Authors: Sara Craven
Serena's eyes were wintry. She looked Cass over slowly and deliberately, letting her eyes linger on the dull beige cotton jeans, and the matching battledress top.
She said kindly, 'Ms Linton, a woman's perfume should be an extension of her personality—intimate, sensuous, glamorous. I'm wondering if you can genuinely empathise with such concepts. You tend, my dear, to be rather— an unvarnished little person, if you'll forgive my saying so,' she added with a little laugh.
There was a stunned silence. Cass's pencil dug into the pad, breaking its point, but her own smile didn't waver.
She said, 'But I do have one distinct advantage, Miss Vance. What I lack in surface gloss, I make up in imagination. And now I'll put that imagination to work on formulating some lines that you will be able to manage. Excuse me.'
She got up and walked out of the room, resisting the impulse to slam the door behind her. It occurred to her she might also have walked out of a job, but she would worry about that later, she thought tiredly. It might be worth being unemployed if she no longer had to submit to the kind of smiling malice Serena Vance had subjected her to. But Cass could have put up with all the barbs coming her way while they were on a personal level only. It was when her professional capabilities were being attacked that the real problems started, with Serena deliberately and sweetly ruining take after take with her protests about the lines she had to say.
Tony Gregory, the director, had summed up the situation gloomily the day before. 'The woman's pure bitch,' he's said morosely. 'But she's magic when you turn a lens on her, and she could sell snow to the North Pole if she put her mind to it, and if we can just get her working properly, both these commercials are going to be a sensation.'
The best thing she could do, Cass thought, would be to 'phone Barney and ask to be taken off the account, and a man appointed in her place.
But Barney would not hear of it when she spoke to him a few minutes later.
'She's only a bloody actress,' he bellowed in disgust. 'Tell Gregory to pull her into line.'
'He handles her very well,' Cass told him wearily. 'It's just myself she objects to, and I'm sure if I wasn't there, things would improve.'
Barney's rich chuckle reached her. 'Defeated by a rag, a bone and a hank of hair, Cass? That's not like you. What's happened to my gutsy woman?' He paused. 'But don't panic. I'll send some cavalry.'
What indeed had happened to her, Cass wondered, as she emerged from the 'phone booth. The fight seemed to have gone out of her, and although she'd blamed post-flu depression when colleagues exclaimed concernedly over her wan looks and listlessness, she couldn't cite this indefinitely.
And she knew what ailed her, if she was honest with herself. She'd made herself face it during one sleepless night after another. She'd sent Rohan Grant out of her life for good, and his departure had left an aching void of loneliness which no amount of work, or frenetic activity in her leisure moments could fill.
Jodie, bewildered but appreciative, had found herself taken relentlessly round museums and art galleries, as well as visiting the Tower and sailing down the Thames to Greenwich. Lloyd had accompanied them a couple of times, with reasonable success, Cass thought frowning a little, although Jodie hadn't reacted to him with the same instinctive warmth as she'd shown Rohan Grant. But then, she hadn't had any nightmares since either.
Cass had never thought she would ever be grateful for Jodie having a nightmare, yet she had to admit in her secret heart that last bad dream had been totally fortuitous, dragging her back from the brink of surrender. She burned whenever she thought of it, of herself going quietly crazy with desire in Rohan's arms after all her protestations. The biggest pushover in the history of the world, she thought disgustedly. But if Rohan had woken the sleeping fires within her, she'd managed to dampen them again quite successfully, and Lloyd had never tempted her to allow them to be rekindled. He was—nice, she thought with a mental shrug, but she would never tremble with passion in his arms, or wait with desperate joy for him to remove her clothes.
How Lloyd might view the situation, of course, might be a different matter. If she read the signs, he wasn't looking for friendly threesomes, but a relationship, and she had nothing to offer him.
With an effort she tore her mind back to the subject of
Moonglow
perfume, and the despised script. She would have to make further changes, she thought wrily. She had little choice. And she was thankful she had not been forced to do the same thing with the
Sundance
copy.
