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  ‘But I thought—’

  The words were out before she could prevent them, and Olivia knew a feeling of frustration when Diane lifted one expertly plucked brow. ‘You thought?’ she said, evidently prepared to listen in this instance. Had she guessed what Olivia had been thinking? ‘Go on. What were you about to say?’

  ‘It was nothing,’ said Olivia firmly, annoyed with herself for saying anything. She had no intention of admitting that she’d been looking forward to writing the first draft of the book in Los Angeles. ‘I—if you’re still sure you want me to write your biography—’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then—okay. I can do that.’

  ‘Good.’ Diane nodded. ‘Good.’ She paused. ‘I’ll tell Ricky you’re leaving.’

  ‘Oh, please—’ Now it was Olivia’s turn to make an imploring gesture. ‘I’d rather you didn’t say anything.’ She felt the annoying heat of her embarrassment entering her cheeks. She wanted no more roses arriving at the hotel. ‘I—I think it’s best, don’t you?’

  ‘If you say so.’ But Diane’s face had a strangely feral look to it now, and Olivia wondered if she had been entirely wise to show her feelings. ‘But now I suggest you finish your coffee, and then we’ll try and tie up any loose ends you feel are still outstanding.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  OLIVIA sighed, sinking lower into the foaming water and allowing the powerful jets to ease her cares away. This was a luxury she wouldn’t have when she got back to England, and although it was something she could live without it was just another reminder that this time tomorrow night she’d be on the plane to London.

  She sighed again, putting up her hand to check that her hair was still secured in the knot she’d pinned earlier. Wet strands clung to her cheeks, but she was relieved to find the knot was holding. She didn’t have time to wash her hair tonight. Not if she wanted to get down to the restaurant at a reasonable hour.

  Of course, she was late because Max Audrey, Diane’s producer, had kept her waiting so long at the studios. Like a few of the people she’d contacted in the past few days, he considered his job far more important than hers. She wasn’t nch, therefore she was expendable. In his world only money oiled the wheels of success.

  And when she’d finally got to talk to him he’d been less than courteous. His phone had kept ringing throughout the interview, and he hadn’t asked her to excuse him every time he’d reached for the receiver. She had the feeling she could have learned as much about his opinion of Diane if she’d spoken to his secretary. Just as Manuel and María knew their employer better than anyone else.

  Still, she had learned a lot more about her subject’s standing in the film community. Phoebe had arranged for her to visit the studios where Diane’s last film had been made, and Olivia had spoken to cameramen and technicians, make-up artists, and her director, all of whom had been generous in the anecdotes they’d conveyed. Apparently, Diane was well liked by the people who’d worked with her, but Olivia couldn’t help the suspicion that they’d have said anything to keep their jobs.

  It had been a strenuous week, made more so by the fact that she’d been constantly in Phoebe’s presence. Diane’s agent had insisted that it would be easier for her if she came along. Once again, Olivia suspected that her motives weren’t all altruistic. She had the feeling Diane had sent her to ensure she didn’t spend her time with anyone else.

  As if...

  Olivia’s lips tightened a little at the realisation that it was almost a week since she’d spent that afternoon with Joe. She hadn’t really expected him to get in touch with her again, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed that she hadn’t even seen him about the hotel. He’d probably gone back to San Francisco and thought nothing more about her, she reflected ruefully. Except, perhaps, a sense of relief that he’d avoided a more disastrous scene.

  The realisation that the phone was ringing jarred her out of her introspection. Diane, she thought wearily. She often rang at this time. To check up on her? Olivia was cynical. If she only knew, she had nothing to check up on her for. But if she didn’t answer the phone Diane would be suspicious, and the last thing she wanted was for her to come to the hotel.

  Switching off the jets, she sat up and reached for the extension. Like all the best establishments, there was a phone in the bathroom as well. It had been a novelty when she’d first got here, but pretty soon the novelty had worn off. It meant there was no place where Diane couldn’t reach her, which was one advantage she would have when she went home.

