Lions Walk Alone
By
Susanna Firth
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
LIONS WALK ALONE
After a quarrel with her father that had lasted three years, Nita had been whisked back to her home in Mexico by the forceful Leon Calveto. There she was reunited with her father—which was what Leon had set out to achieve. So why didn't he go away now, and leave her alone?
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MASTER OF SHADOWS
The drama critic Max Anderson had wrecked Vanessa's promising acting career with one vicious notice. But beggars can't be choosers, and when she was offered a job as his secretary Vanessa was forced to take it. But at least it led to her meeting the delightful Daniel Jensen!
PRINCE OF DARKNESS
After five years' separation from her husband Elliott, Cassie was just about getting over it, and settling happily in Provence, when Elliott turned up again—as her boss.
DARK ENCOUNTER
'For the salary you're offering I'd work for the devil himself,' Kate Sherwood told Nicholas Blake when she took the job as his secretary. Rash words—because she soon began to wonder if that wasn't just what she was doing!
First published 1983
Australian copyright 1983
Philippine copyright 1983
This edition 1983
© Susanna Firth 1983
ISBN 0 263 74244 X
CHAPTER ONE
'Nita, he's here again!'
'Who?' Lipstick in her hand, Nita turned away from the brightly-lit make-up mirror to look enquiringly at the girl who had just entered her dressing room.
'That man I was telling you about—you know, the guy who was here last night.'
'Oh, him.' Nita gave another glance at her reflection, frowned critically and then added more blusher to her cheeks with a practised hand. Her mind was more on the performance that she was to give than on news of a total stranger, however great the impression that he seemed to have made on her friend Sandy.
'Is that all you can say? You wouldn't dismiss him as casually as that if you'd seen him,' Sandy rebuked her.
'Probably not. But, as it was my night off and I didn't see him, I'm labouring under a bit of a handicap, aren't I?'
'I told you what he was like.'
'So you did.' Not that she had listened very hard. Sandy was always in raptures over some man she had encountered—a different one each day. It was easy to lose track of her extensive love life unless one paid avid attention. 'Tall and dark, didn't you say? That describes about half the men that were on the beach today.'
'None of them could hold a candle to this guy. Believe me, he's absolute dynamite!'
'Love at first sight?' Nita asked wryly, as she slipped out of the towelling robe that she was wearing and reached for the dress that was hanging up against the back of the door.
'Something like that.'
'What about that blond college boy from Michigan? Chuck, wasn't it?'
'He was last week, Nita. And anyway, I wasn't serious about him.'
'You're not serious about anyone, that's your trouble.' A faint smile crossed Nita's face. 'You know that. Here, help me with the hooks on this, will you?'
Sandy moved forward to comply, but continued talking as she did so. 'This man could be different. I've got a feeling about him.'
'Oh, yes?' Sandy's infatuations were as shortlived as they were frequent, and Nita had learned to dismiss statements like that with a pinch of salt. 'I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard you say that—I'd be rich enough to retire by now!'
'Oh, you can laugh.' The other girl tossed back her mane of blonde hair defiantly. 'But you'll be laughing on the other side of your face when he stops by the apartment to take me out.'
'And just how are you going to manage that?'
'I have my methods,' Sandy grinned wickedly. 'He left early last night and I barely had a chance. But tonight—' She paused significantly.
Nita had heard that tone before and it always heralded disaster. 'Sandy, what are you up to?' she demanded.
'If you want something, go find it. That's my philosophy.'
'And you want him?'
'Mm. Who wouldn't?' Sandy looked dreamy. 'He's gorgeous!'
'But how can you? You don't know anything about him. You don't even know his name.'
'I do so know his name. The table was booked for one Leon Calveto.' She rolled the syllables on her tongue, savouring them. 'Leon. That means a lion, doesn't it, Nita?'
'Yes.'
'He looks rather like one. Not in colouring, I mean, his hair's as dark as yours. But there's something about the way that he walks. Like one of the big cats that you see in the zoo. Very sexy.'
'Maybe. But bear in mind that big cats can be dangerous if you don't know how to handle them.'
Sandy laughed. 'I should worry! I've more experience in that line than you, at any rate.'
Nita shrugged. She had to acknowledge the truth of that at least. At nineteen Sandy had packed in more living than most girls of her age. And certainly more sexual encounters than herself even though she was three years older. During the five months that they had shared an apartment Nita had watched the other girl's giddy life-style, partly envious, partly disapproving. But whatever the differences between them they were friends nonetheless.
'Don't be a fool! You'll be asking for trouble if you encourage him,' she warned now as she had warned many times before to deaf ears. 'You know the club rules, Sandy. No dates with the—'
'With the clientele. Sure, I know. So what?' Her friend pouted. 'Rules were made to be broken, particularly when they're as dumb as that. Does the management really expect us to live like nuns?'
