Microsoft Word - Rogers, Rosemary - The Crowd Pleasers (30 page)

Has Harris not been feeding you? You must remember you are a movie actress now, and not a skinny model!"

"Oh, but the sea air is doing wonders for my appetite!" Anne countered, smiling at him. Yves at least was familiar. The others he introduced her to were strangers-mostly camera crew, headed by a taciturn New Yorker called Davis who kept squinting suspiciously at the sky, as if he expected it to be obscured by fog in minutes.

"Be extra charming to him and he will make sure you get all the best angles!" Yves whispered drolly. "I have seen some of his work, and he is very good. The best, in fact-like me!"

Angles, cuts, costumes, editing. The conversation over dinner was mostly technical, leaving Anne the silent listener, wondering if she would ever learn enough. Harris, like an orchestra conducter, guided it smoothly.

The helicopter had made two trips today. And by tomorrow, apparently, everyone else would be here.

"So what do we do about extras?" Yves asked sourly, and Harris smiled patiently.

"I've arranged for that, too. We fly them in from Los Angeles-and add a few locals with previous experience for the right diplomatic touch. But they'll be mostly union people, and that should keep everyone happy."

"I'll stay happy if we shoot with the weather," Davis grumbled. "And we could use some dry runs." His glance slid over Anne, shifted away. And she told herself she mustn't blush. It was the first time in weeks she'd thought about some of those scenes she was supposed to do. Mostly with Webb-and when would he turn up?

Keep your mind on the conversation and learn from it, she reprimanded herself.

A name brought her back to sharp awareness.

Harris was saying to Yves, "Espinoza is bringing Anna-Maria with him. She called me this morning." Was it really casual, the way his eyes moved to Anne's suddenly still face? "Sorry, love, I haven't had time to bring you up to date. Sal Espinoza-you must have heard of him? And Anna-Maria's his steady lady. I think you'll like her. She's beautiful, very charming-and the world's greatest masseuse. Ask Yves; he'll tell you she has a magical pair of hands."

"Truly a gift," Yves said. "She's better than any professional one could go to.

Espinoza won't let anyone else close to him before or after a race."

"We'll have to get Anna-Maria to give you one of her special massages whenever you've had a really hard day, Anne. And I'd better warn you-Yves is a devilish hard taskmaster!"

Pleydel rolled his eyes. "I've been called much worse than that, monami. But before you scare off our little one here, you should also tell her that I'm very patient as well."

He grinned at Anne. "Don't wear that frightened look, there's really nothing to it." A note of cynicism edged his voice: "Most women, I've found, are born actresses!"

Harris didn't come upstairs with her that night. He walked with her to the foot of the stairs, teasing her because she wouldn't use the elevator Danny Verrano had installed. "But I'm used to these stairs! I always did enjoy walking up to bed."

Was he coming with her? No, he looked apologetic, explaining that Yves and he were going to sit up and go over the schedule for the next few weeks. He looked down at her with something like regret in his eyes-it was there and then it was gone.

And the sleepless night before, the cigarette smoke, and the after-dinner liqueurs had all combined to make her feel very tired.

Harris bent his head, his lips brushing hers in a light, affectionate kiss.

"Anne, you're very beautiful. And I wish that I-" He broke off abruptly, caught her questioning look, and gave a wry smile. "Damn! This is hardly the time or the place for a serious conversation, is it? But in my clumsy way I've been wanting to tell you that you must never feel obligated to me in any way. Do you understand? I want you to be a free soul, to feel free at all times."

Later, lying in bed, with her script on the night table beside her, Anne wondered at his almost solemnly serious speech. Underneath it all, Harris was really a very sensitive man. He couldn't fail to have noticed the lack in her. Was that why he had practically invited her to tryout other lovers? And was that the answer?

So many people, all different, thrown into close proximity for several weeks. "Closed set." Did that mean that they were to be closed in as well? There were bound to be personality clashes, little feuds, shows of temperament. But perhaps, above all, that feeling of working together, being part of the exciting business of making a piece of make-believe come alive for millions of viewers. And she could recall the almost wistful feeling she'd had almost two years ago about the theater people, when she'd been the outsider looking in. It would be different this time.

