They had all been hoping for something exciting to turn up to launch Pam-Pam on her career, and Nicky Wallis's cosmetics campaign was undoubtedly big league stuff. The company, Oliviera, were a new firm in that field—they had been involved in medicines and herbal remedies for years and had only just branched out into 'natural' cosmetics as a sideline. The minute Liza heard about the campaign she realised that someone as young and vibrantly healthy as Pam-Pam would be perfect for the project.
'My only reservation is about Nicky Wallis,' she confided to Gabi and Maddie over coffee a few days after first hearing about the contract. 'You know what he's like.'
They both laughed wryly. 'Don't we just? More hands than an octopus, and Pam's his idea of a light snack-he'd gobble her up.' Gabi frowned uneasily. 'I'll talk to her about him, shall I? Give her the gypsy's warning?'
'I'm not sure that that's the right approach. With a kid her age, it might have the opposite effect—tell her Nicky's mad, bad and dangerous to know and she'll be at his feet!' The other two laughed and said they took Liza's point.
'So what do we do?'
'I'll have a casual chat,' Liza promised.
That evening Bruno rang. 'I'm leaving tomorrow. I'll miss you.'
'I'll miss you, too,' she said lightly, but feeling rather melancholy.
'We had fun, didn't we?' Bruno sounded mournful, too, and she forced a laugh.
'We will again, don't sound so blue!' she said, teasing him.
'If you're ever in New York, give me a buzz and we'll paint the town red,' he said before he rang off, and she said she'd do just that.
She was tempted to ask, 'How's your uncle?' but was afraid he might repeat it to Keir and she didn't want Keir to think she cared. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon for her. The rapid inroads he had made into her defences bothered her. She had thought she was man-proof, but he'd showed her she wasn't. She could fall for him in a big way if she wasn't careful, and she meant to be very careful from now on! A man like Keir Gifford was exactly what she wanted to avoid—he liked his women like his cars—fast, glossy and not intended to last.
She made a face at herself. That wasn't true! She just wanted to believe he was that much of a heel because it made it easier to stay away from him.
When the deal with Nicky was firm, Liza delicately began to give Pamela a casual warning about the sort of men she was likely to meet.
'I wasn't born yesterday, you know,' Pam said, cheerfully grinning at her. 'If you're hinting at Nicky Wallis, don't bother. He's so obvious it's embarrassing. Dressed like a kid my age, but with more tramlines than a city centre. I can take care of myself, you know. You grow up streetwise in my part of London.'
Liza laughed, very relieved. 'And I'm just a country mouse who still hasn't quite caught on to big city ways? Maybe you're right.' Perhaps she had underestimated
Pam's ability to cope with whatever life threw at her, because from the minute they'd met in that park she had seen Pam as an echo of herself, but that wasn't really true. Pam was a very different person with a very different background.
'Oh, 1 wouldn't call you a mouse—town or country,' Pam said, very amused. 'You're so elegant and you're far too shrewd to be any sort of mouse.'
'Once you get into the big time you're going to get rushed off your feet by a lot of men,' Liza warned, though. 'If you're in the public eye you get attention you wouldn't get otherwise, but they're .. .'
'Only after one thing; I know! You and my mum ought to get together—you have a lot in common!'
'You're lucky to have a stable home background. Cling to it as long as you can,' Liza said with a sigh and Pam watched her sympathetically.
'You haven't got any family, have you?'
'Not any more,' Liza said, making sure her face betrayed nothing of what she was feeling. That was a habit now. She was accustomed to her polite, blank mask. Sometimes she hated it, of course; she felt so lonely, keeping everyone at a distance. She had never wanted to end up living that way.
She was careful to insist on being with Pam at her first lunch with Nicky Wallis and the head of the advertising agency who had dreamed up the cosmetics campaign. Liza meant to make it crystal clear to both men that Pam-Pam had protection.
They arrived early, before the men had got to the May fair restaurant, and sat in the small bar waiting; both sipping a Perrier with ice and lemon, although Pam had plaintively read the cocktail list and turned pleading eyes on Liza, only to get a firm shake of the head.
