Chapter 18

ELLEN’S CONCENTRATION ON the notes she was making appeared total. It was as though she were the only one in the room, she was so caught up in what she was doing. On the table in front of her was her leather writing case, a yellow legal pad inserted inside it, a couple of pencils with erasers and the silver pen she was using. She reached for her glass of water, took a sip, then resumed the industrious annotations she was making on a contract that had nothing to do with the one she was in the process of negotiating.

It was all an act, but she had to do something while the three studio executives, two producers, three accountants and two lawyers did the figure work on the final detail of the five-million-dollar-plus package they had been discussing for the past three weeks. It wasn’t only the fee that was causing them a problem, it was the terms of the residual agreement and three and a half per cent share of international sales that she had thrown in just prior to this meeting. Added to that, she was now asking for a five per cent cut of any merchandise deal arising from the movie, should her client’s voice or anatomy, in whole or in part, feature in the design or promotion of said merchandise, and a guaranteed casting and seven-million-dollar fee for a sequel with a basically one-sided option to renegotiate should the original movie gross more than eighty million in its first week at the domestic box-office.

The astonishment and discomfort that had followed her surprise clauses had turned quickly to anger, then to a flat-out refusal on the part of Butch Sommers, one of the producers, to continue doing business with her. Sommers was out on a limb, for he was the only one of his team who was against Walker Nicolas taking on the role of The Traveller, the new multi-million-selling sci-fi book that had broken all records in the publishing and magazine worlds. While Sommers ranted and raved, and demanded countless withdrawals to persuade his colleagues to drop Walker Nicolas, Ellen’s client, Ellen had sat out the storm, remaining as unruffled and implacable as Foster McKenzie, the studio head who was watching her and the proceedings as carefully as his lawyers were scrutinizing the new terms and conditions she had so audaciously presented.

Until now there hadn’t been much time for her to wonder why she was taking such a gamble with her career, except she was furious at Forgon for the impossible and often idiotic tests he was throwing her way lately. It was as though he wanted to see how far he could push her before the pressure became too much and forced her to self-destruct. And she guessed, considering what she had brought to the table today, she was pretty close to it now, for even Rosa and Kip, who had come along with her, had no idea that she hadn’t discussed the last minute changes with Forgon or Nicolas, in fact they probably imagined them to be instructions rather than free-hand additions.

In truth, the fear of what she had done was making her light-headed, as adrenalin pulsed through her with a life force of its own and the reckless anger that had fuelled most of her decisions since Forgon had printed the picture of her at Clay’s house was like a whip lashing at her reason and blinding her to care or consequence.

Yet she showed none of what was going on inside her, as she sat there at the table, laboriously marking up an old contract, while the accountants and producers went outside to talk and Foster McKenzie finally got up and followed them. Ellen’s skin felt as though a thousand red-hot needles were trying to break their way through, for it was a well-known fact that if McKenzie left the room after the lawyers, rather than with the lawyers, the show was all but over.

However, just under an hour later Ellen, Rosa and Kip were on their feet reaching across the table to shake hands with the opposing team. Foster McKenzie hadn’t come back with them, but for the moment Ellen was too dazed to work out what it might mean. In fact, a part of her was convinced she must still be in bed dreaming, for as she received the congratulations and good-natured teasing of her colleagues and even a grudging admiration from Sommers, she realized how convinced she had been she would fail. Indeed, she even wondered if it hadn’t been what she wanted, for she felt strangely empty now it was over, unable to connect with what was being said, even though she was responding to it fully and even joining in with the laughter and relief that all that was needed now was Nicolas’s signature on the second-to-last page.

‘I’ve got to tell you,’ Rosa said as she, Ellen and Kip, ATI’s chief legal officer, walked back to the parking lot, ‘I never thought you’d pull it off, not with that one-sided option thrown in. Geez, whatever made them buy it is what I want to know?’

