by Penny Jordan
‘Ben darling, how much longer are you going to be?’
‘Gina, you’ll have to find someone else to take you back, Sarah and I are going into town.’
Sarah turned and saw Gina Frey pouting sulkily at Ben, but it was on Sarah that her eyes rested. and the animosity in them was unmistakable.
‘I thought town was barred to the cast and crew,’ she said acidly.
‘So it is, but you must allow me to bend the rules a little in my own favour. Sarah and I have only recently been reconciled.’ Sarah wasn’t aware that Ben had reached for her hand until he raised it to his lips, turning it palm upwards and touching the softly sensitive skin there with the tip of his tongue. It was impossible to stop the response rippling through her. That Gina was as aware of it as Ben, she couldn’t doubt. The other woman’s dark eyes narrowed and then flashed bitterly. ‘I’m taking Sarah out to dinner.’
It was obvious to Sarah that Gina wanted to object, and equally plain that there was little she could say. However, Gina obviously wasn’t easily thrown.
‘R.J. will be phoning me later,’ she purred felinely. ‘He keeps asking how the filming’s going. He’s getting most anxious about his investment, poor darling.’ Eyes narrowed, teeth gleaming against the red gloss of her lips, she eyed Ben triumphantly, her meaning quite plain! ‘Play along with me or I’ll cause trouble with one of the backers,’ and Sarah waited tensely to see how Ben would respond.
‘I think you’ll find he’s feeling much happier now,’ Ben told her expressionlessly. ‘I spoke to him this morning to tell him that the camera was fixed and that we should be able to make some progress. In fact, I’ve invited him out here so that he can see for himself how we spend our backers’ money.’
A low hiss as she expelled her breath was Gina’s only response before she turned and stormed angrily away.
‘Phew!’ Ben shook his head rather like a diver emerging from the surf, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Seen like that he looked years younger, but the familiar tug on her heartstrings warned Sarah that she would be a fool to forget what he really was. He had undermined her defences dangerously easily already. She mustn’t let it happen again. ‘Now, your hat, and then we’ll be on our way. We’re dining with some friends of mine.’
‘We are?’ Sarah stared at him. ‘But you said nothing to me before! I can’t go out to dinner dressed like this!’ Infuriated with herself, she stared up at him. What she had intended to say was that she wouldn’t go out to dinner with him full stop. ‘And I don’t have a hat,’ she added petulantly. ‘I forgot to buy one. I’ll get one tomorrow.’
‘Indeed you will,’ Ben agreed grittily. ‘You crazy little fool, do you know what the temperature is out here?’ He gestured around him, indicating the exposed and burning half-desert plain. ‘And you with that pale Celtic skin and God alone knows how little resistance to the sun!’
‘Don’t worry, I covered myself liberally with sunscreen before I came out,’ Sarah told him acidly. ‘I’m not a complete fool, Ben, I do realise that you won’t want me looking like a freshly boiled lobster.’
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but to the best of my knowledge they haven’t as yet invented a sunscreen that can be applied to the head, right?’ Ben demanded, teeth snapping together over the final word. ‘Have you no sense, Sarah?’ he demanded huskily, raking irate fingers through his hair. ‘And as for not being suitably dressed for dinner,’ he added, not waiting for an answer, ‘that can soon be remedied. I could do with a shower myself, but I’ve had enough of Gina for one day without having to endure her company on the ride back to the site.’
‘You really don’t like her, do you?’ Sarah asked, surprised into the question by his grim expression.
‘She’s a man-eater, and not even a subtle one at that. You know me, Sarah,’ he mocked, watching her colour come and go as his eyes moved slowly over her jean-clad legs and upwards, resting momentarily on the soft thrust of her breasts against the cotton of her blouse. ‘At heart I’m a hunter…’
‘A hunter who enjoys maiming and wounding his prey,’ Sarah agreed bitterly. ‘Yes, I know you, Ben.’
‘Then you’ll know I mean what I say when I tell you that if you so much as let any member of the cast or crew even suspect that we’re not the happily reunited lovers I’ve told them we are, then I’ll make you sorry you were ever born!’
