She stood on the edge of the pavement awaiting her chance to dodge through the fast-moving stream of traffic to a cafe on the other side of the road, when a low red sports car pulled up in front of her. Ready to rebuff any advances from its driver, Jassy found herself staring at Rene Moreau, whose blue eyes were shining with amusement at her cold face.
'Hello, Jassy. All ready to give me the cold shoulder, eh?' His English was perfect and he laughed as he spoke.
Jassy found herself smiling back. 'You foreign men, you're all the same,' she teased.
Rene shrugged, characteristically French. 'You're a beautiful girl, what can you expect?' His eyes slid over her openly.
Jassy raised her eyebrows, not in the least insulted by his behaviour, obvious though it was. Rene was young and she had known him long enough not to take him seriously.
'Do you want a lift, or are you still shopping?'
'Actually, I'm trying to make my way across the road to that cafe,' Jassy admitted, pointing in front of her. 'Without much success. Everyone drives like a madman here!'
Rene laughed again and leaning over, swung open the door of his car.
'Get in and come for a drink with me,' he said persuasively.
Jassy hesitated for a second, then slid in beside him. She felt too hot and thirsty to argue.
Putting his foot on the accelerator, Rene shot the low car into the stream of traffic again, ignoring the loud blaring of horns that accompanied his actions. Jassy shut her eyes, not wanting to look, because Rene's driving was reckless in the extreme and he did not appreciate words of caution.
She did not open her eyes until the car screeched to a halt outside an expensive-looking restaurant. Letting out a long sigh of relief, she stumbled out of the car, glad to have her feet on the ground again, watching Rene jumping out over his door rather than opening it. He strolled round to her, whistling softly as he removed his sunglasses, and took her arm.
'Have you had lunch?' Not giving her time to answer, he continued, 'I haven't and I'm famished. This place is highly recommended.'
They entered the restaurant and sat down. Rene ordered a huge meal and tried to persuade Jassy to have something to eat. She refused, ordering a glass of freshly-made, iced lemonade.
'A dirty trick,' she said without reproach as she sipped her cold drink gratefully, a few moments later. Rene looked up innocently, and Jassy laughed. 'You know what I'm talking about.'span>
He smiled, 'How else could I persuade you to have lunch with me?' he asked simply.
'You couldn't—I've already had lunch,' she replied.
'Precisely.' Rene returned his attention to the shellfish in front of him, without remorse, and Jassy gave up. It did not matter, and at least her thirst was quenched, and the restaurant was "cool, beautifully cool. She slipped off her sandals under the table and rested her hot and aching feet on the blissfully cold marble floor, watching Rene as he ate.
She had known him for just over a year, having first met him when Morgan invited Pierre—Rene's father—to dinner at their house in London. Pierre Moreau was a wealthy French industrialist and at the time Morgan had been anxious to set up a deal with him.
Pierre had brought Rene with him that evening and the two young people had been left to their own devices as soon as dinner was over, when Morgan and Pierre had disappeared into Morgan's impressive study to talk business. Rene was young and arrogant, but he could also be charming and, on occasions, kind. Pierre was hand-grooming him to take over his vast and wealthy industrial empire, so that he could retire, and Jassy had been amazed at Rene's fatalistic acceptance of this situation. He did not seem particularly interested in his father's business, in fact, pretty girls and fast cars seemed to be infinitely more important to him. Jassy had immediately recognised the similarity of their lives.
Both, although to a lesser extent in Jassy's case, were overshadowed and manipulated by powerful, wealthy fathers and would have their lives channelled and organised by these ruthless, ambitious men, whom they loved too much to really doubt.
The only difference between Jassy and Rene was that Rene would accept without demur, while Jassy felt, with dread, that she would have to fight Morgan in the end. This difference however was slight, easily outweighed by the similarity, and a wary friendship had sprung up between them almost immediately.
There had never been any romance between them, though. Jassy had made sure of that, gently freezing Rene's easy sexual advances, but the bond was fairly strong—they understood everything about each other's lives.