‘I just knew, the minute McKenzie got up and walked out, we were sunk,’ Kip declared. ‘In fact, someone pinch me and tell me again we just got ourselves a deal, because in all my fifteen years of dealing with McKenzie I’ve never known him walk out of a meeting last without it meaning the deal was off.’

‘Did you see the way he was looking at you?’ Rosa said to Ellen. ‘I swear he was waiting for you to break. Christ, the way you held out over that three and a half per cent … I’ve never seen anything like it. It put the fear of God into me. I really thought you were going to blow it. I’m telling you, McKenzie might not show it, but he was mad as hell when you stood your ground and I for one was convinced he was going to walk then.’

‘Me too,’ Ellen confessed.

Rosa turned to look at her, saw the humour shining in her eyes, then started to laugh. ‘It’s no wonder Forgon put you in to seal this one up. You’re so damned cool you make Zen look like a neurosis. Or does Forgon know Foster McKenzie’s got the hots for you?’

‘He does not have the hots for me either,’ Ellen laughed, digging into her purse for her keys.

‘Oh, excuse me, just three invitations to dinner and no doubt a personal request to Forgon that you handle the negotiations on this deal.’

‘Wrong way round,’ Ellen informed her. ‘McKenzie was livid when he heard I was taking over.’

Kip was laughing. ‘Because Forgon had just dealt from the bottom of the pack,’ he declared. ‘Anyway, my car’s up on the next level. I’ll catch you two back at the office.’

Rosa and Ellen got into Ellen’s car and as she drove them out on to Lankershim Boulevard Ellen was speaking on the phone to Walker Nicolas’s manager, letting him in on the good news. By the time she finished they had left the Valley and were crossing the lights on Sunset, heading towards the next major junction at Santa Monica.

‘We’re invited to Walker’s for a party tonight,’ Ellen said, dropping the phone in her lap. She glanced over at Rosa. ‘Interested?’

‘Are you kidding?’ Rosa laughed. ‘I’d lie on my back and catch peanuts with my chuff for that man. Is he still with Samara Vito?’

Ellen was laughing. ‘I’m afraid so,’ she confirmed.

‘No taste,’ Rosa muttered. ‘So, what about Foster McKenzie?’ she went on, folding her arms and crossing her long, skinny legs.

‘What about him?’

Rosa rolled her eyes. ‘Ellen, the man is head of one of the biggest movie studios in the world, he’s currently getting divorced, he’s not half bad looking and he’s asked you out three times already. So when are you going to quit the aloof act and do what any right-minded woman in your position would do and offer up your tarnished virtue in exchange for the endless privileges this man can bestow?’

‘Who says I’m going to?’ Ellen countered.

‘Sure you are. No one turns a man like McKenzie down for long. Unless they’ve got something seriously wrong with them, of course.’ Her head came round. ‘Do you have something seriously wrong with you?’ she asked.

Ellen grinned. ‘He doesn’t do anything for me,’ she said.

‘What!’ Rosa cried in disgust. ‘All that power and he doesn’t do anything for you! Jesus Christ, Ellen, did you get an imagination bypass, or something?’

‘His eyes are too close together,’ Ellen responded.

Rosa looked genuinely perplexed. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ she demanded.

Ellen shrugged.

‘Listen to me, honey,’ Rosa said. ‘Foster McKenzie’s eyes might be too close together, but yours have got to be in your butt if you can’t see where it could land you, getting involved with him. Christ, you could kiss goodbye to Forgon right now and set up your production company with offices on the lot and projects coming in so fast you’ll be hotter than Spielberg.’

Ellen smiled. ‘Put like that, I could be tempted,’ she remarked.

‘So?’ Rosa prompted.

‘So what?’

‘So, what’s stopping you?’

Ellen glanced over at her, then, spinning the wheel hard to the right she turned on to Santa Monica and drove on towards the office.

Rosa was still waiting, but it soon became clear that Ellen wasn’t going to answer, though she probably didn’t have to for the glance had told Rosa enough. ‘Listen, honey,’ she said, bringing all the wisdom of her thirty-eight years and three disastrous marriages to bear, ‘you’ve got to get past all that business with Clay. I know he let you down real bad and he didn’t have to do it the way he did, but it’s in the past now, you can’t change it, so you’ve got to find it in you to move on.’