'Hardly. But the rules were made for our protection. If you had any sense you'd realise that—'
'I wonder about that, I really do. I think that they're just trying to stop us having a good time.'
'This place has got a good name and they're keen to keep it that way,' persisted Nita. 'If word goes round that any of the girls who work here are easy game, we'll be attracting a very different type of audience before we know it, and that's not what I want. And neither do you, if you think about it.'
Sandy pulled a face. 'Maybe. Do stop lecturing me, Nita!' she added. 'You sound about ninety-nine!'
'I feel it sometimes when you're around,' Nita sighed.
'You needn't worry. I'll be careful. Aren't I always?'
'No.'
'I'm not an idiot, you know.'
'No comment,' Nita laughed.
'Oh, you're impossible! Look, I'm a liberated lady and I can look after myself. O.K.?'
'I suppose so,' Nita admitted reluctantly. 'But it's your funeral.'
'I hope not.' The blonde girl moved towards the door, preparing to leave for her hostess duties at the front of the house. 'I'll take good care. Wish me luck?'
'I'll wish you anything you like, if you'll go away and leave me alone for a while. I'm due on stage in ten minutes and I'm not halfway to ready yet.'
'Better hurry, then. Can't let the management down, can we? And, Nita—'
'Ye
s?'
'If he's got a brother I'll put in a claim for you, shall I?'
'Out!' Nita picked up a hairbrush and took aim.
With a shriek of laughter Sandy disappeared and the door banged behind her. Nita caught herself smiling. Not that it was a smiling matter at all because Sandy couldn't afford to lose her job. But something about the other girl's lighthearted attitude to life got to her. It was impossible to dislike her for her carefree assumption that the world was placed there for her to enjoy it—a simple way of looking at things, but one that certainly seemed to work for her. Whatever disasters came, she bounced back like a rubber ball. Tears one minute, smiles the next; it was all the same to Sandy.
Automatically Nita made the final adjustments to her hair and make-up and smoothed out the full sleeves of her dress, so that the rows of intricate embroidery with which they were decorated glowed brightly against the creamy-white background. Then, picking up the guitar from the chair beside her, she headed for the stage. She hadn't been called yet, but she liked a little time to herself to absorb the atmosphere and get in the mood of the evening before she went on.
Tonight as she stood in the wings she couldn't get her thoughts away from Sandy. She hoped her friend wasn't serious about this man. He sounded different from her usual type of college boy; older and more experienced, if her description of him was anything like accurate. And with money to spend, if he liked to frequent nightclubs on the level of this one where nothing came cheap. The sort of man who would take his pleasures lightly and then pass on, careless of any broken hearts he might leave behind him.
She heard the sound of applause greeting the dancing act that took the stage before her and gave herself a mental shake. Sandy would have to sink or swim on her own. It was time to concentrate on the job in hand.
'Fabulous audience tonight. You shouldn't have any trouble with them. Not that you ever do.' Bathed in perspiration, his make-up streaked under the heat of the lights, the head of the dancing troupe paused by her side as he came off stage. He was clearly well pleased with his reception. 'Go in and slay them!'
'I'll try,' she promised him.
'Good girl!' With a quick squeeze of her arm he was gone.
'And now for the moment that you've all been waiting for!' Jefferson Peters, the entertainment director, took the stage, microphone in his hand, and flashed a broad grin in Nita's direction before launching into his usual flamboyant introduction of her. 'The star of our show tonight. The Pink Flamingo is proud to present— all the way from the land of gods and fire—Juanita!'
He moved aside, ushering her into the welcoming spotlight, and the applause that greeted her started her adrenalin flowing the way it always did. It was strange how a night's absence sharpened her senses. As she settled herself on the high wooden stool placed ready for her and prepared to launch into her first number Nita could feel a prickle of excitement snake down her spine. She was going to be good tonight. She just knew it.
People had told her before now that she came alive on stage as she did nowhere else. Dazzled by her stage persona, men in particular expected her to generate the same glitter out of the spotlights and were disappointed when it failed to surface. But it was something beyond her control. She just knew that in front of an audience she felt safe and at ease, free to give the best of herself to the work she loved. And tonight was no exception. She felt a surge of happiness as she began to sing.
Normally she was not aware of the different people who made up her audience. They were just an indistinct blur beyond the bright lights that shone on her. Usually she preferred it that way when she performed from the stage. Playing to a warm mass of humanity was simpler than trying to gauge an individual response.
But tonight, as she looked out into the semi-darkness beyond the edge of the stage, smiling and acknowledging the enthusiastic clapping that followed her first number, a man pierced this protective barrier that she put between herself and those who paid to listen to her.
She wasn't sure what it was about him that first drew and held her attention. Certainly he was sitting at one of the front tables, nearest to the stage. But so were a lot of other people. And they were just blank faces to her, whereas this man stood out from the crowd as clearly as if she had been seeking him out.
