Читать книгу The One And Only - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 7

WHAT a bore!

God, how had she ever got herself into this? She hadn’t—Casey had got her into it. As usual. It was typical of Casey: he had been getting her into one scrape or another all their lives.

But this time he had excelled himself.

It had all sounded so simple when he had explained it to her a couple of weeks ago. She should have known then—nothing was ever simple where Casey was concerned.

First prize in a Valentine competition. A week’s stay in a luxurious hotel, plus a show and supper on Valentine’s night with a television star.

‘It sounds marvellous, Casey,’ Joy had told him distractedly when he called round for dinner with her one evening.

‘Bad day at the library?’ Casey had quirked curious brows at her, blue eyes alight with mischief. Again, as usual.

How could anyone have a ‘bad day’ working in a library? And yet, as Casey very well knew, too many of Joy’s working days were fraught with tension. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers—and she needed the job. Even with all its problems.

Her grimace in Casey’s direction, as he had leant so casually against one of the kitchen units as he watched her prepare their meal, had told its own story.

‘You should have left months ago—sorry.’ Casey had held his hands up apologetically as Joy glared up at him warningly. ‘I know I promised after— well, after, that I wouldn’t say I told you so—’

‘And you’ve done nothing but since!’ she had snapped, her eyes sparkling deeply green.

‘Only because you will insist on sticking it out there, putting yourself through unnecessary grief, wasting your love on someone who…Well, this competition is just what you need to cheer you up.’ He had hastily changed the subject as he saw the light of battle in Joy’s eyes.

At five feet two she might be a foot shorter than he was, but he knew that, if he pushed too much, the temper that matched her red hair would surely surface. It might take time, but it did surface.

‘Cheer me up?’ She frowned as she realised what he had said. ‘What does it have to do with me?’

‘Well, I can hardly go on this week’s holiday, to the show and then supper, so I naturally thought you might like to go instead of me. And—’

‘Just stop there, Casey,’ Joy interrupted drily, abandoning the dinner for a moment, sensing that she needed to give the whole of her attention to what Casey was saying—otherwise she could, as she had many times in the past, find herself in a situation she would rather not be in.

The two of them were cousins but, because both sets of their parents had been working, they had spent most school holidays together, staying at their mutual grandparents’ house, and had grown up more like brother and sister. And Joy had spent most of that time getting Casey out of the scrapes he had managed to get himself into, or ones he had embroiled her in. Life without Casey, she had decided long ago, would be a lot lonelier, but it would also be a lot more trouble-free. And she sensed one of Casey’s impending scrapes…!

‘Why can’t you go on the holiday, Casey?’ She looked at him searchingly, not fooled for a moment by the innocent expression on his boyishly handsome face. With his dark curly hair, laughing blue eyes and rakishly handsome face, Casey had a look of uncomplicated innocence—but Joy knew, from experience, that it was just a look. ‘And to the show and supper afterwards? I would have thought it would have been just up your street to go and wallow in the lap of luxury, to go out for the evening with some beautifully ravishing television star, on Valentine’s night, of all nights. You—’

“The television star is Danny Eames, Joy,’ Casey cut in drily.

‘Danny Eames?’ she repeated frowningly. ‘But Danny Eames is a—’

‘Man,’ her cousin finished impatiently. ‘Of course he’s a man!’

A rather attractive one too, as Joy recalled. He was the actor appearing regularly in a popular detective programme on Friday evenings. ‘How on earth did you manage to win an evening out with a man?’ Joy decided she had either missed something in the earlier conversation, or Casey was keeping something back. And, knowing Casey as she did, she thought she knew which one it was!

He looked more than a little irritated now. ‘Well, if you must know…’

‘Oh, I think I must.’ She nodded derisively.

‘I entered a competition in one of those women’s magazines Lisa is always reading. And I won the damned thing!’ he added disgustedly.

Lisa was Casey’s steady girlfriend of the last year, if the word ‘steady’ could be applied to the stormy relationship they both seemed to enjoy.

‘I told her the damned things were all a con, that no one ever actually won anything in them,’ Casey continued disgruntledly as Joy stared at him.

‘And then you won.’ Joy’s lips twiched as she made an effort to hold back her humour. ‘First prize!’