‘I know,’ Ellen said, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.

‘Foster McKenzie’s nothing like Clay,’ Rosa said warmly. ‘OK, he’s had his share of women and I don’t doubt there are some out there who’d cut off his balls as soon as look at him, but you haven’t been out on a date in months, Ellen, and he surely can’t be a bad place to start.’

Ellen inhaled deeply, but was saved from answering by Rosa’s cellphone ringing.

‘Hi, this is Rosa,’ she said into the handset. ‘Oh, Pollard, hi, how are you? Sure, I’m doing fine. What can I do for you?’ She paused for a moment, then her eyes suddenly lit up and she turned to look at Ellen as she gasped, ‘No kidding! You did! Pollard, you can raid my wardrobe any time. I really owe you for this.’

Ellen looked at her.

‘He’s got invites to the première of United We Fall,’ Rosa told her.

Ellen looked impressed. There hadn’t been so much fuss over a première since Evita and the tickets to United We Fall were just as hard to come by. In fact, exactly like with Evita, actors, agents, producers, directors, indeed just about anyone involved in the industry had been begging, stealing, dealing, bribing and God only knew what else, for weeks now in an effort to get themselves invited to the world première of Victor Warren’s much talked about adaptation of the modern classic. It was a very definite arbiter of who was and wasn’t on the Hollywood A list.

‘You bet,’ Rosa was saying. ‘Sure I’ll pay for the limo. I’ll have it come pick you up first unless you want to meet up at my place. OK. Whatever you say. … Are you kidding? Pollard, I’ll get you a whole bunch of Epicuran facials for Christmas, if that’s what you want. I’ll even pluck the hair from your nostrils.’

As she rang off, both she and Ellen were laughing. ‘The man’s a genius,’ Rosa declared. ‘If he weren’t gay I’d marry him. I’m afraid his friend’s gay as well, but who cares, at least we get to go to the movie. What the hell are we going to wear? Shall we go shopping tomorrow? What better excuse do we get?’

‘You mean he’s got me a ticket too?’ Ellen said.

‘Of course.’

They were stopped at red lights and Rosa could hardly believe her eyes as Ellen turned to her with a look Rosa didn’t want to understand. ‘Christ, don’t tell me you don’t want to go,’ she said.

‘It’s not that,’ Ellen responded. ‘It’s just …’ As she finished what she was saying Rosa spoke over her, so didn’t immediately hear.

‘Now this I’ve got to hear,’ Rosa was muttering, ‘because no way in the world can I think of a good enough excuse not to go to this première. What did you just say?’ she cried, her head swinging round as Ellen’s words finally registered.

Ellen’s soft brown eyes were twinkling with laughter. ‘I said, I’m already going,’ she replied.

Rosa gaped at her, struck dumb with amazement. ‘You’re going to the première of United and you never told me,’ she cried.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ellen said, pulling down the corners of her mouth. ‘I only found out last night and we’ve had other things on the agenda today.’

‘So who are you going with?’ Rosa demanded, obviously not sure whether or not to be pissed.

‘Michael McCann,’ Ellen answered and had the great satisfaction of watching Rosa’s jaw drop.

‘You mean the British guy Forgon sent you over to London to make an offer he managed to refuse?’ she said.

Ellen laughed and nodded.

‘Well how do you like that?’ Rosa muttered to herself. ‘Is he here then? In LA?’ she asked. ‘And how come he, a Britisher, gets an invite, when the rest of us red-blooded Americans have to practically sell our bodies just to get on the waiting list?’

Ellen was still smiling. ‘He’s Victor Warren’s agent,’ she said.

‘No shit,’ Rosa commented. ‘And so what, he called you up and asked if you’d like to go along to the première with him?’ she said, clearly having a hard time taking it in.