Moonglow
, she thought, mysterious and seductive. It was hard to know what other line to pursue. The colour and style of Serena's dress seemed right, and so did the setting, a formal garden with tall hedges, statuary and a marble bench, all bathed in moonlight. And at the end the shadowy figure of an unknown man, his hand touching her bare shoulder, bending to caress the side of her neck with his lips. All very sultry and evocative, and Serena had been enthusiastic about it until she'd actually discovered who'd been responsible for creating that romantic and seductive scene.
Cass sighed. She and Miss Vance had not set eyes on each other since that night at the theatre, and she'd hoped against hope that the actress might have forgotten all about her. And at first Serena hadn't seemed to recognise her, now that Cass had reverted with a vengeance to her drab gear and hairstyle. She'd kept a deliberately low profile too when she was on the set, letting Roger make any suggestions which were needed. But all, ultimately, to no avail. Serena had known exactly who she was from the first, Cass admitted ruefully. There'd come a moment when she'd glanced up and seen the actress looking at her with exactly the same expression as her beautiful face had worn when she'd found Cass alone with Rohan, and deep in what was clearly a personal conversation, at the end of the theatre interval.
I should have gone to Barney then, she thought, and asked to be allowed to fade into total obscurity. This whole commercial would be wrapped up and in the can by now.
She sighed, and began to walk slowly back to the studio, head bent.
A voice said bitingly, 'Risking another collision, Cass?
She looked up with a gasp, to see Rohan blocking her way. It was the first time she'd seen him since he'd walked out of the flat that night, and she felt that terrible hidden hunger uncurl into gnawing life as her eyes met his.
She swallowed. 'What are you doing here?'
'Not chasing you, so forget the panic,' he said curtly. 'Finiston tells me there are problems, and I find that's an under-estimation. Gregory says there hasn't been a single decent take for two days.'
'That's quite true.' She kept her voice level. 'I'm afraid Miss Vance and I seem to be having a clash of personalities.'
'I heard that too,' he came back at her grimly. 'You specialise in clashing, don't you, Ms Linton, and not just in your private life either.'
'You're saying it's all my fault?' She stared up at him, her lips parted in indignation.
He shrugged. 'I wasn't here, so I can't apportion blame. But—she's the star, Cass, and you're the agency girl. If one of you has to bend, I think it should be you. If Serena wants a line rewritten, then do your bloody job, and rewrite it, and let's stop wasting time and money.'
She looked at him for a long bitter moment, then took a deep breath. 'Oh, yes, sir. Three bags full,
sir
. Would you like me to humbly apologise to the lady too for my actual existence?'
'That won't be necessary,' he told her grimly. 'I'm here now, and I'm staying until Gregory gets every line from you, and every shot from her that he wants. And after that, it might be better if Finiston puts you on to another assignment altogether. We don't want any more unfortunate—clashes.'
'That suits me ideally,' Cass said, a bright spot of colour glowing in either cheek. 'I only hope Barney agrees with you.'
'He will,' Rohan said coldly and succinctly. 'And now could you stop wandering around the place, brooding over your wrongs, and get together with Roger to see what you can salvage from the original script.'
He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her to follow in his wake. She was shaking with temper, but she forced herself to a semblance of composure before going back in the studio. She wanted no-one—and Serena Vance in particular— to see that she was upset.
Roger almost leaped at her. 'Cass? Where have you been?' He pulled her into a corner. 'Grant's here,' he muttered. 'He's been stalking round the place giving orders like Jove's thunderbolts. Even La Vance hasn't dared open her mouth for twenty minutes. It must be a record.'
'I've seen him,' Cass said wearily. 'We have to placate the lady with a new script which will appeal to her basic artistry.'
'He ought to try placating her himself,' Roger said with a faint leer. 'That's what she wants. She can hardly keep her hands off him as it is.'
'Then perhaps you'd like to suggest it to him,' Cass said too evenly.
He shuddered. 'No thanks.' He gave her a weak smile. 'Maybe we should just have another look at the script. Before the next thunderbolt hits us.'
In the event they had more time and more privacy than they expected, because Tony Gregory called an early lunch break, and Cass saw an openly triumphant Serena, changed into her day clothes, being led off by Rohan Grant.
