Bundle of Brides

by Kay Thorpe

  It would be one way of calming down after the shock he’d just given her, Gina acknowledged.

  ‘I’ll fetch suits and towels down,’ she said.

  ‘We don’t need suits, and there are plenty of towels in the locker down there.’ He was already on his feet, extending an inviting hand.

  The Petersons had all day Saturday off. Gina knew they’d gone to a concert tonight, and wouldn’t be back until late. The thought of sliding into the water unhampered by clothing of any kind was too tempting to resist.

  The atmosphere was sultry after the rain. Heated by the sun alone this time of year, the water felt like warm silk on the skin. Gina swam a length underwater, coming to rest on the broad steps leading out from the shallow end. Spread far and wide, the city below was a wonderland of sparkling, multicoloured lights.

  ‘It has its own special beauty, doesn’t it?’ she said as Ross surfaced beside her.

  ‘So do you,’ he returned softly.

  He put his hands about her hips, drawing her down into the water again and pinning her against the side to kiss her with fast rising passion. She allowed her legs to float buoyantly upwards, wrapping them about his waist as he drove to the very centre of her being. His lips burned like fire trailing down the taut line of her throat to find the pulse fluttering in the vulnerable hollow.

  She climaxed in shuddering ecstasy, the cry torn from her mingling with his deeper, rougher tone. He made no immediate move to withdraw, cupping her buttocks in both hands to hold her in position, the grey eyes almost black as he looked down into hers. He moved her gently against him, smile deepening as he felt the tremors run through her.

  ‘I always did envy the female recovery rate.’

  ‘You’re not doing so badly yourself,’ she said unsteadily.

  ‘With the right incentive.’

  He kissed her again, more gently than before. His skin was slick beneath her fingers, the muscle dormant for the moment. Gina slid her arms tighter about him as he came slowly back to full, pulsing life.

  Later, lying in bed, she went back over the whole evening, trying to work out what she was going to do. The man who’d made love to her in the pool down there had been somehow different—almost tender at times. Maybe there was a chance of deepening the passion he had for her into something worthwhile after all. Maybe…

  Her thoughts broke off as Ross turned over in his sleep, his hand seeking her breast. The name he murmured was indistinct, but it certainly wasn’t hers.

  She chose Versace for the première. Pale gold in colour, it was designed in Roman style, the silver bands wrapping her midriff emphasising both the firm thrust of her breasts and the taut slenderness of her waist. Her hair caught up in a cascade of curls, her make-up flawless, she knew she’d never looked better.

  Ross approved the effect wholeheartedly. ‘Oliver would have been proud of you,’ he said. He took a blue velvet box from his bedside drawer. ‘This seems to have been a lucky choice.’

  The box contained a necklet of beaten silver, along with matching drop earrings.

  ‘Sheer luck, or a word in your ear from a certain person?’ Gina asked as he fastened the necklet for her.

  He laughed. ‘I might have had a little help.’

  ‘It’s perfect anyway.’ She turned to slide her arms about his neck and kiss him, eyes emerald-bright. ‘You’re so good to me, Ross!’

  If he was aware of the irony, he wasn’t rising to it. ‘We’d better get going,’ he said. ‘Mustn’t mess up your hair.’

  The state of her hair was the last thing on Gina’s mind right now, but she had to concede he had a point. While not part of the film world itself, they were still camera fodder by reason of both the Harlow name and the story behind their marriage.

  Michael drove them down in the limousine Elinor had decided she no longer needed. He would also be waiting to drive them on to the party after the showing, then later home again. Gina would have happily taken a cab for the latter journey, but Ross didn’t suggest it this time.

  It was brought home to her just how much interest their story still generated when they alighted from the car at the cinema to recognition from the crowds outside the barriers. Gina doubted if she could have made that walk along the red carpet with any degree of aplomb two months ago; even now, she felt the smile plastered to her face must look utterly phoney. At least she didn’t have to pause and wave every few paces, as the stars of the silver screen were doing.

