Читать книгу Husband Not Included - Mary Lyons - Страница 7

CHAPTER ONE

‘JUST remember—this is a contract to die for! There are hundreds of gorgeous-looking models who’d give their eye teeth for a chance to be the new Angel Girl. So, whatever happens, don’t mess up what could be the last chance to resurrect your career.’

Flora Johnson sighed, her lips tightening with apprehension as she recalled the words of her agent, Meredith Taylor, at the end of their celebratory lunch just over a month ago. Turning to stare blindly out of the small window of the aeroplane, she barely noticed the white clouds or the sparkling, azure sky.

Exactly why she should be apprehensive about the job which lay ahead of her, she had absolutely no idea. There seemed no sane, sensible reason for her faint, vague feelings of disquiet and unease. She was obviously being ridiculous, and it was time she pulled herself together, she told herself firmly. Anyone who wasn’t looking forward, with one hundred percent enthusiasm, to enjoying the warm sandy beaches, blue seas and brilliant sunshine of the Caribbean clearly needed their head examined!

‘You’ve simply got to read this book, Flora. It’s absolutely terrific!’

‘Hmm...?’ Flora turned to face the plump, sandy-haired girl sitting in the seat beside her.

Georgie held up the book for her inspection. ‘It’s the very latest novel by Duncan Ross. Quite honestly, I hardly got a wink of sleep last night!’ she added enthusiastically. ‘It’s so exciting that I simply couldn’t put it down. I’m on the last chapter, so I’ll lend it to you when I’m finished. I know you’re going to love it.’

‘I doubt it!’ Flora muttered, grimacing at the sight of the book’s dramatic, vividly coloured dust-jacket—mainly featuring a gruesome, evil-looking dagger dripping with blood. ‘To tell you the truth, I really don’t care for those sort of “action man” type of books, which I reckon are mostly written for overgrown schoolboys.’

‘You’re quite wrong—it’s not that sort of book at all!’ the other girl protested.

Flora merely smiled and shook her head. ‘We’ve got a long flight ahead of us. So I think I’ll just try and catch up on some beauty sleep.’

‘Come off it!’ Georgie gave a hoot of wry laughter, gazing enviously at the thick cloud of tightly curled blonde hair and beautiful features of the slim girl now reclining in the seat beside her. ‘As far as I can see, you need more beauty sleep about as much as fish need bicycles!’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ Flora grinned before determinedly closing her eyes against any further conversation.

In fact, following the late photographic session last night and an early dash to the airport this morning, she really was feeling a bit sleepy. The steady rhythmic background hum of the plane’s engines wasn’t helping, of course—nor her deep, comfortable seat in the First Class section of the aircraft, which was positively encouraging her to nod off.

And that, now she came to think about it, probably wasn’t such a bad idea after all. She knew, from past experience, that the dry, pressurised air in the cabin was likely to play havoc with the texture of her fine, delicate skin. Besides, if she made the mistake of drinking any alcohol during the flight she would undoubtedly find herself arriving at Antigua for their onward flight to a small private island looking thoroughly tired and washed out.

Not that it would normally matter, of course. Most of the passengers on the plane were anticipating a well-earned, relaxing holiday in the sun, well away from the stress and strain of everyday life. So it didn’t matter a hoot how weary or crumpled they appeared on their arrival in the Caribbean. Unfortunately, she was expected to walk down the steps of the aircraft looking a million dollars—and all ready to grace the pages of high-fashion magazines.

So, while she appreciated Georgie’s kind remarks about her looks—which amounted to nothing more than a useful tool, as far as her working life was concerned—Flora knew that the other girl could have no idea of the problems which might lie ahead. Nor of the many difficulties she’d had to face in the past.

Up until just over a year ago, Flora had enjoyed a very successful career as a top fashion and photographic model. Earning huge sums of money, and accustomed to a highly luxurious way of life, she’d foolishly given little thought to such boring, mundane matters as health insurance, or the need to save money for a rainy day.

Which only went to show just how much of an idiot she’d been! Because, following that horrendous car accident, which had resulted in a long stay in hospital and an even longer convalescence, she’d not only found herself flat broke—but, with no work in sight, it had also looked as if her career was on the skids as well.

