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  ‘Ms Pyatt?’ she asked, and Olivia was so taken aback she could just nod. ‘Phoebe Isaacs,’ the woman added. ‘Can I join you?’ And, without waiting for an answer, she pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Olivia put down her cup. ‘How—how did you know who I was?’

  ‘Well, I was gonna ask the waiter,’ said Phoebe laconically, ‘but as it happens it wasn’t necessary. That gentleman over there pointed you out.’

  Olivia blinked. ‘What gentleman—?’ she was beginning, when she saw the man who was seated across the room. He wasn’t looking her way at the moment, but his profile was unmistakable. ‘You mean—Mr Castellano?’ she asked, in a high-pitched voice.

  ‘Yeah. Joe Castellano,’ said Phoebe carelessly. ‘I gather you’ve already met him. He often has breakfast meetings here when he’s in town.’

  Olivia was stunned, as much by the fact that she was seated just a few yards away from the man who had been occupying far too many of her thoughts as by the casual way that Phoebe Isaacs had introduced herself. ‘Um—it’s very nice to meet you,’ she said, forcing herself not to look in Joe Castellano’s direction. ‘You’re Ms Haran’s agent, aren’t you? Did—did she ask you to come and see me?’

  Thoughts that Diane might be thinking of dismissing her were flooding her head, but Phoebe just said, ‘Hell, no,’ and grinned broadly. She snapped her fingers for the waiter and ordered some fresh coffee. ‘I just wanted to meet you for myself. I’m a big fan, Ms Pyatt.’

  ‘Well—thank you.’ Olivia would have been flattered if she hadn’t felt so flustered, but her awareness of Diane’s lover superseded all else. ‘I—er—I believe it was you who contacted my agent, Kay—Kay Goldsmith.’

  ‘Sure did.’

  The waiter brought a fresh pot of coffee and another cup and Phoebe helped herself before going on. It gave Olivia a moment to register that her accent was different from the ones she’d heard locally. There was a definite southern twang to what she said.

  ‘Anyway, I’m glad you were able to come on out here,’ Phoebe continued, after tasting her coffee. ‘There’s just no way Diane could have packed up and gone to London at this time. What with fittings for the new film, interviews and personal appearances, her schedule is pretty busy. Besides, I dare say you’ll be looking forward to a few weeks in the sun.’

  ‘Yes.’ Olivia hoped she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt. ‘Well—’ she swallowed ‘—it was kind of Ms Haran to invite me. I suppose I could have done most of the research at home.’

  ‘Hey, there’s nothing like hearing it from the horse’s mouth,’ Phoebe assured her lightly. ‘And Diane’s a generous person, but I guess you know that already.’ She paused. ‘I understand you’ve spent the last couple of weeks talking to people who knew her before she was famous. Guess you never found anyone with a bad word for her, isn’t that right?’

  ‘Oh—yes.’

  Olivia didn’t know what else to say, and to a certain extent it was true. But it seemed obvious that Phoebe knew nothing about her previous marriage to Richard. Had Joe Castellano known before she blurted it out? She cast a surreptitious look in his direction. From his gasp he had seemed to be shocked but she suspected he must have known. He was the kind of man who’d want to know everything about the woman he loved.

  If he loved her...

  Right now, his mind was obviously on other matters. There were three other men at his table and they seemed to be deep in discussion. One of the men was holding forth, waving the bagel he was eating to emphasise his point. Meanwhile, Joe was lounging in the chair beside him, apparently concentrating on what was being said.

  Olivia made herself look away. It wasn’t as if he had any interest in her, she told herself severely. He’d been polite, that was all, and if he’d noticed her in the restaurant when she hadn’t noticed him that was hardly surprising. She was on her own. The waiter had seated her in a prominent position by the window. And she’d attracted a lot of attention, most of it unwanted, she had to admit.

  ‘So—what are you planning to do today?’ Phoebe asked now, and Olivia hoped her thoughts weren’t obvious to anyone else. The older woman rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands. Impossibly long nails, painted scarlet, framed her features. ‘Diane wondered if you’d like to go shopping. You can get anything you want on Rodeo Drive.’

  Olivia took a deep breath. Was that why Phoebe was here? she wondered. Had Diane sent her to look after her, or to ensure she knew exactly where Olivia was? Perhaps she knew Richard had been in touch with her and she was hoping to catch them out.

  ‘Well, I—haven’t made any arrangements,’ Olivia murmured now. ‘I—had thought of sunbathing by the pool.’

  ‘Sunbathing!’ Phoebe grimaced. ‘Well—I guess if that’s what you want to do. But, you know, I’d be happy to show you around.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Olivia didn’t know what else to say, but happily Phoebe had no such problem. ‘And is this your first trip to the States?’ she persisted, with interest. ‘I know your books have been published here, but...’

  Phoebe shrugged, inviting Olivia to respond, and, deciding there was no harm in discussing her work, she replied, ‘No. It isn’t my first trip across the Atlantic. I visited New York about two years ago, to publicise Silent Song.’

