Paul’s wrath broke over her that same evening. He barged into her room without knocking. She realized she ought to be grateful that she at least had clothes on. If he’d been five minutes earlier he would have caught her in the shower. As it was, she was extremely conscious of the brevity of her underwear and reached for her caftan, pulling it hurriedly over her head.
‘Modesty?’ he mocked. ‘After what Gus has just told me?’
‘Presumably you mean about my taking Joanna’s part as Zoe’s stand-in?’
‘I do.’
‘I don’t know what you’re getting into such a state about.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘I suppose you think it’s presumptuous of me to think that I’m good enough. Gus said I’d be all right.’
‘Gus is right. I have a slight advantage over him and know that better than he does.’
‘Gus said I wouldn’t have to do any acting and that you would guide me through the part.’
‘Fair enough. We’ll have a run through now and see how you shape up. Any objections?’
‘None.’
‘Then what are you waiting for?’ he bellowed at her.
‘For you to tell me what to do,’ she said, not without a touch of irritation of her own.
‘You shouldn’t need to be told what to do first. That much is obvious. Take off your clothes.’
‘My caftan?’ she said, biting her lower lip as her fingers stole up to wind in her hair.
‘Everything!’
‘Paul . . . what are you saying?’
‘How am I going to direct you if you’re incapable of following such simple instructions. I said everything.’
‘I . . . can’t.’
‘You mean you’d prefer to wait until Jeremy and the camera boys are all there before you bare all? You confounded woman, didn’t it penetrate that stupid skull of yours that you’d consented to do nude work?’
‘No! I swear it didn’t.’
‘What did you think?’
‘Gus said something about insurance.’
‘Box-office insurance. Zoe is a talented actress and she has the kind of figure that dresses well, but without her clothes she’s too skinny and loses her sex-symbol image.’
‘I didn’t realize it was anything like that. I know that some scenes are considered too dangerous for the top stars to do, so stunt people are hired. I knew you wouldn’t let me take too much of a risk, and so . . .’ She gulped. ‘Can you get me out of it?’ she asked miserably.
‘It would serve you right if I said no. Put your mind at rest, you’re out of it. And consider yourself lucky. I’ve had a blazing row with Gus for going behind my back to arrange it with you, and I’ve told him in no uncertain terms that I’m overruling your decision to accept.’
‘Thank you, Paul,’ she said meekly, realizing it was better than she deserved.
‘In the future, be less impetuous and stop jumping to conclusions.’
‘There won’t be a next time,’ she said emphatically.
‘With your track record? I wouldn’t take bets! Next time it will be something different; it always is. One of these days you’re going to land yourself in deep trouble, and I might not be around to get you out.’
‘I’m sorry, Paul. Sorry to be a nuisance.’
‘Don’t start the sob stuff,’ he warned. ‘That would really put the capper on it.’
‘I won’t.’ She prayed he couldn’t tell how difficult it was to keep the tears at bay.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s not the end of the world. Smile for me,’ he commanded.
But his kinder tone, after his anger, served to lower her chin further. His finger came out to tilt it, bringing it back up.
‘What am I going to do with you, kitten-face?’ It was a plea, a cry, a groan—and then she was brought into his arms and his mouth was hard and hungry on hers.
Just for a moment she tensed; then her fingers unclenched and her body relaxed, surrendering to the intoxicating power he had over her. For pride’s sake she ought to put up some resistance; even a flimsy token stand would have salvaged some remnants of her self-respect. But she couldn’t. She was both enslaved and excited by his virile masculinity. Her blood ran wild as his hands stroked up and down her back, burrowed under her hair to plunder the tender nape of her neck, then came over her shoulders and down to the tumultuous heaving of her breasts. His encircling fingers spread rings of joy throughout her entire system before sliding behind her to pinion her to him in a clamp of steel.