‘And Victor Warren and his wife,’ Ellen added.

‘My God, I don’t believe this,’ Rosa said. ‘I mean, what happened between you guys in London? Did you get it on, or something? I don’t blame you if you did, he’s good-looking enough to charm the pants off the Queen, should he ever be into acts of mercy, but why did you never tell me?’

‘There was nothing to tell,’ Ellen laughed, glad that Rosa had no way of knowing what a turmoil she was really in over the invitation that had come completely out of the blue. She hadn’t even known he was in LA when he called, in fact, she’d assumed he was in London, but he’d given her an LA number at which she could contact him should she need to, and unable to stop herself she’d tried it out that morning and found that he’d checked in to the Four Seasons Hotel on Doheny the day before. So he hadn’t wasted much time in calling her when he got here, which surely meant he was as keen to see her as she was to see him. Well, perhaps not that keen, as the première was still an entire week away and already she was beginning to wonder if she could stand to wait so long.

‘So, throw a party and invite him along,’ Matty said, in the kind of voice that bespoke the obvious solution.

‘I can’t do that,’ Ellen protested, almost losing her voice in a shudder of nerves.

‘Why not? All you’ve got to say is that you already had it fixed and forgot to mention it when he called, but you thought he might like to come along too.’

‘What if he says no? I’ll have to throw a party I don’t want.’

Matty threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘Ask him first,’ she said.

‘What if he’s not free on the night I choose? I can hardly say, oh sorry, I didn’t mean Wednesday, I meant Thursday?’

Matty’s darkly attractive face was incredulous. ‘That’s the whole point of asking him first,’ she pointed out. ‘And if he’s not free on the night you pick, you’ll just have to wait for the première.’

‘So which night do I choose?’

Matty rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a good job you don’t manage your career the way you manage your love life,’ she chided, ‘or we’d all be out of work. Friday or Saturday. If it were me I’d opt for Friday.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s sooner and you can’t wait to see him.’

‘Actually, I can,’ Ellen responded.

‘OK, then Saturday.’

‘Why not wait ’til the première?’ Ellen suggested.

Matty shrugged. ‘OK.’

Ellen signalled for the waiter to bring her another glass of wine. ‘I could do Friday,’ she said.

‘Do you have your phone?’ Matty asked. ‘Stupid question, when do you ever not have your phone? So, call the hotel now and ask him if he’s free on Friday.’

Ellen felt the bottom fall out of her stomach.

Matty’s eyes narrowed. She knew that expression well. ‘OK, I’ll do it and pretend I’m your secretary,’ she said.

Ellen passed her the phone.

Seconds later Matty was connected to the Four Seasons. ‘Michael McCann’s room, please,’ she said. While she was waiting Ellen held out her hand for the phone.

‘If he’s there I’ll speak to him,’ she said, taking it.

As she put the phone to her ear she heard him say, ‘Hello?’

Her heart did a series of somersaults, a sudden panic fried her nerve and she very nearly disconnected the call. ‘Hi, it’s Ellen Shelby,’ she said shakily. ‘Uh, how are you?’

‘OK,’ he answered, sounding surprised. ‘Where are you? What’s all the noise?’

‘I’m in a Chinese on Sunset with my cousin Matty,’ she answered. ‘I was wondering … I mean, I forgot to say when you called last night that I’m throwing a small party on Friday and I was wondering if you’d like to come.’

‘You mean this Friday?’ he asked.

Ellen tensed. He had other arrangements, he was going to say no and she wished to God already that she’d never picked up the phone. ‘Yes, this Friday,’ she answered dully.

‘What time?’

Ellen looked at Matty. ‘What time?’ she mouthed.

‘Any time he can get there,’ Matty provided.

‘Around seven,’ Ellen said, scowling at Matty. ‘It’s just drinks until nine or so.’

‘I probably won’t make it until eight,’ he answered, ‘but sure, I’d love to come. Do you want to give me your address?’

