Obsession (20 page)

‘Oh no, no, I couldn’t do that,’ Corrie interrupted, thinking immediately of Annalise. ‘Really, I couldn’t take up your time.’

‘It won’t be my time,’ he said, smiling right into her eyes, ‘I was thinking of putting you in touch with a stylist I know.’

‘Oh.’ She didn’t say anymore than that, since she was afraid of how her voice might sound once it had broken through the all too disturbing feelings his eyes were evoking in her.

Later that afternoon, as Corrie was finishing off yet another revealing telephone conversation with Carol, Luke called her into his office.

‘Here you are,’ he said, ‘Georgina’s telephone number. The stylist,’ he explained, when Corrie looked at him blankly. ‘She’s expecting to hear from you in the next half an hour.’

‘Half an hour!’ Corrie gasped.

‘Why not? You want a new image, so go get yourself one. Take a few days off then we’ll see if we recognize you when you come back.’

Corrie took a breath to speak then stopped herself. It would seem churlish to object when he was being so kind, but the last thing she wanted right now was to take time off. What she wanted was to get to work.

However, between beauty salons, make-up counters, image consultants, colour co-ordinators and dress designers she was able to make even more notes, and took the opportunity to see a little more of Felicity whom she was coming
to
like, and respect, a great deal. She hardly had time to reflect on what exalted company she was now moving in, with friends like Felicity Burridge and Svengalis like Luke Fitzpatrick, though Paula was always there to remind her, and Corrie almost burst with pride at the way she seemed to be taking her new friendships in her stride.

‘Well, I think you’re done,’ Georgina, the stylist said just four days after they first met. ‘What do you think?’

They were in the hairdressers where Corrie had just had her shoulder length hair completely restyled, highlighted and permed. Now it was just beneath her chin and framed her face with such an abundant cascade of coppery curls that when Georgina spun her towards the mirror she actually gasped. Her hair had always been thick, but she had never imagined that it could look so wildly abandoned yet chic at the same time. And her face! Her features looked so much smaller than before, yet somehow more defined. There was just a whisper of brown eye-shadow on her lids, a double coat of mascara on her lashes, the merest hint of blusher lifting her cheekbones and a soft glossy amber lipstick coating her lips.

She broke into a smile, but still she couldn’t speak as she stood up to take in her whole appearance. She was wearing a creamy cashmere dress which came to just above the knee, pale coloured tights and black pumps, all of which she’d bought under Georgina’s guidance.

‘I can hardly believe it,’ she finally breathed, peering suspiciously at the mirror. ‘I mean it’s me, but … My God! It really is possible to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.’ Laughing, she turned to Georgina. ‘Of course, I’ll never be a raving beauty, but … What can I say, Georgie? You’ve performed a miracle. I even look quite slim.’

‘You’re not fat,’ Georgie laughed. ‘You’re just big-boned.’

‘Ugh! You make me sound like Rambo.’

‘Then think of it this way. You’ve got good strong
features
, great ankles, good legs all round actually, terrific tits, small waist – in fact, my dear, you’re the regular hour glass. And believe it or not you’d photograph beautifully.’

‘So I take it you’ve told them to hold the front cover of
Vogue?
’

‘Not quite. But don’t rule it out.’

‘I know my limitations,’ Corrie laughed. ‘Now, how much do I owe you for all this.’

‘Brace yourself.’

Corrie winced. ‘It’s the Saint Laurent suit isn’t it?’

‘And the Lagerfeld. And all the Nicole Farhi stuff. Not to mention all the accessories and the …’

‘No, don’t go on, I can’t bear it. Just tell me, and be ready with the smelling salts.’

‘OK. Stand by.’

Corrie closed her eyes.

‘Five quid.’

‘What!’

‘Five quid. A tip for the hairdresser.’

‘But …’

‘Luke’s footing the bill for the rest.’

Corrie stared at her open-mouthed. ‘Oh no,’ she said at last. ‘No, I can’t let him do that. I have some savings, Georgie, and I want to …’

‘Too late, he’s already paid. You want to argue, take it up with him. He’s waiting for your call by the way. He says you can get him at the office.’

