She tried to look away. Her nerves were like crossed wires and she was paying scant attention to her own lunch. But she couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from him. The term good-looking was too all encompassing to do him justice and was light-years away from the truth. He was magnificent. The proud, majestic head; the long, lean torso clad in a figure-molding sweat shirt; the long, athletic legs in sand-colored jeans. This Paul was a long way removed from the immaculate man who came to the dinner table each evening; he was somehow far more disturbing. The fierce midday sun shimmering through the treetops with a lacy amber opalescence brightened his hair to pirate gold. The direction her thoughts were taking, as well as keying her up to a heady pitch of excitement, was most appropriate. There was a certain something about his appearance in casual garb that made him look—what was the word she was searching for? Swashbuckling! Since coming to Coral Cay he’d grown a beard. How it suited him, even if it did heighten his already considerable male virility and make him look more devil-may-care arrogant than before! Buccaneerish—this Paul would have been at home sailing the seas in the days when the Caribbean had been called The Spanish Main, right down to the cut on his right cheek which he’d acquired somewhere and which looked as though it needed a dab of antiseptic. But she wasn’t going to tell him and get another scolding for concerning herself about him. Why, when a woman’s feelings for a man deepened, did it suddenly become an obsession with her to fuss over him?
When Paul went back to work she made no attempt to accompany him, preferring the company of her own disquieting thoughts to running the risk of seeing Zoe in his arms again. They were poisonous thoughts, the serpent in this paradisical place, this corner of Eden.
She tried to push them out by filling her mind and senses with the beauty around her. The heavily scented frangipani, wild orchids, ginger flowers, bougainvillea, oleanders, jasmine, and numerous trees and vines, all combined to form a tangled semicircle of leaf, flower and shrub which edged the dazzling spectacle of white coral sand. Beyond, crystal water deepened into a lagoon of such a brilliant blue that it defied credibility.
She should have been in heaven. Nothing more arduous was asked of her than to be nice in public to an extremely personable man. Not any man. One super-special, supercharged, exceptional man. Why couldn’t she accept her amazing piece of luck and enjoy it to the full?
If only she had some inbuilt protection to hide behind, but no man was an island, and that was even more true when applied to woman—to her. She would never be entire of herself, or inviolate, where Paul was concerned. She would never be able to shut him out of her thoughts . . . or her heart. Why had she had to spoil everything by falling in love with him?
Perhaps this was the biggest revelation of all. How had it happened? And when? The attraction she had felt for him had slid so gently into love that she hadn’t known it was happening until it was an established fact. Yet, looking back, she ought to have known. The strong stirrings of physical attraction might have made it easy for him to get close to her, but it couldn’t have seemed so right, her thoughts wouldn’t have been so tender toward him, her jealousy of Zoe so acute, if her heart hadn’t been affected.
She should have picked up the clues and armored herself against the stupidity of falling in love with someone who was inaccessible to her. Someone whose heart hankered after another woman.
CHAPTER TEN
Her tender feelings for Paul gave her the insight to know that he still loved Zoe. At the moment he was holding himself aloof from her, but how long would he allow his pride to stand in the way of what he wanted?
Perhaps pride wasn’t the only consideration. It could be that he was too conscientious to take time off to sort out the tangles of his private life. Perhaps he intended to wrap up the film before dealing with personal issues.
She was a novice where filming was concerned, but even she knew that things weren’t going as well as they should be and required Paul’s total concentration. Not only was Zoe living up to the reputation that superstars had for being temperamental, but, in Catherine’s opinion, she overstepped all bounds. She was difficult and impossibly rude to the other members of the cast and crew, with the exception of Paul. She saved all her smiles for him. As far as Zoe’s pride was concerned, she didn’t seem to have any in connection with Paul. It was sickening the way she drooled over him and found ways of getting close to him.
