now-the carnerasjs with true British discretion, ignoring the quiet corner where Webb was engaged in a low-voiced conversation with a pretty if rather plump royal princess. He concentrated on her, acting as if there was no other woman in the room.
Good publicity for Webb, of course-if he lived up to his reputation and the princess to hers. She was reputed to be something of a swinger, and, it was rumored, often used her royal prerogative to be the one to take the initiative.
A big, jovial-looking Englishman with glittering decorations on his chest greeted Harris with boisterous enthusiasm, even while his small blue eyes raked Anne over from head to foot.
"Harris, old boy! You've been hiding yourself ever since that weekend in Monte Carlo-ha ha!-and I understand you were one of the few to walk off Petrakis's yacht under his own steam! Making movies now, eh? Well ..." His eyes wandered to Webb and the princess, who had put her small, heavily beringed hand on his sleeve as if to emphasize something she was saying; and he chuckled. "Leading up to a cordial little entente between our countries, wouldn't you say? Well, I'm Labor Party myself, and liberal-minded-ha!-and I don't mind. But the young woman's mum is going to have a queenly fit-after the fact, most likely, though. Little Mary Victoria's got a mind of her own, we hear."
Anne didn't like him-even when she recognized his name when Harris introduced them. A former field marshal, he was rumored to be one of her father's counterparts in England. Rumored-but surely not? Such a loud, obviously vulgar kind of man-so very different from her father, who would never make an appearance at a party like this ... Colonel Blimp! Anne wanted to giggle hysterically, wondering why she felt slightly unhinged.
And then Webb looked up, glancing across the room at them as if he had sensed their eyes on him. It happened too suddenly for Anne to drop her eyes away; and she hadn't, she honestly hadn't been consciously staring at him. But strangely, it seemed suddenly as if a space had been cleared between them, and his eyes, narrowing slightly, came arrow-straight to her face.
And he didn't recognize her! He looked her over appraisingly as a stranger might, taking in her wand-slim body in the flame-colored dress; and then when she looked defiantly back at him as if compelled, unable to stop the humiliating rush of blood to her face, his eyes, about to move away casually, were suddenly arrested. She saw the spark of recognition leap into them for a split second, only to be carefully extinguished by his actor's mask. Unbelievingly, anger uppermost now, Anne saw him give an insolent nod of acknowledgment in her direction.
His attention went back to the princess, where it stayed until Claudia grew tired of smiling for the press and exchanging sweetened barbs with her ex-husband. By the time Harris introduced Anne to Claudia, she felt sure she'd been presented to just about everyone else in the crowded suite. Claudia, after a lightning second of sizing Anne up, was quite charming. Poor girl! Anne couldn't like her, exactly, but she had almost a fellow-feeling for her. Anne wondered fleetingly what had become of Tanya, as they watched Webb kiss the princess lightly on the ear, and less lightly on the pink lips that parted avidly for him.
Armored by her scorn, Anne was able to extend her hand quite coolly when Carol of all people finally reintroduced them to each other, making a big production out of it.
"Webb-you remember Anne, of course? And what a sweet-heart she was about helping me out with that bet we had?"
"Hello, Webb." No tremor in her voice-hardly any expression at all; but she had no control over the icy coldness of her fingers. And then, lightly, "Where's Violet? She's been dying to meet you; you must be nice .. ." Was that really her voice, sounding as tinklingly brittle as Violet's? Thank God for all the people standing around them and for her newly acquired poise ...
"You've changed, Annie," he said shortly, cutting across the rest of her meaningless, inconsequential speech. Where was Violet? Even Craig ...
And then his hands closed over hers, and it was as if a high-voltage switch had suddenly been turned on, jolting them both.
Webb had meant to kiss her lightly on the cheek as he had done all the other women he'd met this evening, settling whatever had once been there for both of them once and for all. She had changed into one of those coldly brittle, pseudo-sophisticated bitches-all looking and acting as if they'd been cast from the same mold; and it hadn't taken her too long to learn all their shallow tricks, had it? It had been enough of a shock to recognize her; and then to find out she was Harris Phelps's latest
"discovery." Meaning, since he knew Harris, his current mistress. Or maybe Harris and Yves Pleydel shared her -shit, what did it matter to him? But now he was startled, from the moment he felt the coldness of her hands and their slight tremor, by the force of his own angry emotions. Goddamn her!
So he kissed her after all-deliberately and very perfunctorily. Mostly for the benefit of the others who stood around watching as if they were the sideshow of the evening.
