‘YOUR friend seems happy enough,’ Marcus drawled beside her.
Joy glanced over uninterestedly to where Danny was now dancing enthusiastically with the pouting blonde.
She still wasn’t quite sure what she was doing here herself, in a nightclub she had only ever read about in the newspapers before this evening, but Marcus Ballantyne was right: Danny was certainly enjoying himself with the young actress.
They had all piled into taxis when they had left the restaurant earlier, and somehow Joy had found herself squashed between the door of the taxi and Marcus Ballantyne. And he hadn’t left her side since their arrival at the club, the slightly proprietorial air he had adopted towards her warning off any of the other men in the group. Including Danny, who, because of the older man’s apparent interest in her, had suddenly started looking at her with new eyes himself. But after making such a point of saying they were simply old friends, he hadn’t been able to make too much of a claim on her himself, finally going off to chat and flirt with the lovely blonde who had been so peeved with Marcus Ballantyne earlier. Joy was sure that initially the two of them had only got together because they were so piqued with her and Marcus, but they now seemed to be genuinely enjoying each other’s company.
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged huskily, taking a sip of her wine, unable to look at Marcus.
God, she felt uncomfortable in his company. She didn’t even know what to talk to him about!
‘Relax, Joy.’ As he spoke Marcus moved one lean hand to cover hers as it rested on her thigh, causing Joy to look up at him with startled green eyes. ‘I’m quite harmless, you know.’ He gave her that teasing grin that was so famous from television and film screens.
Anyone less harmless than this man she had yet to meet! He gave the impression of a leashed tiger, bound only by a thin veneer of civilisation. And it was questionable whether that veneer always remained in place. Somehow Joy doubted it…
Marcus leaned forward slightly, bringing his face dangerously close to hers, his fingers becoming entwined with hers now—long, lean fingers that made her hand look tiny in comparison. But everything about this man was big—in fact, he was larger than life. Joy felt lost.
‘I don’t bite—at least, not on a first date,’ he told her huskily, dark blue eyes alight with humour.
Completely lost! She shouldn’t have listened to Casey’s voice inside her head earlier. She wasn’t having fun and enjoying herself, was too nervous in this man’s company to do that. Gerald had been old beyond his years, very serious, and so her experience with men was limited—very limited when it came to men like Marcus Ballantyne. She certainly couldn’t forget who she was for this one evening, and flirt with this man. She was totally out of her depth.
She swallowed hard. ‘We aren’t on a date,’ she dismissed, as lightly as she could, hoping she sounded more self-assured than she felt.
‘That can easily be remedied.’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Have dinner with me tomorrow evening.’ His blue gaze easily held hers. ‘I promise not to bite then, either.’
Have dinner with this man? Just the two of them out for an evening together? He had to be joking!
‘Unless Danny was exaggerating things slightly when he told me earlier that your friendship with him was a thing of the past?’ Marcus peristed at her lack of reply. ‘After all, it is Valentine’s night— perhaps he was trying to revive things between the two of you?’
Danny hadn’t been exaggerating about there being nothing intimate between them; he had been completely fabricating the whole thing. But without revealing her own part in the competition prize, she couldn’t exactly tell Marcus that. And the more time she spent in Marcus Ballantyne’s company, the less she wanted him to know about that.
‘There is absolutely nothing like that between Danny and myself,’ she said with complete certainty, knowing there never would be. She still thought he was the biggest bore she had ever met in her life, and if she ever had to spend another evening in his company she would fall asleep! ‘Danny was alone this evening, and I happened to be in town, so dinner seemed like a good idea,’ she dismissed easily.
‘Good,’ Marcus accepted with satisfaction. ‘In that case, think about dinner tomorrow. And in the meantime,’ he added, before she could make a reply, ‘would you like to dance?’
Joy very much doubted that this man very often had to leave a woman to think about going out with him! It was…Dance? He wanted her to get up and dance with him? To this? The loud rock music had stopped several minutes ago to be replaced by slow love-songs—in fact Danny and the young blonde had been entwined in each other’s arms for some time. And now Marcus had suggested that the two of them—!
He gave a throaty chuckle at her side. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you before, Joy,’ he told her with a smile, as she turned to look at him enquiringly. ‘Believe me, you’re very refreshing!’ he assured her at her doubtful look.
Gauche and unsophisticated was what he really meant, Joy was sure. And who could blame him for thinking that? She was behaving like some inexperienced teenager rather than the mature woman she was supposed to be. The man was suggesting they dance together, not asking her to go to bed with him!