She walked off the set one day while Catherine was watching, leaving poor Jeremy fuming, to go up to Paul. Her stance was that of a docile little girl, but there was nothing little girlish about the face that stared up at him from beneath its curtain of silky dark hair. It was a woman’s face, as warm and inviting as the sensuous undertones in her voice as she said, ‘I know I’m getting it wrong, Paul. I’m so stupid, darling. And so undeserving of your patience with me.’
‘Maybe it isn’t all your fault, Zoe. This scene doesn’t feel right, somehow. Let’s see if anything can be worked out.’
Catherine wondered why it was always a love scene that had to be worked out.
‘Don’t forget what I’m always telling you, Zoe,’ Paul said. ‘You’re not just making up to one man. Your aim is to seduce the entire male audience.’
He could think what he liked. Zoe’s aim was to seduce one man, and that was Paul. Catherine could hardly bear to watch as he gentled Zoe into playing the scene as he saw it in his mind.
‘We’ll have your face in close-up. The body shots can be slotted in later. The focus will be on your lips and eyes. Give the camera crew a bad time. When you see the sweat beading on their hot, agitated brows, you’ll know you’ve got it right.’
‘He’s good at arousing a woman’s passions,’ Jeremy observed, a touch of bitterness in his voice.
Catherine’s head twisted ’round. She hadn’t realized that Jeremy had come up behind her until he spoke.
‘Of course, who’s in a position to know that better than you?’
‘Who indeed!’ she said carelessly.
‘Doesn’t it bother you to watch them?’
Not sure whether he was needling her or giving voice to his own feelings, Catherine studied his face. The latter, she decided. Poor Jeremy. He’d had his moment of triumph over the making of Edge of Paradise, but the shoe was on the other foot now, and he didn’t like it one tiny bit.
‘Paul is only doing his job.’
A rasping laugh came from Jeremy’s throat. ‘And very nicely and effectively. Zoe certainly responds to him.’ He brought his eyes away to look Catherine full in the face. ‘Guess the boys behind the cameras aren’t by themselves in having a bad time, but they have no one to sate their aroused passions on, poor devils. I don’t think it will be much good your pleading a headache tonight.’
‘I never get headaches,’ Catherine said, meeting his eyes squarely.
‘Lucky for some!’
‘It won’t be lucky for you if you don’t get back on the set,’ Paul said, catching Jeremy’s last comment as he strode toward them.
‘You don’t have to yell. I just thought Catherine might like some company. To stop her from feeling neglected.’
‘Thanks for your concern, even if it is unappreciated and totally unnecessary. Catherine knows exactly where she stands with me.’
At least that was the truth, Catherine thought as Jeremy walked away.
Instead of following him, as she expected, Paul hesitated for a moment. ‘He wasn’t being fresh with you, was he?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’ Paul bent down and touched his lips against her, lifted them briefly, and then came back again with more warmth, stirring sensations in her stomach which made the back of her neck tingle, while her hands wanted to slide up ’round his neck. If his lips hadn’t released hers when they did she would have given way to the impulse.
That kiss, combined with the jealous way he’d looked and sounded, lifted her in exultation. But her spirits dropped just as quickly with the realization that he was putting on a show for
the others. She reminded herself miserably that he never missed an opportunity of keeping up the charade that they were lovers.
That evening, at dinner, he was particularly demonstrative. He didn’t just look at her, his eyes seemed to scorch over her in a way that stopped her breath. When he asked her if she’d care to take a stroll, she agreed readily. There was an element of tension ’round the table she was glad to get away from. Zoe and Jeremy showed all the signs of having had one ding-dong of a row, and Gus had been going on about rising costs attached to filming.
Paul and she walked hand in hand away from the house and out of sight of it, then stopped of one accord.
His fingers tilted her chin. ‘You’re very lovely. You know that promise I was crazy enough to make to you, that in private I’d treat you like a kid sister?’
‘Mm.’
‘Well, I think it’s only fair to warn you that I’m finding it difficult to keep.’
Without another word, his mouth came down on hers. Simultaneously her hands swept up ’round his neck and her fingers dug gloriously into the thickness of his hair.
