Charlotte Lamb

by Charlotte Lamb

  She hung up a moment later and lay back on the bed, her arms behind her head. She didn't really want to go to Miami, but it was a heaven-sent opportunity to get away from Sean for a while. She wasn't even sure she would come back here. She might fly to London instead. The whole idea of this holiday had been to get away from her problems back home, but Sean had brought them here with him, and she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate on her painting lessons while Sean was prowling around, disturbing her with his talk of affairs and trying again.

  She had been tempted. Why try to deny it? She closed her eyes, shivering convulsively. Oh, yes, she had been tempted; the suggestion had sent a wave of desire crashing through her. But she mustn't be so weak; she had to remember all the reasons why she must not let Sean talk her into anything so disastrous.

  She couldn't face getting hurt again, and theirs had always been an explosive relationship; what chance was there that either of them had changed in the time apart?

  Their careers had kept them apart so much, and even when they were together there had been constant friction. Sean was jealous of every man she ever met, especially Jamie Colbert, of course. He couldn't believe that Jamie didn't want to be her lover, wasn't in love with her.

  She sighed, her hazel eyes wry. And it was true, in a way. Jamie was in love with her. But only in the same sense that he loved every girl he photographed. Jamie loved what he saw in his camera's lens: he used his camera to freeze time, catch a woman like a flower, at her most lovely, preserve her for eternity. It was a drive for power, in a way; he wanted to control what the camera looked at, arrange the woman, her clothes, her background, and then fix it for ever.

  Jamie's love for her was not personal, not particular, but Sean would never believe that. He wanted her himself, so he assumed that Jamie must. His jealousy had not been rational, and neither had her own.

  Because she had been jealous, too; she didn't deny it. How could she help being jealous of all those lovely women in the film business who pursued him night and day in the hope of getting a big part in one of his films? She hadn't had to descend to those tactics to get on in her career, but she knew plenty of girls who had, who were eager to offer themselves to any man who could be useful to them, and Sean himself had told her often enough about passes which had been made at him by ambitious girls. Before they'd met he had had a whole string of girlfriends, although none of them had lasted for long. Sean had once had a very wild reputation. Nadine knew that she had had far better reasons for being jealous over him than he had ever had for being jealous over her.

  And, even if their relationship had survived the long partings, the jealousy and suspicion that kept poisoning their love, they would still have been torn apart by Sean's angry demands that she give up her career to have a baby. She could never forget the way he had refused to listen to her, refused to try to understand her point of view.

  He would not have given up his entire career in order to have a baby, she had kept saying. Why should she?

  'Oh, don't be ridiculous, it's not the same at all,' he'd growled. 'I'm a man, I can't have babies. You're a woman; having babies is what nature intended you for!'

  'And nothing else, I suppose!' she had flared, hardly believing he had said such a thing, sounding as if he meant every word of it, too.

  'Well, you do have other uses,' Sean had said, and actually laughed, looking at her through his lashes with deliberate sensuality.

  'Don't treat me like this, Sean!' she had burst out, so angry her voice had shaken. 'You sound like Valentino! Well, you're no desert sheikh and I don't have the harem mentality. How dare you say I have my uses?'

  'Oh, don't be ridiculous, it was a joke!' he had snapped back, scowling.

  'Some joke! It doesn't make me laugh.'

  'You never have had a sense of humour!' he had growled, looking at her as if he didn't even like her, let alone love her. 'What's the matter with you these days? We used to be able to talk to each other, we laughed at the same jokes once, but lately every time I say a word you bite my head off!'

  She had been taken aback by that accusation and looked at him uncertainly, wondering, Was that true? A sense of desolation had swept over her, a sense of helplessness. They were being pulled apart remorselessly and she didn't know how to stop it. She only knew she loved him and she didn't want to lose him, yet at the same time she was not prepared to let him dictate what she did with her life.

  A little more gently she had tried to explain herself to him. 'Look, Sean, I know you want to have a baby, and I want one too, some day, but I have my own agenda, and it doesn't involve having a baby for some years yet. I want to go on modelling while I still can, and then start a new career, with a future. Only after that will I be ready to take some years out to have a baby or two, see them through the first few years, and then go back to work after they've started school.'

