When Xander rolled up the cuff of his shirt, Jeanie wanted to do nothing more than wrap her hand around the soft smooth curve of his wrist to remind herself of the feel of his skin beneath her fingers. Instead, she leaned back against the wall of the lift, her body warmed by the memory of last night.
“It sure beats a five-thirty start. I think I shall make a habit of staying on site in future. This is so much more civilised.” He slid his hands around her waist and gently pulled her head against his shoulder. “Do you agree?”
“Absolutely,” she murmured into his chest, unable to imagine not agreeing with anything he suggested. Last night had been beyond anything she had ever imagined. A blush swamped her face, hotly pursued by a thrill of excitement and a wave of moist warmth in places she had never paid a whole load of attention to before.
At the ping of the lift doors she reluctantly pulled out of his embrace, but as they stepped into the foyer, his fingers interlaced with hers, squeezing gently as if he agreed with her unspoken thoughts.
“Xander.” Jaz ran across the marble floor, ending with a little slide bringing her chest-to-chest with them both. Jeanie instinctively dropped Xander’s hand and stepped back.
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying … ” Jaz’s words petered out and Jeanie resisted the temptation to grin wildly as she watched Jaz weigh up the evidence. “Trying to get hold of you.”
“Here I am. All ready and raring to go.” Xander smiled, a wide, happy grin bypassing Jaz and enveloping Jeanie making her heart expand and pump wildly.
“But your mobile was off.” Jaz said.
“There is life after editing.” Xander reached for Jeanie’s hand again and pulled her close until the length of his leg pressed against hers making her burn with the memory of the night, his thighs between her legs and her pleas for more.
“Your mobile’s never off, and I needed to check arrangements with you.” Jaz settled her iPad free hand on her skinny hips. Jeanie watched them like a cat at a tennis match, her head flicking from side to side as Xander and Jaz batted inconsequential words backward and forward.
“We’d already checked the arrangements — lighten up. No transport today so all we had to do was come downstairs.” The tinge on his cheeks gave him away and Jeanie smothered the overwhelming desire to laugh and clap her hands, he was like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Cookies obviously didn’t do it for Jaz and she continued to harangue Xander. Jeanie diplomatically turned and walked into the Marble Bar to prepare for the shoot. The camera no longer held any fear, now that she knew Xander was happy with her the way she was.
She turned to the selection of beautiful gowns the dresser held over her arm, trying to ignore the raised voices and warning flashes she could see in Xander’s eyes as he talked to Jaz.
She ran her hand over one of the dresses — not dresses, more works of art. They were way too beautiful. The pink drew her eye with the long matching evening gloves and a pristine white mink stole.
Inside the bar, the ambient noise from the crew setting up and moving the lights and furniture into crucial places drowned out Jaz and Xander’s continued heated exchange. All she could pick up was the low deep rumble of his voice and it sent shivers up her spine, remembering the feel of his moist breath against her ear and his delicious, outrageous words. Then suddenly the noise ceased and Jaz’s strident tones rang out like a bell. “I thought you’d prefer to know in advance William would be here today.”
“There’s absolutely no reason why Will shouldn’t call in if he wants to.”
“That’s just as well because he’s here now,” Jaz said, throwing a glance toward the door.
Xander walked across the room and reached out to shake hands with the man silhouetted in the doorway. Jeanie lifted the white mink stole to her cheek, relishing the touch of the soft fur against her skin. She had never thought of Xander as tall, but he towered over the man as they strolled across the bar deep in conversation. She dropped the stole from her cheek and smiled at Xander as he reached her and slid an arm around her shoulders.
“Jeanie, I’d like you to meet William West, my business partner. Will, this is Jeanie Baker — I expect you recognise her, her picture’s been all over the magazines this week. Starstruck’s new cover girl.”
Jeanie smiled and took William’s hand; he squeezed it and held it a moment longer than she expected, and she pulled back, glancing into the flat slate grey eyes. “Pleased to … ” The mink stole slipped through her fingers to the floor and she gasped. Shards of ice slithered down her spine, followed by a wave of muscle numbing tension that coursed through her and settled into a large hard lump low in her belly. She wrenched her hand free and covered her gaping mouth, but the gasp of raw horror leached through her fingers.
“Jeanie, are you all right?” Xander’s arm tightened across her shoulders.
Nodding her head, she pulled her hand away from her mouth and clenched her fists tightly, the pain of her nails against the palm of her hand forcing her spiralling mind to concentrate.
