Sins of the Flesh (26 page)

The moment Nellie Bishop set foot in Reuben Tarz's mansion, where she was to live with her father, she knew with dead certainty that she wanted to be rich and famous, and she didn't want to have to struggle to reach that end. Tucking Philippe Bouchet under her wing wasn't going to do it for her, but marrying him might. If she wanted to make inroads quickly, she would have to shed her carefully cultivated sweet-young-girl image. However, she would have to do it by degrees. If she charted her course and stuck to it, she could be married to Philippe Bouchet within a year. It wouldn't take
that
much doing to break down his old-world courtliness. After all, he was a man, and a man had certain biological needs, needs she could fulfill if she wanted to, or she could hold out for the ring and the marriage certificate. Perhaps this very mansion would be hers someday. She swooned in ecstasy when she envisioned herself sweeping down the elegant mahogany staircase in a designer gown while hordes of actors and actresses waited below to curry her favor.

Nellie walked through the downstairs rooms touching costly figurines, rubbing her hand over the brocade on the sofa, staring at her image in the polished cherrywood. Everything looked so new…so unused, waiting for her to breathe life into it. Parties at poolside, Japanese lanterns, tons of food, music, servants waiting on her hand and foot. Yes, this was what she wanted.

For now, though, she and her father were caretakers of this splendid mansion, seeing to the birds, making sure pipes didn't break, and doing all the things that went with living in a house.

Nellie's eyes glowed with pleasure as she climbed the wide, curving staircase that led to her room. She drew in her breath at the top when she leaned over the balcony to stare down at the marble foyer. “Mine, all mine,” she murmured as she made her way to the bedroom that was to be hers.

The bedroom was larger than the whole of the second floor of the Georgetown house, and it was hers. Done in mauve and dove-gray silk, the room was exquisite. If she removed her shoes, she would sink into the luxurious carpeting up to her ankles. The wall-length-mirrored closet would surely hold hundreds of outfits, each prettier than the next. Racks and racks for shoes, other shelves for handbags and gloves, perhaps one for hats, although she didn't like to cover her head except for funerals.

The bathroom made her gasp with its sunken tub and black marble walls. The first thing she would buy would be crystal decanters for perfume, bath salts, and powders. The towels were thick and luxurious beyond anything she'd ever seen. “All mine,” she crooned as she wrapped one of the misty-rose towels around her torso and danced her way into the bedroom, where she dropped the towel in front of the mirrored closet.

“Soon,” she breathed as she set about unpacking her bags. The collegiate-looking clothes and simple playsuits looked so out of place on their scented hangers. Nellie's eyes narrowed speculatively; from now on her paychecks would go toward filling this closet. Perhaps if she sweet-talked her father, she could convince him her simple clothing was not suitable for California. Maybe tonight she'd talk to him if he wasn't seeing Jane.

Jane…Jane Perkins with the sweet smile and observant eyes. Jane saw right through her, of course, and it had amused her at first. Amused her because Jane knew Philippe was interested in her, and that interest could be swayed, placing Jane's job in jeopardy. Still, she would have to be careful since her father was obviously enamored with the production head, she thought craftily.

Bebe Rosen Tarz would have to be cultivated, too. Perhaps she could bring Philippe and Bebe together in an emotional way so that Philippe could take over the business end entirely. If things were left the way they were now, Bebe would only be in the way, a thorn in her side. And she knew enough about Bebe to play the game, the same game she'd played over the years. Match and checkpoint, she gurgled. Oh, yes, it would behoove her to align herself with Bebe. Tomorrow she would “drop in” on Bebe and begin the game, a game with one set of rules—hers.

The sheer curtains on the French doors danced with a gentle midnight breeze, bathing Daniel's naked body with coolness. Overhead, stars sprinkled the heavens, surrounding the silvery moon like a halo.

Jane stirred in the crook of Daniel's arm, causing him to tighten his hold imperceptibly. He was never, ever, going to let this woman get away from him, he thought with a contented sigh. Making love with Jane was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. His other life had been a mere passage of time to get to this place, this moment, with this warm, gentle, caring woman whose passions, like his own, had exploded into millions of stars.

“I didn't know…I never felt…How is it I've lived all these years and never—”

“Shhh,” Jane said, placing a finger over his lips, not wanting to spoil this perfect moment.