  Her hand slipped on the receiver and she almost dropped it into the bath so that there was a lilt of laughter in her voice when she said, ‘Hello.’ And why not? she thought determinedly. She should be looking forward to seeing her flat again. And Henry! She pulled a wry face. She hoped he hadn’t forgotten all about her.

  ‘Liv?’

  Her heart sank. ‘Hello, Richard,’ she said, wishing she hadn’t answered after all.

  ‘Liv, I want to see you. Diane says that you’re leaving, and I must talk to you before you go. I know it’s late, and you’re probably exhausted, but I can’t let you go without making you understand how I feel.’

  ‘No, Richard.’

  ‘What do you mean, no?’

  ‘I mean I don’t want to see you,’ said Olivia flatly. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. I—I’m sure you and Diane can iron your problems out if you just put your minds to it.’ She paused. ‘Have you thought of having a baby? If I remember correctly that was one of the reasons why you wanted a divorce.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Richard sneered. ‘You had to bring that up, didn’t you? You know as well as I do that I can’t father a child.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ protested Olivia, dry-mouthed, as the injustice of his accusations assailed her. She swallowed. ‘But thank you for telling me.’ She shook her head. ‘Better late than never.’

  Richard swore. ‘Are you trying to tell me you didn’t have any suspicions that I was to blame?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ Olivia caught her breath. ‘How could I? You swore it wasn’t you.’

  ‘I swore a lot of things,’ muttered Richard bitterly. ‘But you didn’t hear them all. I can’t believe you didn’t check up on me. After I’d left, at least.’

  ‘And they’d have told me?’ Olivia was impatient. ‘Get real, Richard. A person’s medical history is private. Besides—’ she drew a trembling breath ‘—I had no reason to believe you were lying.’

  ‘No.’ He sounded frustrated now ‘I guess I have been a complete bastard!’ He sighed. ‘That’s why I want you to forgive me. You’ve no idea how much your—understand—ing would mean to me.’

  Olivia bit her lip. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘All right, I forgive you. Now—I’ve got to go. I’m—busy, and I want to get on.’

  ‘Still working?’ Richard was sardonic. ‘My, what a conscientious little girl you are.’ And then, as if sensing her indignation, he added, ‘Sorry. That was uncalled for.’ He paused. ‘Maybe I’ll speak to you again before you leave.’

  Not if I have anything to do with it, thought Olivia fiercely as she replaced the receiver. She could only hope Diane hadn’t told him exactly when she was leaving. But, as she’d told him everything else, what chance did she have of that?

  The phone rang again, almost before she’d had time to settle down again. The final few moments she’d been promising herself were obviously not meant to be. ‘Yes?’ she said ungraciously, wondering what else Richard could have thought of, and then almost lost her voice when Joe Castellano’s husky tenor caressed her ear.

  ‘Olivia? Hi.’ He paused. ‘I was wondering. Have you had dinner?’

  Olivia collapsed against the side of the bath. ‘Joe,’ she said, when she could speak again. Her voice was strangely hoarse. ‘What a surprise.’

  ‘But a pleasant one, I hope,’ he said, though there was an unexpected edge to his voice. ‘I—don’t want to intrude on your privacy, but I’d like to see you. If yo
u haven’t had dinner, perhaps we could eat together.’

  Olivia expelled a trembling breath. ‘I—haven’t had dinner,’ she said, realising she didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but too overwhelmed by his sudden phone call to select her words.

  ‘Well, good.’ He waited a beat. ‘Does that mean you do want to see me? Or was that merely an observation, and you’d rather eat alone?’

  ‘No, I—’ Olivia struggled to pull herself together. ‘You don’t understand. Um—Richard was on the phone just now, and I thought it was him calling back.’ She moistened her lips, and then forced herself to continue. ‘I—suppose I thought you’d be dining with Diane.’

