Wild Melody (9 page)

'And it can stay there!' Catriona retorted, knowing that she was being

childish but too angry to care much. 'I'm going to find Sally.'

'Not now,' he said decisively, and took her hand again. 'She has to get ready

and Hugo's tolerance of spectators is limited. I'll take you up to the studio

before the rehearsal gets under way. In you go.'

He pushed open a door and Catriona glared helplessly at him for a moment

before entering the room.

It was not a large room and the main item was a desk, seething in papers.

There was a portable typewriter, pushed to one side, jostling with several

telephones and an intercom system. A shelf overflowed with books, mostly

of a reference nature, she noticed, and two filing cabinets stood in gleaming

splendour against one wall. An expensive leather coat was flung over the

only spare chair—a low black leather and chrome affair. Jason picked up the

coat and slung it casually in the general direction of an empty coat-stand in

the corner.

'Take a seat,' he invited, and flicked a switch on the intercom. 'Two coffees,

Diane.'

'Not for me,' Catriona protested immediately.

'Oh, stop arguing. You spilled most of yours and you could do with some

kind of stimulant. You look like a ghost,' he observed a little cruelly. 'It

seems to be my fate to be around you at moments of crisis. I'd hoped to meet

you in a relaxed mood today.'

'You hoped to meet me?' She stared at him in frank disbelief.

'Why not?' He glanced at her, his brows raised, then came to sit on the edge

of the desk. 'You're very attractive, Miss Muir, as I'm sure you know. I'm

also sure you have hidden charms as well—if ever you allow anyone close

enough to discover them.'

'I consider you've been quite close enough,' she said, her voice shaking a

little.

'Oh?' He stubbed out his cigarette in a huge onyx ash tray. 'Because I once

kissed you and removed your dress— not simultaneously?'

Catriona stared at him, her face crimson. 'I wonder you're not ashamed to

remember that.'

'Shame has never featured very high among my emotions,' he told her drily,

as the door opened and a tall dark girl wearing huge tinted glasse s cane in

carrying a tray of coffee. There was silence a- Catri::. heiped herself to

sugar, and refused the biscuits that were provided with a shake of her head.

Then Diane let: the room -Tier a quiet word of thanks from Jason.

It was Jason who spoke first once they were alone again.

'I like your outfit.'

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she'd had no thought of him when

she put it on, but then she remembered what she had been thinking when she

arrived that morning and bit back the retort with a slightly raised colour.

'You blush delightfully too,' he went on smoothly. 'I confess I'd forgotten

girls still could at your age. How old did you say you were?'

'I didn't say,' she said curtly. 'But I'm twenty.'

'You look younger,' he said briefly, swallowing some coffee. 'Especially

when you sulk.'

'I am not sulking--' Catriona began indignantly, then stopped, realising how

ridiculous such an argument could only become.

'All right,' he held up a mocking hand. 'We'll call a truce. I don't want to

figure as the villain of the piece on your day out. Are you enjoying it, and

have you seen everything that you wanted?'

'I'm looking forward to seeing the play later on,' she admitted. 'It's a good

story, and I think Sally is going to be tremendous.'

'I think so too. I've a lot of time for young Sal,' he said. 'You two get on all

right?'

'Isn't it obvious?'

'Obvious conclusions aren't always the correct ones,' he returned.

'Yes, I like her very much.'

'I'm pleased,' Jason said coolly. 'After all, you have a lot in common, or

haven't you confided in each other to that extent yet?' Catriona stared at him

wide-eyed and he nodded. 'That's right, darling—Jeremy, of course.

Although Sal managed to get out heart-whole,' he added.

'I had no idea,' Catriona said numbly.

'Does it make any difference?' he asked. 'It certainly hasn't to Sally. She's

fairly shrewd and she soon saw through Jeremy. I thought perhaps if you

discussed things with her, you might end up feeling a little less sorry for

yourself.'

'I haven't discussed it with anyone. It's not something I'm particularly

anxious to have known,' Catriona said quietly.

He shrugged. 'As you wish. But this isn't really what I brought you here to

talk about.' He paused. 'Do you remember saying you intended to repay me

for the dress and other stuff?'

'Yes.' Catriona looked at him a little apprehensively. 'But I don't start work

until Monday and ...'

He raised his hand again, silencing her. 'I don't mean money,' he told her, his

smile widening as he took in her instant look of alarm and the instinctive

stiffening of her slender body. 'And I don't mean what you seem to think,

either. Making love can be a gift—but never the repayment of a debt. I'm

afraid what I have in mind is far more prosaic. How are you at housework?'

Catriona was too taken aback to answer for a minute. Jason paused,

obviously expecting some response, then gave a little impatient sigh.

'I ask, because you could help me out of a real jam, if you wanted,' he said.

'Mrs Birch, poor soul, has slipped and fallen at home and sprained her wrist.

She'll be out of action for some time and the flat is chaos without her.' He

paused again and eyed Catriona. 'I can't do without a woman around, I

suppose—even if not for the purpose you seem to suspect.'

'Can I get this straight?' she demanded, her voice quivering a little. 'You

want me to come and clean your flat for you every day?'

'Oh, not as often as that,' he said hastily. 'But if you could pop round and

straighten up for me until I can make alternative arrangements, I'd^be

grateful. But if you think the suggestion is an insult. . .'

'Oh, no,' Catriona said quickly. 'I'd be glad to do it. I'm quite used to

housework. It would be no bother at all.'

'Then it's a bargain. Consider all debts paid in full.' He slid off the desk and

held out his hand, his eyes compelling her to return the gesture. She rose in

turn and touched his fingers awkwardly, wishing that she did not find the

slightest physical contact with him such a disturbing experience.