It had happened so naturally, so innocently. Daniel had kissed her good night at the door, and she'd clung to him, savoring the feel of his arms about her. Then she'd asked him in and held his gaze steadily until he'd weakened and said, “Well, I could use a cup of coffee.” Coffee in the kitchen turned to wine in the bedroom. Jane wasn't sure who had initiated the second kiss, not that it mattered now. A second glass of wine led to a third and the courage to remove her clothes, her eyes clinging to Daniel's to see if he noticed the slight sag to her once-firm breasts and the extra flesh on her hips. What she saw in his eyes was mirrored in her heart and gave her the confidence to lead him to her bed. She smiled. Within minutes she knew she had a sleeping tiger by the tail. They'd been like wild animals at first, ferocious and vociferous as they'd explored, touched, tasted, and savored. They'd teased, petted, kissed, and kissed again and again, tasting each other. They'd laughed, giggled, pinched, and nibbled until neither one could bear it another moment. Then they'd made slow, wonderful love as though they'd been doing it for years. When their passions exploded simultaneously, they'd laughed together in exultation. And then she'd cried, never having experienced anything so total, so completely hers, and she knew Daniel felt the same way.

“I've waited all my life for this,” Daniel whispered,

“So have I,” she whispered in return.

“Do you feel like we were meant for each other?”

Jane smiled in the darkness. “I knew it the day I met you and Reuben outside the studio, but you never noticed me. The few times we met over the years, you were…I don't know, it seemed to me as though you had a mission in life, and there was no room for me even if you had noticed me. And, of course, you were married.”

“Jane,” Daniel said, hiking himself up on his elbow to stare down at her, “my marriage to Rajean, as I told you, was…a desperate move on my part. I wanted to belong to someone, to be connected, if you know what I mean. I think it was Nellie I loved, not Rajean. We were a family of sorts. I knew it was a mistake almost immediately. Inside of a week, really. We were pals more than anything. One day I said, ‘Do you want to get married?' and she said, ‘It sounds like a good idea,' and we got married. At first she tolerated sex, and after a while she made excuses. She made it very clear that she didn't have much use for men, and while I was a man and her husband, it didn't seem to make much difference. Later on I found myself staying later and later at the office, even sleeping there. It was no marriage, not ever. Some men channel their sexual drives into work, and that's what I did. If there was any energy left at the end of the day, I showered it on Nellie. After the first year I legally adopted her. I know this sounds terrible, but Rajean's death was a blessing…for me, and for Nellie as well. I'd made up my mind to divorce Rajean before I came out here and told her so. Nellie…Nellie accepted it, at least I think she has. She's a remarkable young lady. She didn't cry at all. I know she's grieving inside, that's the way she is. Working with you will be good for her. Isn't she a wonderful kid?”

Jane chose her words with great care. “She's asked a million questions, and she took stacks and stacks of folders home with her. She said she wants to learn the business from the ground up. That shows initiative, don't you agree?”

“It certainly does. Do you think Philippe and Nellie are…I think they go together very well. You know what I'm trying to say.” Daniel laughed.

“I think it's safe to say Philippe is very interested in Nellie. I've seen the way Nellie looks at him.”
But not the way you think, Daniel. She's calculating and manipulative. Daniel, you are so wrong about your daughter; you don't know her at all.

“They'll be good for one another. Now they each have someone,” Daniel said happily.

Just like Bebe and Reuben, who fed off each other. Can't you see Nellie is just like Bebe? Can't you see it, Daniel?

Daniel kissed her, a long, lingering kiss. “I don't want to leave, but I have to. Nellie always waits up for me, and I'm going to have a devil of a time explaining where I've been. It's, my God, it's two o'clock!” He jumped out of bed.

“Are we…does this mean…are we a secret, Daniel? If so, I must tell you I can't accept that. I have never sneaked around with a man, and I don't plan to start now. Nellie's old enough to understand her father having a relationship with a woman,” Jane said tightly.

Daniel took her face in his hands and gazed tenderly into her eyes. “No, Jane, I would never ask you to sneak around. I would never expect that. I'll talk to Nellie, of course I will, and knowing her, she'll be thrilled for the both of us. But not tonight. Tomorrow,” he said, leaning over to kiss her again. “You do like Nellie, don't you?” he added anxiously.

Once again Jane chose her words with care. “She's a charming, beautiful young lady, and she has an equally charming and handsome father.”

Daniel left Jane Perkins's house feeling confident that his was a wonderful world. He had Nellie and now he had Jane. “Jesus, what a lucky man I am,” he murmured. He smiled all the way home.

The smile was still on his face when he pulled his car alongside Philippe's in the circular driveway. The fact that his daughter and his best friend's son were parked together in front of the house at two-thirty
A.M
. didn't surprise or bother him at all.

“And where have
you
been?” Nellie chirped through the open window of Philippe's car.