  'You don't have to stop work for years. You can get a nanny; most career women do!'

  'Maybe, but I can't see the point. Why have a baby at all if I'm going to hand it over to some other woman to look after while I go back to work? I might have help with the baby on a part-time basis, to give myself a break, I might even do some part-time work once the baby is two or three, but until I'm ready to be a full-time mother I'm not having a baby at all.'

  'You just don't want to have a baby, full stop!' Sean had accused.

  'I told you.. .1 do want one, one day, but I'm not ready to do it yet!'

  He had given her a grim look. 'If we follow your agenda I'll be in my forties by the time you have a baby! I don't want to wait that long.'

  'Well, I'm sorry, but maybe we could work out a compromise...' she had begun, and he had exploded.

  'I know your idea of compromise! You mean you get your own way and I accept it!'

  'No, that's your idea, not mine. You're the one who's determined to have his own way.'

  'When we got married I thought we would be starting a family right away.'

  'You didn't tell me that when you asked me to marry you! You didn't tell me you expected me to have a baby right away.'

  'I assumed you would want one! We used to talk about having children and you seemed as keen as I was...'

  She had remembered then those weekends when they had cuddled up together on the couch in his country cottage, in front of a roaring log fire, and talked dreamily about what they wanted from life. A family had always been part of their dreams.

  'I was...' she had whispered, biting her lip. 'I am..

  'Don't lie, Nadine!' he had bitterly said. 'Not any more. You lied to me, then, you cheated me...I thought you were someone very different, I thought I had found the mother of my children, but it turns out that you're just another ambitious woman with her sights set on stardom!'

  'That's not true!' She had been bitter, too; and so the quarrel had ended like all their quarrels, like their marriage itself.

  They had gone round and round in circles without ever coming to an end, or resolving any of the issues they fought over, and finally they had split apart after one last terrible row. They hadn't talked about divorce at first. They simply could not bear to see each other because it was too painful. The days had become weeks. The weeks had become months. Their lawyers had talked. They hadn't. They were both busy working.

  When the word divorce first cropped up it had been a shock for Nadine, but her lawyer had pointed out that it was an inevitable conclusion after such a long separation, and that Sean undoubtedly wanted to marry again, so she had said she wouldn't contest a divorce, and the long process had begun.

  She had gone on working and tried to forget how miserable she was by leading a lively social life for a while: partying in London or New York, Rome or the Cote d'Azur, with the international jet-set. As Sean Carmichael's wife her place in their ranks would have been assured, especially as she was known to be very wealthy now, but Nadine was famous in her own right too. Fortune-hunting young men had pursued her; society hostesses had sent her invitations; sh
e was an asset at a party with those famous looks and the glamour her background conferred. For a while she had been the flavour of the month on the international party circuit.

  But that life, she found, had palled rapidly. Nadine wasn't the type for wild parties: they made it too hard to get up in the morning and they ruined your complexion, not to mention your health. So she had stopped dashing about from big party to big party, and got back to working hard while she looked around for inspiration for a new career as soon as her modelling had to stop.

  It was an empty, lonely existence, in spite of all her friends and colleagues—but it was peaceful and the pain had slowly seeped away. Until a few weeks ago when she walked into Sean in the lobby of the TV studios. One look into those brooding blue eyes and excitement had flared dangerously inside her. Pain had kick-started back into existence; peace had fled. She had had to face the fact that she wasn't over him, and might never get over him. Even more disturbing, Sean knew it, and was ruthlessly prepared to use her weakness against her.

  Restlessly she slid off the bed and began to dress for dinner. She put on a sleeveless, vivid yellow summer dress with a full calf-length skirt, a cutaway spider's web design in black and yellow making up the back and a low-cut plunging neckline in the front. Dangling black tassel earrings swung from her ears; she tied her chestnut hair back with a big black satin bow, lightly smoothed foundation over her skin and brushed a little warm coral pink lipstick on to her mouth, dusted her lids with a glittering green eyeshadow.