William West. No. Billy Westward.
She shuddered.
Surely not.
It was simply her mind playing tricks on her in the half-light of the piano bar.
“The pleasure is all mine,” William said, trailing his narrow gaze over her body and right down to her toes. Resisting the temptation to cover herself with her arms, Jeanie stood riveted to the spot, unable to speak.
“Will, if you’ll excuse us, we have only an hour to wind up the shoot before the bar opens. Stay and watch if you would like to, otherwise I’ll meet you in the coffee shop,” Xander said.
“Coffee shop’ll be fine. I’ve got some calls to make. I’m glad you took my advice and checked out the café. I told you you’d find something special there.” With a twist of his mouth, William nodded to Jeanie and ambled across to Jaz and gave her shoulder a quick pat. Jaz looked up and smiled at him and turned back to her iPad. The dresser stooped to pick up the stole at Jeanie’s feet. As the movie played out before her eyes Jeanie’s skin crawled remembering the look in his flat, slate grey eyes.
Jaz and her damned stylus click clacked away in the corner, apparently busy but not missing a second of the action, and the leather soles of Billy Westward’s expensive loafers squeaked on the marble tiles and then he disappeared.
“Right, let’s get to work,” Xander said. “Jeanie, are you ready?”
“No, no, I don’t think I am. How do you know Bill … William West? What did he mean when he said: he told you you’d find something special at the café?”
“Jeanie! Come on, we can talk about this later. It’s no big deal. Will’s my business partner and he sometimes makes suggestions. Work time. Jaz?”
Jaz stopped tapping on her iPad and looked up. “Yep! It was Will’s suggestion we check out the Café Cinématique.”
“There. Jeanie does that solve your problem? Let’s get on with the shoot and we’ll talk about it later.”
“I don’t want to talk about it later. I don’t want to have anything to do with him. I want to go home.”
Surprise skittered across Xander’s face and his eyes locked with hers, glittering chips of obsidian heralding anything but truth and honesty. He’d lied to her. He knew Billy and had known about the café all along. And then last night, when she’d told him about Billy and the park … Her face burned as a chasm yawned between them, impossibly wide and as deep as despair.
“Of course you do. It won’t take very long, it’s the last shoot.” His fingers raked his hair from his forehead and then he fumbled in his top pocket for his glasses, pushing them on and cementing the harrowing barrier between them.
Xander turned back to Jaz, his voice curt and clipped, but Jeanie was certain the comment was for her, for her alone. “Will has every right to attend the shoot. He is my business partner.”
Jaz’s stylus tapped in the silence and Jeanie held her head high and offered a tight little smile to the dresser as she brushed away the hand on her arm and pulled her shoulders back. The old taunts echoed in her head.
Think you’re one of us, do you? You’re not good enough, you’re trash.
It didn’t matter what anyone else thought of her — Jeanie knew what she thought of herself and she didn’t like it. How could she be so foolish? She’d fallen for Billy’s lies, believed him when he said he wanted her to be his special girl. Was she doing the same thing again? Falling for Xander because he’s shown her another life, made her feel she was beautiful. Not again. Once was a mistake but twice? No, twice was more than anyone could stand. “I’d like to wear the red rather than the pink. It seems more appropriate, don’t you think?” Her words seemed unnaturally loud in the uncomfortable silence but she needed to wear the red, show the world she could stand up for herself.
“They’re both lovely, perfect, but let’s start with the red if it’s what you’d like.” Even the dresser seemed to understand.
A red dress for a scarlet woman.
How could she be so foolish? Why had it never occurred to her to ask Xander how he’d found the café? Billy Westward had been behind it all along. It was as though he was stalking her. What were the chances of her winning a country wide photographic competition? How naïve. Xander’s attention and interest had allowed her to believe she was special and perhaps there could be more to her life than the familiar routine and security. Maybe she had finally found a place where she was accepted for who she was and the way she looked. Only this morning, she had woken in Xander’s arms believing everything he had said to her. Just the way she had believed Billy Westward when he had told her everyone would like her if she was his girlfriend. Hadn’t she learnt by her mistakes? Was she still the same foolish lonely little girl she was at school? She allowed herself to be led to the table and sank onto the stool surrendering to the ministrations of the makeup artist.
In the mirror, the reflective silver umbrellas shone and she could see the customary electrical cords and wires criss-crossing the floor. The crew fiddled with the lights. The polished surface of the black grand piano reflected the marble columns and the residue smell of alcohol from the bar made her stomach churn, reminding her of another time and another place.