He and Anne, having their grand reunion. But only Anne could know how brutally his han
ds had tightened over her fingers, so hard he could almost feel them snap.
He turned away from her angry stiffness, laughing. "Okay-where's this Violet wench I must meet? I hope she's pretty, at least!"
They were all laughing now, joining in the game. Webb's eyes crinkled at the comers, but only Anne noticed that they remained as hard as yellow glass. She kept rubbing at her fingers surreptitiously for a long time afterwards, tom between hating him and wanting, unreasonably, to indulge in a fit of weeping.
Chapter Thirteen
WAKING UP WAS LIKE SWIMMING to the surface of a marsh, fighting the leaden fatigue that threatened to drag her back to sleep again. Violet. For some reason, she was mad at Violet.
Why couldn't she let her be?
"Anne! Anne, will you wake up? You're supposed to be on location in Surrey in two hours, and I'm supposed to be at work right now. Your alarm woke me, and when I didn't hear
you in the shower ..."
Anne's eyes opened lethargically to focus on Violet's tousled head and Concerned face bending over her. Violet's worried voice became sharper. "Are you okay? I didn't hear you come in ..."
"Of course I'm fine! I took a Valium to help me sleep, that's all. I suppose I shouldn't have, after those drinks." She sat up, feeling slightly dizzy, letting her unaccountable anger at Violet push the dizziness away. "And you didn't hear me come in because I was home and in bed already. I had a headache- Harris brought me back early."
"Oh!" She didn't miss the flush on Violet's face. Then a defiant toss of her curly head.
"Well-I got in rather late. Or very early, if you want to look at it that way!"
"Oh?" Anne hoped she sounded uninterested enough as she forced herself to climb out of bed. She flexed her fingers consciously-they were bruised where her rings had cut into them. Webb! Memories of the previous evening came back to assault her senses. That's why she had taken that Valium. Dumb thing to do; she still felt half-doped. "I'd better go take my shower now. Thanks for waking me."
Violet followed her, looking for all the world like a guilty child. Only Violet wasn't a child, was she? For all her little-girl act, she was a very sexy young woman. Men discovered that quickly. Webb had. It hadn't taken either one of them long, once the princess had been whisked away by her Secret Service escorts. Poor Claudia had been left to quarrel furiously with Yves, her sensuous pout becoming more and more sullen with every moment that passed. Webb and Violet had disappeared -Harris's bedroom door stayed closed-and Anne had felt as if her smile was a clown-mask painted onto a face. Until Harris, tactful as ever, had remembered she had a modeling engagement in the early afternoon and offered to take her home.
"Can I talk while you're showering?"
She didn't want to be Violet's confidante. Not about Webb. But Violet was already following her into the bathroom. "Boy -what an evening! And you should have heard all the gossip I picked up! Did you know that Senator Markham has the hots for Carol Cochran? That's why he left his wife behind in France. Craig got mad when I told him that! He's so American sometimes, isn't he? All senators and congressmen are sacrosanct! And I really think"-Violet cocked her head, considering-"that he-Craig, I mean-still feels the same old way about you!"
"That's nonsense!" Anne said shortly, turning the shower on with unnecessary force.
"Well-I can always sense it when a man I date is still carrying a torch for another woman. I really think he'd take you back, if you let him. Not that I blame you for latching onto Harris Phelps, of course! Has he invited you to cruise on his yacht yet?
I hear it's even bigger than Onassis'sl" Anne didn't answer, and Violet changed the subject abruptly. "What did you think of Webb? He's even more gorgeous in real life than he is on the screen, isn't he? But"-her voice turning reproachful-"you never told me you knew him!"
Anne's voice came faintly to her over the sound of running water. "I don't. I'd met him, that's all! And I'm sure he meets thousands of women all the time. He didn't even remember me." Net exactly a lie. He hadn't. Why didn't Violet stop?
"Well-I bet he'll remember me! He even took my phone number ..."
Anne remembered that much at least of Violet's incessant, breathless flow of chatter.
She had tried to tune Violet out-not quite ready yet for whatever revelations her friend was leading up to. And in the end, disappointed, Violet had taken herself off to work in her baby-blue Porsche. Damn! Now she'd probably be late for the outdoor shooting anyway, and –
She knocked a Dresden china figurine off an end table with the sleeve of her carelessly carried jacket, swore again (she must really watch that!), and had finally reached the door when the telephone rang. Anne hesitated. It was probably for Violet, maybe Dune demanding to know why she wasn't in the office yet. On the other hand, it might be that the weather was bad in Surrey and they'd canceled the session. She should have listened to the weather report on the radio; would have, if Violet hadn't insisted on gossiping. The phone kept ringing insistently, willing her to pick it up. Harris? It would probably stop ringing as soon as she reached it.
