by Vaso
At the moment he was wary, nothing more. 'No, not a journalist,' he decided. 'That sharp tongue wouldn't get you very far, if you were.'
'You would know all about winning friends and influencing people, of course.'
'Of course,' he agreed easily. 'You know, I'm beginning to think you don't like me. Am I so unattractive?'
Only a man who was totally confident of the effect his looks had on women would have dared to ask a question like that. She paused for perhaps thirty seconds, then responded to his challenge.
'You're not bad-looking,' she told him casually.
'Thanks.'
She studied him carefully, registering and determinedly ignoring an involuntary pull of attraction as
she did so. 'Tall, dark and handsome—I suppose that's the way most women would describe you.'
"He looked politely interested. 'Yes?'
She continued listing his attributes. 'Broad shoulders, slim hips, not a spare ounce of flab anywhere, although you must be pushing thirty-five——'
'You make me sound like a prize bull being sold for stud,' he commented dryly.
'Ah, yes. That brings me to your other attributes.'
'We'll taker those as listed, shall we?' he said smoothly.
If she had hoped to embarrass him she had failed dismally. Vanessa shrugged. 'If you like. I was going to add that the fact that you're fairly rich and not legally tied to another woman is presumably part of your attraction for most women.'
'But not for you?'
'That's only the outer casing, isn't it? -I'd want something more than that in a man.'
'You don't grant me anything else?' His tone was smooth, but she was sure she was getting to him now. The muscle that twitched suddenly at the side of his mouth gave a good indication that he was having difficulty keeping his anger at bay. Max Anderson wasn't as cool as he gave out.
'You're intelligent, I'll grantryou,' she shrugged.
'You're very kind.'
'You'd hardly have got to your present eminent position without some brains. You're shrewd and presumably ambitious to have got so far so soon.'
'But?'
But you're also a conceited, inconsiderate, arrogant swine. And as far as I'm concerned that cancels out any other minor virtues you might possessuJVanessa paused deliberately, savouring the moment when she finally got her own back on him for the hurt he had inflicted onher. Let Mr High and Mighty Anderson see what it was like to be rejected!
'You really do have a great opinion- of yourself, don't you?' she said. 'I'm sorry if it comes as a shock to you, but I'm totally unmoved by either your fame or your oft-proclaimed attractions. To be blunt, Mr Anderson, you're just a bore. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll——'
'No.' He anticipated her sudden movement away from him and his hand snaked out to prevent it, grasping her firmly round the waist. The sleeve of his dark evening jacket was rough where it brushed against her bare skin, and Vanessa tensed as she felt the muscled strength of the arm that imprisoned her.
'Do you usually have to use brute force to make a woman endure your company?' So much for her grand exit line. She struggled and then, realising how useless it was unless she wanted to create a scene, stood still. Max Anderson would release her in his good time, that much was clear.
'You make me sound like some kind of monster,' he said. 'Yet you don't even know me.'
'I don't want to know you,' she told him emphatically.. . - .
'That's a pity.' He jerked her closer to him. 'Because I certainly want a few more details about you. Like your name, for a start.'
She was silent. The blazing fury of the last few moments was dying down and being replaced by a sick feeling. She had burnt her boats with a vengeance now, even if she had slightly scorched Max Anderson in the process. What was it Jonathan had said about committing professional suicide?
'Well?'he prompted.
She thought furiously. Could she get away with giving him an invented name? Would he bother to check
up? Or should she give up any chance of concealment and tell him bluntly who she was and why she disliked him so?
'I'm waiting,' he said nastily. 'And patience isn't one of the virtues you credited me with.'
But even as he spoke the reprieve that stte was praying for arrived. A small, balding man, visibly embarrassed at having to break up what seemed to be a cosy twosome, was at Max's side, trying to attract his attention.
'Mr Anderson, I have the head of Stateside Television on the phone for you from New York.' He glanced dubiously at Vanessa, noting how closely she was clamped to Max's side, and making her feel absurdly selfconscious of the fact. 'I understand it's something rather urgent or I wouldn't have bothered you—but if you'd rather not——' His voice tailed off uncertainly.
For a moment Vanessa thought he was going to be sent packing in no uncertain terms as a look of impatience crossed Max's face. Then, obviously thinking better of the impulse, he jerked his dark head in reluctant assent. 'Yes, I'll take it.' His arm tightened fractionally round Vanessa as he told her, 'Don't think I've finished with you. If you're not here when I get back, I'll find you "wherever you're hiding yourself. But if you know what's best for yourself, you won't put me to that much trouble. I'm told I can be quite dangerous when I lose my temper.'*
She could well believe it. He let her go and moved away, allowing the other man to lead him in the direction of the door.
'If you'd like to take the call in my office, I'll see that you're not disturbed,' Vanessa heard the little man say as they walked off. Presumably it was a business call and it would be a lengthy one. That gave her time enough to vanish before Max Anderson returned. Shehad no intention of remaining meekly in-the same spot so that he could resume his inquisition of her. She doubted whether he would attempt to track her down. Whatever he said there would be too many people claiming his time, including, presumably, Karen. Vanessa was sure that she wouldn't give up as easily as Max had thought.