  Her reflection stared back defiantly. She was not going to let Sean guess that she planned to run away from him. She wasn't going to let him monopolise her at dinner tonight, either, or over the days before she caught that plane to Miami. Somehow she would have to think of a way of keeping him at bay—but what?

  She went down to dinner a little early, and met Luc Haines and his wife in the bar.

  'Well, look at you!' Luc said, his eyes widening as he stared. 'That's a very striking dress!'

  'Is it a designer label?' asked Clarrie Haines, and Nadine nodded.

  'An English designer,' she said, and told them who had made it.

  'Too expensive for you, my love,' Luc told his wife, who grimaced cheerfully.

  'I know! I can dream, can't I?'

  'Not necessarily,' said Nadine quickly. 'If you're ever in London go to his showroom; he usually has a half-price rack—either second-time-around clothes, brought in by customers who hate wearing the same thing more than a couple of times, or display clothes which have been knocked down in price to get rid of them.'

  'Really? I'll certainly check that out next time we're in London,' said Clarrie. 'I really love your dress, though, especially the colours, I don't think I've ever seen that yellow paired up with black, and the full skirt is gorgeous.'

  'Give us a twirl!' said Luc, and she laughed, and obeyed, her full skirts swirling around her long, slender legs.

  'That back is extraordinary,' Clarrie said. 'Can I have a closer look?'

  Nadine obligingly turned her back to Clarrie and found herself facing Sean, who must just have come down for dinner and was lounging against the door frame of the bar staring at her. He was wearing a white evening jacket with a red carnation in his buttonhole and a red silk cummerbund. They stared at each other. Neither smiled, neither spoke. Nadine felt the air between them vibrating with tense awareness.

  'Wow!' Clarrie said, one finger tracing the spider's web pattern on Nadine's back. 'Almost sinister, isn't it? Luc, if you paint her, you must get her to wear this dress and try to paint the back view as well as the front—maybe you could have a reflection in a mirror?'

  'Mirrors,' Luc said, almost dreamily. 'Yes. But lots of mirrors, I think...yes...Clarrie, you always give me such wonderful ideas, no wonder I adore you. Yes, that's it. I'll paint her in a room full of mirrors, reflections of her everywhere, from all angles, and in the mirrors eyes watching her, men's eyes...'

  Nadine shivered and turned pale. 'What a horrible idea!' Across the room her eyes still held Sean's; she saw his narrow and darken.

  Luc gave her a dry little smile. 'Well, that's the point, isn't it? Models and actresses are always on show, always being photographed, watched, by men, everywhere you go you're reflected in mirrors, and in men's eyes.' He was thinking aloud, his voice slow and serious. 'In another way, it applies to all women, too, doesn't it? Men watch women all the time and women are always conscious of men watching them; they dress for men, to get their attention—hence the spider's web...'

  'I like it,' Clarrie said, eyes wide and shining, she put her arms around him, kissed him, gave him a hug. 'Brilliant, my darling. I always love your symbolist painting.'

  'I know you do.'

  For a moment they looked at each other with an intimate understanding that shut out Nadine, Sean, everyone else in the room, and Nadine watched them with envy and sadness because that was how her marriage to Sean should have been, a shared warmth, an understanding, a rich intimacy. Instead it had been warfare, because each of them had wanted to make the rules, had wanted the other to submit, she realised. Neither of them would compromise. Marriage couldn't work like that.

  Clarrie suddenly looked over Luc's shoulder at the bar clock and gave a little scream.

  'Look at the time! I must get back to my kitchen.' She smiled at Nadine. 'Let Luc paint you, won't you? It will be a masterpiece.'

  Luc laughed. 'My fan club!' he said with every sign of satisfaction. 'But it's mutual. She loves my work, and I love hers. In fact, I married her for her cooking.'

  Clarrie grinned at him. 'You think he's joking, but he isn't!'

  'What's for dinner tonight?' Sean asked, strolling forward, dark and romantic in the white evening jacket but his brooding blue eyes like danger signals.

