Last Resort (6 page)

"My, my!"

Sylvia chuckled.

"I always knew he had his faults, but what on earth did he do to you?"

Penny looked away. She wasn't about to admit to Sylvia that once, while under the influence of a little too

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much wine, she'd come on pretty strong to her precious godson. They'd been at a party in one of the plush restaurants on the Embankment at the time and Penny, like every other woman present, had been aware of David Villers from the moment he'd walked in. Being as strikingly good-looking as he was with his long, curly blond hair and strong, well-defined features, it was hardly surprising he'd caused such a stir. But it wasn't only his looks that attracted people to him, for his selfconfidence and easy humour had a magnetic allure all their own. He'd been there for almost half an hour by the time Penny plucked up the courage to respond to the interested glances he was casting her way. It wasn't until she had already introduced herself that she'd realized the glances had in fact been directed towards the leggy brunette somewhere behind her. However, with a reckless, champagne-induced bravado fizzing through her, instead of moving on she had attempted to block his view of the other woman by bobbing around in front of him, snatching his smiles for herself while going into some hideously embarrassing routine designed to impress him. Even now, as she thought of it, she could feel her toes curling.

But that was by no means the worst of it, for if she remembered correctly, and sadly she knew she did, every time he'd politely tried to excuse himself she had unflinchingly pressed more of her amusing anecdotes upon him while sidling doggedly with him across the room. Oh God, why do we do these things? She was cringing inside. It was only after the call of nature had prised her briefly from his side that he had made good his escape and then, coming back down the stairs, she'd overheard him apologizing to the host of the party for sneaking out early but he just had to get away from the

"stumpy little blonde who's coming on to me like some sex-starved Sumo'.

As she looked at Sylvia, still trying to think of an answer, Penny was sunk in the misery of her recaptured

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disgrace. How could any self-respecting woman have embarrassed herself like that? Unfortunately the answer was

"easily', since if the truth were known she had a bit of a knack for it. But why couldn't David Villers just have stayed in Miami where he belonged?

Actually, if she remembered correctly he was a Scot, but he'd lived in the States for ten years or more, or so he'd said, and as far as she was concerned the USA was more than welcome to him. She had no idea what he'd been doing over there and neither did she care. Except now he was back in England, at least she presumed he was, and he was about to discover that his partner in this new venture was none other than the sex-starved Sumo. Wasn't he going to be pleased!

"Does he know yet that it's me who's editing?"

Penny asked.

"Yes."

Penny's eyes opened wide.

"Didn't he object?"

she cried indignantly. He could at least have done her that favour.

To be truthful with you, Penelope, he didn't seem to know who you were."

Penny felt the colour burn her cheeks.

"Please, don't call me Penelope,"

she said.

"But why on earth not? It's such a pretty name."

"Because it sounds plump. Looking plump is bad enough. I don't want to sound it too."

Sylvia laughed.

"You really are such a funny thing at times/ she said.

"You've got so much going for you, including a lovely face, and, who knows, maybe a bit of sunshine and exercise will get that body of yours into better shape."

"Meaning I need it,"

Penny bristled.

"Meaning..."

Sylvia threw out her hands.

"I don't think I can win here so let's get back to the subject of David, shall we? Amongst the lengthy list of superlatives you used to describe him I will challenge only one. He

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isn't lazy. Regarding the rest, I concede you may well be right. But he has an exceptional flair for business, which is why I have asked him to take on this magazine with you. You will have equal power ..."

"How can we when he's your godson?"

Penny protested.

"And if, like you say, he's so much more experienced in the world of business than I am?"

Tou will have equal power/ Sylvia repeated,

"which is something David is already aware of and hasn't disputed. To all intents and purposes the magazine will be yours, as will the decisions, and he will help out on the finance and business fronts where necessary. So there is no need to concern yourself about some kind of power struggle."

"What's his title going to be?"

Penny enquired loftily.

"He doesn't actually have one,"

Sylvia answered.

"Neither has he asked for one. However, you are the editor and together you and David will fulfil the role of publisher. Naturally, when you get the magazine back on its feet you will need to increase your staff, and at that point we will review the situation. As it stands, it will be all hands on deck and I imagine everyone, including you and David, will be performing as many menial tasks as you will editorial. However, the budget I am having drawn up for you is more than generous, so you won't be reduced to making the tea just yet.

"Of the staff currently on the magazine,"

she continued, barely pausing for breath,

"I would suggest that you retain Marielle Descourts, who has been acting editor since we took over Fieldstone when the previous editor resigned. She is, as her name would suggest, French, and will undoubtedly have an invaluable knowledge of the region as well as some good contacts when it comes to contributors. I took the liberty of speaking to her on the phone this morning to tell her that you will be arriving within the next week or two'

"What's she like?"

Penny asked.

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'I'm afraid I don't know her at all/ Sylvia answered.

"But from the sound of her I'd say she's around your age and her English is excellent. Ah, thank you/ she said as the waiter refilled their glasses.

"I suspect, or rather hope, that the two of you will become great friends/ she went on,

"and that together with David you will make a formidable team."

"And what if I feel/ Penny said, knowing that she already did,

"that the entire face of the magazine should change, including the title, distribution, price, frequency of publication et cetera? Will the budget stretch to that?"

"If you can show me good reason for making such drastic changes, then I'm sure we can come to an arrangement/ Sylvia answered. The accountants tell me that there is every likelihood we will be operating at a loss for quite some h'me, but it's what I expected."

Penny looked at her curiously.

"Why are you so keen for this magazine to work?"

she asked.

"I mean, to put it bluntly, it's nothing more than a local rag that's never going to find its feet in the world of giants."

Sylvia smiled.

"Call it the whim of an old lady/ she chuckled.