  ‘Silent Song.’ Phoebe nodded. ‘That was a wonderful book. Diane and I were both touched by the sensitivity you showed in dealing with such a heart-breaking subject.’ She smoothed the rim of her eye with one scarlet-tipped finger, as if wiping away a tear. ‘I’m sure the Cusack family were real happy with the way you handled their mother’s story.’

  Olivia pressed her lips together. She wasn’t used to such overt flattery, and it was difficult not to show her embarrassment. ‘It was a touching story,’ she murmured at last, but Phoebe wasn’t finished.

  ‘You’re too modest,’ she said. ‘Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. In my job, I represent all sorts of people, and I get to read novels, biographies, scripts, all kinds of stuff. And, girl, let me tell you, you’d be amazed at some of the stuff that gets into print; you know what I’m saying? Stories that are sick. Sick! Not inspiring stuff like yours.’

  ‘Oh, well—’

  ‘It’s true.’ Those scarlet-tipped fingers descended on Olivia’s arm. ‘Hey, they’ll make movies about anything these days; anything that the producer or the director thinks is going to make a stack of bucks.’ She gave a disgusted snort. ‘Some of them wouldn’t know a class piece of writing if it jumped up and bit them on the neck.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the film industry,’ she protested, wondering if Phoebe was aware that her nails were digging into her arm. ‘I’m just a writer—’

  ‘Just a writer!’ exclaimed Phoebe incredulously, her nails digging deeper, and Olivia had to steel herself to stop from crying out. ‘Don’t put yourself down, girl. You’re a fine writer, a fine biographer, a fine human being, I’m sure. Diane wouldn’t have wanted you to write her story if that wasn’t true.’

  Wouldn’t she? Olivia wondered, but she didn’t voice her doubts about that particular opinion. She was too busy being relieved that Phoebe had withdrawn her hand.

  But the reason she’d done so wasn’t out of kindness. Olivia was surreptitiously rubbing her arm, trying to get the blood circulating around the slash of whitened flesh where the marks of Phoebe’s nails still showed, when she became aware that someone else was standing beside the table. She disliked the fact, but she didn’t need the evidence of lean hips and powerfully muscled legs beneath the narrow trousers of his navy three-piece suit to guess who it was. She knew his identity immediately, and although she was forced to acknowledge him the look she cast towards his lazily enquiring face was almost insultingly brief.

  Happily, Phoebe had no such reservations. ‘Hey, Joe!’ she exclaimed, even though Olivia sensed she wasn’t altogether pleased at the interruption. ‘I thought
you were locked in high-level negotiations. Diane said that was why you couldn’t have breakfast with her.’

  ‘Does Diane tell you everything, Phoebs?’ he asked, and although he used what was obviously Diane’s name for her there was a certain trace of censure in his voice. Olivia knew he was looking down at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to face him. Which was ridiculous, she thought, when she ought to have been grateful that Diane and Richard were probably splitting up because of him.

  ‘Most things,’ Phoebe answered now, unconsciously giving Olivia a few more minutes’ grace. ‘I know she was disappointed,’ she added. ‘With you just getting back and all. Still, I guess you’ve got the weekend, don’t you? Plenty of time to catch up.’

  ‘It’s good to know you’ve got my weekend mapped out for me,’ he remarked silkily, but Olivia knew she wasn’t mistaken this time: he resented Phoebe’s remarks. The amazing thing was that Phoebe wasn’t aware of it. Or, if she was, she chose to ignore it in favour of Diane.

  ‘Hey, that’s what agents are for,’ she said now. ‘It’s my job to keep Diane happy. You can’t argue with that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to,’ he assured her drily. Then, as Olivia had known he would, he spoke to her. ‘It seems you’ve got the weekend off, Ms Pyatt.’

  Olivia nodded, and then, because it would have looked odd not to do so, she slanted a gaze up at him. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Um—Ms Isaacs has just offered to take me shopping on Rodeo Drive.’

  ‘Has she?’ His tawny gaze moved to Phoebe again, to her relief. ‘Well, you couldn’t be in safer hands,’ he remarked mockingly. ‘Apart from looking after her clients, there’s nothing Phoebs enjoys more than shopping.’ His hard face tightened for a moment. ‘It was—kind of Diane to make sure you weren’t—lonely. I guess this can be a strange and frightening place.’

  Olivia clasped her hands together in her lap. Once again, she had the distinct impression that what was being said wasn’t the same as what was meant. But she wasn’t in a position to query his comments. It was hard enough to think of a response.

  ‘I’m sure I’m going to enjoy my stay,’ she declared at last, stung into defending her ability to look after herself. For all she was obliged to acknowledge his concern, she wasn’t a child, and she resented being made to feel like one.

  ‘Of course you will,’ put in Phoebe before she could continue. ‘Diane and I are going to see to that. Don’t you worry about Olivia, Joe. We’ll see she doesn’t come to any harm.’

  Joe smiled then, a lazy, knowing smile which, even though Olivia could see had an element of cynicism in it, still had the power to curl her toes. ‘I’m sure you will,’ he agreed, checking his tie with one brown, long-fingered hand. ‘Well, as they say here, be happy!’ And, with a nod to both of them, he walked away.