Anne lay there for a long time, looking into the darkness and listening to the distant sea-murmuring outside her windows.

After a while she got up, went to the bathroom, and took a Valium. And when she came back to bed she switched on the small radio, letting the music play very softly.

Harris hadn't come up to bed yet, but she didn't expect him to visit her tonight.

Just before she fell asleep, she thought she heard the sound of the helicopter again.

Coming in to land or going away? It really didn't matter; she'd find out in the morning

...

She hadn't heard the sound of opening doors and voices downstairs, nor the elevator coming and going. Waking with the daylight that suddenly filled her room as the heavy drapes were abruptly drawn open, Anne felt the aroma of steaming coffee tantalize her nostrils. Turning over onto her back, her eyes still sleep-filled, blinking into focus, Anne made a smothered sound and instinctively pulled the covers up to her neck. Karim stood there holding a tray and smiling at her.

"It is almost noon and everyone else is up enjoying this beautiful day. What did you do last night to make you so tired?" His smile widened, showing those white teeth.

"And you look like a frightened virgin, all covered up against lustful eyes. I find that intriguing."

Anger sent all the lingering drowsiness from her brain. "What are you doing in here, Karim?" "Offering myself as a substitute for that prune-faced woman who was bringing you this tray. Won't I do?"

His teasing voice carried subtle undercurrents as he stood there, looking undeniably handsome in his close-fitting silk shirt and tailored slacks, a silk scarf knotted rakishly about his brown throat. And his coal-dark eyes rested on her with a burning look that was unmistakable.

Anne felt her face begin to flame. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness. You may put the tray down and leave now." The laughing mockery left his face as it darkened.

"You make a mistake when you talk to me as if I were a servant, ma belle! And I think, too, that you have a lot to learn about men. I am no emasculated American or Englishman who would tolerate insolence from a woman, and I think I am going to enjoy teaching you that!"

"You're not in front of the cameras now, Karim, and I'm not in the mood for a dramatic scene. Will you please go away so I can get dressed?" Anne tried to keep her voice cool, but she was frightened, and her eyes were wary.

He slammed the tray down on the dresser so hard the coffee spilled; and turned back to stand looking down at her. "What are you so afraid of that you try to cover it with words of contempt? Just as you try to cover your body from my eyes? I think you are the kind of female who incites men to rapc them because that is the only way they can enjoy sex-by being forced and mastered. And then, after that, you would fall willingly onto your knees whenever I clicked my fingers-sol-and take my cock in your mouth if I ordered it."

The deliberate crudity of his words shocked and startled her, as he had meant them to do, and he laughed with harsh satisfaction.

"What-have I made you afraid again? Of me, or of yourself and the secret desires that you try to hide under your cold airs? But then, you are far from being a trembling virgin, aren't you? And I know that there is much passion in you, for I have heard the sounds of delight that came from your throat while you were being fucked-your friend Carol played a tape for me one night." He laughed mockingly at the look on her face.

"Could it be that you did not know of the amusing game that she and your cher ami Webb Carnahan had devised for their own titillation? It was like a contest between those two. Each one would keep a taped record of lovemaking with others, to be played back when they were together. A. clever idea, no?"

Anne felt sick, bile almost choking her. No-not true! He was making it up to hurt her, to avenge the insult he felt she had inflicted on his pride. "No!" she said aloud.

"You're lying-and I won't listen anymore. You had better-"

"Be careful what else you say to me, Anne Mallory, or I might lose my patience. I do not often waste so much time on talk, and neither do I need the sounds of other people making love to turn me on."

He stood looking down at her, his handsome face turned even darker by the flush of anger that suffused it. And involuntarily she shrank from his look, her reaction bringing a twisted smile.