Jeanie turned her head, her eyes seeking Xander. The cool hand of the makeup artist against her cheek gently guided her face back to the centre of the mirror, removing the brief glimpse she had of his broad back, his mobile cradled against his shoulder. The shoulder she had slept against last night. One hand was on his hip and he was staring out of the window, his muscles bunched tightly beneath his shirt. She closed her eyes. Her false eyelashes brushed the ridge of her cheek but she was numb.
“You’re done.”
Swivelling around on the stool she assessed the strange mixture of the familiar and the unknown. What was she doing here? She lifted her arms, allowing the dresser to encase her in the red silky sheath, and then stepped into the excruciatingly high-heeled evening shoes. The clock on the wall ticked its way to eight o’clock and she had a momentary craving for a piece of passionfruit pie. She could smell it and hear the steamy hiss of the coffee machine. It truly was time to go home.
“May I have you over here please, Jeanie?” Xander’s voice was as cold and formal as the dress she smoothed before stepping gingerly across the polished tile floor to the piano. Each tight tiny clattering step of her heels appeared unnaturally loud in the stillness.
“Xander I need to talk to you.”
“Not right now Jeanie. We’ve got less than an hour to do this. If you would lean against the piano,” his hand patted the top of the piano, “and imagine you are listening to someone play — Jaz, can you sit on the piano stool please.”
If you would lean against my chest …
He hadn’t spoken so formally last night. Jeanie sucked in a lungful of air and slowly expelled it through her cold rigid lips.
“Jeanie, relax. Unfold your arms.”
Relax.
He had to be joking, didn’t he? She was hanging on by a thread and the last thing she wanted was to have to watch his resident black-eyed nymphet tip tapping away on her wretched iPad.
“Relax, Jeanie. You’re grinding your teeth. Your cheekbones are standing out like the struts on the Harbour Bridge.”
Her cheeks blazed in response as she bit back a retort. Her heart gave an enormous, painful beat then returned to a rapid furious pitter-patter demanding more oxygen than she could provide.
“I want warm and sexy.”
He might want warm and sexy but she couldn’t do it at the drop of a hat. Added to that, she had no intention of doing warm and sexy with any man ever again. She leaned forward across the piano, wanting only to flop forward and bury her face in her arms, blot out the ghastly memories and wallow in her misery.
“That’s better, now rest your chin in your hands.”
She obliged and choked back the dryness in her throat.
“Absolutely beautiful — just stunning. I’m liking it more and more, now give me the under your eyelashes glance again. That’s it.”
Why did the words, which yesterday had made her feel so good, now sound so false and hollow? God, she had been a fool.
“It was a great move. Love the tight dress — leaves very little to the imagination.” The words slicked through the air like dirty axle grease, thick and slimy.
Curiosity got the better of her and she turned to face the unbelievably well-dressed man who bore no resemblance to the pimply beer smelling youth who had haunted her dreams for so long. Why had he come back? Clenching her toes in an effort to stop her legs shaking, she turned back to the piano in time to see Jaz stand and pull a second bright smile.
“William, I thought you were getting coffee.”
If someone had asked Jeanie to paint a picture of a successful businessman, this would have been it, not an ounce of trepidation — just bucket loads of arrogance and confidence.
“I changed my mind — decided I wanted a part of the action.” William gave what might have passed for a diplomatic cough but Jeanie knew better and he cleared his throat, ensuring everyone was listening even though he raised his hand and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “He can certainly pick them, can’t he?”
Jaz sidled up to William and slid her arm through his. “He certainly can, Will.”
• • •
The photo shoot finished in silence. Jeanie knew William’s eyes followed her every step of the way as she handed back the gloves and shoes and stepped behind the screen to remove the red dress. What a steep learning curve. Now she could claim to know all there was about the corrupt world of modeling. Not only how long it took for those little black spots to disappear from her eyes after the lights went off, but also how an image could be manipulated and created, bearing no resemblance to the truth.
The rough cotton of her shirt scratched her skin after the slippery satin of the evening dress and she shivered and pulled her heavy cardigan around her shoulders. All she wanted to do was go home, back to the café, back to passionfruit pie and a warm hug, but she knew she had to face Xander. Only once. To smile and walk away.
Thank you for the opportunity to experience a glimpse of your world but actually I’d rather have mine. I’m just a big girl with small ambitions.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the screen.