“Gathering orange blossoms,” Daniel quipped. Then he remembered his promise to Jane and walked around to the passenger side of Philippe's car. “Actually, I was with Jane and time…got away from me.”

“Reminiscing will do that.” Nellie laughed. “I'm going to remember that line the next time I'm late.”

Daniel smiled fondly at the two young people. He wagged his finger under his daughter's nose. “Not too much longer, Nellie, tomorrow is a workday. Good night,” he said affably.

“Your father's right, Nellie, it's time for you to go in,” Philippe said quietly. “Tomorrow is here already, and I have to be at the studio by seven.”

“Why?”

Philippe frowned. “Why? Because…because those are my hours.”

“But you're the boss, with your mother, of course, so you shouldn't have to adhere to a time schedule. I do because I am a lowly apprentice, but you, you can sleep late, you don't even have to go in if you don't want to.” She opened her purse and withdrew a small compact in order to examine her face. “Philippe,” she said casually, “what do you think of Jane?”

“The dossier the studio has on her is quite complete. I'd say she is a remarkable, efficient, knowledgeable woman,” Philippe replied. “She's also a very nice person, from the little I've seen of her. She's rather gentle, warm, and kind. In many ways she reminds me of my mother…in France. Why do you ask?”

“Working with her as I do, I see only the business side of her. I don't think she likes me. No, I
know
she doesn't like me.” Nellie looked up to catch the surprise on Philippe's face. “Oh, it isn't anything she said or did,” she added hastily, “it's something I picked up on these past few days. I catch her staring at me, and she has this strange look on her face. She doesn't like me, but she loves my father!”

“That's strange. I had the impression Jane liked everyone. She's well thought of at the studio. In fact, production would fall apart without her. I guess that's why my father gave her a ninety-nine-year contract.” Philippe smiled. “It was sort of a joke, I'm told, but he insisted. If she ever decides to leave for any reason, the studio would be forced to pay out an astronomical sum of money to her every year if she chose to exercise the contract to the letter. Like my father, Jane
is
Fairmont. Your father is, too, but in a different way. His job in legal has been waiting for him all these years. Sifting through all the records and files, I came to the conclusion that the workings of the studio, the personnel, are all part of my father's master plan, for want of a better word. There won't be any changes made in the near future, I can tell you that much.”

Nellie suppressed a yawn. “It all sounds very interesting, Philippe, but it is late and I do have to get up early…. By the way, I just realized that
I
don't have a contract. Does that mean I'm just temporary?” she asked coyly.

“I'll check it out tomorrow.” He squeezed her hand. “Will I see you Saturday evening for dinner?”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Philippe, I can't have dinner with you. Jane made…well, what she did was, she arranged a meeting—actually, it's a date because she told me to get dressed up—with one of the young actors at the studio. Carlo Santini, do you know him?” She waited for what she knew would be Philippe's response, and she wasn't disappointed.

“That gigolo!” he cried indignantly. “That doesn't please me at all. I insist that you break this…this date!”

“Philippe, I can't do that,” Nellie protested, forcing herself to sound distressed. “Jane's my boss; how would it look if I said no? She said she's going to arrange for me to meet every eligible young actor on the lot. Imagine that!” On that note she breezed out of the car and blew Philippe a kiss as she started up the steps to the front door. “Good night, Philippe,” she called. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Philippe seethed and fretted on the drive home. He stormed into his empty house, his footsteps loud on the marble floor. Until tonight he had liked Jane Perkins. Tomorrow he would take a second look at her ironclad ninety-nine-year contract.

His head was pounding unmercifully as he climbed the stairs to the second story and slammed his way into his overly decorated bedroom. His mother would laugh if she could see it. The decorator had gone wild with her black-and-white zebra wallpaper and speckled black carpeting. The tailored black-and-white-checked drapes made his eyes water, as did the black lampshades. He hated it, and yet he was stuck with it.

The urge to smash something, to shatter that something into oblivion, was so strong he grew light-headed with the thought alone. His hands to his temples, he lay back on the black-and-white flowered pillows. If Jane Perkins were standing in front of him, he would have pushed his fist through her warm, gentle face. Nellie Bishop belonged to him.

As Philippe reached out for troubled sleep, he wondered whose side his mother would be on. Then he tried to imagine Nellie in his arms, here in his bed. He reached for the pillow and buried his face in it, willing the ferocious headache to dissipate.

While Philippe struggled with his headache and sleep, Nellie danced around her bedroom wondering what it would be like to be married to the head of a major studio. A true Hollywood mogul. Would that make her a mogulette? She smiled at herself in the smoky mirror in the bathroom. Anything was possible; her father had said so time and time again. And her father was always right.