‘Yes!’ he bit out impatiently. ‘And the people who ran the competition assumed Casey Simms was a woman—’

‘Well, they would—when the prize was Valentine’s night out with a handsome hunk!’ Joy knew she wasn’t going to be able to contain her laughter much longer—the humour of the situation was just too much.

He glared at her. ‘Don’t rub it in!’

She chewed on her top lip to stop the throaty laughter from erupting. ‘And just where are you and Danny supposed to be having this intimate dinner for two?’ Casey had really done it this time. But then, he had never done anything by halves.

‘In London,’ he snapped. ‘But we aren’t—you and he are!’ Casey looked at her challengingly.

She shook her head, repressed laughter making her eyes appear an even deeper green than usual. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘I can’t go!’ her cousin wailed.

‘Well, obviously not,’ Joy conceded, openly smiling now. ‘But Lisa could—’

‘No way!’ Casey instantly protested. ‘Do you think I’m stupid enough to let my girlfriend go out for the evening, especially that evening, with a lech like Danny Eames is reputed to be?’

Joy raised auburn brows, brows much darker than the long fiery-coloured hair she wore confined when at work, but preferred to leave loose about her shoulders at other times. ‘But it’s all right to send your favourite cousin out for the evening with him?’ she derided drily.

‘My only cousin,’ he corrected distractedly. ‘And my favourite one, of course,’ he added at her openly mocking expression. ‘I’m going to look so stupid if it ever comes out that I entered a competition in a women’s magazine—’

‘Maybe you should have thought of that earlier,’ she pointed out reasonably.

‘Joy, you know I would do the same for you if the positions were reversed,’ he persisted wheedlingly.

‘The answer is no, Casey,’ she told him dismissively.

‘Oh, please, Joy.’ He looked at her pleadingly.

Joy knew that look only too well—and the trouble it could get her into. ‘I said no, Casey,’ she repeated firmly.

Which was why she was here now, pretending to be Casey Simms for the week!

The hotel was as luxurious as Casey had promised it would be, and she had enjoyed the little she had seen of London since her arrival yesterday. But Danny Eames, far from being the interesting individual Casey had persuaded her he would be, was one of the most boring people, male or female, she had ever met in her life!

Lisa had lent her a dress to wear for the evening; in fact, Lisa had provided most of the clothes Joy had brought with her, after looking through Joy’s wardrobe and declaring its contents were much too librarianish. Joy’s protests of that being exactly what she was had been met with little sympathy, let alone understanding. And with Casey as well as Lisa to argue against, each of them as incorrigible as the other, Joy hadn’t stood a chance, and had arrived at the hotel yesterday with two suitcases full of Lisa’s expensively flamboyant clothing. As a model, Lisa often managed to buy her clothes cheaper than she might otherwise have done, and she usually chose the clothes that would most get her noticed.

As with the dress Joy was wearing this evening. It was unlike anything she had ever worn, or dreamt of wearing, in her life before. She had to admit that the green shimmering material made her eyes appear even deeper in colour, and her hair glowed fieryred as it fell loosely to just below her shoulders. But the dress also clung to the slender length of her body, finishing abruptly several inches above her shapely knees. But of the evening gowns Lisa had provided, this was the least revealing—the black one was backless, and the red one virtually frontless!

But she needn’t have worried about the allure of the dress; Danny Eames was far too interested in himself to notice what Joy was or wasn’t wearing. She also had the feeling that he might have enjoyed the company of the real Casey Simms more than hers.

As it was, he hadn’t stopped talking about himself since the representative of the magazine had introduced the two of them earlier this evening in the foyer of Joy’s hotel. The only time he had given his ego a rest was when they were actually watching the show, and even then he had wasted little time, after they had left their seats during the interval, before beginning to criticise the actors in the show, at the same time making it plain he could do a better job of all the parts, male and female, than his fellow actors and actresses were doing.

And supper after the show, for all it was in one of the most famous restaurants in London—Joy recognised several of the diners as actors, or faces she had seen in the daily newspapers—was turning out to be just as much of a nightmare.

Joy was going to strangle Casey when she got home at the weekend. This had to be the longest evening of her life!