‘Again?’ Sarah drawled with fine irony, watching his face darken with the swift tide of colour running up under his skin, his fingers clenching as though he would dearly like to fasten them round her throat. ‘How very boring!’
‘Oh, I don’t think you’ll think so,’ Ben assured her tautly. ‘Hell can come in many different guises.’
And as she shivered under the impact of the implied threat Sarah cursed bitterly at the whim of fate that had brought them together again. She could, if she was completely impartial and logical, accept why Ben would not want the rest of the crew and cast to think she was having an affair with Dale; she could even by stretching that logic and impartiality to its fullest extent appreciate why he had taken the steps he had to make sure they would not, but this… this constant tormenting of her nerves; the subtle sexual pressure he was exerting; these were things she could not understand, and they unnerved her, completely undermining the self-confidence she had built up after their break-up.
* * *
‘I think I’ll just go over and check tomorrow’s schedule,’ Sarah announced as Ben unlocked the trailer door. ‘I should be back by the time you’ve had your shower.’
‘Make sure you are,’ Ben warned her. ‘Don’t make me come looking for you, Sarah.’
The bar by the pool was crowded, as was the restaurant. Lois called out a greeting as Sarah walked past. She was seated with some of the camera crew who acknowledged her as well. ‘Nothing for you tomorrow apart from wardrobe,’ Lois called to her, obviously anticipating where she was going. ‘Want to join us?’
‘I can’t, I’m afraid. Ben’s taking me out to dinner.’ Sarah didn’t realise how intimate the words sounded until they were uttered, but Lois, irrepressible as ever, joked:
‘To judge from the way he was behaving this afternoon I thought you were his dinner, or was that just an appetiser?’
Her cheeks stinging with colour, Sarah made some inarticulate response. She knew that Lois meant well, but her comment had reminded her uncomfortably of how she hadn’t been able to stop herself from responding to Ben’s touch. She started to shake, memories rolling over her, swamping her.
‘Sarah, are you all right? You’re so pale. Aren’t you feeling well?’
The concern in Dale’s voice, the caring touch of his hand on her arm, were instantly soothing.
‘It’s nothing,’ she assured him huskily, glad of his sudden appearance. ‘I just felt slightly sick.’
‘I’m not surprised, after that display Ben gave this afternoon. You know what it’s all about, of course? He’s using you to keep Gina at bay,’ Dale told her before she could respond. ‘He hopes that by producing a “wife”, he’ll be able to hold off Gina and still keep R.J. as a backer. He always was a quick thinker, I’ll give him that. Be careful, Sarah, that you don’t get in deeper than you expect. If I know Ben he won’t be averse to doing everything he can to make your “reconciliation” look viable.’ His eyes dropped to her hand, which he was now holding lightly within his own. ‘I’m no angel myself, but unlike Ben I like my sex sweetened with at least some emotion. He’s a cold devil, Sarah. He always was.’
‘You can’t be trying to warn me that Ben might want to… to… make love to me,’ she got out at last, trembling over the words, guiltily aware that the response of her body to them wasn’t entirely one of revulsion.
‘You’d better believe it,’ Dale told her grimly. ‘He wants you, Sarah, I saw it in his eyes this afternoon.’
‘No… No, I’m sure you’re wrong.’ Why did her voice sound so breathless? ‘I…’
‘He wants you,’
Dale pressed bitterly. ‘He wants you because he thinks he’ll be taking you away from me. He never was a good loser.’
With a small cry Sarah pulled away from him. Not now—dear God, not now! She didn’t want to be reminded of the past; of the wager which had caused her so much pain; the pain that lived inside her still; eating at her, destroying her faith in men, her ability to give her love and herself to any man, still hurting from the wounds inflicted by Ben’s duplicity and coldhearted seduction of her. He had blinded her with false words of love and even falser promises for the future, and like a fool she had believed him. Without being aware of it her feet had carried her back to the trailer. The sun was setting, a crimson ball of fire dying into clouds of purple and amber, and she paused to watch, an odd lump in her throat, reluctant to walk into the trailer and yet fearful of the consequences if she did not.