They had met a number of times since that first dinner, in many places around the world, always with their respective fathers, and Jassy was always pleased to see him, glad of his amusing and undemanding company.
She brought her mind back to the present and studied Rene objectively. He was very attractive, she supposed, although he did not affect her at all, never making her heart beat faster. He had light brown hair and an olive complexion, confident blue eyes and a slim, graceful body. Great self-assurance cloaked him and he seemed, to Jassy's inexperienced eyes, to be very French, somehow.
He caught her looking at him and smiled. 'You are very pensive, Jassy,' he said softly.
She sighed. 'Are you happy, Rene?' she asked candidly, feeling suddenly and absurdly worried about him.
'Happy? Of course I'm happy. I have a full stomach, a glass of excellent wine, and a beautiful luncheon companion. What more could I ask?' he replied, flippantly, not appearing at all surprised by her question, as he lit a strong-smelling French cigarette with thin careless hands.
'I'm talking about the business. Do you really want to take over from Pierre?' she questioned seriously.
The laughter died in Rene's eyes.
'What I want is not so important. I have always known what was in store for me, as you have. Papa will retire in a year or two, and in a way—yes, I want to take over. Power is very attractive, you know, Jassy, especially when you have been bred for it,' he said seriously.
Jassy considered his confident answer and saw for the first time a certain hardness in him. Perhaps he was more like Pierre than she had realised. Perhaps it was only his youth that had deceived her into thinking that he was like her. She was holding back from committing herself to what Morgan wanted for her, but Rene was ready and obviously willing to be what Pierre wanted him to be.
'Morgan is hoping that you and I will marry,' she said worriedly, voicing her fears.
'Would it be such a bad idea?' Rene asked softly, his eyes still serious.
Jassy stared at him in amazement, unable to tell if he was joking or not, but not wanting to find out.
'Can I have another lemonade, please?' she asked huskily, lowering her eyes in confusion. Rene laughed out loud and beckoned the attentive waiter. After ordering her lemonade, he turned back to her and watched her with amused and unusually-hard eyes.
'Don't be afraid, cherie,' he said carelessly. 'You think I'm ganging up with Morgan against you, yes?'
Jassy glared at him; he could be so infuriating! She wished he would change the subject.
'I certainly wouldn't put it past Morgan, I don't know about you, although I'm beginning to wonder,' she retorted drily, feeling suddenly out of her depth, as if Rene was a stranger, not the carefree young man she knew. She sipped her lemonade quickly.
'Perhaps that is why you are afraid,' Rene said quietly. 'You don't know me very well at all, do you Jassy?'
She lifted her clear brown eyes to his. 'Don't play games with me, Rene,' she said steadily. 'It's far too hot!' And time to leave, she decided. She picked up her bag. 'Thanks for the lemonade,' she smiled as she got to her feet.
'I'll drive you back to your hotel,' Rene offered smoothly, counting notes from his pocket.
Jassy swung her heavy hair impatiently over her shoulder. 'I'll get a taxi,' she argued, not at all sure that she wanted any more of Rene's company at the moment.
'I'll drive you,' he repeated, his mouth tightening slightly. 'I ha
ve to see Morgan anyway.'
'About what?' Jassy asked curiously. Had Rene been speaking the truth? Did he intend to join forces with Morgan against her? She shook her head angrily. She was getting paranoid about the whole business. She would have to pull herself together! Rene merely smiled as he took her arm.
'Mind your own business,' he said lightly, as they stepped out of the restaurant and into the fierce early afternoon sun.
The town was much quieter, most of its inhabitants sleeping, as Rene made his way to the coast road. Lost in her own thoughts, Jassy did not pay much attention to his reckless driving.
They stopped at a red traffic light and as Rene drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, Jassy glanced round idly, her eyes suddenly riveting on the tall, powerful and familiar figure of a man, sliding -gracefully out of a black Mercedes on the other side of the road. Her breath seemed to stick in her throat as she watched him, recognising him as the stranger from the beach that morning. She was amazed at her trembling reaction to the sight of him, lean and almost painfully attractive in a light, expensively cut suit, as he strolled indolently around the front of the car and opened the passenger door.