And what made it worse was that several of the other women dining here were actually eyeing her enviously for her companion of the evening; as far as Joy was concerned, any one of them was welcome to the egotistical idiot!

‘…and so I told the director that if that was all he wanted to go and hire himself a performing monkey…’

Joy faded in, and as quickly faded out again of the one-sided conversation at their table, deciding as she did so that the director had probably known when he was talking to Danny Eames that he had hired a performing monkey. Although a monkey would probably have had more intelligence than Danny Eames seemed to have. Joy pitied any woman who had to spend more than one evening in this man’s company. Thank God she wasn’t one of them. He—

‘…to introduce me to your dining companion, Danny?’

Joy had been in danger of falling asleep with her eyes open, but the different timbre of voice, this one huskily deep, broke her out of her inner torment, and she turned curiously in the direction of that voice. Any diversion had to be welcome.

And this wasn’t just ‘any diversion’, she quickly realised, instantly recognising the man who now stood so confidently beside their table as the man who played the part of Danny’s boss in the detective programme: Marcus Ballantyne.

This man was actually the real star of the television series Danny Eames seemed to feel would fall apart without the aid of his so-brilliant acting. And Joy should know—she had been listening to just how wonderful Danny thought he was for the last four hours.

But Marcus Ballantyne really was a true talent, star of numerous television series over the last fifteen years. He had made his big break into Hollywood ten years ago, returning there periodically to star in films that were inevitably box-office hits. But he remained true to his native England, preferring to make his home there, occasionally making appearances on the West End stage in plays destined to be a success simply because Marcus Ballantyne deemed them worthy of his time and talent.

But the last thing Joy needed was another egomaniac to join them and bore her to sleep!

Joy knew Marcus Ballantyne was in his late thirties—older than Danny Eames by at least ten years. He was well over six feet tall, with slightly overlong dark hair, and deceptively sleepy blue eyes, a deep, dark blue that, as Joy looked up at him, she could see contained a sharp intelligence. Maybe she wasn’t going to be bored, after all…

Danny had risen hurriedly to his feet at the sound of the other man’s voice, some of that overbearing self-confidence leaving him as he shook the older man by the hand, evidence that even he bowed to the older man’s superior talent. ‘Marcus,’ he greeted, a little too enthusiastically. ‘I didn’t know you came to places like this.’ He looked pointedly around the noisy restaurant.

‘I’m not in my dotage, Danny,’ the other man drawled derisively.

The younger man’s cheeks were slightly flushed. ‘No, of course not. I just…well, I didn’t think… It’s good to see you, Marcus,’ Danny finished lamely.

‘Is it?’ the older man drawled, dark brows raised mockingly.

Joy looked more intently at Marcus Ballantyne; he obviously shared her opinion that Danny was an idiot, and he made no attempt to hide his contempt for the younger man. Which posed the question: why had he bothered to come over to their table at all if he felt that way about Danny?

As he turned that probing blue gaze in her direction, Joy suddenly knew exactly why.

There was no mistaking the admiration in that gaze as it swept over her appraisingly. Joy felt a quiver of awareness down her spine as she seemed unable to break that searching blue gaze.

This had never happened to her before. She had never been instantly physically aware of a man in her life before. But there was something about the hard lines of Marcus Ballantyne’s face that was mesmerising; the lean length of his body in the casually expensive clothes exuded a physical magnetism that Joy couldn’t help being completely aware of.

She shifted uncomfortably as he continued to look at her. This was ridiculous! She wasn’t some star-struck teenager, but a grown woman of twenty-seven, and certainly not the type to be impressed by a man whose face was famous enough for him to be recognised wherever he went. Hadn’t she instantly recognised him herself, although she rarely watched television or went to the cinema?

She turned away abruptly as she realised how stupidly she was behaving, and looked at Danny instead. But even that was a mistake, because he just looked more young and affected than ever compared with the hard assurance of the other man.

‘Introduce us, Danny,’ Marcus Ballantyne instructed the younger man, his gaze not leaving Joy’s slightly flushed face.

Danny looked more flustered than ever. ‘Er—this is Casey Simms—er—Joy. She prefers to be called Joy,’ he introduced awkwardly, his bravado completely gone in the face of the other man’s quiet authority.