To be on the safe side she would rather leave the party now, but Vanessa knew that there was no hope at all of persuading Jonathan to vanish this early in the evening. And ft was hardly polite to disappear without her escort for the evening, however bad a job he had made of it so far. No, the best thing to do was just to plunge into the mass of people on the other side of the room and hope she was able to submerge herself successfully in the crowd.
She edged her way past groups of talking, kughing partygoers, intending to stand by the far wall where she might be able to watch for Max's re-entry into the room without him seeing her, but she was brought up short against a fat, red-faced man with a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other, who seemed reluctant or incapable of moving aside to let her pass.
'I'm sorry,' she apologised hastily as she almost knocked into him. 'It's a terrible crush, isn't it?'
He rescued his drink which was in danger of spilling over her dress. That's all right.' She saw him register her attraction and dwell upon it, very obviously liking what he saw. 'My fault for getting in your way. But no harm done, was there?' He eyed her speculatively and planted himself solidly in her path. 'It must be my lucky night.'
Vanessa smiled dubiously. She seemed to remember Jonathan pointing this man out to her as one of the notables, but she had forgotten his name. Not surprising really, after the tensions of the last few moments.
She glanced back towards the door. Still no sign of Max Anderson. Perhaps this man, whoever he was, might provide a good cover.
Fortunately he saved her the trouble of asking his name. She had discovered fairly early in her career that the famous and those who considered themselves to be so had a marked dislike of having to remind people of their identities. 'Sam Galveston, executive producer for the Byron series,' he informed her, transferring his cigar to his mouth and extending a podgy hand. 'But I expect you already knew that.'
She forced a smile. 'Of course, Mr Galveston. May I offer my congratulations on the project?' He intended her to be impressed
and she played along nobly, wishing at the same time that he would let go of her hand. Still, there must be more to the man than appeared at first glance, to hold down a job like that. The television world was a jungle where only the ablest survived.
Jonathan would expect her to ^charm this man. Vanessa volunteered her name and then, as he seemed to be expecting them, further compliments on his work. Only one episode had been shown so far, and truth to tell, she had found it trivial and of poor quality, but she could not say so.
'I'm glad you liked it.' He beamed approvingly at her. 'He didn't.' He jerked the cigar in the general direc-" tion of the crowded room behind them.
'Who?' Why was she bothering to ask? There was only one man whose opinions carried that sort of impact.
'Max Anderson.' He produced a much-thumbed newspaper cutting from his pocket and handed it to her. 'Ill formed, ill written and ill at ease—that's what he called it. Look for yourself. And he has the nerve to turn up here tonight. I suppose we should be grateful that he didn't choose to blast us on one of our owntelevision programmes. I wouldn't put even that past him. Arid when I think what this company pays him!'
She scanned the review quickly and gave it back to him, still intent on making a good impression. 'Perhaps the viewing public will think otherwise, Mr Galveston,' she said encouragingly, without much inner conviction. She knew only too well what effect Max Anderson had upon public taste. Pithily sarcastic, the review had denounced every weakness that she had noticed in the series and a few more besides.
'The critics, for God's sake! What do they know about anything?' Sam Galveston growled. 'Jumped-up nobodies, full of their own importance. They don't give a damn for anybody except themselves. And Ander-son's the worst of the lot!'
Vanessa could agree wholeheartedly with that sentiment at least and echoed him enthusiastically. She accepted his offer of a drink and they raised their glasses to the confusion of drama critics and of anyone else foolish enough not to appreciate their work. Suddenly the party seemed a brighter place and Sam Gal-veston's chubby features held a friendliness that Vanessa had not noticed before. Another glass replaced her quickly emptied one and she gave up glancing nervously behind her for Max Anderson. Who cared about the man anyway?
She downed another drink and found herself relaxing.
'So you're an actress?' Sam Galveston seemed interested and she told him a little about herself. He countered with tales of rivalries and factions within Globe Television. His jokes weren't very good, but she laughed at them. She was beginning to like this man. On his next trip back from the bar she made no objection when he took her arm and drew her towards a side-door.
'I can't hear myself think in this din,' he complained 'And I want to tell you about my new project. I don't suppose Max Anderson will like this one, either. But who cares?'
'Who. cares?' echoed Vanessa, and laughed. The earlier exhilaration of her encounter with Max had been replaced by a bright, bubbly elation that was equally stimulating. She was floating on air at the moment, the lights and the noise running into each other in a gloriously happy haze that was warm and comforting. And the man by her side, an important television producer, wanted to talk to her. That would be something to tell Jonathan, if she landed a part in Sam Galveston's next series. She must remember to be nice to the man. She slanted a wide smile in Sam's direction and he responded by squeezing her arm as he pulled her away from the main party and into a dimly lit corridor.
A slight feeling of unease invaded the warm muz-ziness that enveloped her. 'Where are we going?'