In fact, what she’d have done without her agent, she had no idea. Meredith Taylor, who’d been virtually a mother-figure to Flora ever since she’d run away from home seeking the bright lights of London at the tender age of sixteen, had done her best to calm her fears.

‘So, OK—you’ve been out of the action for some time. But it’s not the end of the world,’ the older woman had told her firmly. ‘Just be patient. Once the word gets around that you’re available for work again, I’m sure the jobs will flood in.’

However for Flora, now aged twenty-six and only too well aware of the many fresh, beautiful young girls who were desperately keen to take her place—both on the catwalk and in front of the cameras of world-famous photographers—it had been a nerve-wracking few months. With her phone remaining ominously silent, she had almost given up hope of ever working again when she’d received an urgent call from Meredith with the news that a very large American company were desperately looking for a fresh face to launch their new line of cosmetics.

‘Get yourself over there as fast as possible,’ Meredith had told her urgently, quickly rattling off an address in Mayfair. ‘ACE Cosmetics are up against a heavy deadline, so I reckon there’s a good chance of you getting the job. But they’ll insist on you being as pure as the driven snow,’ she’d warned, before explaining that the model who’d originally gained the three-year, multi-million-dollar contract had just been sacked following unfortunate reports in the Press regarding the girl’s private life.

‘Too many riotous, drug-related late-night parties in Bad Company,’ the older woman had added succinctly. ‘So, just make sure you come over as squeaky clean. And no mention of your brief marriage to that awful man. Right?’

‘Er...right,’ Flora had muttered, guiltily suppressing the fact that despite Meredith’s strong advice she’d never, somehow, quite got around to arranging a divorce from her husband, whom she hadn’t seen for almost six years.

Successfully gaining the job, and almost light-headed with relief at the thought of finally having solved her pressing financial problems, she hadn’t taken any particular notice of Meredith’s sage advice. But over the past few weeks she’d come to realise that her future prospects might not be quite so rosy after all.

‘You might have warned me about that simply awful woman!’ she’d moaned down the phone to her agent. ‘I thought I’d already met most of the fierce, hard-as-nails ladies in this business. But I bet anything you like that Claudia Davidson turns out to be an absolute nightmare!’

‘What on earth are you talking about? I’ve never had any problems with Claudia.’

‘Well...lucky old you—because she scared me rigid!’ Flora retorted grimly. ‘I’d hardly entered her glamorous, ultra-modern office to sign the contract when she announced that I was positively the last person she’d have chosen for the job. And, she seemed to take great pleasure in pointing out that I was only picked because Mr Schwartz, the American marketing director of ACE Cosmetics, refused to accept any of the other girls she’d got lined up and insisted on me being given the job.’

‘Well, if you’ve got the head honcho rooting for you I can’t see that you’ve got too many problems,’ Meredith had responded soothingly.

‘Yes, but...’

‘Even if you don’t particularly like Claudia,’ the other woman continued firmly, ‘she was amazingly successful at creating a totally new, up-market image for the Elegance Fashion Group. Which is why, I heard, she was headhunted last year by ACE Cosmetics to completely revamp and promote their products for a major assault on the European market. And, in any case,’ Meredith added, ‘I’m sure you’ll find that her bark is far worse than her bite.’

‘I should be so lucky!’ Flora had ground out glumly, before putting down the phone.

It wasn’t just the fact that she and the glamorous, high-powered PR executive in charge of promoting the cosmetic company’s new line had taken an instant dislike to one another—although that was likely to mean a difficult working relationship—but Claudia Davidson had also been very explicit regarding Flora’s new contract.

‘I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings on your part,’ she’d told Flora with an icy smile, her voice carrying a clear warning note of threat and menace.

‘As you’ve seen, your contract stipulates a yearly break clause—with no obligation for the company to explain its reasons for dispensing with your services. On top of which, you must not accept any other work. So, don’t let me catch you modelling for any of your old photographer friends—even if you’re giving your services for free. Because I’ll have you out on your ear so fast, you won’t know what’s hit you!’ she’d added grimly, with what Flora had considered to be quite unnecessary relish.

‘The same goes for the fact that we require you to remain single,’ the awful woman had continued relentlessly. ‘A steady, long-term boyfriend is acceptable, of course. However, since the whole emphasis of the campaign to promote the new Angel Girl will be on her misty, pure and ethereal qualities, we are insisting that your private life must be as clean as a whistle. Do I make myself absolutely clear?’