Jassy stared at him openely. He looked strong and
sophisticated, different from the man who had gently taunted her on the beach, his vital black hair neat, his brown muscular body hidden beneath tailored cloth.
The traffic lights were changing and Jassy only glimpsed the woman who got out of the black Mercedes—tall and stylishly slender in a dusky pink dress, with a cloud of raven-black hair, she took the stranger's arm with a familiarity that Jassy recognised with a sinking heart as intimacy.
Then Rene's car had swung around the corner. and the couple were lost from view.
'What were you looking at?' Rene asked lazily, taking his eyes off the road for a second.
'I thought I recognised somebody,' Jassy replied half-truthfully, not wanting to talk to Rene about the dark stranger, but knowing that she had caught his quick attention and excited his curiosity by the Craning of her neck.
'Shall I switch the radio on?' she asked brightly.
Rene nodded brusquely, a little put out at her deliberate evasion, his mouth a trifle sullen.
The rest of their journey back to Jassy's hotel passed in silence. She had turned the radio on loud, although she was not listening to it, she was thinking about the man from the beach, wondering at her fierce reaction to him, wondering about the beautiful woman who had been in his car. Were they lovers? Were they married? She felt a strange and instant dislike for that lovely, unknown woman, and with a shock that stopped her breath for a moment, the realisation hit her that she was jealous. She shook her golden head dazedly—it really was too ridiculous. She did not know him at all, certainly not enough to feel that she had any claim on him. Why couldn't she put him out of her mind?
The car skidded to a noisy halt, physically jerking
Jassy out of her reverie, and she looked up to find herself at the hotel entrance. Rene snapped off the radio, flashing her a dark look, and they got out of the car.
Reaching the suite, she turned to him and smiled. 'Thanks for the lift.'
He kissed both her cheeks affectionately. 'The pleasure was mine,' he said gallantly, his earlier moodiness disappearing. He did not move and Jassy remembered suddenly that he was here for a purpose. She giggled. 'I forgot, you've come to see Morgan,' she apologised,' throwing open the ornate doors.
Her stepfather was working at his huge desk in the lounge and lifted his shaggy head with a smile of satisfaction when he saw Jassy and Rene together.
'Rene, good to see you, my boy!' he said heartily, getting to his feet and shaking the younger man's hand.
'Rene gave me a lift back from the town,' Jassy explained, kissing her stepfather's cheek. 'And if you two are going to talk business, I think I'll go for a nap before dinner.' She was hot and sticky and very tired, and if, as she suspected, Morgan and Rene were going to talk about her and the possibility of a forthcoming marriage, she did not want to know, not at the moment anyway.
She strolled into her bedroom still wondering at the hard emotion she had seen in Rene's eyes at the restaurant, and closed her eyes trying to dislodge these thoughts. She was probably overreacting. Of late, she had been feeling more and more trapped, as if Morgan was finally moving in for the kill—a suitable cliche, she thought bitterly. But however much he bullied and manipulated she would not marry Rene.
I won't even think about it, she told herself fiercely. There's no use worrying until I know for sure what Morgan's plans are. She stripped off her yellow sundress and strolled into the sumptuous private bathroom that adjoined her bedroom, to take a cold shower, carefully blanking out her mind to everything but the pelting refreshing coldness of the water on her dusty overheated body.
Dressed in a thin cotton wrap, five minutes later, she pulled closed the slatted wooden blinds on her bedroom windows, and lay down on her bed, in the dim artificially-cool room, falling almost immediately into a light uneasy sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
'JASSY, wake up, it's after seven!' Morgan shook her shoulder gently, an indulgent smile curving his lips, as Jassy forced open her eyes.
'It's after seven,' he repeated patiently.