Corrie was already heading towards the phone. ‘May I?’ she said to the receptionist.

The receptionist waved her on and Corrie dialled the number, tapping her foot as she waited for someone to answer and stealing disbelieving glances at herself in the mirror.

‘Am I speaking to Henry Higgins?’ she said, when Luke came onto the line.

‘Speaking,’ he laughed.

‘Well it’s Eliza Doolittle here, and I really am grateful, please don’t think I’m not, but I just can’t …’

‘Save it, Corrie. Just come and have dinner at my place tonight. Let me see the new you. And if you’re worried about the money, think of it as a payment for coming up with a brilliant idea.’

‘You mean you’re going to take it,’ she gasped. ‘The women’s thing?’

‘I’ve discussed it with Bob and the producers, and we’re all agreed. We’ll start with the prostitutes. Now, I’ll expect you around eight this evening.’

He’d rung off before Corrie could protest, but in truth she was relieved she didn’t have to. She didn’t want to upset Annalise again, but Luke had been so kind that it would seem downright ungrateful of her to turn him down.

By the time she arrived at his Knightsbridge apartment she was on such a high that she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. She had changed from the cashmere dress into a simple black dress with a wide round neck, short sleeves and black and gold buttons which finished mid-thigh. She’d thought it a bit daring when she’d bought it, since it revealed so much of her legs, but Georgie had been so insistent that she had great legs and should show them off that she had given in. She was glad she had now, for one look in the mirror before she’d left had told her how good she looked in it – though if the truth were known she really had no idea just how good.

When Luke opened the door and saw her standing there, it was all he could do to keep his mouth from falling open.

Corrie grinned, ‘Well I wasn’t that bad before, was I?’ she quipped.

‘No,’ he laughed, ‘But I have to confess you …’

‘No spare me, please. I’m no good at handling compliments.’

‘Then you’d better get used to it. You look terrific.’

He watched her walk into the apartment, still slightly
taken
aback by such a transformation. She might never, as Corrie herself had remarked, be a raving beauty, but she sure as hell had something. And unlike Corrie Luke was only top aware what that something was. He had rarely seen such potent sensuality, or such unadulterated eroticism in the curves of one body. Did she have any idea what it could do to a man just to watch her move? He’d noticed it before, of course, they all had, but now … Well, he could almost feel her writhing beneath him, panting for him to take her. And that hair! He could just see it, tumbling over the pillows, falling into her eyes, pasting itself to her lips. The odd thing was though, that she seemed totally unaware of the effect she created, and he wondered if it wasn’t that that somehow made it all the more powerful.

He let her chatter on over the dinner he had cooked himself. She made him laugh a lot at the faces she pulled and expressions she used, and all the while he was reflecting on how all too easy it was to change someone on the outside, but thank God no one could tamper with the inside. She really was quite unique.

When they finished the meal they moved to the sofa. Corrie immediately noticed the file of newspaper cuttings on the coffee table about the murdered prostitutes and was delighted to think that he was involving himself personally in the first programme.

‘But of course I am,’ he laughed. ‘I interest myself in every programme TW makes, though I have to admit this one is somewhat special. After all, I can’t have my very own Eliza going off the rails before she even gets started, now can I?’

Flustered by the possessiveness of his remark Corrie felt her pulses start to race. He was smiling, and again his eyes were penetrating hers, the way they had in the wine bar. His body was turned towards her, with one arm resting along the back of the Chesterfield. There was a space between them, but if he were to move his hand it would
be
touching the back of her neck. Corrie was half-turned to him, the hem of her dress riding up her thighs and she was acutely aware of the disturbing sensations spreading heat through her body.

‘Did you …? Have you …? Well, is there any chance I might be able to research it myself?’ she finally blurted out.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I think there could be every chance.’

‘You mean …? Have you discussed it with the others?’ She sounded so breathless, and felt sure he must have noticed the way her chest was rising and falling beneath her dress.

‘We talked about it, yes.’

‘And?’

His eyebrows arched ironically. ‘The casting vote lies with me.’

Corrie smiled and looked down at her hands. ‘And have you come to a decision?’ she asked, quietly.

‘I have.’