  ‘Well, I’m not.’ He didn’t elaborate, so she didn’t know whether that was her decision or his. ‘Look, if you’ve made some arrangement to meet Richard, forget it. I should have given you some warning, but I just got back from Frisco this evening.’

  So he had been away again.

  Olivia hurried into speech. ‘No, I’m not seeing Richard. And—and I’d love to have dinner with you. If—if you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll be ready.’

  ‘May I come up?’

  Olivia’s breathing was suspended. ‘Come up?’

  ‘Yeah, as in you offering me a drink before dinner,’ he responded lightly. ‘But if you’d rather not—’

  ‘No.’ Olivia gulped for air, and dismissed the thought that it wasn’t a good idea. ‘Please—’ Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment ‘Yes. Come on up. I’ll leave the door unlocked.’

  Which meant wedging the ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice between the door and the lock, she discovered moments later, after flinging on one of the towelling bathrobes the hotel supplied and scurrying through the bedroom and across the sitting room in her bare feet. But if she’d told Joe she was still in the bath he might have suspected her of making excuses, and this might be her last chance of saying goodbye.

  She had barely made it into the bath again before she heard someone enter the suite. She prayed it wasn’t a prowler, and listened attentively to him closing the door. Then, ‘Olivia?’ she heard him call, and her breath escaped her in a relieved sigh.

  ‘I’m here,’ she called back lightly, and reached for the soap.

  She was lathering her arms with one of the expensively perfumed cushions that appeared in various parts of the bathroom every morning and disappeared as soon as she had used them, when he opened the bathroom door. If he was surprised to find her in the bath he didn’t show it. Instead, he propped his shoulder against the frame of the door and regarded her as if he had every right to be there.

  ‘Hi.’

  Olivia was too shocked to speak, so she didn’t say anything. She was too busy reviewing her Victorian morals, and finding them wanting. She was a modern woman, she chided herself, and it wasn’t as if she wasn’t attracted to him. But she’d never dreamt he might walk into the bathroom.

  Her initial impulse was to slide down so that her body was hidden beneath the water. Her breasts were responding to his appraisal and their rosy peaks were already button-hard and tight. But he’d seen her breasts, she reminded herself, so surely they were no novelty to him, and he was not to know there was a pulse beating between her legs.

  And he looked so good, she thought avidly, feeding on his dark attractive face. In a dark grey lounge suit and matching shirt, the jacket parted by the hand he’d pushed into his trouser pocket, he made her acutely aware of what she was missing by not having a man in her life.

  She wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t reacted, but instead of acting like a shrinking violet she continued soaping her arms as if having a man standing watching her were an everyday occurrence. She wasn’t aware of being deliberately provocative, even when her hands strayed to her breasts, but his sudden instinctive intake of breath brought a half-challenging look to her eyes.

  ‘D’you want some help?’ he asked huskily, and now she was forced to look away. But she wondered what he was doing here when a week ago he’d made his feelings blatantly obvious.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, finding her voice at last. ‘If—if you’ll help yourself to a drink, I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

  ‘I don’t want a drink,’ he countered, and, straightening away from the door, he approached the huge corner bath. His eyes darkened as they looked down at her. ‘Is there room for another one in there?’

  Olivia’s jaw sagged. ‘I—why—no—’

  ‘Why not?’ He squatted down on his haunches beside her. ‘My architect informed me that these tubs are big enough to hold a party.’

  ‘Well, they’re not.’ Olivia was swift to disabuse him, the idea of provoking him again losing its appeal. ‘Besides—’ she forced herself to meet his sensual gaze ‘—I thought you weren’t interested in me.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What gave you that idea?’

  ‘What gave me that idea?’ echoed Olivia disbelievingly. ‘I should have thought you’d know that better than me.’

  ‘Well, I don’t,’ he said annoyingly, dipping his hand into the water and allowing its contents to spill over her shoulder and down her breast. ‘In any case, I thought this was what you wanted. If not, you did a damn good job of convincing me that it was.’