'No alcohol! It ruins the complexion. When you stop modelling, that's up to you, but while you work for me the rule stands. No smoking, no alcohol, no drugs.'
'And no sex,' Pam chuckled and heads swung from the bar counter; men stared at them, riveted.
Liza didn't turn a hair. 'There's no hard and fast rule about that, except that we ban late nights and wild parties, especially the night before you work. You can get away with burning the candle at both ends for a little while, but it soon begins to tell and the camera shows up every tiny line, every spot, every flaw in your face.'
'There aren't any,' said a cool male voice and Liza felt her whole body jerk to life as she looked round.
She hadn't seen him come into the bar; she had somehow imagined that when he was anywhere around she would sense it, but there had been no warning. He just appeared, and Liza couldn't stop the dark flush rising in her face, even though she felt Pam staring curiously.
She was too taken aback to come up with a snappy answer, but at that moment Nicky and the head of the advertising agency arrived, full of apologies for being late.
'Couldn't get a taxi, never is one when you want one! Darling Liza!' Nicky bent to kiss her cheek and she bore it without a flicker of expression, although he did not normally kiss her. She recognised it for a piece of window dressing; showing off for his client. That surprised her, because Terry Lexington knew both of them pretty well; why should Nicky suddenly want to impress him?
She nodded to Terry and said, 'Hi, there. How are you?'
'Fine, Liza,' he said, taking both her hands and smiling with that unfailing charm and sincerity, which was as thin as silver-plating on a cheap fork. He was a little older than Nicky, and far more conservatively dressed. Terry had to impress businessmen, money men, who were alarmed by panache and street-smart men like Nicky—so Terry was wearing a smooth, quiet suit, a discreetly fashionable shirt, a decorous tie. His face matched; his hair was sleek and silver, so was his tongue. Terry could sell anything. His face had two expressions—grave and loving. Neither of them meant a thing. Liza wouldn't trust him further than she could throw him.
Today she matched his smile and his warm sincerity. Usually she wouldn't bother, but she was so conscious of Keir Gifford standing there, watching, listening. Why didn't he go? If he was waiting to be asked to join them he could wait for ever. Liza wasn't even going to look in his direction.
*I don't have to introduce Mr Gifford, do I?' Nicky said and Liza's head swung in shock. 'What?'
Nicky looked startled; so she hurriedly dragged a smile over the ferocity of her stare.
'Mr Gifford?' she asked in a lighter voice and then her eyes met Keir's and her stomach plunged at something in his glinting blue eyes.
i thought you knew each other,' Nicky was saying, staring at them both with shrewd, probing little eyes, and Keir smiled lazily, his expression bland.
'So we do, don't we, Liza? I'm her landlord, after all. We have more than one thing in common.'
Nicky chuckled, curious, fascinated. He had read all about Bruno; he was intrigued, but Liza had herself under control again and she wasn't giving anything else away.
'But you didn't realise Mr Gifford is our client?' Nicky asked, and at this second shock she had to fight like a wildcat to keep her face blank.
'Our client?' She looked at Terry Lexington, who was smiling easily, nodding. He glanced at Keir, waiting for instructions.
'That's right,' Keir said drily, ignoring him. 'The Lexington agency is handling t
he campaign for Oliviera, which is one of my companies.'
Liza's brows met and her nerves prickled uneasily, i thought it was an independent company!'
it was! I bought it two days ago,' he said softly and then Terry bustled about, getting them all seated, calling over the waiter, asking for menus and ordering drinks. Liza had time to think and time to feel distinctly worried—why had he bought Oliviera? Why was he taking a personal interest in this campaign? Terry Lexington and Nicky Wallis were obviously on edge, overwhelmed at finding themselves actually having lunch with this man who was so far outside their usual orbit. Keir Gifford wasn't on their level at all; he was a legend; a name to conjure with, and the other two men were working hard to seem relaxed and unflurried in his company.
Pam was the only one who wasn't unnerved; she was talking to him now with a friendly grin, obviously without a clue who he was! Terry had carefully seated Keir next to her.