‘Oh, yes—absolutely!’ Flora had agreed fervently, her hands shaking slightly as she signed away her life for the next three years.

After all, as she’d consoled herself later, she wasn’t likely to have too many problems with most of the clauses in her new contract. Her only regular escort, John Macdonald was a very wealthy and highly respectable merchant banker. And she could see no reason why either Claudia or the cosmetic company should ever find out that she was—in name only, of course—still a married woman.

However, as she now turned to gaze across the aircraft cabin, to where Claudia was sitting beside her principal assistant, Helen Todd, Flora couldn’t help feeling slightly apprehensive. Helen, who to all intents and purposes appeared to be a clone of Claudia, and dressed in the same bandbox-fresh, high-fashion resort wear as her senior colleague, wasn’t perhaps quite so frightening. But there was no doubt that together they made a formidable team.

Only Georgie Wilson, a general dogsbody and ‘gofer’, who’d been seconded from the cosmetic company to look after Flora, seemed in any way a normal person. It was Georgie, for instance, who’d informed Flora that everyone in the company was terrified of Claudia Davidson.

‘She’s a really scary lady,’ Georgie had confided earlier this morning as they’d checked in their baggage at Heathrow Airport, adding with a nervous giggle, ‘I’m told that a lot of people in the office refer to her behind her back as “Cruella De Vil”!’

‘That sounds a fairly appropriate nickname,’ Flora had agreed with a grin, recalling from her childhood the story of 101 Dalmatians who’d been chased and terrorised by a horrifically frightening woman intent on their slaughter to provide herself with a glamorous fur coat.

However, it was pointless to look for trouble, Flora now told herself firmly. The world of fashion and beauty products contained a considerable number of really awful, highly eccentric and weird people—all given to claiming artistic licence as an excuse for what would normally be thought of as extremely bad behaviour.

So, any model with an ounce of sense normally concentrated on just getting on with the job. And since the company had obtained the services of a world-famous photographer, with whom she’d worked many times in the past, Flora could see no reason why there should be any real problems on this assignment in the Caribbean. Besides, there was definitely no point in crossing any bridges before she came to them. Right?

Busy lecturing herself, Flora found her thoughts sharply interrupted as Georgie gave a loud groan.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, quickly sitting up and regarding the other girl with concern. ‘Are you feeling all right?

‘It’s OK—I’m fine,’ the other girl told her sadly. ‘It’s just that I really hate finishing a good novel.’

‘You are an idiot!’ Flora sighed, brushing a tired hand through her long curly hair. She’d already come to the conclusion that maybe the plump, sandy haired girl wasn’t too bright. But it now looked as if Georgie was definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic. ‘Why make such a fuss? It’s only a book, for heaven’s sake!’

‘But...but you don’t understand. It really was totally riveting,’ Georgie retorted, ignoring Flora’s protests as she firmly placed the large volume on the model’s lap. ‘There’s no harm in at least having a look at the book. I think you’ll be surprised.’

‘I doubt it!’

‘Well, it’s been on the New York bestseller list for I don’t know how many weeks—so, it’s definitely not rubbish,’ Georgie said firmly as she loosened her seat belt and rose to her feet, before announcing that she was going to stretch her legs.

Still convinced that the book wasn’t at all her sort of thing, Flora glanced idly down at the blurb inside the front cover. As she had suspected, A Time to Live—A Time to Die appeared to be the usual sort of Boys’-Own story concerning espionage and skulduggery in high places.

What sort of guy writes this rubbish...? she asked herself, turning over the book to look at the author’s picture on the back cover. She’d never even heard of Duncan Ross, and—What the hell?

Suddenly feeling as though she’d been hit very hard in the solar plexus, Flora felt her emerald-green eyes widen with shock as she stared down at the photograph of a dark-haired, ruggedly handsome man. What on earth was going on? What was her ex-husband, Ross Whitney, doing with his picture on the back of this book?

How could the publishers have made such a really stupid, stupid error? Goodness knows how or why they’d managed to get hold of the wrong photo—but surely the real author would be highly indignant at having his identity stolen by a completely unknown mining engineer? A man who was, moreover—certainly as far as she knew—busy working for a large, international company in South America.