‘I would love to dance.’ She stood up determinedly once she had made the announcement, her forced confidence shaken a little as she realised that Marcus Ballantyne’s fingers were still entwined with hers, his hand tightening its grasp slightly as he stood up beside her, moving forward to make a path for them to the crowded dance-floor.
Joy had no choice but to go along with him; the clasp of his hand was deceptively light, but she had no doubt that if she seemed in any danger of leaving his side, for whatever reason, his fingers would tighten quite painfully.
Her heart was racing; a pulse seemed to be hammering in her throat as Marcus took her in his arms.
He was so much taller and bigger than she was, she realised, as he gathered her close against him, the top of her head resting under his chin, strong arms about her waist as he moulded her body against his.
Joy could barely breathe—and it had little to do with the fact that her face was buried against the hardness of his chest. It had everything to do with the fact that she was completely aware of this man, from the hard leanness of his body to the tantalising smell of the aftershave he wore.
He moved rhythmically to the beat of the music, his body seductive against hers, the crush of the dance-space making it impossible for them to move off the spot. When he had pulled her into his arms Joy hadn’t known what to do with her hands, but as Marcus put his arms possessively about her narrow waist she had perforce to place her hands on his broad shoulders. And she had never felt so uncomfortable in her life, her efforts to hold herself apart from Marcus quickly dealt with by him as he moulded her into the hard contours of his body with the firmness of his hands against her lower back. In fact, those hands were a little too familiar against the curve of the base of her spine!
‘I said relax, Joy.’ He lowered his head to murmur close to her ear, his breath warm and caressing against her skin. ‘We’re only dancing.’
It might only be dancing to him, but it felt more like making love to music to her! Maybe he was used to this sort of intimacy, but she certainly wasn’t; there didn’t seem to be a part of their bodies that wasn’t touching; even their legs were brushing together as they could only move from side to side to the music. So much for behaving like the mature woman she was supposed to be; her legs felt as if they were going to buckle beneath her if this battering to her senses continued.
‘Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Flirt a little!’ This was going from one extreme to the other. From merely existing for the last six months—going to work, then home, then back to work again—she had suddenly been thrust into a situation, with this wildly attractive man, that she just didn’t know how to deal with. She wasn’t just out of her depth, she was sinking! It reminded her of a poem she had loved to read when she was younger, she thought slightly hysterically, the poem a cry for help from someone everyone thought was in control but who was actually anything but. Her own self-assured control had completely deserted her.
‘Would you like to sit down again?’ Marcus offered huskily. ‘I’ve been wanting to hold you in my arms like this ever since I glanced across the restaurant earlier and saw you sitting there like a shimmering green flame among the dross,’ he continued softly. ‘But we can sit down if that’s what you would prefer to…God, Joy, what’s a woman like you doing with a man like Danny Eames?’ He suddenly sounded angry.
Joy gasped at this attack. ‘I—’
“The man is at best an idiot,’ Marcus rasped disparagingly. ‘At worst—’
‘I don’t really think it’s any of your business what I’m doing with Danny,’ Joy cut in, having recovered slightly from the unexpected attack. ‘And what do you mean,’ she added defensively, ‘a woman like me?’
‘You’re everything that Danny isn’t.’ Marcus shook his head. ‘You have style—something he will never have. Why are you wasting your time on a man like him?’
Joy looked up at him angrily. ‘When there’s someone like you around, you mean?’ she scorned.
‘We weren’t talking about me—’
‘Weren’t we?’ she interrupted again.
‘Maybe we were,’ he accepted slowly. ‘Joy, you’re worth a thousand of Danny Eames, don’t you realise that?’ he said almost angrily.
‘You don’t even know me,’ she dismissed with derision.
‘But I would like to,’ he told her huskily. ‘Very much so. You’re beautiful, Joy. So beautiful. You…I’m going to kiss you!’ he warned gruffly, seconds before his head lowered and his lips claimed hers.
Joy’s hands tightened instinctively on his shoulders. The two of them had given up any impression of dancing now, and Joy was aware of nothing but the gentle exploration of Marcus’s mouth against hers.
And the caress of those lips was so very, very gentle, softly exploring, the tip of his tongue lightly probing, his arms tightening about her waist now, the sound of Joy’s heart thundering in her ears.
‘Er—sorry to interrupt you two,’ a tentative voice intruded. ‘But we’re moving on, and wondering if you’re coming with us?’
She turned dazedly to look at Danny as Marcus reluctantly broke their kiss to raise his head and acknowledge the other man’s presence with a glowering glare. What was she doing? Having fun? Enjoying herself? Flirting a little? A little! If Danny hadn’t interrupted them when he had, God knew what would have happened, right here on the dance-floor!