Her fingers were on the handle when it turned against her and the door was thrust open. Ben stood in the aperture, a towel knotted carelessly round his hips, moisture gleaming on his skin. Had his body always been so overpoweringly male? Sarah shuddered, unable to draw her eyes away, conscious of the trembling reaction in her stomach.
‘I thought you were going to stand there all night. You always were one for putting off the evil moment, weren’t you, Sarah? Remember how you didn’t want to do that scene for Shakespeare? The one where I finally got to take you to bed?’ he added cruelly, watching the colour run up under her skin with detached amusement. ‘I suppose that’s why you married me before deciding you wanted Dale. How long did he stay with you? What’s the matter?’ he asked softly. ‘You’re trembling like a virgin who’s never seen a man before,’ his mouth mocked her, ‘and we both know you’re not that, don’t we, Sarah?’ he said slowly, watching the hot colour consume her pale skin. ‘Oh, come, surely it can’t have been as memorable as all that? Not when you’ve got Dale to remember as well.’
‘That’s…’ That’s not true, she had been about to say, but those words could never be uttered. Better that he think her a wanton than a fool. ‘That’s a vile thing to say,’ she finished weakly.
‘So it was,’ Ben agreed blandly, his expression changing as he added acidly, ‘and an even viler thing to do, wouldn’t you say? You’d better get changed,’ he told her, changing the subject, like a predator suddenly tiring of tormenting its prey. ‘The couple we’re dining with are Spaniards—so you can err on the side of formality. And take a coat. My car is parked in the compound and they’ve been forecasting rain for the last couple of days. That’s why it’s so hot. Fortunately it won’t affect the filming.’
‘Ben…’ Her voice sounded thick with tears even in her own ears, and she wanted to cringe beneath the look he gave her.
‘Couldn’t we… couldn’t we call a truce for the duration of the film?’ she pleaded weakly. She couldn’t go on like this, fencing with him, unable to defend herself from his expert thrusts. Already she felt as though she were bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts.
‘A truce?’ Ben laughed harshly. ‘Oh no, Sarah, that isn’t what I have in mind at all. The bathroom’s all yours,’ he called over his shoulder as he went back inside. ‘We could have shared it, but then you always were something of a prude. Perhaps Dale’s managed to coax you out of it.’
A prude! Sarah felt as though he had stuck a knife straight into her heart. She had been shy and inexperienced, yes, but surely no man could describe the complete and utter abandonment she had experienced in Ben’s arms as prudish?
‘That’s something you’ll never find out,’ she managed to throw at him as she followed him into the trailer, forgetting in her determination to retaliate that her words might be taken as a challenge.
She didn’t relax until he was in his room, and all the time she was showering, despite the locked door between them, she felt strung up and on edge, her fingers clumsy as she donned fresh underwear, and pulled on a silk dress in her favourite shade of lavender grey. It was a hot, sultry night and she was careful to apply only the minimum of make-up. She saw Ben studying her when she emerged from her room and asked defensively, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Not as far as I’m concerned, I’m just wondering how far your appearance is going to go to reinforcing our host’s belief that all film actresses wear skin-tight dresses with slit skirts and have brass-blonde hair. He’s rather old-fashioned,’ he added lightly. ‘You should have a lot in common. Tell me something that’s always puzzled me, Sarah—how did you manage to salve your puritan conscience when you took Dale for your lover? Or did you love him so much conscience never came into it?’
‘I… I don’t want to talk about it,’ she managed desperately. ‘The past is over, Ben. I don’t want to remember any of it.’
‘I bet you damn well don’t! I wish to God I could forget as easily,’ he snarled, frightening her with the rage she saw in his eyes as he threw open the door. The soft silk of his shirt sleeve brushed her bare arm as he stood back for her to pass, and instantly an electric awareness of him pulsed through her. It was no good, she thought dizzily, trying to regain control of her thudding pulses. Nothing had changed. She loved him still, foolishly, crazily in view of all that had happened, but quite, quite irrevocably.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘YOUR friends live here?’ Sarah stared aghast at the impressive villa with its private drive.
‘I got to know them when I came out to do some preliminary work on… on the locations. The family once owned the castle we’re using for some of the shots. Now most of their wealth comes from sherry. There’s no need to be nervous.’