"But then," he went on softly, "I am a patient man after all, and I am certain-that there will be a time for us. And I will teach you a great deal that you have not yet experienced." He made her a sarcastic bow. "So-I am sorry that I dared disturb your slumber, and I will wait-and so will you! Bon maiin"

Long after she had heard the door slam behind him, Anne lay huddled under the bedcovers, fighting the feeling of sickness and degradation. If only she could shut out the sound of Karim's mocking, sneering voice! Was it true? Webb and Carol, playing

"an amusing little game," turning each other on? "You show me yours and I'll show you mine." She wanted to laugh hysterically. Perhaps she should have let Karim make love to her-he had been so sure of her, so sure of himself. And then he had reacted like a spoiled, sulky boy who wasn't used to being thwarted. But had he spoken the truth? And if he had, was she going to let it keep her cowering here like a frightened rabbit? The hell with Webb and his sick games. And the hell with Karim, who played a different, stalking game. She would face them both, and face them down.

The sudden anger that flowed through her was cleansing, vivifying. There were Harris's other guests to meet, and they all sounded fascinating, especially the Greek shipping millionaire, Petrakis. If she remembered right, he had just divorced his second wife. His current mistress, Sarah Vesper, would be playing her-Glory's-stepmother in the movie.

I'm free, Anne thought. Free! Hadn't even Harris encouraged her to think that way?

And, she thought to herself, after she had showered and was putting on the last touches of her makeup, I'll find a way of getting even with Webb-I'll pay him back in his own coin, the low-down bastard!

Downstairs in the formal dining room that had been turned into a very authentic-looking Spanish sala, the cocktails were already flowing, even though it was still early afternoon.

Anne walked almost hesitantly downstairs, wearing a silky sundress with flounces on the skirt-very Spanish with its corselet waistline that pushed her breasts up and made more of them. Part of the last Saint Laurent collection. It helped her feel poised and ready to face anything-or anyone.

Taped music playing discreetly in the background masked the ceaseless growl of the ocean, and was in turn almost drowned out by the murmur of voices and laughter.

Today the camera crew, engineers, and technicians she had met yesterday were not in evidence. These were the elite-the fun people-Harris's guests from the highest international circles. And they were obviously starting to enjoy themselves early.

Anne allowed herself one last, wistful thought of the cool, fresh air outside, with its odor of pines and ocean, before she walked forward to join them. Almost immediately, Harris Phelps was at her side, his eyes searching her face questioningly.

"Didn't you sleep well last night, love? I was beginning to wonder if you were coming down at all. I'd have come up to find you myself, only"-he gestured apologetically at the crowd -"you can see how it's been!" Then, his hand closing gently over her arm, he drew her close to kiss her, his lips brushing the corner of her shiny, reddened mouth. "You look exceptionally lovely, darling. Now come along and meet our guests."

Our guests, he had said, reminding her gently that she was supposed to be playing hostess. His understanding made her feel guilty.

"I'm sorry I slept so late," Anne whispered, wondering if she should tell him of Karim's visit to her room. And then she had no more time to wonder, because Harris was beginning the string of introductions, propelling her from one group of people to the next.

The names seemed to blur into each other after a while; it was like reading the society pages, Anne thought dazedly. A few stood out ...

Taki Petrakis-stocky, dark-haired, and dynamic, with a sensual mouth that lingered a shade too long on the back of her hand when he kissed it. His elegant auburn-haired companion didn't seem to mind; she smiled conspiratorially at Anne. Sarah Vesper -

society woman turned movie actress, throwing up her career to marry one of the few really rich English dukes left. Making her comeback in Greed for Glory, now that she was a widow. Sarah wore a fortune in jewels and had a small chiseled face that didn't show her age. Anne liked her instinctively-she had a charming, magnetic smile that lighted up her face, and a friendly, natural manner that showed no jealousy at all.

Rufus Randall owned a chain of newspapers, several of the leading magazines, and two publishing houses. He was also a major stockholder in one of the biggest television networks. He stayed out of the news himself, for the most part. "Randall House published Greed for Glory, Anne." Harris, tactfully jogging her memory in case she had forgotten.

Randall was broad-shouldered, medium-built. And he gestured constantly with a cigar-lit or unlit. His bright blue eyes regarded her piercingly from under bushy eyebrows, studying her with the unabashed openness of the very rich. "One of our favorite cover girls, eh? Sure you'll do just as well as an actress."