‘No,’ Marcus answered the other man harshly, his arm tight about Joy’s waist as he anchored her to his side. ‘I’m taking Joy home,’ he announced arrogantly.
‘She’s staying at a hotel,’ Danny answered him a little dazedly, looking questioningly at Joy with raised brows.
As well he might. She had started this evening with one man, and was now apparently leaving with another one. Apparently, because she had no intention of letting Marcus take her back to her hotel. There were limits to having fun, enjoying herself, flirting a little, and she knew that she had more than reached them with Marcus. The man was dangerous—to her peace of mind, her sensibilities, to her control over a situation that was fast spiralling out of control. She hadn’t even been aware of where she was a moment ago, had been completely under Marcus’s sensuous spell.
‘Thank you for the offer, Marcus.’ She moved determinedly out of the curve of his restraining arm as she spoke. ‘But Danny will take me back to my hotel.’ She looked challengingly at the younger man, knowing his instinct was to bow to the superior arrogance of Marcus Ballantyne. But the challenge of her gaze obviously conveyed the message it was meant to, and Danny began to shift uncomfortably at the thought of opposing the older man. Danny owed her one, and they both knew it. ‘My mother always told me it’s bad manners to leave at the end of the evening with anyone other than the person you arrived with.’ She had no idea whether or not her mother had ever made such a statement, but it was reasonable that she might have done.
‘We arrived here as a group,’ Marcus drawled mockingly, his lazily relaxed stance belied by the hard glitter in dark blue eyes; he wasn’t happy at the thought of being thwarted in this way.
Well, Joy wasn’t happy either at the thought of his taking her back to her hotel; she seemed to have absolutely no will-power when it came to resisting this man. And a brief fling with an actor, even one as attractive as Marcus Ballantyne, was not on the agenda for this week. And she had a feeling that if he came back to her hotel with her, after the intensity of the kisses they had already shared, taking her to bed was exactly what he would expect.
She could already hear Casey’s incredulity at her not allowing that to happen, Lisa’s disbelief in Joy’s reluctance to become involved, however fleetingly, with a man like Marcus Ballantyne. Well, she wasn’t even going to tell them about it!
‘Danny and I still have a lot of gossip to catch up on.’ Joy put her arm pointedly in the crook of Danny’s. ‘Don’t we, Danny?’ She looked up to give him a glowing smile, a warning light in her eyes as she did so.
‘Oh, we do,’ he readily agreed, nodding his head with enthusiasm, obviously warned. ‘Sorry, Marcus.’ He gave the other man a slightly apprehensive look, obviously fearing retribution. Joy was in no doubt that Marcus could be cutting if he chose to be.
‘I have a feeling Dee won’t be too happy if you disappear with Joy.’ Marcus looked pointedly at the young blonde actress, who was no longer just poutingly upset at the thought of losing the second man of the evening to Joy, but obviously blazingly angry.
If Dee was lucky she would have Marcus back in her company but, whatever happened, Joy was leaving with Danny and not Marcus. ‘It was nice to meet you.’ Joy put her hand out to Marcus in a formal parting. ‘But Danny and I really do have to go now.’
‘Well, if you and Danny have to go now, I suppose you have to go,’ he accepted in a hard voice, totally ignoring her outstretched hand to bend his head and lightly brush his lips against hers. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he told her, so softly that only Joy could hear him.
As only she had been meant to hear him! What did he mean, he would be in touch? In what way would he be in touch? He couldn’t—
‘Let’s go,’ Danny told her firmly, giving Dee a regretful smile before guiding Joy out of the nightclub.
Joy didn’t even start to breathe again until they were outside, and then she drew in a ragged, muchneeded gasp of air to her starved lungs. God, what a disaster, what an absolute, absolute disaster! She wished she had never come away for this week, wished she had stayed in the safety of her own little world. It was a sure fact that she didn’t belong in this one!
‘You haven’t heard the last of him, you know.’ Danny spoke softly as they travelled by taxi to her hotel.
She hadn’t wanted him to put into words what she thought she already knew. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped defensively, not even attempting to pretend she didn’t know who he was talking about—that would have been absurd.
‘I know him of old, Joy.’ Danny shook his head in the half-light of the taxi. ‘The only reason he wasn’t more insistent just now was so that there wasn’t a scene. But, above everything else, Marcus can be determined when he wants something.’