He was not conventionally good-looking. It was an interesting face, dominated by a strong beak of a nose. He had harsh, rather angular features that were only partially softened by the subdued lighting. A full, sensual mouth and a firm chin that more than hinted at arrogance. Jet-dark hair brushed ruthlessly back from a high, intelligent forehead.
No, not good-looking by any means. But striking. The sort of man to turn female heads when he walked into a room anywhere. Someone who would attract and intrigue women and never lack their company. Yet he seemed to be on his own. Not for long, Nita surmised. He had to be waiting for someone, a wife or a girlfriend. It was too much to suppose that a man like that, in his early thirties or thereabouts, would not have some attendant female.
After she had finished her second song, a catchy Mexican folk tune that set everyone's feet tapping in time to its rhythms, she found her gaze straying in his direction again, curious to see what sort of person had joined him. Probably some super-sophisticated lady, beautifully dressed and coiffeured and made up to the nth degree. A blonde, perhaps; a man as dark as he was might well choose a foil for his own looks. She would be the sort of woman who stood out in a crowd. Not that he would worry about the competition; he could stand it.
But he was still alone, his head turned momentarily away from the stage towards the girl who was serving him with a drink. It was Sandy. With sudden dismay Nita recognised her friend. She was leaning across the table in a deliberately provocative fashion, offering him an excellent glimpse of her full breasts, tantalisingly exposed by her low-cut dress. She was smiling invitingly at him. He could have been the only man in the room; she completely ignored the calls that came from the other guests.
So this was the man that she had been raving about—Leon Calveto. Nita could understand why now. If anything a second glimpse of him had increased Sandy's interest rather than diminishing it. 'Take me, I'm yours.' Everything about her spelled out the message loud and clear to him if he cared to take it up. It was an approach that she had perfected over any number of encounters with male egos and it was one that invariably worked for her.
But Nita could have told her that it wouldn't cut any ice this time. This wasn't a college boy to be dazzled by an obvious show of admiration from an attractive woman. This was a man of the world who would always be the hunter, never the quarry. Why hadn't Sandy the sense to realise that fact? She was a fool to pursue a man like that.
He made his lack of interest all too clear in the way that he tossed some dollar bills on her tray without even bothering to look at her. When she leant forward with an alluring smile to offer him his change he waved her aside with an impatient gesture of his hand that said more clearly than words could have done that he didn't want to know. Nita winced at the expression on Sandy's face, a mixture of hurt pride and disbelief. She wasn't used to being rejected in that offhand manner!
As if he was suddenly conscious of being observed, his head jerked back towards the stage and he was looking directly at Nita before she had a chance to glance away. It was almost as if he could tell that she had been speculating about him. Nita caught her breath as she met his dark eyes and saw the expression in them.
She was used to being stared at, analysed in detail by any number of male glances. It was an occupational hazard and one that she had come to terms with long ago. But there was something different about the way that Leon Calveto looked at her. There was no warmth in his gaze, just critical appraisal. He was studying her like a Roman emperor at a slave auction. And then he raised his glass to her in a mocking salute before he drank from it.
It served her right, she thought, colouring faintly as she looked swiftly down, examining the strings of the guitar that she held for some i
magined fault as she strove to regain her composure. She had no business to stare at him like that. But did he have to respond in that manner? As if she had been as obvious as Sandy in expressing her interest in him. Perhaps she had. The thought worried her slightly.
Her backing group played the opening notes of her next song, a sentimental ballad that suited her low, slightly husky voice. As she joined in professionalism took over and she forgot everything but the plaintive melody and the tale of unrequited love that it told. When she finished there was a moment's silence before the applause rang out, a tribute to her artistry. The lights came up again and she got to her feet to bow and smile, a slim figure in a simple white dress.
Nita kept her eyes determinedly away from the corner where the disturbing stranger sat. Even as she settled back on her stool to sing the encore that her audience clearly demanded she ignored the temptation to look, just once, to see if he had received her efforts as enthusiastically as the rest. It didn't matter what he thought of her performance, she told herself. He was nothing to her.
Back in her small dressing room she concentrated on getting ready for her second spot, erasing the unsophisticated girl who had just appeared and replacing her with a woman who knew her way around. A dramatic red dress, cut low across the bust and slashed to show a daring amount of leg at the side, hung ready for her to put on, and Nita eyed it doubtfully. It was the most daring outfit that she had tried yet. Now she was wondering whether it was too daring. The memory of Leon Calveto's gaze, stripping her, assessing her, flashed through her mind. What would he make of her now? she wondered.
It was a contrast that usually intrigued her audiences, this transformation from wide-eyed innocence to knowledgeable sophistication, from purity to experience, all in the space of a few minutes. Their reaction never failed to amuse Nita. Stunned surprise was always followed by an even more appreciative reception. The men were particularly enthusiastic, which was hardly surprising. She often thought that it was not the singing they went for, but the selection of barely decent dresses that she wore for the second part of her act.
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