Completely stunned, and with her mind in a total whirl, Flora desperately tried to pull herself together. Maybe she was wrong? It had, after all, been almost six years since she’d last seen Ross. And it was just a photograph. So, while the author of this book, Duncan Ross, might appear to be the absolute double of her ex-husband, the two men might well turn out to be quite dissimilar in real life. Right?

However, as she stared down at the large black and white photograph, which took up most of the space on the shiny back cover of the book, Flora could feel the tight knot of apprehension deep in the pit of her stomach gradually swelling into a large, heavy lump of total certainty.

It was no good. There was no point in trying to fool herself. Because, however strange and peculiar it might seem—and however hard she might cling to the hope that it was all a terrible mistake—she had no doubt about the identity of the man gazing out at the world with a slightly wry, mocking twist of his lips. She knew that it was a photograph of her ex-husband, Ross Whitney. Why, she could even see the faint scar beneath one dark, sardonically raised eyebrow—the result, as she knew only too well, of an accident on the rugby field soon after their wedding.

Besides, there were just too many coincidences for her to swallow. While two men might bear a very strong resemblance to each other, it was extremely unlikely that they would also have almost the same name.

Suddenly feeling breathless and dizzy, as if the world was spinning twice as fast as usual on its axis, Flora fell back against her seat, gazing blindly up at the roof of the plane as she tried to sort out the chaotic muddle and confusion in her brain.

Even if it was true, even if she had to accept the fact, however weird it might be, that the writer Duncan Ross and her ex-husband Ross Whitney were one and the same person—she could still hardly believe it! Goodness knows, they’d only been married for a very short time. But she had absolutely no recollection of Ross being in any way interested in writing novels. Surely... Well, surely she ought to have seen some sign of the fact that he was interested in becoming an author?

She was deeply immersed in trying to solve the conundrum, and her distraught thoughts were interrupted as Georgie returned to her seat.

‘Hah! I just knew you’d be interested in that book,’ Georgie said triumphantly, placing some Duty Free perfume in the overhead locker before lowering her ample curves into the seat beside Flora.

‘Well...er...’

‘Doesn’t he look fantastic? Really drop-dead sexy—if you know what I mean!’ Georgie grinned. ‘I bet he has girls buzzing around him like bees round a honey-pot.’

Flora, her mind still trying to grapple with the extraordinary fact that her ex-husband appeared to have somehow turned himself into a best-selling author, could only stare blankly at the other girl.

‘Well, you might not think he’s up to much—but as far as I’m concerned he’s definitely a bit of all right!’ Georgie leaned over to take the book from Flora’s lap and gaze down at the photograph of the ruggedly handsome man. ‘I just can’t wait to meet him!’

‘Meet him...?’ Flora echoed in bewilderment.

So, OK—her brains might be a little scrambled, and she was possibly still reeling from shock, trying to come to terms with the sudden bombshell about her ex-husband’s new profession, but even so, Flora knew that the chances of Georgie bumping into a best-selling author—whoever he might be—were just about zero.

‘I don’t want to dash your hopes,’ she told the plump girl, ‘but I really don’t think there’s any likelihood of you meeting the author of this book. Certainly not in the near future.’

‘Of course I’m going to meet him! After all, he owns Buccaneer Island, doesn’t he? Besides,’ Georgie added, as if explaining matters to a rather dim child, ‘I overheard Claudia saying that Duncan Ross was definitely going to be on the island, just to make sure that everything ran smoothly. Which is one of the reasons why I’ve been reading his new book.’

Flora stared at the other girl in shocked silence for some moments. Completely stunned and almost unable to comprehend the appalling, horrific information that in only a few hours’ time she was likely to meet again the man she hadn’t seen for so many years, it was some moments before she was able to pull herself together.

‘Are you seriously telling me that...?’

‘Oh, come on!’ Georgie grinned. ‘Surely you knew that Duncan Ross was the owner of Buccaneer Island?’

Flora shook her dazed head. ‘No...no, I had no idea. I mean...I don’t understand any of this,’ she muttered, feeling as though she’d been suddenly dumped in a foreign country, completely unable either to understand or speak the language.

‘I wasn’t involved in any of the plans for this trip,’ Flora continued, brushing a trembling hand through her long, curly hair. ‘I mean...no one’s even told me the reason why we’re using Buccaneer Island. Surely... Well, surely there must be lots of other places in the Caribbean which are just as suitable for shooting a promotional film. Why didn’t they choose Barbados—or Antigua, for heaven’s sake?’