'After seven? Oh, God!' She sat up abruptly, wondering how she could have possibly slept for so long.
'You must have needed the rest,' her stepfather said, answering her unspoken question.
He was already dressed for dinner, his dark evening suit lending him an air of quiet dignity.
'I would have woken you earlier, but Rene only left fifteen minutes ago.'
It was on the tip of Jassy's tongue to ask what they had found to talk about for over four hours, but she restrained herself. There was no point in asking for trouble, and given the slightest hint of encouragement Morgan would not hesitate to press his case.
'I'll get ready,' was all she said as she swung her legs off the bed. Morgan smiled at her obedience.
'There's no rush,' he rejoined lightly. 'I've invited Pierre and Rene for dinner.'
Who else? Jassy thought wryly.
'And also Max Bellmer. He flew in yesterday. Apparently his sister lives here—she married a Spaniard who owns a string of hotels, including this one, I believe,' Morgan continued, sounding well pleased with himself, but Jassy was not paying much attention.
One businessman was much the same as another to her. Morgan left her room in search of a' drink,
and after washing, she applied her make-up carefully, absently examining herself in the mirror.
She was a tall girl with a slender curved body. Thick, straight blonde hair hung over her shoulders and her face was quite beautiful, the bone structure delicate, her skin pale and flawless.
Her wide brown eyes were innocent, shy and intelligent, her nose small and straight, and her mouth gently curved and vulnerable. She was aware of her beauty without conceit, never paying much - attention to it, and often finding it more of a drawback than an asset. This, coupled with the fact that long familiarity with her looks gave her plenty to criticise—she had always thought that her mouth was too large—had long since stripped her of any vanity, leaving her often unaware of her potent attraction to the opposite sex.
She was naturally quiet and sensitive, her shyness veiling a charming wit and depth of character, often hidden by her cool, remote manner. But one look into her clear eyes revealed her inner warmth, and her amusing perceptive intelligence. Her wary outer shell had been carefully constructed for the life she lived with Morgan.
She brushed out her pale hair, leaving it loose to fall soft and silky against her bare shoulders, then stepped into the black dress she had chosen for dinner, a tight sheath that clung sensuously to her lissom figure, with a tight, low bodice held up by slender straps that left her arms and shoulders bare. It was a daring, deliberately seductive dress, chosen by Morgan on a shopping trip in Paris.
When she left her boarding
school and went to live with him in London, Jassy had had little idea of the life she would have to lead. Neither had she realised the full extent of her stepfather's entertaining. He had made it clear that he found most of her
clothes unsuitable and had whisked her off to Paris, where they had spent a full week refurbishing her wardrobe with a number of daring and exotic evening dresses, of which the black dress she wore tonight was one.
Jassy had protested at first, hardly recognising the beautiful, alluring woman who stared back at her from the mirror when she wore these dresses. But Morgan had been very persuasive—he wanted to be proud of her, both he and his associates appreciated a beautiful woman at the dinner table, he had told her—and she had finally given in to him. It made him happy, and she owed him a lot, and it did not really matter to.her what she wore in the evenings. The dresses were, after all, very lovely even if they did not accurately reflect her character.
Pouting at herself in the mirror, Jassy stepped into high-heeled black sandals, and glancing at the clock on the dressing-table saw that it was just after eight, time to join Morgan.
She found her stepfather out on the huge balcony with Pierre and Rene, who had already arrived. Pierre kissed her hand gallantly, commenting on her beauty, and Rene kissed both her cheeks, adding his own extravagant compliments on her appearance, while Morgan fetched her a drink. His pride was shining in his light eyes as he handed her a small whisky and soda, and smiling at him, Jassy was suddenly glad that she could please him so easily.
They all sat down in the ornate chairs on the balcony, the men chatting and Jassy let her gaze wander towards the dark, shifting sea. The night was warm and balmy, the powerful scent from the garden below, sweetening the warm air, and frail insects hummed loudly, almost to the beat of the faintly pounding ocean.
Wipe Away the Tears Page 2