  Olivia swallowed, his nearness overwhelming the urge to send him away. And though she doubted her motives had anything do to with Richard what he was suggesting was temptation in its finest form.

  But she couldn’t do this, she thought unsteadily. He’d said she was no femme fatale and he was right. And in her prescribed world people didn’t act so recklessly. She trembled at the thought of him getting into the bath with her. God, she could imagine her father’s reaction if he could see her now.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to look at him. ‘What do you really want?’ she asked, uncaring if he thought her naïve.

  Instead of answering her, however, he picked up the soap and lathered his hands with it. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he asked, and stroked his hand down her cheek.

  ‘Not to me,’ she lied, even though her heart was thumping. Dear God, did he really mean precisely what he said? ‘You’re wetting your sleeve,’ she added, hoping to distract him. His cuff had trailed in the water and was dripping on her arm.

  ‘So what?’ he asked now, but he rinsed his hands and shed his jacket onto the floor. ‘That better?’ he suggested, his gaze moving deliberately over her body, and she pressed her thighs together almost in defence.

  ‘Mr Castellano—’

  He was pulling off his tie and loosening his collar as she said this, and he rested his forearms on the bath and gave her a knowing look. ‘Don’t call me that, for God’s sake,’ he said drily. ‘This isn’t the 1890s. I don’t make love to women who call me Mr Castellano.’

  ‘Then perhaps that’s what I should call you, Mr Castellano,’ responded Olivia breathily, aware that it was his teasing that was making her feel brave.

  ‘Could be,’ he agreed smoothly, disconcerting her. He slipped off his shirt and unbuttoned the waistband of his trousers. ‘I can always make an exception in your case.’

  Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘Joe—’ she gasped in protest. ‘You can’t do this.’

  But he’d pushed himself to his feet and was already tackling his zip. ‘You can help me,’ he said, kicking off his loafers and stepping out of his trousers. And as she looked up at him in mute confusion he added, pointing at his silk boxers, ‘You can tell me if you want me to keep these on for modesty’s sake.’

  Olivia couldn’t answer him. She’d never been in a situation like this before and he took her tightened lips as her assent. Before she could move aside, he had stepped down into the deep water, his legs brushing hers as he sat down opposite.

  Although she knew she should look elsewhere, she found herself staring at him. Was this some crazy dream, or was Joe Castellano actually sharing her bath? She moved her foot and her toes brushed a hair-roughened calf and ankle. It was really him
, and she flinched at the contact.

  ‘Isn’t this cosy?’ he said, spreading his arms along the sides of the bath and relaxing completely. He took a breath. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never done anything like this before.’

  ‘I haven’t,’ said Olivia tersely, wishing she was more experienced. Her eyes felt riveted to the dark hair beneath his arms.

  And not just beneath his arms, she noticed. She could now see the hair that arrowed down below his waist. Richard’s skin had been smooth, she remembered, and it had always been a source of annoyance to him. But Olivia had always told him she didn’t like hairy men.

  And she didn’t, she insisted fiercely, wishing she could just ignore him. But she couldn’t make a move without encountering his outstretched feet. And just when she thought he couldn’t do anything more to upset her he drew up his knees and moved so that her feet were between his legs.

  ‘What do you—?’ she began unsteadily, and then broke off when he grasped her ankles. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she finished breathlessly as his hands slid over her slim calves.

  ‘I thought you might like a massage,’ he responded, without looking at her. He was looking down at his hands, at what they were doing to her legs. ‘I’m good at this sort of thing,’ he added huskily, moving closer until her toes were brushing his groin.

  Olivia’s stomach quivered. She could feel the swollen heat of him against her feet, and although she knew it was crazy she wished he wasn’t wearing the boxers after all. There was something intensely intimate about touching him in this way.

  ‘Like it?’ he asked, looking up at her through his straight lashes, and Olivia, who had been scarcely aware of his kneading fingers, could only nod her head. ‘I told you I was good,’ he appended softly. ‘Come closer and I’ll loosen up your thighs.’