‘Why?’ Marcus Ballantyne addressed the question to Joy, totally ignoring the younger man now as he pulled out the chair beside her and sat down without being invited to do so.

Which brought him all the closer to her, and Joy could feel her hands shaking slightly as she clasped them together beneath the table. This man was something else, unlike anyone she had ever met before. No wonder he was so much in demand both on television and the big screen; he was magnetic. And Joy could feel herself being drawn unresistingly towards him. Unresisting because she simply couldn’t break the spell of that steady gaze.

‘Why Joy?’ he repeated huskily, leaning forward slightly, effectively cutting Danny out of their conversation as the younger man resumed his seat opposite Joy.

She moistened lips that felt suddenly dry. ‘Casey is…It’s an old family name,’ she told him truthfully, wondering if that slightly breathless voice could really be her own. But she knew it was, knew she had never felt such emotional confusion, knew her usual capable efficiency was deserting her. ‘I prefer my other name—Joy.’ She had refused pointblank to spend the whole evening with Danny Eames answering to her cousin’s name, and had decided before meeting him that she would use her own name. He hadn’t been concerned about her name anyway—in fact she was surprised he could even remember it to introduce her to the other man!

‘So do I,’ Marcus Ballantyne told her huskily. ‘Much more…feminine.’ His tone implied that that was exactly what he thought she was.

Joy swallowed hard, knowing she was—subtly— being flirted with. Ridiculous. She was a librarian from a small rural town in the south of England—

‘And what do you do, Joy?’ That cobalt-blue gaze continued to hold hers.

It was almost as if by doing so he had been able to read her thoughts. He obviously knew she wasn’t an actress, otherwise their paths would probably have crossed before. But, somehow, just baldly stating that she worked in her local library didn’t seem appropriate—

‘Joy lives out of town.’ Danny Eames was the one to answer the other man. ‘She’s an old… friend.’

She gave him a startled look at this explanation. What on earth…?

Marcus Ballantyne relaxed back in his chair now, watching her from beneath brooding brows. ‘She doesn’t look that old to me,’ he finally drawled.

Danny gave a nervously dismissive laugh at the other man’s obvious sarcasm. ‘You know what I mean, Marcus.’

Joy knew what he was implying too—and she didn’t like it one little bit! Why was Danny lying to the other man? What possible reason could he have for giving the impression that they had once been—even if they weren’t now—involved?

‘Yes,’ the older man acknowledged gratingly, still looking at Joy. ‘But that still doesn’t tell me—’

‘Marcus, I think your group of friends are trying to let you know they’re leaving,’ Danny cut in, looking pointedly over to the table where the other man had been sitting with a dozen or so people until a few minutes ago.

A rather attractive blonde, probably in her early twenties, was looking pointedly over at Marcus Ballantyne now as the rest of the group prepared to leave. Joy vaguely recognised her as an actress who had briefly appeared in a long-running soap, although the woman’s name escaped her. Not that it was important what her name was; she was obviously expecting Marcus Ballantyne to rejoin them.

He studied Joy for several more long, lingering seconds before turning uninterestedly towards the other table, his mouth twisting with irritation as he saw the young blonde looking so longingly towards him. ‘Excuse me for a few minutes.’ He stood up in one fluid movement. ‘But I’ll be back,’ he added, looking down at Joy again before turning to walk purposefully across the room to his friends.

Joy wasted no time, once he had gone, in turning accusingly to Danny. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded indignantly. ‘I had never even met you before this evening!’ And she never intended spending another evening in his company either. The things she did for Casey! The trouble was, her cousin would think the whole thing was hilarious. Ha ha!

Danny looked uncomfortable now, completely unlike the egotistical idiot he had been all evening. ‘I’m really sorry about that, Joy,’ he said sheepishly. ‘I just…Well, I didn’t want Marcus to know… Well…’

It was all suddenly clear to Joy: Danny didn’t want the other man to know dinner with him had been first prize in a Valentine competition! It would be funny in any other circumstances, and if she hadn’t just spent such an awful evening in his company. As it was—

‘Please, Joy.’ Danny put his hand cajolingly over hers. ‘Not Marcus, of all people!’

