"discovery." Meaning, since he knew Harris, his current mistress. Or maybe Harris and Yves Pleydel shared her -shit, what did it matter to him? But now he was startled, from the moment he felt the coldness of her hands and their slight tremor, by the force of his own angry emotions. Goddamn her!
So he kissed her after all-deliberately and very perfunctorily. Mostly for the benefit of the others who stood around watching as if they were the sideshow of the evening.
He and Anne, having their grand reunion. But only Anne could know how brutally his hands had tightened over her fingers, so hard he could almost feel them snap.
He turned away from her angry stiffness, laughing. "Okay-where's this Violet wench I must meet? I hope she's pretty, at least!"
They were all laughing now, joining in the game. Webb's eyes crinkled at the comers, but only Anne noticed that they remained as hard as yellow glass. She kept rubbing at her fingers surreptitiously for a long time afterwards, tom between hating him and wanting, unreasonably, to indulge in a fit of weeping.
WAKING UP WAS LIKE SWIMMING to the surface of a marsh, fighting the leaden fatigue that threatened to drag her back to sleep again. Violet. For some reason, she was mad at Violet.
Why couldn't she let her be?
"Anne! Anne, will you wake up? You're supposed to be on location in Surrey in two hours, and I'm supposed to be at work right now. Your alarm woke me, and when I didn't hear
you in the shower ..."
Anne's eyes opened lethargically to focus on Violet's tousled head and Concerned face bending over her. Violet's worried voice became sharper. "Are you okay? I didn't hear you come in ..."
"Of course I'm fine! I took a Valium to help me sleep, that's all. I suppose I shouldn't have, after those drinks." She sat up, feeling slightly dizzy, letting her unaccountable anger at Violet push the dizziness away. "And you didn't hear me come in because I was home and in bed already. I had a headache- Harris brought me back early."
"Oh!" She didn't miss the flush on Violet's face. Then a defiant toss of her curly head.
"Well-I got in rather late. Or very early, if you want to look at it that way!"
"Oh?" Anne hoped she sounded uninterested enough as she forced herself to climb out of bed. She flexed her fingers consciously-they were bruised where her rings had cut into them. Webb! Memories of the previous evening came back to assault her senses. That's why she had taken that Valium. Dumb thing to do; she still felt half-doped. "I'd better go take my shower now. Thanks for waking me."
Violet followed her, looking for all the world like a guilty child. Only Violet wasn't a child, was she? For all her little-girl act, she was a very sexy young woman. Men discovered that quickly. Webb had. It hadn't taken either one of them long, once the princess had been whisked away by her Secret Service escorts. Poor Claudia had been left to quarrel furiously with Yves, her sensuous pout becoming more and more sullen with every moment that passed. Webb and Violet had disappeared -Harris's bedroom door stayed closed-and Anne had felt as if her smile was a clown-mask painted onto a face. Until Harris, tactful as ever, had remembered she had a modeling engagement in the early afternoon and offered to take her home.
"Can I talk while you're showering?"
She didn't want to be Violet's confidante. Not about Webb. But Violet was already following her into the bathroom. "Boy -what an evening! And you should have heard all the gossip I picked up! Did you know that Senator Markham has the hots for Carol Cochran? That's why he left his wife behind in France. Craig got mad when I told him that! He's so American sometimes, isn't he? All senators and congressmen are sacrosanct! And I really think"-Violet cocked her head, considering-"that he-Craig, I mean-still feels the same old way about you!"
"That's nonsense!" Anne said shortly, turning the shower on with unnecessary force.
"Well-I can always sense it when a man I date is still carrying a torch for another woman. I really think he'd take you back, if you let him. Not that I blame you for latching onto Harris Phelps, of course! Has he invited you to cruise on his yacht yet?
I hear it's even bigger than Onassis'sl" Anne didn't answer, and Violet changed the subject abruptly. "What did you think of Webb? He's even more gorgeous in real life than he is on the screen, isn't he? But"-her voice turning reproachful-"you never told me you knew him!"
Anne's voice came faintly to her over the sound of running water. "I don't. I'd met him, that's all! And I'm sure he meets thousands of women all the time. He didn't even remember me." Net exactly a lie. He hadn't. Why didn't Violet stop?
