Diamonds Forever (6 page)

‘What's lobster like?' she asked hopefully when the waiter returned to take their order. ‘Is it like prawns? 'Cos I love them.'

‘Try it and see,' said Deano, turning to the waiter and ordering two dressed lobster salads. ‘So, did you fill in an application form?' he said, once the waiter was out of range.

‘What?'

‘For the job. Jenna's assistant, or whatever you are. Was it advertised at the Jobcentre?'

Kayley fidgeted with a sterling silver napkin ring.

‘No, of course not.'

‘She just thought of you and gave you a call?'

‘I was working at the youth club. I thought you'd have known. She came to me about funding some new equipment. Hey, and she was going to do that talent show thing you were on about up there, but she pulled out, and so will you if you know what's what.'

‘Really?' Deano raised perfectly plucked eyebrows. ‘Why?'

‘Because you don't want to be hand in glove with Lawrence Harville, that's why.'

‘Oh?'

Deano leant forward, all ears.

‘Don't you know what happened?'

‘I live in Los Angeles, Kayley.'

‘Oh, come on. You must know.'

‘OK.' He sat back. ‘I know he was implicated in this drugs case. The one your Jason was originally up for.'

‘Yeah, so why are you …? I mean, the case got thrown out but he's guilty as sin. And he's got it in for Jen and Jase. And
me
. That's why I'm skulking about in this shitty old hoodie. It's not 'cos I think it suits me.'

‘No, well, I did prefer what you had on last night,' said Deano, with a rather suggestive smile.

He waited for it to take its effect, then leant towards Kayley, his eyes burning with serious intent.

‘Listen, Kayley, I've no right to ask this of you.'

She wanted to look away, wanted to frown, but she could do nothing but stare back into his silvery electric-spark gaze.

‘Ask what?'

‘Will you put in a word for me? With Jenna? Tell her I want to work with her on this documentary project. How can I make a documentary about my career without her? She
is
my career. I need her in this film.'

The lobster salads arrived, looking quite unlike anything Kayley had ever eaten in her life before. She was almost dismayed at its exotic glamour. Was she really supposed to eat it?

As for the Jenna thing … well, she could mention it. It wasn't like he was asking her to meet him in his hotel room, was it?

‘OK,' she said. ‘I'll ask her.' She picked up a lobster claw and prodded inside the pointy shell. ‘How do you eat this?'

‘Do you want me to get the meat out for you?'

She watched him, still with a sense of unreality.

‘I mean, it's a reasonable enough thing to ask, isn't it?' she said, as if still working it out herself. ‘It's work. It doesn't mean she's going to …'

He looked up at her.

‘Going to what?'

‘Why did you split up?' she blurted. ‘She's never told me.'

The sparks in Deano's extraordinary eyes faded and a cloud seemed to pass over him.

‘All my fault,' he said. ‘I was blind and stupid. I let myself believe the hype, and trust me, Kayley, that's a fatal mistake. But if enough people tell you you're a god, well …'

‘Did you cheat on her?'

‘Yes.'

‘That woman who was with you last night …'

‘No, she's just an agent. She has herself lined up as the next Jenna, though. But she won't be. She doesn't have Jenna's fight or fearlessness. Once I get Jenna back, I'll sack Parker.'

Kayley's mouth dropped open.

‘Once you get her back?'

‘That's what I'm here for, Kayley. No point beating around the bush. Even if not as my wife, then as my agent. I need her. I can't write. I haven't written a fucking note since she left.' His voice broke and she saw a glisten in his eyes that might have been the start of tears. ‘I'm finished, Kayley, if I can't get her back. The best thing that ever came from Bledburn …' He threw his hands in the air. ‘Gone.'

She didn't know what to say.

‘Maybe just, er, a glitch, don't you think? Writer's block. Lots of people get it.'

He shook his head.

‘Not this dude. I need Jenna. I can't create without her. Please help me, Kayley. Please.'

‘I … don't know …' She was trying to construct some kind of sentence, or at least a thought that made sense. She was still trying when a very unwelcome third party appeared at their table.