Had he been determined when he had kissed her in the middle of that crowded nightclub? Joy didn’t know whether it was determination or arrogance, but she did know that Gerald would never have behaved in such an exhibitionist way. Gerald…She hated to think what he would make of all the events of this evening and, more precisely, her own part in them!
Not that it was any of Gerald’s business what she did any more. It had stopped being so six months ago, when he had chosen to break off their relationship and announce that he was going out with a woman of his own age. Joy had been stunned by his decision; after almost four years together she had believed Gerald would ask her to marry him in the near future.
But instead Gerald had begun to date a widow of forty-five, a woman with grown-up children, leaving Joy to wonder why things had gone wrong between them. But that hadn’t been the worst part. Gerald was actually in charge of the library where she worked, and so Joy was also left with the humiliation of going in to work every day with the people who had known of their past relationship, and the reason it had ended so abruptly.
And Joy hadn’t thought about that for weeks. Well—days. Yes, it had been days, she realised with some surprise, the preparations for this week away having taken over her life for some time before she actually came to London. So why was she thinking about that past disappointment now? She knew it had to be because of the sharp contrast between Gerald and Marcus Ballantyne; two men more unalike she had yet to meet…
‘Marcus can be a very determined man, Joy,’ Danny repeated, at her continued lack of reply to his statement.
She thought she already knew that, knew that Marcus had meant it when he said he would be in touch. But he had to find her first. And there was only one way he could do that…‘I want you to promise me you won’t tell him which hotel I’m staying at, Danny.’ She looked at him determinedly, the light of battle in sparkling green eyes.
All Danny’s bravado had left him since the advent of Marcus Ballantyne into their evening, and he had the look of a hunted man on his face now. He drew in a ragged breath. ‘If he asks me—’
‘You aren’t going to tell him,’ Joy cut in firmly. ‘Look, Danny, he’s only playing games, and I’m not into game-playing,’ she added almost angrily. She wasn’t about to provide a fleeting amusement for anyone, not after what she had already been through with one man in her life.
Danny gave her a speculatively sideways glance. ‘You looked as if you were enjoying yourself a few minutes ago.’
When Marcus had been kissing her. There was no denying she had been completely under his spell then, hadn’t cared herself where they were or who could see them. Which was another reason she didn’t want to see him again; she had to return to her normal life when this week was over, and she didn’t want that to be any more difficult than it already promised to be.
‘So did you,’ she snapped back, relieved to see they were back at her hotel. ‘Don’t bother to come in, Danny; you may as well let the taxi take you on to wherever you want to go.’ Probably back to the nightclub, to the beautiful Dee. Where, hopefully, Marcus wouldn’t still be and see the other man’s return. On second thoughts, bearing in mind her warning to Danny, which she knew he had perfectly understood, maybe Danny wouldn’t go back to the nightclub…
As she expected, Danny made no move to get out of the taxi to open the door for her, a disgruntled look on his face. ‘I’ll see you at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon for the photographs,’ he muttered sulkily.
Joy came to an abrupt halt in climbing out of the taxi. ‘What photographs?’ She looked at him sharply.
He shrugged, still glowering. ‘It’s part of the competition prize, Joy,’ he explained badtemperedly, obviously wishing he had stayed well away from the whole venture. ‘Publicity for the magazine. Photographs of me with the competition winner,’ he continued as she still looked at him blankly.
Casey had forgotten to mention any photographs! Well, over her dead body was she posing for photographs with this man so that all the magazine readers could drool over them curiously; every one of those women was welcome to Danny Eames as far as she was concerned.
‘See you, Danny,’ she told him non-committally, having no intention of being anywhere near the hotel tomorrow afternoon. Photographs, indeed! God, how humiliating.
‘We have two messages for you, Miss Simms,’ the receptionist of the hotel told her brightly when she collected her key.
Her heart leapt; surely Marcus hadn’t found her already? No, of course he hadn’t, she told herself self-derisively. There was no way he could find out which hotel she was staying at. And she was sure she could trust Danny not to tell the other man; after all, neither of them wanted Marcus to know of the competition.
‘A message from a photographer about tomorrow afternoon,’ the receptionist told her lightly, only raising her eyebrows slightly as Joy took the piece of paper with that message on and screwed it up into a hall. ‘And the other is that a Mr Simms rang at about one-fifteen,’ she smiled. ‘He said he would ring again.’
‘When?’ Joy asked abruptly, wanting a word with Casey herself.
‘He didn’t specify a time,’ the young receptionist told her apologetically.