Did he think Keir was interested in Pam? Liza dropped her lashes and sipped her drink, watching the two of them secretly. She had given strict instructions about what the girl was to wear today, how she was to do her face and hair. Pam looked very young, very natural, her skin dewy and glowing, her eyes wide and clear; as though she had never used make-up in her life, and didn't need to! It was the look Terry had said he wanted for the campaign—from the indulgent smile Keir wore as he talked to Pam he approved, anyway, and Pam chatted exuberantly.
She looked down at her menu and decided on melon followed by a chefs salad while she pretended to be listening to Terry Lexington's outline of the way they were going to run the campaign. He would be putting it on paper for her, anyway; this lunch was a polite formality.
As they went into the restaurant to start eating Terry gave her a sideways wink, whispering, 'Think he fancies her? I couldn't believe it when his assistant rang to say he would be joining us for lunch. There has to be an ulterior motive. Gifford doesn't usually interest himself in the day-to-day running of his companies. I hadn't heard he was a womaniser, but what else would explain it?'
Liza shrugged and didn't answer. She had been thinking along those lines herself, but not quite in the same way as Terry, because she knew something he didn't know and hoped he would never know.
'How on earth did he get to hear about her, anyway?' Terry asked in that hasty whisper, i thought she was totally new?'
He was beginning to suspect something, to sense a mystery here, but his eyes were hard with suspicion of Liza, not of Keir. He wondered if she had lied to them, if Pam was more experienced and better known than they had been told. If the girl wasn't an advertising virgin she wouldn't be worth so much to them. They had to have a totally new face, they'd made that very clear, and Liza had assured them that Pam had never modelled for anyone before.
'She is,' Liza said shortly, then as Terry still stared narrowly at her added, 'He has the reputation of checking out everything about a company before he decides to buy, so maybe he found out about this campaign and got interested enough to come along to see what we planned?'
it doesn't add up,' Terry said, frowning.
It did to Liza, but she wasn't giving Terry the true explanation for Keir Gifford's presence there. She meant to keep well away from the man throughout the lunch; she would only speak to him when she had to and she wouldn't look at him if she could help it.
Her plan didn't -have a chance of succeeding. When she and Terry got to the table she found that Keir had arranged the seating this time and she was sitting next to him with Terry on her other side. Keir drew out her chair and she reluctantly sat down, a shiver running down her spine as his hands brushed her shoulders. He didn't hurry, his fingertips moved lingeringly over the smooth crepe of her designer-styled dress. Liza had chosen it deliberately because they were eating in a very good restaurant; it was one of her favourite dresses, a vivid violet-blue with a deep V-neck and a flowing, slim skirt. She knew she looked good in it; her figure graceful, slender, her neck bare below the immaculate chignon. Keir had almost touched her skin and she sensed that he had refrained from doing so solely to make her tense, to put her on edge, expecting it any minute.
'Melba toast?' he asked, offering her the basket of very thin slices of crisp, dry toast, and she took one and nibbled it while Terry talked about what the agency planned. Keir seemed interested; he had his first course in front of him by now—smoked salmon and prawns— which he ate slowly as he listened. Liza ate her melon and contributed nothing to the discussion. Her table napkin kept sliding down off her lap; the material of her dress was slippery. Keir observed this with a sideways glance.
'Having trouble?' he murmured while Terry was laughing noisily at some joke Keir had made a second earlier.
'None I can't handle!' she said and her eyes met his, making it plain that she wasn't just referring to her slippery napkin.
'Sure about that?' he drawled softly, mocking her.
'Just watch me,' Liza muttered, feeling like throwing her wine at him.
'I mean to,' he promised, and she felt her pulses beat a flurried tattoo.
'As I was saying,' Terry broke in on their brief exchange, and Keir turned a cool smile on him, all attention again. Liza watched the waiter removing the plates, filling their glasses. She was on tenterhooks now; wishing that this lunch would come to an end because she was finding it very hard to sit next to Keir, feel his long, lean body so close to her, his legs stretching next to hers, his shoulder almost touching her now and then, his brown-skinned hand on the table, crumbling a bread roll on a small plate absently as he listened—all the physical intimacies of everyday life which she knew she would never have noticed if he had been any other man. She wasn't aware of Terry Lexington's gestures and movements. Terry simply wasn't impinging on her, but Keir had all her attention, even when she tried to look in the other direction.