The crew scurried around packing up and Jaz stood supervising, looking as though there was a very nasty smell under her nose, and there was. Jeanie could smell it too — a rat. She scanned the room. Xander was nowhere in sight, his camera gear lay at Jaz’s feet, discarded in favor of his business partner who had disappeared from the scene too. Would they be talking about her? Talking about last night, comparing notes?
Something snapped and Jeanie strode across the floor until she was right in front of Jaz, blocking her path, invading her space. Sometimes it was a distinct advantage not to be waif-like. “Have you got something to say?”
“Me? No why?” Jaz drummed her fingernail against the table, her flat stare warning Jeanie but she was too fired up to care.
In for a penny …
“Jaz, who is William West and how long has Xander known him?”
“Xander told you, William is his business partner, sleeping partner, silent partner. He invested in the business a long time ago — not, mind you, that it’s any of your business.”
Jaz’s lips twisted into a slow, triumphant smile.
Jeanie pulled back, her stomach curling into a tight knot. “No, it isn’t any of my business. Not anymore.” She tried for a smile but failed. “I’ve decided I am going back to Oldbridge on this afternoon’s train. The shoot is over.”
“You’re not going to stay around and say thank you to William?” Jaz’s thin shoulders rose too and then fell like the blades of a guillotine.
“Thank you? Why would I say thank you to William?” Jeanie’s hand fell protectively to her chest and her palm splayed as she massaged the knot of horror spreading to encompass her whole body.
“Well, it was his idea in the first place — ” her gaze snapped from the window to Jeanie’s eyes and her eyebrows rose “ — to use the café for the photo shoot.” Jeanie stared for a long minute at the kohl-encrusted eyes, wanting to scream. Instead, she dug her teeth into her lower lip and held her ground even though her knees were almost buckling with the effort.
“I don’t understand.” She kept the quaver in her voice to a minimum.
“Come on, Jeanie. You can’t be that naïve. Someone had to put a word in somewhere. Why else would a photographer like Xander trek all the way to a dump like Oldbridge? This man is a sought after photographer and he’ll put your little business on the map.”
Jeanie stuffed her hand in her pocket and clenched her palm around her mobile, cradling it like a talisman, wanting to summon Xander to protect her and tell her it was all a horrible mistake and he’d found the café on Locations-R-Us and not on the recommendation of the one person Jeanie had thought she would never have to set eyes on again.
Jaz gave a rather dirty little laugh, half way to a snigger. “Oh, yes, successful, very successful. Business deals can be very delicate — you know, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. Will said he owed you a favor.” Then Jaz smiled at her, if it could be called a smile. She pulled her lips back tight and bared her teeth.
The hair on the back of Jeanie’s neck bristled. The smug knowing tone triggered alarm bells all over the place. She understood her words; she’d heard similar more times than she’d like to remember.
It’s payback, Jeanie. If you want to be one of us you have to play the game. Or are you going to crawl back into your hole where you belong?
How many times was she going to bash her head against the same old brick wall? Just step back into the shadows and stay where you belong. For a few foolish days, she’d believed Xander, believed she had found her place in the sun. A pain slashed across her forehead.
And then pride stiffened her spine. She might have made a mistake, but she had no intention of remaining a pawn in their dirty little game. She wouldn’t stay here at their beck and call. Gritting her teeth, she tilted her chin and held her head up, just as she had been taught, and walked to the door of the bar. Then she turned and stared deliberately at Jaz. “Thank you for your time, Jaz. I’m sure you’ve got a stack of responsibilities. Please tell Mr. Fitzgerald and Mr. West I have left and cancel my appearance at the press conference.”
“You can’t just cancel a press conference on a whim.”
“I just have. Thank you, Jaz.”
How Jeanie resisted the temptation kick Jaz’s skinny underfed anemic rump, she had no idea but she restrained herself and walked to the lift. Once the door slid closed, she took several wavering steps until the cold brass rail hit her back then her knees buckled and she cradled her pounding head in her hands.
As the lift rose, her shoulders dropped and by the time she arrived on the forty-second floor, they were below the level of her ears. She slid the keycard into the door of her hotel room and walked directly to the bathroom. Ignoring the mirror, she turned on the tap, running the cold water over her wrists and then splashing her face regardless of the false eye lashes and mascara glued all over her. Finally, she summoned the courage to face herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated, and black rivers of mascara ran down her cheeks.
What a mess.
Strangely enough, she didn’t shed a tear — for the first ten and a half seconds.