Ellen was about to go through the spelling of the elaborate Spanish name of the apartment complex when she said, ‘I’ll fax it over to you in the morning along with the directions.’

‘OK,’ he responded. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you.’

‘Me too,’ she said and as she rang off and looked at Matty she muttered, ‘I don’t know if I can wait ’til Friday.’

By Friday Ellen was getting pretty close to calling the whole thing off. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so apprehensive about anything, not a deal, a date, not even a diagnosis. It was crazy to be so uptight, she knew that, especially when she spent at least fifty per cent of her time with some of the world’s most desirable movie stars, men who would turn most women to jello with a single glance. Yet here she was, a thirty-year-old highly successful woman, totally unable to hold it together over a man she barely knew, who was just an agent the same as her, with probably less clients than she had and virtually no Hollywood cred.

But what the hell did she care how many clients he had, or where he might rate on the Hollywood scale of who was pulling in the most bucks for whom? If anything, it only made him more attractive, as he was nothing like the Hollywood power-freaks and egomaniacs she spent so much time trying to avoid, in fact he was so different that she honestly couldn’t see a single reason for him to want to move here. Not that that was on the agenda any more, at least not so far as she was concerned. Ted Forgon, of course, would be sure to disagree, but tonight’s party wasn’t about Ted Forgon, nor was what might come after. But she couldn’t allow herself to think that far ahead. Even though the possibilities for him in Hollywood were endless and as he was anything but stupid, he had to know already that there were a lot more people in this town with real integrity and genuine artistic ability than the publicity machine ever gave credit for. In truth, he could be working with some of the most well-respected and highly paid talent in the world if he were to give up London and come here. There was nothing he couldn’t achieve if he set his mind to it, for she just knew that it would take him no time at all to sort through all the flakes and phoneys and get himself into a position where he could make a real difference to what was going on in this élitist little oligarchy that had so much influence on the rest of the world.

Groaning inwardly as she realized her thoughts were coming dangerously close to some kind of sales pitch for Forgon, she hit several buttons on her keyboard and made an attempt to carry on with her work. But the thoughts just kept chasing each other around in her head and as her emotions shifted from anger to indignance to excitement back to nervousness, and on to a wild and embarrassing hope of where tonight might end, she could almost hear the panic chanting through her head. What am I going to wear? Where do I get my nails fixed? Is there time for surgery? Will it be painful?

‘But you’ve never had your nails done before,’ Matty cried when she called to ask Matty’s advice.

‘Maybe it’s time I did,’ Ellen responded, putting a script over the flashing lights on her phone pad so she didn’t have to look at the incoming calls. ‘Did you do the shopping? Did you get good wine? He knows about wines.’

‘We got good wine.’

‘Should we set up the drinks in the kitchen or on the veranda? You know, I’m not sure about that top I bought. What do you think?’

‘Ellen, pull yourself together,’ Matty laughed. ‘Everything’s in hand. Gene’s here at the apartment with me now sorting out the music, we’ll set up the snacks and wine where we think best and all you have to do is come home and get yourself ready. And forget about the acrylic nails, you don’t need them and being no expert in these things you’ll probably end up doing yourself, or him, a lasting injury if you do get them.’

‘What about the top?’ Ellen asked.

‘It’s terrific. You’ll blow his mind.’

‘You don’t think it’s too revealing?’

‘It’s perfect. Now get off the line will you, I’ve got a party to organize here.’

Ellen hit a couple of buttons and took another call. She had so much to get through before she could leave there was every chance she was going to show up late for her own party. Actually, it wouldn’t be the first time, but tonight there was just no way she was going to allow her job to come first. She’d almost rather die than admit it, but she had two sets of new underwear in her cupboard, a three-hundred-dollar Moschino bustier still in its tissue and had earlier rushed out to buy a bottle of Hermès Vingt Quatre Faubourg, probably the most sensuous perfume in the world.