She could understand why he didn’t want the older man to know he had been a prize in a competition, and was sure Marcus Ballantyne would never have put himself in such a position. Obviously it had fed Danny’s ego, but it wasn’t something he wanted a man like Marcus Ballantyne to know about!

‘I’ll tell you what,’ Danny continued encouragingly. ‘I’ll take you out to dinner tomorrow evening too if you’ll just—’

‘No! Er—no,’ she refused, less desperately than her initial outburst. “That really won’t be necessary, Danny.’ The mere thought of it was enough to send her into a panic. Another evening spent in this man’s company? Never! Besides, if the truth were known, she didn’t particularly want Marcus Ballantyne to think that she had entered a competition, obviously aimed at lovesick, impressionable women, to win an evening out with Danny Eames. ‘I understand completely, Danny,’ she soothed. ‘And your secret is safe with me.’ And her own!

‘Thanks, Joy,’ he said with obvious gratitude. ‘I owe you one.’

‘What secret?’ drawled the familiar voice of Marcus Ballantyne as he resumed his seat next to Joy, looking at the two of them curiously with that compelling blue gaze.

Joy couldn’t help her glance in the direction of his group of laughing friends as they prepared to leave, the pretty blonde in particular, who was still looking longingly in Marcus Ballantyne’s direction as one of the other men in the group encouraged her to leave.

When Joy turned back, it was to find Marcus Ballantyne watching her with dark brows raised in questioning amusement. She could feel the heat in her cheeks at his mockery of her interest in his group of friends, expecially the young actress. Damn him!

‘I hope we haven’t dragged you away from your friends,’ Joy told him stiltedly.

‘Not in the least,’ he dismissed easily, very relaxed in his chair, completely in command of the situation. ‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’ Again he looked at the two of them questioningly.

‘Of course not,’ Danny answered him a little too enthusiastically, obviously quite pleased that the other man had chosen to join them, but at the same time a little wary of his reasons for wanting to do so. ‘I told you, Joy and I are just friends.’

And that ‘friend’ knew, even if Danny didn’t, exactly why Marcus Ballantyne had decided to join the two of them. Ridiculous, she thought, not for the first time this evening. A man like Marcus Ballantyne, who could have his pick of beautiful women, couldn’t possibly be seriously interested in her. Well, of course, he wasn’t seriously interested. It was the fact that he found her attractive at all that was so unnerving. And he so obviously did. He certainly wasn’t remaining with them because he enjoyed Danny’s company; the slight contempt he had for the younger man was more than apparent to Joy.

‘Why don’t the two of you join our party?’ Marcus Ballantyne invited smoothly. ‘They’re going on somewhere to dance,’ he encouraged huskily.

Danny looked at her. ‘Joy?’

She knew what Casey would say. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Flirt a little.

But that would be so completely out of charcter. Until six months ago she had been in a steady relationship for almost four years with Gerald, a man in his late forties who took life very seriously, his career in particular. And their parting had not been an amicable one.

Even more reason to relax and enjoy herself now, Casey would have told her. Had told her before she came away. ‘Forget your life back here for a week, Joy,’ he had instructed firmly. ‘Be someone else for a while, do things you wouldn’t normally do. That shouldn’t be too difficult,’ he had added disgustedly, because she never did anything except go to work, go home to spend the evening reading, and then get up the next morning and go to work again. She hadn’t even taken a day off in the last six months. She had worked six days a week, concentrating on her household chores on Sundays.

Casey had made her life sound so boring, soso flat and mundane. And when she had sat and thought about it she had realised that it was, that she was a twenty-seven-year-old woman who was allowing life just to pass her by, who was becoming staid and old-maidish. That was the reason she had finally allowed herself to be pressured into coming away for this week…

But surely this was going to the other extreme, going off to God knew where for the rest of the evening, with a group of actors and actresses who had nothing in common with her normal everyday life? Absolutely nothing in common with that boring, flat, mundane life…

‘Yes, I would like that.’ She felt a surge of exhilaration, and her cheeks flushed as she voiced her impulsive decision out loud. ‘I would like that very much,’ she repeated firmly, that exhilaration turning to a feeling of fluttering excitement in the pit of her stomach as she saw the look of satisfaction on Marcus Ballantyne’s face at her agreement to his suggestion that they go dancing.