She remembered Jeremy’s wry words about her not being allowed to plead a headache. She knew that Paul had become steamed up while simulating that screen love scene with Zoe and he had to work it out of his system with someone. To her shame, she didn’t care. She was even glad that it was her.
In the morning she might despise herself for her lack of pride, but tonight she had a hunger for him that was as fierce as his need of a woman. He had awakened feelings, given her an awareness of her own body, such as she had never known before.
Her lips parted in ecstasy as the kiss deepened; she was a responsive flame in his arms, pressing herself against him, molding herself to him in wanton, uncaring, fervent invitation. Her dress was low cut enough to give his hand free access. His fingers stole beneath her bra, easing the filmy covering of lace down below her fullness in an intimate foray that found the rosy tip which had once tingled in delight under his lips. She groaned, expressing her pleasure.
His voice was husky against her ear. ‘Shall we go back to the house?’
She knew he meant up to her room and not back to join the others. A tremor of expectation ran through her as she said, ‘Yes.’
His mouth claimed hers in a kiss of fierce promise and they went back. But at her door he made no attempt to come in with her. She looked at him in question, and he said, ‘The old leopard never changes his spots. I gave you time to have second thoughts once before. I’m doing it again. I want you to be very sure, Catherine. Give yourself a moment to think, and if you’re still of the same mind, my door will be open.’
He continued on to his room, and she entered hers, closing the door behind her.
It was one thing to be carried along on the emotion of the moment, another to make the decision consciously. It didn’t take Catherine very long to realize that she couldn’t go through with something she knew was wrong. If Paul had had the right feelings for her it would have been different, but she could not let herself be used. On the other hand, she didn’t like the thought of his waiting for her to come, and she knew that she wouldn’t get much sleep herself if she didn’t go and tell him. She was still fully dressed, so she didn’t think he would get the wrong idea.
Before her courage failed her, she walked along their shared balcony, opened his door and entered his room, halting in her tracks when she saw that he wasn’t alone.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her heart dropping at the sight of Zoe.
‘That’s all right, Catherine. Zoe has a problem. There’s something in tomorrow’s script which she’s not happy with.’
‘I’ll leave you to sort it out, then,’ she said with feigned indifference.
‘If you would.’ Paul came swiftly over to her, took her chin in his hand and kissed her firmly on the lips. ‘It won’t take long, darling,’ he whispered urgently. ‘I promise.’
‘You don’t have to promise a thing. Take as long as you like. All night if you want,’ she said, sweeping out the door, her chin held high.
She locked her balcony door, even though there was little chance of Paul’s coming to it that night, in spite of what he’d said. He wouldn’t need a substitute, not with Zoe there to finish what she’d started. Catherine undressed and got into bed, taking her fury out on the pillow, scrubbing her hand across her lips as if to erase the imprint of his.
She heard the outer door of Paul’s room slam, and then soft footsteps padding along the balcony, followed by the distinctive noise of the handle of her balcony door being turned.
Then, ‘Open the door, Catherine,’ he commanded crisply. ‘It isn’t what you think.’
‘No!’ she called back. ‘It isn’t what you think, either. I only came to tell you that I’d changed my mind. So go away.’
When they met the next day, neither one of them made reference to the incident.
* * *
Tempers were reaching the flashpoint; there was enough friction on the set to cause a forest fire. Zoe accused Paul of being too critical with her and threatened to tear up her contract and go home. She upset everyone. The make-up girl wasn’t speaking to her, the girl who gave the cues spoke only when absolutely necessary and Zoe’s stand-in, a girl called Joanna, actually did walk out—or, to be more accurate, sailed out. She packed her bags and demanded to be taken off the island to the nearest airport, and even the fear of being sued for breach of contract wouldn’t shift her from that decision.
Catherine wasn’t certain what Joanna’s duties as stand-in were, but she knew that her departure was causing Paul a lot of worry.
‘I can’t magic another girl up out of the air,’ he raged.
She knew that it wasn’t so much having to rearrange the shooting schedule that was making him fume, such contingencies were the norm and he was well able to cope, but he couldn’t justify the added costs due to lost shooting time if they had to hang about until another girl could be flown in.