  'Oh, hello, Sean,' Clarrie said, lighting up with pleasure at the sight of him as women always did. 'You look very sexy!'

  'Hey! Watch it, woman!' said Luc, laughing. 'Go to your kitchen immediately!'

  Clarrie giggled. 'After I've told Sean what's for dinner! I'm cooking some very good grilled fish tonight, especially for Nadine, I know she likes plain fish, but this isn't really plain, it's full of flavour—it's been marinated in citrus fruit, and I'm serving it with fried banana and lime. There's also curried goat, and onion tart.. .1 like to offer plenty of choice for every palate, but personally I'd eat the goat if I were you, Sean. It's a young goat, and the curry's very mild, I used lime and coconut milk to flavour the sauce; you'll love it.'

  Nadine watched Sean smiling at Clarrie and her heart ached. He had such charm when he chose to exert it, and Clarrie was right. In that white jacket with the red silk across his waist he looked so sexy that her mouth went dry every time she saw him.

  Clarrie hurried away and Luc said, 'Now, what can I get you to drink, Sean?'

  Sean said he would try one of the hotel's cocktails made with coconut milk. Luc went off to get it for him and Nadine sat down at the table where her own drink waited—a tall, frosted glass of lime juice and fizzy mineral water. Sean sat down opposite, stretching his long, slim white-clad legs.

  'Is that how it feels to be you, Nadine?' he drawled, and she looked at him in bewilderment.

  'What are you talking about?'

  'I overheard what Luc was saying about you always being reflected in mirrors and men's eyes- it sounded claustrophobic to me and you looked haunted as he said it. Is that how it feels?'

  'Sometimes,' she said and his brows snapped together, a heavy black band above those brooding eyes.

  'Then why do you keep modelling?' His voice was harsh, angry, and she shrank back in her seat. 'And now this TV idea! Why do you court men's attention by putting yourself on show like that unless you enjoy having them stare at you and want you!'

  'I d. ..d...don't. ..it isn't like that...' she stammered, getting angry herself. 'You know how I got into modelling. It wasn't my idea; I always wanted to be an actress. I just happened to meet Jamie Colbert, and he gave me work as a mod
el, and it seemed a good way of making money while I hoped to break into the theatre, or films...' Her voice trailed away and Sean gave her a cold, sardonic smile.

  'With my help!'

  She couldn't deny that she had wanted him to help her get a part in a film so she said nothing, her eyes lowered to her drink.

  'Luc left that out when he was talking about men always watching you, didn't he?' Sean grated. 'He didn't mention the fact that you use men to get what you want. You used Colbert and you used me, and when I'd failed to get you what you wanted, a career in films, you left me!'

  'That's not true!'

  'Oh, yes, it is,' he snarled, his face hard and bitter. 'And now that Colbert's usefulness is over you'll drop him, too, won't you? Once your TV career begins you'll never see Colbert again.'

  'Jamie is a friend,' she whispered, conscious of Luc coming towards them with several other members of the art class. 'And shut up. Here comes Luc with your drink.'

  The next minute Luc put a cocktail in front of Sean; the glass decorated with a paper umbrella, a vivid white and scarlet orchid, and a medley of chopped tropical fruit.

  'Too pretty to eat!' Sean said, pretending amusement, and one of the women from the art class sat down next to him on a bar-stool, flicked her lashes sideways at him and purred,

  'Let me help you out with it!' She took the umbrella out, laughingly twirled it, then took the fleshy, gaudily coloured orchid and thrust it into her hair, before deftly picking out a piece of mango from the drink. That she slowly inserted into her kiss-shaped mouth in a sensual, deliberate fashion, while her eyes gazed invitingly at Sean, who had watched the entire performance with lazy-eyed amusement.

  Nadine felt the usual sting of jealousy. It was like indigestion: a burning sensation in her chest, a bitterness in her mouth. She hated seeing him with other women.

  'I'm going to paint a portrait of Nadine,' Luc announced. 'It won't be part of the coursework— you can all watch me work and see how I do it, if you like; and you can ask questions and make comments, but I'll be working with her in the afternoons so you'll still get your usual lessons.'