  The evening-gowned woman presenter drawing aside some of the arrivals to speak on camera homed in on them as they drew level, refusing to acknowledge any lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘And here we have the couple whose romance set the whole city alight just a few weeks ago!’ she announced into the microphone. ‘And very well you both look on it! That’s a lovely dress, Gina!’ She didn’t wait for any response—had it been forthcoming—turning her attention to Ross. ‘Handsome as any other hero here tonight! Did you ever fancy becoming a film star yourself, Ross?’

  ‘Not since I was seven,’ he answered easily, drawing a laugh from the crowd. ‘Have a nice evening, Sue.’

  Gina stole a glance at him as they moved on into the foyer. ‘She’s right, you know. You’d make a great cowboy! White hat, naturally.’

  ‘They don’t make goody-versus-baddy Westerns any more,’ he said. ‘And that’s enough from you, gal!’

  She pulled a face at him, sighing resignedly as flash bulbs popped once more. She had to remember that every gesture, every expression was being captured on camera for public display. There was every chance that some journalist with nothing better to write about would use the grimace as a sign that the marriage was already beginning to break down. Not that it might be such a bad thing at that, came the thought. The rift had to start somewhere.

  Sam Walker greeted the pair of them with the familiarity of an old friend. Dione hadn’t arrived yet, he said, but they were welcome to go straight through and take their seats if they preferred to escape the TV crews all vying for position.

  They did so, to find many rows already well occupied. Ross chose seats on the end of a row about halfway down the auditorium, welcomed by a couple Gina hadn’t met before. Ross introduced them as Anna and Carl Sinden, both part of the production team.

  Dione arrived trailing a whole retinue, traversing the aisle issuing extravagant greetings right and left. She looked magnificent in the scarlet gown, Gina had to admit. The glance bestowed on her as the woman passed by was cool, the smile reserved for Ross and Ross alone. He showed no visible reaction, but something tautened ominously in the pit of her stomach.

  She sat through the two-hour showing with little idea of the storyline. As Meryl Thornton had once said, Dione wasn’t the finest screen actress, but she had a presence that commanded attention. The applause when the credits rolled was loud and prolonged.

  ‘Another box-office hit!’ Carl proclaimed with satisfaction. ‘Mark was good too, of course, but it’s still Dione’s vehicle. What do you think, Gina?’

  So far as Gina was concerned, Mark Lester was way above Dione’s class in the acting stakes, but that wasn’t the question being asked. ‘Oh, definitely,’ she said. ‘She’s really something!’

  Ross gave her a sharpened glance, as if he had caught some discordant note in her voice, but made no comment. Watch the innuendo, Gina warned herself.

  The celebration was being held at the studio head’s home. A grand old relic from the early twenties, what the house lacked in architectural beauty it made up for in character. The staircase rising from the grand central hall was straight from Gone with the Wind, the vast living areas furnished in an eclectic mix of old and new that somehow worked.

  There was space and to spare inside, even more of it outside on the spreading patios. Fringed with palm trees, the free-form pool was a real temptation in the sultry heat: a temptation some of the younger element lost little time in giving way to, with scant respect for the garments they were wearing.

  ‘What
can’t be salvaged can always be replaced,’ Ross commented when Gina remarked on the probable ruination of several designer dresses. ‘Those kids have never had to work for what they’ve got.’

  The ‘kids’ he was referring to were in their late teens, early twenties, but maturity was light-years away, Gina had to agree, if their behaviour was taken into account. Not that anyone else seemed to find the scene reprehensible.

  There was dancing both indoors and out, with a regular banquet laid out in a side-room for people to help themselves to. Drawn into a small crowd, along with Anna and Carl, Gina did her best to keep up with a conversation centred on the mechanics of film-making.

  Ross had gone to replenish their glasses. Twenty minutes ago, according to her watch. He’d probably got waylaid by someone. She clamped down on the thought that jumped into mind. He wouldn’t dare. Not here!

