Love Play by Rosemary Rogers (13 page)

Almost incoherent with rage, Sara attempted to tug herself free of his
grip, while her other hand fisted tightly, itching to strike out at him. Only
the long training of discipline and self-control held her back.

'You're - how dare you follow me here? How dare you insinuate that I -
why the last thing I need is to get a rumour started that you . . . that you
and I - let me go!'

He acted as if they were the only people in the world, with a careless
disregard of the curious looks they were getting from some of Delight's fellow
tenants going in and out of the building.

Speaking with exaggerated patience, as if to a child, he said: 'If you
will desist from making a public scene that might draw your photographer friend
back to take more pictures, I will release you by all means. And no pretended
hysteria please! After all, little tease, weren't you coming back to me?'

She had to control herself - she had to! The man was obviously a
monstrous egomaniac.

'I was about to return your car to you.' Sara said carefully, biting
each word off between her teeth. 'And I did intend to spend some time visiting
with Uncle Theo - in private!' she added pointedly, relishing the narrowing of
his eyes at her barb. 'And now . . .' She looked down at her hand, still
imprisoned by his, and hoped that he could not feel the jumping of her nerves.

'And now if I let you go, in which direction will you run? Are you sure
that you want to run?' His voice was tinged with taunting mockery. As if he had
been a familiar friend or lover, he suddenly reached for her other hand,,
swinging both between them once and then drawing her towards him.

'Stop it!'

'What are you afraid of? Or are you playing a game of intrigue?'

'I tried to tell you before - I ... I'm engaged! And I happen to love
him — very much. And as for you, Signor Duca, I'm not running away from you,
I've just been trying to avoid you, that's all!' She forced herself to throw
her head back, meeting eyes like black ice; keeping her voice light. 'Don't
take it too much to heart, though - if I hadn't met Carlo and fallen for him I
just might have gone for you!'

And now his voice was as cold as his eyes as he released her so suddenly
she almost stumbled. 'Carlo, eh? An Italian name - and I warn you, sweet
Delight, that if he happens to be from the old country, he would be jealous -
and no doubt expect purity of his bride... you did say you planned to be
married?'

'Of course we're going to be married. Very soon, as a matter of fact. As
soon as... as I've finished with my part in the movie, I'm going to join, him.'

The key to the Mercedes seemed to burn into her palm, impressed there by
the pressure of his fingers. Clumsily, Sara tried to hand it back to him.

'Please!' What a man of surprises he was! Now it was as if the barely
checked anger she had sensed in him just seconds ago had never been, and
instead he held one hand up, shrugging as he looked at her with indifferent
coolness.

'Since you are going to visit your "uncle" in any case, you
might as well drive the car back, I cannot drive two cars at the same time.'

He could change as quickly as a chameleon! Sara glared at him
suspiciously, but while she stood hesitating on the sidewalk he already had the
door of the Lamborghini open, easing long legs in.

'Do you remember the way, or shall I go slowly in order that you may
follow me?'

What she really ached to do was to throw the keys at him and storm back
inside, leaving him to figure out what to do with the Mercedes. But would
Delight back off from a battle? Never!

'Thank you, I'll follow you if I may,' Sara flung over her shoulder in
her breeziest Delight-voice. Inside, she was still shaking with a mixture of
emotions she didn't want to analyse just yet - but at least he couldn't know
that; and this time, by God, she wasn't running away!

Chapter 12

The next day the newspapers were full of gossip — even the 'trades', as
everybody called them. Uncle Theo's houseboy brought them to her stacked neatly
on a brass tray, his face expressionless even when he informed her that she had
been mentioned on Brenda Rowan's morning gossip show again -
 
and that there was a telephone call for her
to return as soon as she woke up. Mr Hunt.

Garon? Sara's face flushed hotly, remembering. Oh, God,what must he
think of her!And now all these ridiculous stories , . .

'Well! Should I say congratulations?' Garon's voice was dry, and she had
difficulty guessing what he might be thinking. I'm just calling to let you know
that you can have a few more days off — at least through the weekend. We're
having weather problems on location.'