Nicky was talking now and they were all listening. He was a very good photographer and his face lit up with excitement as he explained his ideas for the side of the campaign he would be handling. Liza slowly ate her chefs salad, her eyes lowered. She reached for her wine glass and, as she stretched, her napkin slid down again. She reached for it but Keir had moved faster. He retrieved it before it fell, but his fingers had brushed her knee first; a cool, light contact which made her furious because she knew it was all part of his needling campaign against her. He was taking every opportunity to touch her, and the wicked glint of his eyes told her he didn't care if she knew it; he meant her to know it, in fact. That was part of the strategy.
She was going to have to out-think this man if he wasn't to drive her completely crazy. She had been sure that after hearing why she didn't want to get involved with any other man he would leave her well alone, but she had underestimated his tenacity. He hadn't given up or gone away, or written her off as a bad risk. He had bought his way into her life in secret, and was pleased with himself for taking her by surprise today.
She couldn't think of a way of blocking him. She couldn't break the contract; she and Pam-Pam had signed with the advertising agency, and for the girl's sake Liza had to go through with the deal. This was Pamela's big break, she couldn't wreck it for her.
'We need somewhere really special to shoot the first series of ads,' Nicky said, looking at Terry. 'I've been thinking . . . how about famous beauty spots? Outdoor locations—the Lake District, the Yorkshire fells, that sort of thing—still on the natural kick, you get it?'
'We'll shoot them at Hartwell,' Keir said and the other men looked round, totally startled by that.
'Hartwell?' Nicky's jaw had dropped. The house was a tourist dream, but people usually only saw the gardens; the house wasn't open to the public except on special days for charity.
'Hartwell?' Terry murmured, in a different voice, flushed with excitement at the thought of using such a prestigious background for one of his campaigns, and even Pam had sat up, huge-eyed, open-mouthed. She had heard of Hartwell, it seemed, she couldn't believe she was going down there to be photographe
d.
i suggest you all come down next weekend to decide exactly where to take these pictures,' Keir said and his lashes flicked sideways; Liza felt the deep blue glitter of his glance for a second, saw the ironic, mocking curl of his mouth, i'm not having any other house guests this week so I'd be glad if you could all stay for the whole weekend, Friday to Monday.'
Nicky and Terry eagerly said they'd love to, naturally, they would look forward to it, and Pam beamed, nodding. Keir turned his head to survey Liza, waiting for what he knew would be coming.
She smiled coldly. 'Thank you for the invitation, and I'd have loved to come, but I'm afraid I have a prior engagement. Pam will be there, though, and I'll send one of my senior staff to chaperon her, if I may.'
'I don't deal with anyone but the boss,' Keir said brusquely. 'Either you come or the deal's off. I can't have some stranger running around my home. This isn't just business, you know. This is where I live, it's my own home. I didn't invite one of your senior staff, I invited you personally.'
His face was icy, hauteur in every line. The relaxed and friendly atmosphere had frozen over and Terry and Nicky threw Liza horrified, pleading glances across the table. What was she doing, rocking the boat like this? their agitated eyes said. Didn't she know what a big compliment this was, being asked to stay at Hartwell, the home of the wealthy Giffords? You didn't normally get past the high iron gates unless you were somebody important, a VIP with the same sort of life-style as the master of the house. They had been astonished when he had appeared at this lunch, but they were staggered at the invitation to stay at his country house. They couldn't believe their ears when Liza tried to turn it down. Was she crazy ? they silently demanded. Any minute now Keir
Gifford was going to cancel the invitation, maybe even the whole deal. He was angry; they looked at him nervously, sweating. When a man as important as Keir Gifford got angry, everyone around him got tense and Liza saw that she had a difficult situation ahead of her whatever she decided to do.
If she didn't go to Hartwell for the weekend Keir might pull out of the whole project and then she would have to explain why she had done it to Terry and Nicky and Pam.
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