Her stomach muscles tightened and her breathing was rapid and shallow. With a pounding heart, her pulses jumping, she waited for him to divest her of her caftan and seek release. What she anticipated did not happen. Instead she recoiled in horrified dismay as he pushed her away.
His brilliant jade eyes burnt her cheeks scarlet as he held her on the pyre of his lust and anger. She watched with alarm as the muscles knotted in his jaw as he cried out in impassioned fury, ‘God, Catherine. Coming near you is like walking on the edge of a volcano. It only takes one unwary step and I’m plunged into the heat. I don’t mind admitting that I’ll be glad when I’m shut of this situation.’
He left her then. With the tears flooding, she finished getting ready as best she could.
Her makeup was on—hiding the ravages, she hoped—when Cleopatra came in, and she was brushing her hair to complete her toilette. Cleopatra always came in at about that time to turn down the bed. Catherine had stopped telling her not to bother. She made her own bed and kept her room tidy, as well as taking it upon herself to do some dusting around the house. It had long since occurred to her that Cleopatra kept the pre-dinner vigil to admire—or criticize, Catherine received as much of one as the other—her choice of dress and to enjoy a gossip session.
‘A pretty brush, Miss Catherine.’ Cleopatra had commented before on how taken she was with the ivory backs and the long elegant handles adorning the mirror and brush set. ‘For pretty hair,’ she added. ‘But where is my lady’s pretty smile? You been having a fight with Mister Paul again, you foolish child?’
‘I’m too impetuous. I jump into situations without knowing what they’re about. He’s sick of bailing me out. I’m a nuisance he would be better off without.’
‘Now what nitwit has been telling you that load of rubbish?’
‘Paul has. He says he’ll be glad when he gets shut of me.’
‘What does he know? He’s a man, and bless their beautiful hides men sometimes go around like they’ve got a hole in their heads where their brains should be.’
‘Now, Cleopatra, that’s not fair. You’re encouraging me to insult him, and if I do you’ll be down on me like a ton of bricks, because no one can say a word against your precious Mister Paul in your hearing.’
Cleopatra chuckled cheekily. ‘Except me. He doesn’t really want to see the back of you, honey. He loves you, I’m sure. Maybe he doesn’t know it yet.’
‘That’s not true. I wouldn’t tell this to anyone else, but I know it’s safe with you. I’m not his woman. We’re not lovers. Letting people think we are is just a cover. My being here prevents a recurrence of last time’s gossip.’
‘I knows that, just as I knows a lot of things nobody tells me. Seems to me that might have been his reason for having you here in the first place, but it ain’t no reason now. Not the way that Zoe creature is chasing him.’
‘She wants him back,’ said Catherine.
‘She can want until forever, but she won’t get him.’
‘If only I could believe that you were right, Cleopatra, but I know differently. Zoe is so lovely, how can Paul resist her?’
‘He’s resisting her now, ain’t he?’
‘Only because he’s working flat out and hasn’t time for any social life. Once filming is completed, he’ll turn to her; you’ll see.’
‘No, Miss Catherine. You got to be wrong. He couldn’t tie himself up with a harlot like that, not when a sweet little gal like you is waiting to be
picked up. You’d be so good for him, Miss Catherine.’
* * *
As it was still a little on the early side, Catherine decided to take a stroll in the garden before presenting herself at the poolside for the customary pre-dinner drink. On impulse she walked beyond the garden and followed the path that would take her to the lagoon. Ever since Paul had led her out to the balcony of their hotel in New Providence to show her her first tropical sunset she had been fascinated by the nightly spectacle, but she had not yet viewed the sunset from the lagoon.
As she stood at the water’s edge she sensed another presence. Turning her head she said, ‘Hi,’ to Paul.
‘Two minds with but a single thought.’
‘Yes,’ she said, liking the compatible sound of that, even though she wasn’t enamored of the grimness still adhering to his mouth.
‘I think I’ve settled the problem of a stand-in.’
‘You have?’