‘Deano, I thought we were going to …' Lawrence Harville stopped short and ran a hand through his impeccable hair, staring at Kayley.

She shrank back, wanting to pull the hood all the way over her face.

Shit.

‘Well, well,' he said. ‘If it isn't our little canary.'

Seeing that Deano's curious expression demanded satisfaction, he waved a hand that was much less nonchalant than he appeared to want it to be.

‘Oh, nothing you need to worry about. Just … never mind.' He made a huge effort to drive Kayley out of his field of vision. ‘Our meeting?' he said. ‘We really need to get some of the fine detail sorted out.'

‘Look, I said I'd call you. I'm busy here, yeah? Lunch? With a lady? So I'll see you around, OK.'

Harville pinched his lips, his cheeks whitening.

Kayley had seen that look on him before, and the last time it had been the precursor to a slap across the face.

Not this time, though.

‘Don't forget,' he muttered, before stalking out of the dining room.

Kayley looked after him, her eyes wide.

‘Fuck me, another bullet dodged,' she said with sincere relief, once he was safely out of the building.

‘Do you really think he's out to get you?'

Deano, interested, put down the forkful of salad he'd been about to shovel into his mouth.

‘He definitely is. I grassed him up. And you know what the rules are in Bledburn.'

‘Thou shalt not grass,' agreed Deano. ‘Right. I'm going to level with you about something else, Kayley. I hate the bastard. I don't want to deal with him. He's a Harville. But he's managed to get his name mixed up in this talent contest malarkey, and I can't seem to prise him off it. I'm hoping that, if I give him enough rope, he'll eventually hang himself.'

‘They didn't get him last time,' she said. ‘He's coated in Teflon, that bastard. Nothing sticks to him.'

‘I'll stick to him,' said Deano. ‘Like glue, if I have to. I want the last traces of Harville out of this town, for good.'

‘Well, that's something I'd definitely want to help you with.'

He tilted his head to one side, smiling at her consideringly.

‘You know, I'm glad we ran into one another, Kayley. Something tells me we're going to hit it off.'

JENNA COULDN'T QUITE
believe what she was doing. She stopped once, twice, three times, to look at herself in the mirror and snort with blushing laughter.

Outside, Jason was hacking away at the undergrowth in the least accessible part of the garden, stripped to the waist and mouth-watering, his strong, tanned back flexing with each swish of the blade. Every glimpse gave Jenna fresh impetus to continue with her operation.

Her idea for the birthday present was to keep it simple. No bells, no whistles – but some pretty extravagant packaging. She was going to give him herself. After the hurly-burly of the private view, and Jason's wobble of self-doubt once Deano had reappeared on the scene, it seemed absolutely the right thing to do. Something that wouldn't make him frown over more money spent on him, but would make him see how sincerely and truly she believed in their future.

First of all, she had found his favourite underwear set – the black strappy number they had bought (and tested) in the chic Mayfair sex boutique on their recent London trip. Putting it on brought back a flood of wicked memories. Jason stroking her nipples as they protruded from the quarter-cup bra. Jason with his hand down the shiny black knickers. Jason spanking her over the carefully placed straps that cut across her rear cheeks, creating a canvas of red and black so gorgeous it had to be photographed.

She had gawped at her reflection, then smiled at the thought that, not so long ago, she hadn't even realised lingerie like this existed. Victoria's Secret had been as far as she had gone with Deano. Sexy, yes, but nothing that would shock your aunt.

She twirled slowly, examining her curves, her new fuller figure. Jason was right. A little bit more flesh flattered her, gave her an air of sensual abandon she hadn't had in her days as a hard-bodied gym bunny. Not that she could be accused of being overweight at all. The difference was too subtle for anyone but her and her lover to notice.

And besides, what if she did put on a bit of weight? It wasn't the apocalyptic disaster she had used to think it. People came in different body types; it was time she accepted it. She cringed at the memory of all the boot-camp fitness regimes she had dictated to her new clients. The memory of one young girl, hospitalised for anorexia after a few months of this, came back and made her heart freeze.
Your fault
.