  Another ten minutes went by before she finally gave way to the urge beginning to consume her. She made some excuse, and left the people she was with to go back into the house, wandering from room to room in search of her missing husband.

  There was no sign of him. Nor was Dione in evidence. There was no closing out the suspicion gnawing at her. The smile Dione had given Ross back at the première had been one of complacency, as if in knowledge of her power to stir him. If they were together now…

  Throat tight, Gina forced a smile for the benefit of people around her. Short of searching all the bedrooms, she was left with little choice but to wait for Ross to put in an appearance. Sam Walker collared her, introducing her to the people he was with at the moment. Faced with more film talk, she had difficulty keeping her end up.

  She jerked involuntarily when Ross slid his hands about her waist from behind.

  ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ he said, nodding a greeting to the others in the group. ‘I left you outside.’

  ‘About forty minutes ago,’ she answered with a lightness purely for effect. ‘What happened to the drink you were supposed to be fetching me?’

  ‘I kept getting cornered. I put the glasses down somewhere. Anyway, I see you’ve been taken good care of.’

  ‘You’re a lucky man,’ observed one of the older men in the group with somewhat heavy gallantry.

  ‘I know.’ Ross removed one hand from her waist, but left the other where it was, urging her gently into movement. ‘More than I deserve!’

  ‘You can say that again,’ Gina murmured under her breath, and received a querying glance.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I was beginning to think you’d gone home,’ she improvised. ‘You disappeared so completely.’

  ‘Easy enough to do in this mêlée. Have you had enough yet, or do we stay to the bitter end?’

  Gina made no immediate answer, her eyes on the woman who had just come through the double doors from the hall. Dione looked like a cat satiated with cream; she could almost hear the purr. There wasn’t a hair on the beautiful dark head out of place, but there would have been time to fix it.

  ‘Oh, definitely stay,’ she heard herself saying. ‘It’s such an experience!’

  Ross studied her for a moment, then he shrugged. ‘No problem.’

  It might be for Michael, waiting with the car, it occurred to her, but she couldn’t face being alone with Ross in the back of it right now for fear she’d start throwing accusations in his face. The evidence was purely circumstantial, of course, just as it had been with Samantha, but she was as certain as she could be that he’d been with Dione.

  Bored half out of her mind by the endless film talk, she stuck it out till the general exodus got under way around one. Hollywood parties didn’t tend to run too far into the small hours: studio days started early. Ross had made no further suggestion to leave, though she’d sensed a growing irritation.

  Michael was asleep in the driving seat when they finally got out to the car. Conscience-stricken, Gina was moved to apologise for keeping him waiting so long.

  ‘It isn’t at all necessary, ma’am,’ he said, looking uncomfortable.

  ‘You embarrassed the man,’ Ross said shortly in the car.

  ‘Isn’t it the done thing to say sorry to a servant?’ she asked, equally shortly.

  There was cynicism in his glance. ‘He’s well paid for what he does. He won’t have been sitting there all the time. All the drivers will have been fed and watered round the back.’

  ‘I wasn’t to know that,’ she defended. ‘It just seemed so cavalier.’

  ‘Maybe you should have considered that earlier.’ There was a pause, a change of tone. ‘Why the sudden yen to stay on anyway? You weren’t enjoying it.’

  ‘Into mind-reading now, are you?’

  ‘I can read body language. You’ve been on edge all night.’ He paused again, eyes on her face. ‘Want to try again?’

  ‘Not particularly.’ She leaned her head back against the rest, closing her eyes. ‘Wake me when we arrive.’

  Ross said something short and sharp beneath his breath. He wasn’t touching her in any way, but she could feel the anger radiating from him. He could simmer all he liked, she told herself hardily. He could also forget about any lovemaking where she was concerned. And this time she really did mean it!

  He was silent for the rest of the journey. Gina thrust open the door and slid from her seat the moment the car came to a stop, heading indoors and straight upstairs without a backward glance. She was tense as a coiled wire when she got to the suite, but single-minded in intent.