As she continued through meetings and phone calls and a ceaseless barrage of interruptions, she was persistently assailed by the dread of him calling to say he couldn’t make it. But then she reminded herself that there was still the première and God only knew what state she was going to get herself into during the build-up to that. She guessed she just had to be thankful that because of her job she was by now pretty skilled at putting on a front, so no one but Matty knew what a pathetic mess she was inside.

‘Rubbish!’ Matty declared later. ‘You look so terrible you’re giving me the jitters. It was a joke!’ she cried as Ellen’s face paled. ‘A joke. Remember them?’ As Ellen’s expression relaxed Matty turned back to the mirror and continued applying her mascara. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘who are you trying to convince about Hollywood? I thought you said there was no way he’d ever base himself here.’

She carried on with her mascara until realizing she hadn’t received a reply, she looked down at Ellen in the bath tub and seeing the shy mischief in Ellen’s eyes she started to grin. ‘Except you’re hoping he might change his mind for you,’ she declared.

Ellen’s cheeks coloured as she said, ‘OK, I confess it. I want him to fall madly in love with me and come here and spend the rest of his life with me. There, I’ve killed it now by speaking it aloud.’

Matty’s carefully shaped eyebrows were raised. ‘Are you sure you only ever had dinner with this man?’ she asked.

Ellen sighed and dipped down in the water. ‘I’ve made love with him so many times in my imagination,’ she said, after resurfacing, ‘I already know what it’s going to be like, I mean, should we ever get around to it. And there’s something about him, you know, something I can’t quite put my finger on that just works for me. It’s like …’ Her eyes moved back to Matty’s and she started to laugh. ‘Get out of here,’ she cried, throwing a sponge at Matty who was gazing at her with love-struck, starry eyes.

‘You could always go live in London,’ Matty pointed out, turning back to her make-up.

Ellen pulled a face. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘There’s not enough going on over there.’

‘He’s there,’ Matty reminded her.

Ellen gazed absently down at her outstretched legs. ‘You know, I really want him to come here,’ she said after a while. ‘Not necessarily because of me, but because I think this town could really work for him. And I want him to see that we’re not all vanity freaks or power junkies the way everyone seems to think.’

Matty looked surprised. ‘We’re not?’ she responded.

Ellen rolled her eyes, then, reaching for a thick, fluffy blue towel she stepped out of the tub. ‘Did anyone call to cancel?’ she asked, starting to dry herself.

‘Only Karla, but you expected that,’ Matty answered.

‘Did you make any bruschetta?’

‘Not yet, I’ll do it just before everyone arrives. And unless you want to greet your guests like that I suggest you get a move on.’

As Matty left the bathroom Ellen turned to the full-length mirror and looked at her damp, naked body with its glistening, creamy skin, taut red nipples and thatch of curled chestnut hair at the join of her long legs. She tried to see herself through Michael’s eyes and found that the mere thought of being naked with him was causing her pulses to quicken and a sharp bite of lust to tighten her loins. She was in no doubt now that the desire she felt for him had only increased since that night in the restaurant, indeed there were moments when she thought she might go crazy with the sheer power of it. And right now she was very close to believing that the reason he had called her virtually the minute he’d arrived in LA was because he felt the same way. Except she hadn’t forgotten the way he’d turned her down last time and it was the horror of it happening again that would make certain she kept herself well and truly in check tonight.

It was a quarter to ten by the time Michael finally knocked on the door of Ellen’s apartment. The party was obviously over for there was no sound coming from within, though he knew she was there because the security guard had called up to announce his arrival. As he’d driven through the complex to the underground parking he’d wondered if she was angry that he hadn’t called to say he’d be late. He probably should have, but the meeting with Victor Warren had gone on much longer than he’d expected and in the end it had just seemed more sensible to get in the car and come.

He was on the point of knocking again, or kicking himself for coming empty-handed, when the door suddenly opened.

‘Hi, I’m Matty, Ellen’s cousin,’ the tall, attractive brunette told him. ‘You must be Michael. Come along in. You’re too late for some, not late enough for others.’