Sara got through the rest of the conversation with difficulty. She
couldn't very well burst out denying all the gossip, when Garon hadn't
questioned her about it at all. And she couldn't very well hint around to show
him that she'd like to see him again, because she wasn't sure if she really did
or not. And how could be want to date her again when she'd passed out on him?
In any case, and somewhat to her chagrin, Garon was casually friendly - and
businesslike.

'Tell our friend Riccardo that I'll probably catch him later, huh? And
you have fun, kid.'

' Sara stared frustratedly at the phone for a few seconds before she put
it down and reached for the newspapers, shuddering as she encountered a simply
ghastly photo-graph of herself, rummaging in her purse and looking like a
female bank robber in those sunglasses. And another, worse picture in which she
seemed to be looking up adoringly into Riccardo's profiled face while he held
her hand . . .

Oh — insufferable! Maybe Uncle Theo would know what to do. Maybe she
could sue them — and especially that sneaky Gordo Rapp. A written item caught
Sara's eye and she could almost have cried aloud with vexation as she skimmed
down the column.

Were Paul and Monique Drury playing Cupid when they introduced the
multimillionaire Duca di Cavalieri to aspiring model-actress Delight Adams? It
must have been love at first sight, with dinner at the exclusive Cafe Russe and
a very private lunch on the set — in Paul Drury's office, no less. And now a
delighted Delight is driving around in a brand-new Mercedes SL 450 — a gift,
from an admirer. Dare we guess who?

The phone at her bedside rang and Sara snatched at it almost thankfully;
only to grimace, her nose wrinkling, when she recognised the drawlingly
sarcastic voice that grated in her ear. 'You have seen the newspapers?' And
then, coldly, 'I suppose this is what you would call here "good
publicity"? However I find the liberties your press takes offensive!'

Surely he didn't think ... he couldn't think ,,, Sara could feel herself
getting hot all over and couldn't prevent it - any more than she could Stop her
voice from rising. 'This is all your fault! You're the one who insisted on
meeting me, and you're the one who -1 certainly don't need any of this kind of
publicity, let me tell you!' Remembering her role, as she paused to draw breath
Sara fought to make her voice sound even as she went on more calmly: 'I have a
very jealous fiance who would ... would kill both of us if he thought all this
nasty gossip was true!'

'Oh, yes - this Carlo you were speaking of? I will, of course, be glad
"to set him straight" as you say here — should he approach me.
Perhaps I should also advise him that if he has a fiancee as ... attractive as
you are he should not leave her alone so much?'

Even when he softened his voice, it had rough edges to it, rubbing her
up the wrong way like a cat's tongue against her flesh, so that she shuddered
first and then bristled instinctively.

'Carlo is none of your business. And if you don't like the newspaper
stories then you ought to deny them, don't you think? I'm sure you're some kind
of international playboy, but I wish you'd realise that I'm not interested in
the kind of games you're playing!'

Silence stretched tautly between them. Had she gone too far? Sara heard
her rings tap edgily against the telephone receiver. Wasn't he going to say
anything?

To her amazement, she heard him laugh softly - even his laughter sounded
more like the growl of a big cat, making her jump nervously.

'Why - because you have not set the rules? You should take chances
sometimes . . . Delight!'

'I take chances all the time!' Anger made her voice sound brittle to the
point of breaking. 'But in this case I really don't choose to get involved. And
I don't like to see lies printed about me.'

'No?' And then, curtly, as if he'd grown tired of the entertainment she
must have provided, 'I am no longer enjoying the hospitality of Mr Kohler - I
am back at my hotel. But I was calling to suggest we meet again - privately
this time — to discuss how we should put an end to these rumours. If you will
call and leave a message as to a time that will be convenient to you?'

Why hadn't she refused him? Afterwards Sara could not decide why she had
allowed herself to be so weak in the face of his 'request' that had been
phrased more like an order. She never wanted to meet him again and rediscover
in herself that frighteningly helpless weakness his darkly arrogant presence
seemed to evoke. Delight wouldn't have been threatened by him, but Sara was.
Threatened - and also drawn, as much as she might want to deny it.