"Hello?" She was out of breath and mad at herself for giving m.
"Annie?" Her breath caught in her throat, and Anne felt paralyzed. He even took my phone number! Violet had sounded pleased and triumphant. But Violet's phone number was also hers.
"Annie?" he repeated again, impatiently this time. She gathered enough presence of mind to say coldly, "I'm sure you want to speak to Violet, but she isn't here just now."
His voice became charged with suppressed emotion. Fury?
"Damn you, Annie-will you stop playing games? We've got to talk-don't you see that?
Last night ..."
Last night! Anne closed her eyes, feeling pure rage rush through her. She wanted to grit her teeth, stamp her foot. "I'm late for work, Webb. And I've got a two-hour drive ahead of me. Why don't you call back later when Violet will be in? You just missed her, as a matter of fact."
Click. She replaced the receiver, almost dropping it. Grabbed up her jacket and almost ran outside, not wanting to hear the rings when they started up again.
"I know I missed Violet. I waited to call until she had left. What are you running from this time, Annie?" Webb sounded conversational, but his eyes pinioned her against the door, staring at him as if he'd been an apparition.
He'd said that to her the first time they met ... where had he come from?
He looked disheveled and disreputable in tight, faded blue levis and a shabby, equally faded denim jacket. Unshaven ... He nodded carelessly towards the phone booth at the other end of the mews. Funny that she had hardly noticed it before!
"A good observation point, baby. I watched little Vi leave in her cute little car, and then I called you." His eyes narrowed dangerously, and if not for the door at her back she would have retreated before the look in them.
Desperation made Anne cry out wildly, "Let me be, Webb! Why must you stalk me when-when there are so many other women you don't even have to chase? We have nothing to say to each other in any case,so-"
Afterwards, Anne could never be quite sure how it happened. She'd raised her fists instinctively, as if to fight him off; and his mouth, covering hers savagely, cut her off in midsentence. And after that, it was too late. All the days and weeks and months of conditioning her mind and her thoughts ... But her will dropped away and became lost somewhere under the force of his kisses. Her body, stiff at first, felt like parched, dried-up earth growing moist and malleable again under the first rains. And none of her doubts and questions, even her anger at him, counted any longer-swept away in the first flood of feeling. Like a renewed drought after a deluge, reality came back after Webb had released her.
Anne could feel herself shaking. Even her voice.
"That-wasn't fair! Webb .. ."
"Do I have to remind you of the old saying? 'All's fair .. .' "
"Webb-let me alone! You know I don't mean anything to you. Old affair. Just another conquest .. ."
"But are yo
u a conquest, Annie? What are you asking me for now, reassurance?
Why in hell do you think I stayed out here in the goddamned cold, waiting for you?"
He gave an angry shrug. "Stalking you, I guess you'd call it, huh? Well I'll tell you-I'm damned if I really know. You've been like a splinter under my skin, ever since you put me off that time, Mrs. Hyatt. Little mystery Annie-and I still find myself wanting to fling questions at you I know I have no damned right to ask. The kind of questions I'd resent your asking me-although you wouldn't, would you? There's a stubborn, prideful streak somewhere deep inside you, isn't there, love?-although in a man they'd call it arrogance. I know, because I have it too ... except when it comes to you, strangely enough. Jesus -when I saw you last night .. ."
"You didn't recognize me!" she whispered accusingly. That still rankled.
"No, I didn't. I saw a damned good-looking woman-like all the others around. And then I saw your eyes, Annie. And your mouth." His fingers, rough and cold from the wind that bit into them both, traced the contours of her lips, making her quiver. "And later I found myself wondering why I was so angry. I wanted to wipe all the goddamn makeup off your face and pull your hair loose and rip that dress all the other women were envying off your back."
"So instead, you carried Violet off into Harris's bedroom."
Mistake. She shouldn't have said that, sounding like a jealous shrew. Admitting she'd noticed.
He dropped his hand, his face changing-hardening.
"So I did. But then friend Harris might not have liked it if I'd taken you in there instead, would he, baby? Your friend Violet is quite a talker." The pride he'd called arrogance made Anne snap her head back.