Laughing, Michael followed her inside. The lights were low and the debris of a finished party was still cluttering the room. He noticed a few people sitting out on the veranda, but for the moment there was no sign of Ellen.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Matty offered. ‘We’ve got just about everything.’

‘Scotch,’ Michael said and was about to ask where Ellen was when he noticed her sitting separately on the veranda with a couple of others. She looked so lovely, so much more beautiful than he remembered, that all the tiredness and jet-lag he had brought from Australia was fused into a single desire to hold her.

‘Hi,’ he said as she walked in to greet him.

She looked at him and as her lovely dark eyes gazed into his it was all he could do to stop himself reaching for her.

‘Am I too late?’ he asked.

Her eyes held his a moment or two longer, then, smiling she said, ‘I hope not.’

It was hard to tell if she was mad at him, but he didn’t think she was.

‘Your drink,’ she said, as Matty came up behind them.

He took it, then, as Matty went to rejoin the others he said, ‘Next time it’s your turn.’

She frowned, obviously not understanding.

‘To be late,’ he explained. ‘This is the second time I’ve done it to you.’

She smiled. ‘Everyone’s gone for dinner at the Mirabelle,’ she said. ‘We were just about to go too.’ She paused, then said, ‘Would you like to come?’

He looked at her, holding her eyes with his and wanting only to touch her. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said.

Her lower lip trembled as she caught it between her teeth. She was still looking at him and neither of them seemed to hear the explosion of laughter on the terrace.

His eyes were roaming freely over her face and neck, taking in the lush, coppery hair tumbling around her bare shoulders and exquisite honeyed skin that was so soft and inviting. The gentle slope of her breasts was rising and falling with each breath she took and the light in her eyes was reflecting the emotions in his own.

She gave a small, self-conscious laugh, then, with an absent wave towards the others she said, ‘You met Matty. The others are Gene, Matty’s boyfriend, Rosa, who I work with and Rosa’s date, Ernest. The two sitting in the corner, who I was talking to when you came in, are Joseph and Ally, they’ve just become Scientologists.’

He turned to look, then, taking a sip of his drink he said, ‘Shall we join them?’

Ellen smiled. ‘If that’s what you want.’

A flicker of laughter shot to his eyes and following her outside into the quiet, balmy night, he shook hands with everyone and apologized again for turning up so late. Almost before he knew it he was drawn into a light-hearted banter with Rosa and Matty, and though he held his own well, he was distracted by how closely Ellen was watching him. She had gone to sit the other side of the table, next to Gene, and each time she laughed he felt something deep down inside him start to respond.

Aware of the chemistry between them, Ellen watched the intensity of his expression and felt the heat burn through her. She had been hurt and angry that he had turned up so late and so afraid that he wasn’t going to show at all, that it had virtually ruined the evening. But now he was here and as the others laughed and joked around them, all she really knew was the commanding power of his eyes and a deep, inexpressible longing to touch him.

‘I guess we should be going,’ Matty said, putting her empty glass on the table. ‘The others will be wondering where we are. Are you joining us, Michael?’ she asked.

Michael looked at Ellen and as her eyes met his she heard herself say, ‘You go on ahead, we’ll catch you up later.’

Everyone got up to go. Ellen walked with them to the door and after saying goodbye, she turned back to find Michael sitting on the far balustrade of the veranda, watching her. She remained where she was, at the centre of the room, and as they continued to look at each other she could feel the strength of her need turning her body weak.

She started to speak, but her breath wouldn’t come and her heart faltered as he got to his feet and walked into the room. He stopped in front of her and when she raised her eyes to his, he leaned towards her and kissed her on the mouth. It was the most sensational and erotic kiss she had ever known and as the scent of him coasted through her senses, the taste of him and the feel of him carried her to a point of insane desire. Releasing her, he gazed down into her eyes, then lifting her hand to take her fingertips into his mouth in a way that was letting her know what he was going to do to her nipples. By now the ache in them was so fierce she could barely stand it and the harder he sucked on her fingers the closer she got to losing control.