‘Hey—calm down!’ Georgie frowned at the almost hysterical note in the other girl’s voice. ‘I didn’t make the arrangements. All I know is that Duncan Ross, who owns the island, seems to have some connection with Mr Schwartz, the American marketing director of ACE. And in any case,’ she added with a shrug, ‘since most countries in the Caribbean have a strict law about their beaches always being open to members of the public, maybe it’s a good idea not to have too many people cluttering up the scene? Especially if you’re likely to be prancing half-naked over the sand.’

‘I never prance—and certainly not half-naked!’ Flora snapped, before quickly realising that it was totally unfair to take her shock and frustration out on Georgie. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, with a brief, apologetic smile. ‘It looks as though I must have got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.’

‘That’s OK—forget it.’ Georgie gave her a friendly grin, clearly used to dealing with the more temperamental, prima donna type of model. ‘I’m really looking forward to the next few days. I haven’t been to the Caribbean before, and I can’t wait...’

Leaning back, allowing her mind to drift as the other girl continued to expand on the delights awaiting them all on Buccaneer Island, it was some moments before Flora suddenly realised that her troubles were now multiplying with the speed of light.

Oh, Lord—she’d forgotten all about her contract!

Claudia Davidson had been brutally frank about the cosmetic company’s basic rules: not only was Flora required to be pure in thought and deed—but they were also insisting on her being single! And yet within a few hours it was almost certain that she would be meeting the man who she regarded as her ex-husband...but to whom she was—alas!—still married.

Feeling totally sick to the pit of her stomach, she could see no way of avoiding the swift, ruthless and hideously embarrassing termination of her contract. And that wasn’t all. Not by a long chalk! She could virtually guarantee the fact that Claudia would go completely ballistic on discovering the truth about Flora’s marital status. And ACE weren’t exactly going to be whistling for joy either.

Shivering with fright, and trying to control her trembling limbs, Flora realised that she was now in deep, deep trouble. She had no doubt that the company would be in a strong position if they decided to take her to court in order to recover the costs involved in setting up this trip to the Caribbean. Because even if she hadn’t told an outright lie she’d still put her signature to a contract containing a clause which she had known to be false.

How could she have been such a fool? There was no way she would ever be able to repay the company’s expenses. In fact, if she’d been worried about her financial position before being offered this job it was a mere bagatelle when compared to the total bankruptcy which she was likely to face in the future.

Seething with frustration and anger, both at the malign fate which was about to engulf her and the incredibly foolish, outright stupidity of not having divorced Ross years ago, Flora struggled to contain her mounting hysteria, quite certain that her head was going to explode with pent-up rage and fury. But, as she continued to fulminate and rail against her own folly, she realised that there was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent the inevitable, total disaster which lay ahead.

Some hours later, as the small private plane which had been hired to transport them from Antigua slowly circled over the landing site on Buccaneer Island, Flora still hadn’t been able to find a solution to her problem. Certain that she’d never felt quite so frightened in all her life, she was in such a state of mental exhaustion that she couldn’t think of anything except the truly horrendous fate which awaited her just as soon as they landed.

It was almost as if she’d suddenly developed St Vitus’s Dance, she thought, miserably aware that her knees were knocking together like castanets. But, as the plane descended rapidly towards the green, grassy strip which lay alongside a wide sandy beach, she made a supreme effort to try and pull herself together.

Carefully descending the steps of the aircraft on legs which felt as though they were made of jelly, Flora found herself trailing behind Claudia Davidson and her entourage, who were walking briskly towards a small group of people clearly awaiting their arrival. Through the haze of shimmering heat, her eyes were slowly and forcibly drawn towards a man standing slightly apart from the others, leaning nonchalantly against a rather battered-looking old Land Rover.

Feeling suddenly faint, she was almost physically aware of the blood draining from her face at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered figure and tanned, arrogant features of the person she hadn’t seen for so long. Drawing on her positively last reserves of courage, she took a deep, shuddering breath.

Here goes nothing! Flora told herself defiantly, putting on the performance of a lifetime as she walked slowly and steadily, with her head held high, towards her ex-husband, Ross Whitney. The man who, within the next few minutes, was almost certainly going to blow her world sky-high.