"I have a fondness for the Riviera, it's where my husband and I met and spent many holidays over the years."

Inwardly Penny shrugged. If you were as rich as Sylvia then you could afford that kind of whim, she supposed.

There is just one other thing/ Sylvia said.

"Initially you probably won't have the time, but I know you have a passion for writing short stories, which I imagine will find their way into the new magazine, and, if they do, I'd like to publish them in Starke. I also want to continue to run your interviews where they are relevant for Starke. This way we will keep your name in the big league, as it were, and I'd like you to feel free to call upon Starke's resources to add to your material should you feel it necessary."

She laughed at the look that had come over

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Penny's face.

"Does that help soften the blow of your name being taken out of lights?"

she asked. Without waiting for an answer she said,

"It means that, should the new magazine not succeed for any reason, the damage to your career will be as minimal as I can make it. But let's not look on the gloomy side, because I have every confidence in you and in David and I fully expect to see the new version of whatever you choose to call it on the stands by the end of the year."

"What!"

Penny gasped. Then, with a mischievous twinkle, she added,

"If you'd drop David, I'd do it single-handedly by August."

Sylvia smiled.

"Then, with David, perhaps you could do it even sooner."

Penny rolled her eyes. There was obviously no getting rid of him so it was a waste of time trying.

"Just answer me this/ she said:

"if it turns out that for some reason David doesn't want me on the magazine, what happens then?"

Had Sylvia not taken so long deliberating her answer then Penny might have considered it as innocuous at it sounded, but when eventually she said,

"I foresee no problems on that particular front,"

Penny's suspicions were immmediately aroused.

"Meaning you do on other fronts?"

she challenged.

"Meaning,"

Sylvia responded smoothly,

"that you will find David a hard man to alienate. Now, why don't we eat our lunch and turn our attention to more important matters ... such as the content of your new magazine."

Though Penny wasn't yet prepared to commit any of her ideas to paper she needed little encouragement to test them out on Sylvia; so, giving in to the change of subject, she began outlining some of her initial concepts, whilst, for the moment at least, keeping her curiosity in check. Besides, it could be that she was reading too much into Sylvia's last two remarks, for on the face of it they really didn't add up to much. Nevertheless Penny's 42

instincts were telling her that there was something about David's involvement in this new magazine that, for some reason, wasn't being shared with her.

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Chapter 3

A week later Penny was gazing down at the vast, snowy peaks of the Alps, which were glistening like great mounds of Lalique glass in the dazzling midday sun.

The flight into Nice at any time of year was spectacular, but on a day such as this when there wasn't a cloud in sight and the rugged mountains were cloaked so beautifully in their gleaming white winter coats it was impossible not to be moved by the sheer magnificence of it all. In fact, it was making her think of Declan, for the last time she had taken this flight he had been with her and though on that occasion there had been no snow the compelling beauty of the Alps, much to the amusement and delight of the other passengers, had moved him to

song.

He'd called her several times during the ten days or so since she'd left him, but there was nothing he could say to change her mind and make her go back.

His bisexuality just wasn't something she could live with - in fact, it had killed her feelings for him as effectively as if he had taken an eraser to a pencil sketch. Of course the imprint was still there and it was true to say that she was feeling pretty lost without him. But she knew that would pass and the negative results of her blood test meant that she must now put it all behind her and move

on.

As the plane began its descent, circling down over the 44

still, turquoise-blue sea and hugging the coastline into Nice, she was watching the passing land and seascapes and trying to make herself believe that this was soon going to be her home. It didn't seem real, but she wasn't sure whether that was because a very strong part of her still didn't want it to be, or because the shimmering light on the deserted sandy beaches and majestic stuccofronted buildings lent the place a strangely ephemeral feel.

Her schedule had been frantic right up until the moment she'd left. She, Yolanda and Sylvia had done so much research into the Cote d'Azur and had tossed around so many ideas that, though still in the theory stage, Penny had found herself becoming almost childishly excited by the sheer enormity of the challenge. Now, as the plane skimmed over the sun-spangled sea and glided smoothly on to the runway at Nice airport, she was far more nervous than excited at the prospect of having to begin putting at least some of her ideas into practice. How the hell did she know what anyone wanted down here when she'd only ever visited the place twice?

But she was going to find out, which, of course, was why she was here on this recce and the reason she had asked Marielle to meet her off the plane so that they could get started straight away.

The flight was only half full, so it didn't take long to get through customs and around to the baggage reclaim. It was as she was hauling her suitcase off the carousel that someone touched her arm and asked if she was Penny Moon.

Recognizing the voice as belonging to the person she had been speaking to on the telephone this past week, Penny turned to greet Marielle Descourts.

"Hi/ she said, letting go of her case and lifting her hand.

"It's good of'. She stopped dead and blinked in amazement as she stared at the woman in front of her. She felt a bit like a 45

magic lamp that had been rubbed and out had popped the delectable, sultry and stupendously beautiful brunette she had always longed to be."

. . . you to come and meet me/ she finished, reasserting her smile.

"It is my pleasure,"

Marielle told her, her slanted, expressionless eyes sweeping over Penny's face. She was wearing a short black coat over a tight-fitting black skirt, thick black tights and extremely expensive black pumps. Her hair was a thick, wiry mass of curls that framed her exquisite face and stopped in a harsh line just above her shoulders. Her make-up, though slightly overdone, was immaculate, the shiny splash of red on her wide, full lips adding a striking contrast to the darkness of her skin and clothes. She was the very epitome of French chic and towered over Penny in a way that made Penny feel so uncomfortably dwarfish and dowdy that it was only the brief glimpse of herself in a mirror as Marielle led the way out of the terminal building that reassured her she didn't look quite so bad after all.