His arm circled her waist and she caught a sudden waft of hot, drink-laden, breath as he lurched closer to her-and gave a knowing laugh. 'You were hoping for a part in my new series, weren't you? You actresses are all the same—always want to talk business. Well, I've no objections, darling. But we can find something better to do than just talk, can't we?' '
Her fuddled senses suddenly clanged alarm bells that should have sounded long before she got herself in this position. But somehow, weak at the knees from her encounter with Max Anderson, she had not bothered too much about any other man's motives. All men were angels compared with him.
'What—what do you mean?' she fenced, knowing all too well. . "
He drained his glass and set it down on a nearby ledge. Then his arm tightened unpleasantly about herand his free hand groped for her breasts. 'Come on now, darling, no need to spell it out. You know what I want. I'll remember you in the future, if you're nice to me now.'
Vanessa had never been the sort of girl who sold her favours on that sort of basis, although she'had known many of her contemporaries do so. Although the casting couch was no substitute for talent nowadays, it sometimes made a very acceptable accompaniment to it. But she had no intention of taking that path herself, whatever the rewards offered to her.. She fought to free herself, but the man seemed to have six arms. As soon as she removed his hand from one part of her anatomy she was struggling to evade his clutch elsewhere.
'Please, Mr Galveston—Sam—let me go!'
'Playing hard to get?' He gave a lecherous laugh as she freed herself from him at last and backed cautiously away. She felt slightly dizzy, whether from reaction or from the drinks he had poured down her she could not say. Her tired brain told her that if she fenced for long enough she might discourage him or at least enlist the help of someone who was leaving the party.
He was between her and the door that led back to the penthouse suite and there was no chance of side-stepping him and bolting away from danger. Desperately she edged away from him. 'Tell me about your new project, Mr Galveston,' she" invited him. 'It sounds interesting. I'd like to work on it.'
He Was not that easily diverted. 'Later, sweetheart. You and I have got other things to do right now. Come here, will you?'
He lunged out at her and she sprang back again, stopping short as her hands encountered a concrete post behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she registered that he had literally backed her into a corner from which there was no escape. She was up against the side
of the wall and one of the wide picture windows and, short of opening it and flinging herself out, there was nothing she could do to get away.
Her adversary realised her dilemma a few seconds after it had dawned on her and gave a low laugh. 'I've caught you now,' he taunted her, and as she pressed herself against the wall, its coldness striking chill against her bare back, his hands reached out to fondle her.
Instinctively she struggled, but the twistingS of her body against his seemed only to excite him further. She cried out as his -hand clutched the soft material of her dress and then she felt it give and tear. His hot breath on her face repelled her and she turned her head from side to side in an effort to evade those eager, rubbery lips. How could she ever have thought that Sam Galveston was a friendly, harmless type?
'Let me go! For God's sake, let me go,' she begged him, but he was past hearing her now, his eager hands running over the bare flesh of her shoulders and breasts, polluting them with his touch.
She was nearly fainting, past any attempt to fight him further. She screamed, but it was hopeless to think that anyone at the party would hear her with all that noise going on. Then suddenly she was conscious of the heavy weight pressing against her body being jerked away from her as a man's voice said coldly from somewhere in the background, 'I think the lady's changed her nnind, Sam.' A strong hand on Galveston's shoulder spun him round with apparent ease,
'What the——?' Sam Galveston muttered something, fortunately unintelligible, then made a move back towards Vanessa. 'Let's ask the little lady about that.'
Shuddering, she cringed away from him and gave a strangled sound of protest.
'You've had your answer, I think.' The voice seemedto come from miles away. A clear, incisive voice, accustomed to command and blessedly unfuddled by alcohol. A voice that was all too familiar, although she had heard it for the first time only that evening. 'Why not get back to the party, Sam? Plenty more
there where she came from, and the night is young by your standards,' Max Anderson said coldly.
'Damn you for interfering!' The other man straightened, clearly wondering whether to try to rid himself of this unwelcome intruder. He decided against it and lumbered away. 'I'll remember this, Anderson.'
'Please do.' Her rescuer sounded indifferent, but watched until the producer had retreated down the corridor and entered the penthouse suite again. For a moment the noise of the party spilled out, then there was quiet again.
He turned to her, where she sagged against the wall, conscious of little beyond the fact that someone had come in time to save her and that she was safe. Her dress was in shreds, but she had not even the strength to cover her nakedness, only shrinking away as he came towards her.
'It's all right. He's gone.' He sounded impatient, rather than reassuring, as if he had little sympathy to waste on her—which was probably the case. She had asked for all she got. She felt his arms going round her and leaned gratefully against him, her head lolling against his broad .shoulder, incapable of independent movement. For a few seconds he let her be, allowing her to recover slightly before shaking her and pushing her back against the wall. 'Come on, pull yourself together. Galveston's gone now and I haven't all night to devote to playing knight errant.'
Vanessa absorbed his words from a long way off, without really understanding them. She shook her head in an effort to clear it. 'Thank you,' she muttered
thickly, as the walls spun round her giddily and then righted themselves again. 'I thought he was going
The dark, rather cynical features danced before her, his mouth curving in a sardonic smile. 'He was. But you knew that from the start, didn't you? You encouraged him and played him on and then decided at the last minute not to go through with it. Lucky for you that I was around when you had second thoughts. Men don't like that kind of treatment, you know.'