'They're probably going to have
filet mignon
while we make do with cheese sandwiches and coffee,' Roger said mournfully. He brightened. 'Hey—maybe she'll get a bad prawn in her cocktail. I had one once, and I thought I was going to die, I can tell you.'
'You did tell me—several times,' Cass gave him a reluctant grin. 'But it's a nice idea—and then we could get nice, harmless, amenable Tracey back.'
By the time Serena returned resplendent and glowing from lunch, and whatever had preceded or followed it, they had finished.
And Serena, as she soon made clear, was in the mood to be pleased.
'Oh, that's much better,' she exclaimed as she read the new lines. She gave Cass a patronising look. 'So, you can do it, Ms Linton, when you try. This is infinitely superior to your earlier efforts—so much more drama, so much more depth—and—and erotic intensity than before.'
Cass's brows lifted. 'I thought we were writing a popular scent commercial,' she said. 'Not the remake of
Gone with the Wind
.'
Towering above his companion, Rohan gave Cass a grim look, but before he could say anything, Tony Gregory hastily intervened. 'Well, how about a run-through to make sure the moves are absolutely right. Serena—if you'd like to change.'
They all began to move off, to make final adjustments to the set, and prepare for the next take. Cass was left alone with Rohan.
He said softly, icily, 'That beautiful mouth is going to talk you into real trouble one of these days, Ms Linton.'
She said wearily, 'I think I already have all the trouble I can handle. But not having to see you again will be one load of mischief the less.'
His eyes narrowed. 'How's Jodie?'
'Very well, thank you,' she returned levelly.
'No more bad dreams?'
She stiffened slightly. 'Fortunately, no.'
'Another blessing brought about by my departure?' The hazel eyes held hers, and it was an effort to tear her gaze away.
She shrugged. 'You said it. I didn't,' she returned shortly.
He said, 'James and Simon have been asking about her. It's getting close to Easter. My sister was wondering whether you would let her invite Jodie down to Graystocks for a few days.'
'That's out of the question,' Cass said sharply.
'It doesn't have to be.' His mouth curled slightly. 'After all, under other circumstances you might both have been spending Easter in the country with me.'
With a calmness that was far from genuine, she said, 'I don't think so. I'm sure you'd have been tired of me by this time.' She paused. 'Besides— you have a prior commitment—to Miss Vance.'
'How good of you to remind me,' he drawled. 'I also, if you remember, made certain promises to your beautiful daughter which I am anxious to redeem. And what I said to you before still stands, Cass. The child needs masculine company. That feminine hothouse you're rearing her in isn't going to give her the balanced outlook on life she needs, or stop the nightmares for good,' he added grimly. 'It's incredible to me that so young a child could have been so badly affected by her father's death. I'd have thought she was barely old enough to remember him at all.'
Cass had to force herself to stand her ground. There was a faint roaring in her ears, and she had to breathe deeply. She said swiftly and briefly, 'Brett was—killed in a road accident. Jodie witnessed it. Is that sufficient explanation?'
'It's obviously all I'm going to get,' he said bitterly. 'All right, Cass, have it your way.'
'I know what's best for my own child,' she said angrily. 'And she has plenty of masculine company. I—I'm seeing Lloyd regularly now. She's growing to—to accept his presence around the flat quite naturally.'
'Including overnight?'
There was a note in his voice which spelled danger. Her hands hidden in the pockets of her jeans, Cass crossed her fingers surreptitiously.
'Yes,' she said recklessly.
'I see.' His drawl lengthened. 'Doesn't having Jodie around all the time cramp his style a little, or have you trained him to confine his ardour discreetly to the bedroom, and only when she's asleep?'
'That's none of your damned business,' Cass said hotly.
He smiled unpleasantly. 'Oh, but I'm fascinated, sweetheart. Having—almost—shared Haswell's good fortune, that is. Do you like your pleasures tame and domesticated, Cass? I thought you'd be a wild one—once you'd shaken off that tight rein you had on yourself.' He gave her an insolent look. 'How does Haswell like your present wardrobe? Or does he work on the principle that the uglier a woman's clothes, the more pleasure there is in taking them off?'
Cass bit her lip until she tasted blood. She said, 'Can we stop right there please? I find this— speculation about my sexuality thoroughly distasteful.'