Moths were drawn to candle flame — and inevitably ended up with their
wings singed. And for all that she might pretend to be Delight, this adventure
actually belonged to Sara, and Sara had better be very careful if she didn't
want to end up burned!

The drive back to Uncle Theo's house gave Sara time to deliberate on
what she might be getting herself into, but the way the security guards greeted
her made her feel welcome and safe, even if Uncle Theo seemed to have
mis-understood completely her relationship with his erstwhile house-guest -
with whom she was supposed to have dinner tonight!

'You can" meet here, it's more private. And I'm sure you know what
you're doing by now - you've spent enough time in this town. You should have
got in touch with me before, you know!' Uncle Theo was gruff but helpful, and
Sara hugged him impulsively.

'I know, I'm sorry - but I wanted to do it all by myself. And I didn't
even know you still lived around here.'

'Well, now you know! No more excuses for not coming to visit, eh?'

Uncle Theo was a love, but how should she describe Riccardo, Duca di
Cavalieri? While she was thinking it over, Sara was getting herself ready,
wondering why she was taking the trouble. A trace of eye make-up, a touch of
blusher. And red lip gloss to outline her lips.

Really, Sara, you ought to be ashamed! she scolded her image in the
mirror, but without much conviction. Sara, standing in between roles, was
actually enjoying all this! Even if he thought she was Delight, the woman who
was intriguing him was Sara, was her; and instead of being ashamed, she
relished the thought. Slipping into a silk Missoni dress that clung to her like
a second skin - so soft, bodice crossed over in front and dipping low enough to
show the cleft between her breasts - Sara turned in front of mirrors that
reflected her from all angles. These were her clothes, not her sister's, and
she was glad now of the European shopping trip she had indulged in before she
had flown to New York. Slipping her feet into high-heeled shoes with thin
straps of soft leather crossed over her instep and a real gold chain encircling
each slim ankle, she turned again, skirt barely covering her knees. She looked
more like her mother than she ever had before. She looked less like Delight,
with some of the tight curl in her hair beginning to loosen; slipping down
against her neck and brushing her temples and cheeks. Looked not at all like
Sara, who was proper and self-controlled and a real, twenty-four-carat virgin
to boot!

Be careful! With her last caution to herself still echoing in her mind
Sara left her room, walking quickly down a pillared gallery that was hung with
flowered vines; round a bend and through a small patio that led into the larger
one that surrounded the huge pool. This was where they were to have dinner,
because of the balmy weather and Uncle Theo's romantic nature.

There was a table, covered by a spotless white linen cloth. Candles in
crystal holders and a crystal vase filled with perfumed red roses. The candles
were lit, and real silver flatware gleamed beside fine china and matching
crystal wine glasses. Two white-jacketed waiters hovering unobtrusively in the
background, and a strolling guitar player as well.

Sara had to fight back the rising bubble of hysterical laughter in her
throat. What on earth was Uncle Theo up to? It looked like a set from an old
Audrey Hepburn movie - but was she capable of playing the lead?

Of course, she had deliberately made herself late - and Riccardo was
already here, betraying no sign of impatience or anger as he rose to
acknowledge her arrival. One black eyebrow raised, he lifted his glass to her.

'To — Delight. You look charming.'

'Thank you.' Of course she must ignore the way his glance raked over her
insolently as if he was stripping her bare. She must remind herself that she
was in control. She had accepted his invitation tonight only in order to show
him that he didn't intimidate her in the least.

One of the waiters seated her and she asked for Perrier alongside her
wine. The guitar player started singing softly - some old, sentimental Italian
song. Oh, no! Uncle Theo was surely going a little too far; or maybe the only
movies he watched any more were the old ones.

Her antagonist was leaning back in his chair, eyes hooded. 'You like
this corny music? I seem to remember reading somewhere that your favourite
music is rock and roll -punk rock?'

'You shouldn't believe everything you read, should you?' Brightly, Sara
lifted her glass to him and tasted her wine, which was very good — dry and
chilled just enough. Emboldened by his speculative silence she continued, 'I
thought we were meeting to discuss how to squelch the gossip. Perhaps you could
threaten to sue? I'm sure you could afford it better than I can.'