He dropped her hand and began to circle her lips with his finger. She drew the finger deep into her mouth and sucked it hard. Then her eyes closed and her lips parted as the sensation of his other hand moving down over her neck and across the tops of her breasts stole through her with a soft, insistent command for more. He continued to stroke her, watching her face as she became so aroused she could barely breathe. She wanted his mouth on her breasts so badly she was on the verge of begging. Reaching behind her she unfastened the hooks and eyes of her top, and peeling it away from her skin she let it fall to the floor. His eyes remained on hers, but she could feel the sudden tension in his body, and when finally he lowered his gaze to her breasts she felt them burn into her skin like the most ardent caress.

He was standing so close she could feel his breath on her face and seeing the strain of desire around his mouth she almost fell against him. As though sensing it, he put his hands on her shoulders and holding her there, lowered his lips to her breasts and took first one, then the other nipple tightly into his mouth. Her head fell back as her legs turned weak and the urgency of her desire soared to new heights. He kept going, a relentless assault with his tongue, biting her and sucking until she knew beyond any doubt he could make her come this way. Then suddenly his mouth was on hers, his tongue moving deeply and sensuously inside as he slid his hands to her buttocks and pulled her to his hardness. Feeling him so ready for her she pressed herself in closer, then unfastening the buttons of her wrapover skirt she let it slide to the floor. All she wore now was a tiny pair of lace panties and gold, high-heeled sandals

The kiss went on and on, their lips moulding together, their tongues entwining, their need of each other sounding in the quickening of their breaths and soft moans of desire. Then he was easing her panties over her hips, drawing them down over her thighs and dropping to his knees as he removed them altogether. She looked down at him as taking her buttocks in his hands he pulled her to him and began to kiss the most intimate part of her until she no longer knew how she was standing.

It was just as her climax was about to break that he reached for her hands and pulled her down with him. Gazing into her eyes once more, he began unbuttoning his shirt while she unfastened his trousers until at last he was naked too. She touched him and felt him so big in her hand, so hard and unyielding that she lay down on the carpet and pulled him down with her.

He groaned aloud as her hand tightened around him. Then suddenly his mouth was hard on hers and he was between her legs, moving right up inside her, stretching her with the enormity of his erection and holding her with the intensity of his desire. Her legs circled his waist and her fingers dug into his shoulders as he pounded her with the full might of his passion and looked down at her with a fierceness that pushed her so close to the edge. Then his mouth covered hers and the sudden change in his rhythm pushed her right out to oblivion.

She screamed and her whole body turned rigid as he raised himself up and looked down to where they were joined. The harsh, pounding break of her orgasm was clenching his cock and ricocheting through him like the commanding pulse of a storm. He could feel her limbs turning weak as her inner muscles gripped him anew. Her arms sank to the floor, but her legs clung to him tightly and her breasts shook with the power of his pounding hips. Then suddenly his own climax exploded, and as the force of it rushed into her he grew so hard and pressed himself so deeply inside her she moaned aloud with the ecstacy and pain.

He held her close, feeling her body meld into his as the thrashing rhythm of their hearts began slowly to subside and the desperate gasping for air became a normal quest for breath. His hand moved up into her hair and as he finally rolled on to his back, she rested her head on his shoulder and eased one leg gently between his.

It was some time before she realized he’d fallen asleep. Smiling to herself she drew herself up to her knees and looked down at him. He was so incredibly beautiful in a wholly masculine way that she felt a quiet surge in her heart as her eyes moved over his body and back to his face. Then, very gently, she shook him awake.

His eyes opened and he seemed confused for a moment. Then, lifting a hand to her face he said, ‘You’re beautiful.’

Smiling, she said, ‘So are you. And you’re very tired too, so why don’t you get into bed?’

He cocked a comical eyebrow and she guessed that had he been able he’d have treated her to some of his more droll English humour. As it was, all he managed was a mere, ‘Only if you come with me,’ and minutes later he was fast asleep again with a single sheet covering their loosely entwined bodies.