'It doesn't seem right, though,' she said, her forehead puckered slightly. 'The

dress cost such a lot and this is so little to do in return.'

'So little?' he echoed mockingly. 'I can't think of one other girl I know that

I'd care to ask—or trust to do it. And you don't have to worry about having to

endure my company for two days running,' he added abruptly. 'I shall be

here at the studio all day. You can get on in your own way and eat when you

feel like it. There's masses of food jn the fridge. Mrs Birch stocked up just

before her accident.'

'Thank you,' Catriona said, feeling foolish. For a moment her imagination

had created a scene she did not care to contemplate of Jason working in his

study, while she cleaned and prepared meals and made coffee. It was

somehow a more intimate picture than the night she had spent in the flat.

'I shall be gone by half past eight. Can you manage that, or shall I leave the

key with the other tenants?' he asked.

'I'll be there before you leave,' she assured him. 'Will I find everything in the

kitchen?'

'Yes, I'll show you round before I leave. I know where everything is even if

I'm not much good at using it,' he said, grinning. 'There are some rubber

gloves as well, I think.'

'Oh, I never use the silly things,' she said, speaking more lightly than she had

felt inclined to do in his presence previously.

'No.' He reached out deliberately and took her hand again, studying the

small rounded palm and slim fingers. 'This is a working hand all right.' He

traced one of its lines with his fingertip. 'This is your heart line, Catriona. It

looks remarkably steady. I don't see Jeremy on it, do you?'

Catriona wanted to pull away, but instead she stood gazing down at the floor

while the silence between them became almost tangible.

'Catriona.' His voice was low, and the teasing note was still there but subtly

altered in some strange way. 'Shall I tell the studio to go to hell and stay at

home tomorrow?'

'Aren't you forgetting? Lovemaking is no way to pay a debt,' she flung at

him almost wildly, shocked at her own reactions. Had she forgotten who he

was and his utter ruthlessness in getting what he wanted? Besides, she still

loved Jeremy, she told herself desperately, so why this sudden traitorous

longing to feel Jason's body hard with desire against hers, his mouth

irrevocably dissolving her shyness away?

He released her hand abruptly, and she flinched from the anger in his eyes.

'I thought we'd agreed the debt was paid,' he said. 'Don't worry, Catriona. I

won't ask you to pay again.'

The intercom sounded and Diane's voice said, 'The studio have rung down,

Mr Lord.'

'Fine.' He switched the machine off, and turned to Catriona. 'That was

Hugo's all-clear. We can go up now.'

'Are you going to watch the run-through too?'

'Why, yes,' he said coolly. 'I too have an interest in this play, you know.'

Catriona supposed he meant Moira Dane. The actress had made it clear in

the restaurant that there had been more than mere friendship between them.

Well, Catriona thought bitterly, she would not add to the lists of his

conquests, no matter what tricks his experience with other women had

taught him.

'Well, come on,' Jason said impatiently, his hand on the doorhandle. 'This is

what you came here for after all, isn't it?'

But as she followed him to the lift, Catriona found herself wondering if that

was now altogether true.

Somewhat to her surprise, she thoroughly enjoyed the rehearsal that

followed:- She sat with Jason but not near him in the producer's box. Hugo

and his assistants sat at a control panel in front of a bank of television

screens, communicating with the cast and floor manager through

microphones.

In spite of her instinctive dislike of Moira, Catriona had to admit she was a

fine actress. She was playing a basically unsympathetic character, but she

managed to invest it with a kind of pathetic dignity at the end. Sally's role as

the younger girl could have been insipid by contrast, but was saved by the

excellence of the writing, Catriona realised, as well as Sally's very good

performance. She was sorry when the play reached its ironic climax and

Hugo called for a break.

He came over to her and smiled kindly. 'Enjoy it?' he asked, and she nodded

mutely.

'If you want to pop up to the canteen for a coffee, now's your chance. Sally

has to go along to Wardrobe to get something done about that damn silly

train they've given her and I want to run through a few things again. Can you

manage to find your way up there on your own?'

Catriona assured him that she could. For one heart- stopping moment, she

was afraid that Jason would accompany her. He held the studio door open

for her as she left, but to her relief went off in the opposite direction without

a word.

Catriona decided to use the cafeteria this time. She collected a coffee and a

portion of gateau and carried them to an empty table. Unlike the restaurant,

this part of the room was furnished with tables covered in a teak laminate

with comfortable bench seats on each side.

The cafeteria was barely half full, and Catriona amused herself by seeing

how many people she could recognise fromher brief acquaintance with

television. She was trying to place one short fair man whom she associated

with a panel game of some kind when Moira's voice said, 'May we join you?'

Catriona looked up, startled. Moira had a young man with her this time. His

light brown hair was even longer than Jason's and he wore a rather

Victorian-looking moustache. His suit was a pale coffee colour, and his shirt

was brown and gold with a matching tie.

'This is Roger Hunt,' Moira said carelessly as they sat down. 'He's a

columnist with the
Evening Globe.'

This meant little to Catriona, but she smiled politely and shook hands with

him, a little confused by the openly admiring look he gave her. But his

manner was pleasant and after a few moments in his company she began to

feel quite relaxed.

'You haven't much of an accent for a Scots lass,' he commented.

'Well, my mother was English and my father spent most of his time south of

the Border,' Catriona answered. 'Besides, we don't spend all our time saying

"Och" and "havers", you know.'

'Oh, I'm not criticising. Your voice is delightful with that faint underlying

lilt,' he said.

Catriona was not used to quite so personal remarks from a stranger and she