‘I’m not,’ Sarah flashed back, angry that he had seen through her defences, conscious that she was lying and of a sense of trepidation about facing Ben’s friends. ‘Do they… do they know you’re bringing me with you? That we’re married?’ she questioned dry-mouthed. What had Ben told them about her?
‘Yes, and yes, but you needn’t worry that you’ll be asked any awkward questions. I’ve simply told them that we’d had problems but that we’ve now reconciled them.’
‘And later,’ Sarah found herself asking tautly, ‘when all this is over, what will you tell them then?’
‘Does it matter? I’ll think of something.’ Ben was getting out of the car, coming round to her door and opening it for her, his hand touching her arm impersonally as he helped her out, and she found she was shivering despite the heat pressing down on her like a heavy blanket, her teeth almost, chattering as she flung at him:
‘Of course you will. You’re good at that, aren’t you, Ben? Always quick to turn a situation to your own advantage.’
‘Meaning what?’ he demanded icily, gripping her arm and swinging her round to face him. Heavy cloud blanketed the stars and moon and it was impossible for her to see his face, but she could feel the tautly suppressed anger coming off his body.
‘Meaning what, Sarah?’ he reiterated harshly. ‘Snide little innuendoes are one thing, aren’t they? Actually being able to validate them is something else again.’
The scorn in his voice lashed at her pride. She wouldn’t just stand there and let him tear her to pieces! ‘Meaning that you’ve used me and our marriage to keep Gina at bay, just as you used me once before to…’ She couldn’t go on, her voice totally suspended, she could only shake her head weakly, unable to put into words how she had felt when Dale told her about their bet.
‘Oh, I see!’ She felt him take a step towards her and shrank back against the car instinctively, shuddering as the clouds parted momentarily and a silvered beam revealed his features to her quite distinctly. His eyes were hard and cold, his mouth grimly sardonic, contempt and mockery dominating his expression. ‘You worked that out all by yourself, did you?’
‘No!’ Goaded, Sarah defended herself instantly. He wasn’t going to accuse her of simply imagining things. ‘Dale…’
‘Ah yes, Dale,’ Ben broke in dangerously, not giving her the chance to continue. ‘I thought he’d figure somewhere in this. Dale told you I wa
s using you to keep Gina at bay, did he, Sarah? Did he, Sarah?’ he demanded savagely, his ringers closing on her wrist so painfully that she cried out.
‘You’re hurting me!’ she protested huskily,
‘Not half as much as I’d like to,’ was his brutal retort. ‘How it must gall Dale to know that I had you first!’
The crudity of his comment and the savage satisfaction in the way he voiced it held her silent for a handful of seconds, all ability to respond suspended by the ferocity of the pain invading her.
‘Not half as much as it does me,’ she told him quietly, when she was able. ‘Ben, I don’t think tonight’s a good idea, I…’
‘Too late,’ he mocked her, ‘we’ve been seen.’ He gestured towards the front door which was being opened, and then he leaned forward suddenly, capturing her lips, the pressure of his mouth hard and sure, his head lifting almost immediately. ‘There,’ he drawled, stopping her as she opened her handbag to reach for her lipstick. ‘No, leave it,’ he ordered, taking the tube from her and dropping it back into her bag, snapping it shut.
‘But they’ll know you’ve been kissing me,’ Sarah protested, not understanding.
‘So they will,’ Ben agreed laconically, ‘which is better than having them think I’ve been quarrelling with you, wouldn’t you agree?’
* * *
‘And so you’re playing Joanna?’
Sarah nodded her head. The Sarjoves were a pleasant couple, Miguel Sarjoves a South American by birth who had married Luisa when she was visiting his country with her aunt. As Luisa had had no brothers, and he himself was a younger son, he had returned to Spain with her, managing her share of the family sherry business. They had two daughters and a son, Luisa had told her over dinner, all of whom were away at school. Now they were seated in the handsome drawing room drinking coffee, and Luisa was questioning Sarah about her role in the film.
‘It’s a marvellous part,’ Sarah enthused. ‘I can’t get over how lucky I am to have got it.’