"Well-I bet he'll remember me! He even took my phone number ..."
Anne remembered that much at least of Violet's incessant, breathless flow of chatter.
She had tried to tune Violet out-not quite ready yet for whatever revelations her friend was leading up to. And in the end, disappointed, Violet had taken herself off to work in her baby-blue Porsche. Damn! Now she'd probably be late for the outdoor shooting anyway, and –
She knocked a Dresden china figurine off an end table with the sleeve of her carelessly carried jacket, swore again (she must really watch that!), and had finally reached the door when the telephone rang. Anne hesitated. It was probably for Violet, maybe Dune demanding to know why she wasn't in the office yet. On the other hand, it might be that the weather was bad in Surrey and they'd canceled the session. She should have listened to the weather report on the radio; would have, if Violet hadn't insisted on gossiping. The phone kept ringing insistently, willing her to pick it up. Harris? It would probably stop ringing as soon as she reached it.
"Hello?" She was out of breath and mad at herself for giving m.
"Annie?" Her breath caught in her throat, and Anne felt paralyzed. He even took my phone number! Violet had sounded pleased and triumphant. But Violet's phone number was also hers.
"Annie?" he repeated again, impatiently this time. She gathered enough presence of mind to say coldly, "I'm sure you want to speak to Violet, but she isn't here just now."
His voice became charged with suppressed emotion. Fury?
"Damn you, Annie-will you stop playing games? We've got to talk-don't you see that?
Last night ..."
Last night! Anne closed her eyes, feeling pure rage rush through her. She wanted to grit her teeth, stamp her foot. "I'm late for work, Webb. And I've got a two-hour drive ahead of me. Why don't you call back later when Violet will be in? You just missed her, as a matter of fact."
Click. She replaced the receiver, almost dropping it. Grabbed up her jacket and almost ran outside, not wanting to hear the rings when they started up again.
"I know I missed Violet. I waited to call until she had left. What are you running from this time, Annie?" Webb sounded conversational, but his eyes pinioned her against the door, staring at him as if he'd been an apparition.
He'd said that to her the first time they met ... where had he come from?
He looked disheveled and disreputable in tight, faded blue levis and a shabby, equally faded denim jacket. Unshaven ... He nodded carelessly towards the phone booth at the other end of the mews. Funny that she had hardly noticed it before!
"A good observation point, baby. I watched little Vi leave in her cute little car, and then I called you." His eyes narrowed dangerously, and if not for the door at her back she would have retreated before the look in them.
Desperation made Anne cry out wildly, "Let me be, Webb! Why must you stalk me when-when there are so many other women you don't even have to chase? We have nothing to say to each other in any case,so-"
Afterwards, Anne could never be quite sure how it happened. She'd raised her fists instinctively, as if to fight him off; and his mouth, covering hers savagely, cut her off in midsentence. And after that, it was too late. All the days and weeks and months of conditioning her mind and her thoughts ... But her will dropped away and became lost somewhere under the force of his kisses. Her body, stiff at first, felt like parched, dried-up earth growing moist and malleable again under the first rains. And none of her doubts and questions, even her anger at him, counted any longer-swept away in the first flood of feeling. Like a renewed drought after a deluge, reality came back after Webb had released her.
Anne could feel herself shaking. Even her voice.
"That-wasn't fair! Webb .. ."
"Do I have to remind you of the old saying? 'All's fair .. .' "
"Webb-let me alone! You know I don't mean anything to you. Old affair. Just another conquest .. ."
"But are you a conquest, Annie? What are you asking me for now, reassurance?
Why in hell do you think I stayed out here in the goddamned cold, waiting for you?"
He gave an angry shrug. "Stalking you, I guess you'd call it, huh? Well I'll tell you-I'm damned if I really know. You've been like a splinter under my skin, ever since you put me off that time, Mrs. Hyatt. Little mystery Annie-and I still find myself wanting to fling questions at you I know I have no damned right to ask. The kind of questions I'd resent your asking me-although you wouldn't, would you? There's a stubborn, prideful streak somewhere deep inside you, isn't there, love?-although in a man they'd call it arrogance. I know, because I have it too ... except when it comes to you, strangely enough. Jesus -when I saw you last night .. ."