  She’d expected Ross to follow her, but he didn’t. She was in bed when he finally came up more than half an hour later. Wide awake, she lay motionless as he undressed. He used the bathroom, emerging again to come across and slide between the sheets. She could feel his body heat, catch the emotive male scent of his skin.

  The silence stretching between them was almost tangible. Gina found herself holding her breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

  ‘Go to sleep,’ he said brusquely. ‘I’m not in the mood either.’

  It should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. Despite everything, she still wanted him, she acknowledged achingly.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE dinner party proved a successful event. Lydia excelled herself in the catering department, producing four courses par excellence, as one guest was moved to remark.

  ‘If you and your husband ever feel like a change, just let me know!’ she said shamelessly to Lydia when coffee was brought out to where they sat on the terrace. ‘There’s a house in the grounds goes with the job.’

  ‘We’ve always been very comfortable here,’ the housekeeper returned. ‘But I’ll bear it in mind.’

  If the latter remark was for her benefit, it made little impact, Gina could have told her. She’d done her level best to get on friendly terms with the woman, but there was still a barrier there.

  The men were holding a group discussion on their own. The topic appeared to be golf. Gina wondered how they’d react if she told them to get their asses over here and join the rest of the party.

  ‘You don’t golf yourself?’ Anna Sinden asked, watching her watching them.

  ‘Never even tried,’ Gina acknowledged. ‘I realise that makes me something of an oddity here.’

  Anna laughed. ‘If you are, I am too. Carl plays whenever he possibly can. A good thing we share work, or I wouldn’t see much of him. I hadn’t realised Ross was an enthusiast too,’ she added. ‘They must play different courses.’

  Or even different games, Gina thought.

  ‘I’ve given Peter an ultimatum,’ declared the woman who had offered Lydia a job. ‘Either I get a bigger share of his time, or I find myself a lover.’

  ‘Has it worked?’ asked Meryl.

  ‘Well, we’re off on a lengthy cruise the end of the month. The new Queen M. You and Ross should join us, Gina. There were a couple more staterooms still available when we booked last week.’

  Peter Rossiter was head of a countrywide store chain, prov
iding June with a multimillion-dollar lifestyle she took entirely for granted. Gina found her likeable enough, but couldn’t visualise spending any real length of time in her company. Not that it was likely.

  ‘Nice thought, but I’m planning on taking a trip back to England at the end of the month,’ she parried. ‘It seems ages since I was there.’

  ‘On your own?’ Meryl asked.

  The trip had been merely an excuse, though she could hardly admit it in June’s hearing. ‘I’d think so,’ she said. ‘Ross has far too much on. Anyone want more coffee?’

  Thunder was rolling in the distance when the party broke up around midnight, with occasional electrical flashes lighting up the southern horizon.

  ‘Looks like San Diego’s getting it tonight,’ Ross observed as the last car pulled away. ‘Hopefully, it will keep on moving south.’

  He turned back to the house, glancing her way as she fell into step. ‘It seemed to go well enough.’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  Gina could think of nothing to add. The past two days had been fraught. For her, at any rate. Ross had made no approach since the other night, but otherwise appeared untouched by the conflict. She’d gathered the impression that any move to restore marital intimacy would have to come from her.

  There was a good possibility that she had jumped to the wrong conclusion, she’d been forced to admit. Apart from the phone call Dione had made, she had no concrete evidence that they were in contact at all. One thing she did know: things couldn’t go on like this.

  ‘Can we put the other night down to PMS?’ she asked, trying to inject a little humour.

  Ross lifted a quizzical eyebrow. ‘I thought that was only supposed to come just before a period?’

  ‘It is, but I don’t have any other excuse for acting up the way I did,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what got into me.’

  A hint of a smile flickered across his mouth. ‘I know what didn’t. I felt decidedly unlover-like that night. Do I take it we’re back on good terms again?’