But that girl was OK now, although she would never go back into A-list show-business. Working on cruise liners, last she'd heard. Jenna breathed again. All that was over. Never again.

Back to her sinfully decadent silhouette in the mirror. She posed and preened, sticking out her bottom, spreading her legs, cupping her breasts, trying to see herself as Jason saw her. No longer the uptight over-styled icon but a flesh-and-blood woman with strong appetites and exotic desires.

The thought of the exotic desires made her look over to the bed, where she had laid out the leather paddle Jason had designed and made himself at the London warehouse of an expert spanking toy manufacturer. Who would have imagined that she'd enjoy being used like that, only a year ago? And yet now she craved Jason's dominance, fantasising about it in the hours they were apart, begging for it when they were together. It was a whole new part of herself, unlocked at the age of thirty-five.

‘Take me, I'm yours,' she muttered, pouting at the mirror, then running hands through her hair until it was sexily mussed.

Speaking of giving herself … She picked up the length of wide red ribbon she had bought in Hobbycraft that morning and began to wrap it, carefully, not too tightly, in a criss-crossing pattern up her legs. She wound it around her lower hips, hiding those parts of her Jason most liked to play with, then crossed her stomach and wrapped her breasts. She tied it neatly around her neck to finish, then stuck on a huge red rosette, just over her bottom cheeks.

It rustled as she moved, and the feeling of being tied in ribbon was so exciting she wanted to throw herself on the bed and put her hand between her legs.

But she held back. This was for Jason, not for her. She was going to have to wait.

She experimented with the feeling, standing in front of the mirror, trying to bend and stretch, enjoying each little restriction when it came.

Now, could she manage to move, slowly, carefully, swishing with each micro-step, over to the big window? Yes.

She brought herself into the centre of the frame and stood, her untied arms resting on the walls either side, imagining what a picture she'd make when Jason eventually turned and looked up.

If he ever did.

He seemed to work on for ages and ages, his attention given over to clearing the tangles and thickets from the far end of the garden, piling the wheelbarrow high.

But eventually, the wheelbarrow was full and he straightened up, passed the back of his hand across his brow and stood for a moment, still with his back to her, catching his breath.

She watched his strong shoulders rise and fall, saw the sheen of sweat glisten on his golden-brown back, looked longingly at the leather belt cinching his rough jeans to his hips, pulling the denim taut over a mouth-watering backside.

Come on
.

Finally, he turned.

His gaze was aimed lower, though, at the bonfire he'd been building. Jenna had to wait again, in an agony of nerves and lust, while Jason wheeled the debris over and threw it onto the pyre.

He looked at his watch.

Yes
. He'd be thinking it was time for a lunch break.

And bingo! His eyes rose to the bedroom window, knowing that Jenna was in there, because she'd told him she would be.

She bit her lip, working hard at not breaking into a broad grin. That expression, dawning on his face, though, was hard to resist.

First a quick upwards glance, then a narrowing of eyes and a hand at his forehead to ward off the sun's glare. Slowly, wonderfully slowly, his lips twitched upwards, the smile widening to his cheekbones, then revealing his bright teeth in a visible laugh. His eyes flashed through all the stages from unfocused, through amused, to frankly lustful in the space of about a second.

He pointed a warning finger at her, making her hug herself with excitement, then hared off towards the kitchen door. He stopped en route to sluice himself under the garden tap. Jenna cringed at the thought of how cold the water must be, but obviously Jason wasn't planning to waste any time in the shower. Not when he could be ripping off the wrapping from his present.

She turned in the window frame and positioned herself on the sill, perching right at the edge in order not to disarrange her cheeky rosette. She put her hands on the sill on either side of her, anchoring herself in position in case she succumbed to a natural inclination to slide off on to the floor. Her legs were weak enough, regardless of their being encased in red ribbon.

Within seconds, Jason's pounding tread could be heard on the staircase, then on the uncarpeted landing. He had obviously pulled off the heavy work boots he had been wearing, or the floor would be shuddering. The thud of his bare feet was loud enough.