Paul’s answer to Gus’s placatory, ‘Something will turn up,’ was a snort.
The three of them were sitting by the side of the pool. Filming had finished for the day. The two men were taking a pre-getting-ready-for-dinner drink. Catherine had just come out of the pool. She had gone in on impulse, having felt that the exercise would do her good and help her to work up an appetite, and she wasn’t equipped with a towel. Rather than drip water all over the house, she had decided to wait until she’d dried off in the still-warm air before going up to her room:
In all innocence she asked, ‘Does Zoe need a stand-in? If this is the emergency you say it is, couldn’t she stand in for herself?’
It seemed a reasonable thing to say, but Paul obviously thought otherwise. Beyond sending her a killing look, he didn’t even bother to answer. Glass clinked heavily on glass as he slammed his almost-finished drink down on the glass-topped table before storming off.
‘What’s got into him?’ she asked.
‘Same as what’s got into everyone,’ Gus replied. ‘Hard work in overpowering heat. Shut away in too small a community. Everyone expecting impossibilities of him, me included. A few days uninterrupted, tantrum-free shooting would have wrapped it up, and that’s about all he’s got . . . a few days, three at the most. The weather forecast isn’t good. Waiting even half a day for another girl to arrive could prove fatal. Paul’s got plenty to beef about.’
‘I know. It’s been an eye-opener for me. I never realized that making a film was such hard work.’ Drawing her slim yet shapely legs up onto the lounger, hooking her fingers ’round her knees, she said, ‘I still don’t see why Zoe should need a stand-in.’
‘Insurance,’ Gus replied tersely, meaning box-office insurance. Because who was going to pay to see a close-up of Zoe’s less than beautiful body? Zoe owed her superb screen figure to subtle costume design and lost it the moment a scene called for her to take her clothes off, hence the need for a stand-in with perfect statistics.
Catherine
thought he meant insurance against physical injury. She knew that big stars weren’t allowed to take risks. For those who were prepared to do their own stunts the premiums were set artificially high, and so stand-ins were used more often than not. ‘I didn’t realize there were any risky scenes in the film.’
‘There are several very risqué scenes,’ Gus said.
That was how the misunderstanding built up.
‘Surely, in the circumstances, there’s someone on the set who would fill in?’ Catherine inquired.
Gus’s eyes flicked impersonally over Catherine’s excellent figure. ‘There is one girl who has the necessary requirements.’
‘Then why don’t you ask her? Paul’s very well respected. I don’t think there’s anyone here who wouldn’t help him out of a fix if asked.’
‘You reckon?’
‘I’m certain.’
‘Okay, I’m asking you.’
‘Me? But—I can’t act.’
‘You don’t need to. You trust Paul, don’t you? He’ll guide you through what you have to do. I should warn you, your name won’t be on the credits. Your face will be shot from an obscure angle, or superimposed by Zoe’s. But there will be a sizable fee in it for you.’
‘I’m not interested in the money or my name on the credits. I’ll do it to help Paul, if you’re sure I’ll be good enough?’
Gus beamed at her. ‘Good enough? Joanna was selected from a whole bunch of hopefuls who were all eminently suitable, but if you’d been auditioning she wouldn’t have stood a chance.’
Catherine smiled. ‘You’re just being kind.’
She felt great, a modern-day Joan of Arc coming to the rescue. Yet later, up in her room, she was attacked by doubt. She couldn’t see that she had done anything wrong in agreeing to fill in, but she felt uneasy. Paul would surely be pleased that she was willing to cooperate. He knew how guilty she felt when everyone else was working to peak capacity. She’d persuaded him to give her some routine office work to do and had taken on certain regular tasks, such as typing out the call sheets, the instructions given out each evening to all the cast and technicians to cover the next day’s filming, but she still had too much free time on her hands. She wished she didn’t have the queasy feeling that she ought to have talked it over with Paul before giving her word.
Edge of Paradise Page 15