‘I’ve sent Jock after Joanna with a message for her to come back.’
‘Do you think she will?’
‘Oh, yes. As a bribe, I’ve offered terms she can’t refuse. An apology from Zoe in front of everyone, and dinner on the town with me when the last shot is in the can and things are back to normal. The dinner date with me will carry the day, of course.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ she said, smiling at his supreme arrogance, then realizing he wasn’t being arrogant at all but had just made what he thought was a joke. ‘How are you going to get Zoe to make a public apology?’
‘I’ve also offered her . . . er . . . terms she can’t refuse.’
‘Oh?’ Her heart plummeted.
‘In return for her making the apology, I have promised not to break her neck.’
There was sadness behind her affected laugh as she wondered what he had really offered to bring the temperamental actress to heel.
The sun dropped lower. Blue-pink, blood-red and purple swaths draped to dramatic effect across the clouds. She released a sigh of deep appreciation. She would never tire of watching tropical sunsets. It was over, but by unspoken agreement neither of them moved, choosing to stay and soak up the last remnants of the afterglow. Somewhere in the enchanted dusk a night bird sang; the lagoon glinted with a silvery purple luminosity and was startlingly beautiful.
The never-sleeping wind wound long silky strands of hair across her mouth. Fingers other than her own drew them away to uncover it, but its aching longing was not to be appeased. He made no attempt to kiss her.
Dear, kind-hearted Cleopatra, telling her what she so much wanted to hear, knowing it bore no relation to the truth. If Paul had any feeling for her at all he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from taking her into his arms and crushing her to him for dear life. It would have been impossible for him to hold himself aloof from her in these heavenly surroundings . . . the scent of exotic flowers pervading the senses and the drugging, hypnotic sound of the surf crashing on the reef. Romance was everywhere, even in the poignant ache in her throat, the dangerous unprecedented urges which a short while ago she might have been reluctant to own. Her obsessive longing for Paul . . . she wanted him . . . wanted him to make love to her with an urgency that was unseemly. His nearness tormented her. She wanted him so much.
In that moment she knew that the most beautiful place in the world wasn’t paradise. Paradise wasn’t a place; it was a state of mind. It was two people in love. When only one person loved, the most beautiful place on earth could be a living hell.
* * *
The cast and crew were preparing to depart for home. Paul was staying on to wind things up and would follow in his own time. Catherine wasn’t given the option; she was being sent home with the others. He couldn’t wait to see the back of her. Well, that suited her. Her one desire, she told herself, was to walk away and never have to see him again.
She was sorry to say goodbye to Cleopatra who, in a comparatively short time, had become her friend. She wished she had a parting gift to give the woman, a token of affection to say how much she’d enjoyed her company and her counsel during those evening gossip sessions. And then she realized that she had the perfect gift in her possession, something Cleopatra greatly admired, her ivory-backed hairbrush set. It didn’t matter that it was also precious to her. It was only a possession. A friendship was more precious.
Cleopatra, remembering that Catherine had once told her how she had come by it, said half-protestingly, ‘But your momma gave this to you.’
‘She would have liked you, Cleopatra. She would have understood and wanted you to have it.’
‘Bless you, child.’
* * *
His jade eyes dull, his whole body drooping with tiredness, Paul had still insisted on accompanying them to the airport, even though one of the members of the crew had promised to keep a fatherly eye on Catherine.
She wanted to say, ‘You work too hard. Is it worth it? Take time to eat your meals, darling, and go to bed at a reasonable hour.’ Instead she said, ‘I hate goodbyes.’
‘This one won’t be for long. I’ll be with you in, oh . . . four days at the outside.’
If only he meant it. If only he wasn’t still saving face in front of the others, who had discreetly moved away to give them a few moments alone together to say their goodbyes, but were still within hearing and seeing distance.
‘Do you think you can put a firm clamp on your impulsive nature and stay out of trouble until then?’