Joy just bet he hadn’t. Damn Casey. And she didn’t need two guesses as to why he had telephoned at all; he wanted to know how she had got on with her date with Danny Eames. And as she hadn’t even been back in the hotel an hour ago, when he had rung, his imagination was probably working overtime. Damn Casey! Damn Danny Eames! And, most of all, damn Marcus Ballantyne!
Because for a brief time tonight her control had slipped completely—and he had been the cause of it…
The insistent knocking finally broke through the deep realms of her sleep-muddled brain, Joy coming awake with a resistant groan. Who could be calling on her at this time of the morning…? Oh, God— a glance at the illuminated bedside clock had shown her that it was only just still morning, the clock reading eleven-fifty. Of course, it had taken her hours to fall asleep after her eventful evening, and it had already been late when she had got in, but—
The loud knocking sounded again on the door of her suite. Perhaps there was a fire? Perhaps… It was no good sitting here wondering, she had to put on her dressing-gown and go and see who it was. Only it wasn’t her dressing-gown at all, she realised with a groan as she pulled on the grey silk robe that Lisa had lent her, along with everything else she was to wear this week. Oh, well, she was sure the staff in this hotel were used to seeing people dressed—or undressed—in all sorts of clothes.
She stumbled out of the bedroom into the lounge, noticing as she did so that the dress she had worn the night before was draped across one of the armchairs. She had undressed on her way to the bedroom when she got in last night, had just wanted to fall into bed when she got there. And then she had lain awake for hours…
Danny Eames stood outside her door, the disgruntled look on his face from the night before still there. What did he want now? It was far too early for—
‘I knew you weren’t going to be ready,’ he said impatiently, shouldering his way into the room. ‘You aren’t even dressed!’ he added disgustedly.
Joy frowned at him, completely unconcerned by the fact that she wasn’t dressed; he shouldn’t even be here, let alone criticising her appearance. ‘What do you want, Danny?’ she asked wearily.
‘We’re all waiting for you downstairs,’ he told her irritably. ‘We have been for the last fifteen minutes.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Twenty, now!’
She shook her head. ‘You’ve lost me, Danny.’ She sighed her own impatience; she was hardly in a mood to deal with riddles. ‘Who is waiting for me? And why?’ Not something else to do with this competiton prize that she had no idea about?
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t get the message about the photographic session being brought forward to this morning, because Reception said they gave it to you when you got in last night!’ He scowled. ‘Some of us have had to change filming schedules to get here on time, and you couldn’t even be bothered to get out of bed!’
She ignored the last accusation, concentrating on what he had said about the photographic session, remembering the message from the magazine that had been waiting for her last night—a message she had screwed up to throw in the bin when she got into her suite. She had assumed it was just a reminder for her to be there, not an adjustment of the time.
‘I…forgot to read the message,’ she admitted with a self-conscious grimace.
‘Forgot!’ Blue eyes blazed Danny’s displeasure. ‘Oh, never mind,’ he dismissed with an impatient shake of his head. ‘Just get dressed now and—’ He broke off as there was another knock on the door. ‘I told them I would come and find you.’ He glared in the direction of the suite door. ‘Just in case you…weren’t alone,’ he added with a shrug, seeming to take in her completely dishevelled appearance for the first time. ‘You are alone, aren’t you?’ He gave a questioning look in the direction of the bedroom.
Joy had been having trouble following his conversation—the unaccustomed wine the night before, followed by her inability to get to sleep, and then falling into a deep sleep and being woken so suddenly, were not conducive to clear thinking. But the meaning of his last comment was unmistakable.
‘Of course I’m alone,’ she snapped.
Danny gave a mocking nod of his head. ‘I wasn’t sure whether Marcus might have paid you a latenight call.’
She knew exactly what he had thought, had seen the way he had taken in her appearance, noted her dress from the night before thrown over the arm of the chair—and she didn’t in the least like the assumption he had made.
‘I should get that if I were you.’ Danny nodded in the direction of the door as the knock sounded yet again, throwing himself down into an armchair to watch her with some amusement. ‘You have some explaining to do,’ he added with satisfaction.
She had intended explaining nothing, hadn’t intended even to be here. She cursed herself for not reading that message from the magazine the night before; if she had, she would have made sure she was far away from the hotel this morning.
Her politely enquiring smile as she opened the door was frozen on her lips as she saw who her second visitor of the morning was. Marcus Ballantyne.
And as he looked past her into the room, to where Danny sat sprawled in an armchair, his gaze slowly returning to take in her own dishevelled appearance, it was obvious by the sudden hardening of that cobalt-blue gaze that he no longer believed either of their claims of an old friendship between them, but that he thought it was still very new!