She lifted her eyes back to his face. ‘Please don’t keep me in suspense,’ she said. ‘Am I going to be a researcher, or aren’t I?’

‘Is that what you want?’ he asked, the unmistakable ring of laughter in his voice.

‘Oh Luke, you know it is.’

Laughing, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘You’re not being quite honest with me,’ he told her. ‘You want to produce the slot, is the real truth.’

Though her heart was pounding Corrie’s eyes widened with disbelief. ‘Do you mean …? Are you saying …?’

‘What I’m saying,’ he said, ‘is that you want to produce the slot, which is not beyond the bounds of possibility. I’ve read your notes, we all have, and we’re all in agreement that you’ve got quite a future ahead of you. You’re an asset
we
don’t want to lose.’ All the time he was talking he was unfastening the buttons on her dress.

Corrie’s head was spinning. This was all happening so fast that she could barely comprehend what he was saying or doing. She was looking into his eyes, and though a dim and distant voice was telling her she should make him stop, she said nothing. She felt vaguely as though she was hypnotized, and her eyes fluttered closed as he pushed her head gently into the crook of his arm and kissed her again.

His hand moved to her knee and started to slide slowly along her thigh. At the same time his tongue entered her mouth. This shouldn’t be happening, she knew it shouldn’t, she must make him stop, but dear God it felt so good.

He lifted his head and looked down into her face.

She smiled awkwardly and put her hand on his to stop it going any further.

‘By the way,’ she said, throatily, ‘how was your trip to LA?’

‘Great.’

‘Did you see Cristos Bennati?’

‘Mmm. I stayed with him.’

‘Oh.’ His hand was moving inside her dress, over her breast. ‘How come you – you came back early?’ she faltered.

‘We fell out.’

‘What about?’ she mumbled, as he took the weight of her breast in his hand.

‘I mistakenly opened an old wound of his. I tried to apologize, but he’s pretty fiery is Cristos.’

‘Oh, I see.’ She sucked in her breath as he took her nipple between his fingers and looked down at what he was doing. He lifted her chin and kissed her again. ‘You really want to be a producer, don’t you?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Yes I do.’

Taking her hands he pulled her to her feet. She looked at him tentatively, knowing what was going to happen and powerless to stop it. He slipped her dress over her shoulders
and
let if fall to the floor. She stood before him in her black teddy and black hold up stockings. She was rigid. She had never felt so vulnerable, so embarrassed nor so nervous in her life.

‘Look at you,’ he groaned, running his fingers lightly over her waist. The teddy was cut high on her hips so that his fingers soon found the ample flesh of her buttocks. He squeezed hard, lowering his mouth to her neck and kissing it. She had never known her body capable of such voracious desire, but she was afraid to move, terrified lest she should do something wrong.

Taking her hand he led her into the darkened bedroom. For a while they stood in the moonlight, simply kissing until Luke’s fingers found the join in her legs and pressed hard against the flimsy fabric of her teddy. When he let her go he lifted his fingers to his mouth and licked them. Corrie watched him, feeling so unworldly, so out of her depth, that she wanted to run away. Yet at the same time she wanted nothing more than for this to continue. He pulled her hard against him. She could feel the strength of his erection, and was by now so weak with her own desire she could barely stand.

He pushed her back onto the bed, pulled the straps of her teddy down over shoulders, her hips, her legs until he was holding it in his hand.

Corrie looked up at him, wanting desperately to cover herself, but when she lifted her arms he took them and laid them back on the pillows.

‘Ssh,’ he said, ‘just stay like that.’

She watched as he stripped away his own clothes. His skin glowed bluish-white in the moonlight, and she could see the powerful muscles of his legs, his arms, his shoulders, his …

He was holding himself, and watching his hand as it moved gently back and forth. ‘Open your legs,’ he whispered.

Obediently Corrie parted her legs, trying to ignore the wave of embarrassment that swept through her. She looked up at him, waiting for him to lie down with her, but he was still watching himself.

‘What do you want now?’ he asked softly.

‘I want you,’ she croaked.

She saw him smile. ‘Which part of me?’

Not quite sure if she was doing what he expected of her she reached out and touched his penis. ‘This part,’ she answered shyly.