‘I’ll . . . try,’ she said, speaking ’round a lump in her throat the size of a duck egg, or so it seemed.
‘What’s Ally’s phone number? I’ll give her a ring and alert her that you’re coming.’
She told him and he jotted it down.
‘I’ll feel better knowing you’ll be met.’
She had expected him to kiss her, for the benefit of the others, but even so, she was unprepared for the force with which he swept her into his arms. Searing, cherishing, lifting her off the ground, his kiss took every part of her into the custody of his feigned caring.
If only it could have been for real. If only he were really this unwilling to let her go.
She boarded the plane blindly, the tears coursing unashamedly, agonizingly, down her cheeks. Someone—the cameraman who’d volunteered to keep an eye on her, she thought—said, ‘It was like tearing his right arm off to let you go. And you’re no better. You two sure have something good going for you!’
Something very good, a good sham . . . on Paul’s part, anyway, she thought bitterly.
Paul must have got through to Ally on the telephone, because there she was, waiting for Catherine and waving like mad as the jet touched down.
Catherine couldn’t wait to get through the formalities and fall into her friend’s arms. ‘Oh, Ally, it’s good to see you. You don’t know how good.’
More tears, happy tears this time, mingled as affectionate kisses of greeting were exchanged, and then Ally said, ‘You’ve got the most gorgeous suntan, but that’s the only thing good about you. Haven’t you been sleeping properly? You look positively haggard, all eyes and anguish. I’m going to take you home with me and spoil you rotten. I want to hear everything that’s happened to you, but can I be very selfish and get my news in first? Because if I don’t tell you I’ll explode!’ Without waiting for consent she charged straight on. ‘I’m getting married again.’
‘Oh, Ally, that’s marvelous! When?’
‘Not too soon. In about six months’ time. I want to give proper respect to Ray.’
‘He wouldn’t have wanted you to waste yourself in widowhood, Ally. He would have been overjoyed for you—just as I am. Who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know?’
‘You should, but you don’t.’ Ally’s face was a mixture of concern and laughter. ‘Funny you should call him lucky, because that’s who he is. Lucky Chance, the author you were supposed to be going out to work for.’
‘You know about the mix-up? That’s a stupid question. If you’ve met the real author, and got on su
ch friendly terms with him that you’re going to marry him, obviously you know. I expect you can guess what happened. At the party, I picked the wrong man.’
‘Did you?’ Ally inquired with more astuteness than she could have imagined. ‘If your face is anything to go by, I guess that’s so. You left the right one for me.’
Where did she go from here? Catherine wondered. Ally’s forthcoming marriage to her Lucian meant that Allycats would have to be wound up. It had been Ally’s brainchild, her baby, and Catherine didn’t feel any great sense of loss about that. No, not about that . . .
She spent the next three days telling herself that Paul had merely been talking and that he wouldn’t get in touch with her. After all, why should he? She had served her usefulness. He had made his point to Zoe and the rest of the team, and if he did have plans for getting back with Zoe, she herself would only be an encumbrance. But when the phone rang on day three, the sound of his voice seriously impeded the beat of her heart, and she knew that she had been living in expectation of that call.
‘I’ve just got in. Will you meet me for lunch?’
‘Where?’
He named a place. She got the feeling he’d picked it out at random. His voice sounded strained. She promised to be there in half an hour. As she put the phone down she realized she’d been impulsive again. Why did she always speak first and think afterward? Would it hurt for her to get things in the right order for once? Thirty minutes, including getting-there time, didn’t give her much leeway. She ought to have insisted on at least two hours in which to indulge in a leisurely toilette and choose something really flattering to wear. Ally, who had been the soul of tact and hadn’t plied her with one embarrassing or hurtful question, although she must have been burning up with curiosity about what had happened, helped out by calling a cab and assuring Catherine that she looked delicious enough to eat in her hastily donned dress and warm coat. She still wasn’t conditioned to the change in climate.
Edge of Paradise Page 16