"You didn't recognize me!" she whispered accusingly. That still rankled.
"No, I didn't. I saw a damned good-looking woman-like all the others around. And then I saw your eyes, Annie. And your mouth." His fingers, rough and cold from the wind that bit into them both, traced the contours of her lips, making her quiver. "And later I found myself wondering why I was so angry. I wanted to wipe all the goddamn makeup off your face and pull your hair loose and rip that dress all the other women were envying off your back."
"So instead, you carried Violet off into Harris's bedroom."
Mistake. She shouldn't have said that, sounding like a jealous shrew. Admitting she'd noticed.
He dropped his hand, his face changing-hardening.
"So I did. But then friend Harris might not have liked it if I'd taken you in there instead, would he, baby? Your friend Violet is quite a talker." The pride he'd called arrogance made Anne snap her head back.
"Yes, she is, isn't she? But I really do have to go now, Webb. I'm late as it is, and-and I'm sure you have other things to do too."
She could not understand either him or herself. They were like two enemy vessels on a collision course-veering away at the last minute, only to turn and head back at each other again. But why-why? She had thought herself armored against him, and she wasn't ... damn Webb, he would sense that, of course! But what did he want with her this time?
"Touche, Annie." His golden eyes glinted at her wickedly. "But I don't have anything in particular I must do. I'll drive you wherever you have to go."
And what about Claudia? Anne wanted to ask. What about Violet? But she was too drained to resist any longer. Whatever his reasons, he wanted to be with her. He'd come looking for her. And the cynical part of her mind reminded her that half the women in the world would give anything to have Webb Carnahan pursue them in just this way, even while she let him take her arm and lead her past her own small car to the sleek white Mercedes he had driven here.
Webb didn't talk when he drove. Leaning back in the seat beside him, closing her eyes, Anne felt the time that separated them drop away with the miles they covered once the tangled London traffic gave way to the motorway. Too close ... each time his arm brushed hers she felt one more particle of her built-up resistance crumble.
She was far too aware of him, of the male smell of him, the feel of him, the almost animally exciting presence of him beside her in the small space that enclosed them both. She had stopped asking herself questions; it was easier, right now, simply to let go, let Webb take over . . . take her . . . Never mind if it was the beginning of a dream or just another nightmare.
The old Portsmouth Road took them into Guildford.
"Where now, baby?"
Anne was able to blink herself back to reality, giving directions. She glanced at her watch. She was actually fifteen minutes early! And the weather was beautiful. Never mind explaining to Neil Richardson why she wasn't here under her own steam. She was here and Webb was with her because he wanted to be, and why not admit to herself that she was happy? Exhilarated would be a better word-but to hell with words!
"You're glowing, love!" She liked Neil. He was gay, one of the best photographers in the business, and her friend. He quirked an eyebrow at Webb, grinning at her when Sandra and Felicity, the two other models who would be working with her, recognized him, their air of cool disdain falling away. "So that's it? I've never seen those cold little bitches acting so human before! Maybe it'll put some life in their faces for a change."
Neil knew his job, and he recognized an unusual opportunity when he found one.
"Since you're here, old chum-would you mind ... ?"
The setting was medieval; beautiful color stills shot against the background of an ancient keep of a Norman castle that dated back to 1150 A.D. The dresses they wore were starkly modern. Silken tunics over pants or gypsy-style skirts. Linen jumpsuits, blue denim skirts with buttons undone to the thigh. Webb was a shadowy male figure in the background, except for one closeup which had Anne leaning back against his arm, laughing up at him, her hair whipped free by the breeze.
She'd either smile or cry over that shot later; but what did it matter now? They picnicked on bread and cheese and drank wine, then trooped in together to the nearest inn and sat by a roaring wood fire warming themselves afterwards.
Poor Sandra and Felicity. They went back to London with Neil, and she stayed over with Webb. Plagued only slightly by her conscience.
"I have to call Violet, or she'd be frantic. I've never .. ."
"So call her. Just don't take too long, Annie. I'm hungry for you."