  Olivia made the mistake of expelling the breath she had hardly been aware she was holding, and then wished she hadn’t when Phoebe’s sharp eyes registered her relief. ‘Does he make you nervous?’ she asked, watching her closely. ‘He’s a sexy hunk, isn’t he? One of a kind.’

  ‘Oh, really, I—’

  ‘You don’t have to be afraid to admit it.’ Phoebe shrugged her padded shoulders. ‘He affects me, too. I guess that’s why Diane’s crazy about him.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I’m sure you’ve realised that she and Ricky are all washed up.’

  ‘No, I—that is—’ Olivia took a moment to compose herself. ‘Are they?’ she asked, in a strangled voice.

  ‘Afraid so,’ said Phoebe ruefully. ‘Which is a pity. Ricky’s a nice guy. He just doesn’t have what it takes to hold Diane.’

  Olivia was tempted to say, Does anyone? But, remembering the way Diane had reacted to Joe Castellano, she held her tongue. ‘Um—maybe they’ll work things out,’ she said instead, trying not to look towards the exit where Joe and his party were just leaving. She dragged her eyes away. ‘She—must have loved him when she married him.’

  But once again Phoebe had noticed what Olivia was looking at, and after glancing over her shoulder she impaled the other woman with a sardonic look. ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘but that was a long time ago, you hear? She’s older now and—well, wouldn’t you choose Joe instead of Ricky—if you had the chance?’

  Olivia flushed and concentrated her attention on the table. ‘I really wouldn’t know,’ she demed, wishing Phoebe would go, too. Then, forcing a smile, she summoned the waiter. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘would you put Ms Isaacs’ coffee on my bill?’

  If she’d thought her action would shut Phoebe up, she was mistaken. ‘Why not?’ she drawled. ‘Let’s make Diane pay for my coffee, too.’ Then, as if sensing she’d gone too far, she opened her purse, took out a card, and pushed it across the table. ‘There, that’s my home number as well as the number of my office. If you need anything—anything at all—just give me a call.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Olivia took the card reluctantly, noting almost absently that Phoebe lived in the Westwood area of the city. She knew from the guidebooks she’d read that that was where most of the new Hollywood films were first shown. She wondered if that was why Phoebe had chosen to be an agent, or whether she’d really wanted to star in films herself.

  It wasn’t important, and Olivia was relieved when the woman pushed back her chair and got to her feet. For a few anxious moments, before Phoebe had given her her card, she’d been afraid she’d been appointed her watchdog. But no. It seemed that now Joe Castellano had gone Phoebe was perfectly happy to leave her to her own devices.

  ‘Have a nice day,’ she said, tucking her purse under her arm in a businesslike manner. ‘And if you do decide to leave the hotel, grab a cab.’

  Olivia breathed a sigh of relief when the woman left the restaurant, and after giving her time to clear the lobby she followed her out of the door. But the idea of sunbathing seemed to have lost its attraction, and she knew it was the knowledge that she was no longer her own mistress that was spoiling her day.

  Still, there was nothing she could do about it now, short of packing up and going back to London, and it was silly to let anything Phoebe had said distress her. For heaven’s sake, the woman was Diane’s agent. She was bound to be partisan. And she’d known Diane and Richard were having problems before she’d left England.

  Feeling more relaxed, she glanced around her. The early morning crowds were dispersing, and the boutiques that lined the corridor to the pool and leisure area were beginning to show signs of life. They wouldn’t open until later, but that didn’t stop her from window-shopping, admiring the silk scarves and exquisite items of jewellery that filled several of the displays.

  ‘You’ll have more choice on Rodeo Drive,’ remarked a voice that was becoming embarrassingly familiar to her. ‘Where’s Phoebs? Has she gone to summon Diane’s limousine? ’

  Olivia swung round. ‘Ms Isaacs has left,’ she declared politely. ‘I thought you would have, too, Mr Castellano. I saw—that is, Ms Isaacs mentioned that you were leaving about fifteen minutes ago.’

  ‘And you didn’t notice?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ Olivia held up her head. ‘Of course I did,’ she admitted, half afraid he’d seen her watching him. ‘But—I understood you had some business meetings to attend to.’

  ‘One business meeting,’ he corrected her drily. And you’ll have noticed that it’s over.’ He paused. ‘So you thought I’d left the building. Or was that what you were told? You know, I guess that’s what Phoebs thought, too.’

  Olivia stiffened at the implication. ‘If you think—’

  When she broke off, he regarded her enquiringly. ‘Yes? If I think what, Ms Pyatt? Finish what you were going to say.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ muttered Olivia unhappily, aware that she had been in danger of being indiscreet. ‘If—if you’ll excuse me, I’m going up to my room. I—er—I’ve got some work to do.’

  ‘Today?’ He sounded disbelieving, and she wondered why he was bothering to ask. It wasn’t as if it mattered to him
what she did.

  ‘Yes, today,’ she said firmly, and saw the cynicism that crossed his lean face at her words.

  ‘And, of course, you don’t mix business with pleasure,’ he taunted lazily, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets. He rocked back on his heels. ‘So there’s no point in me offering to take you out.’

  ‘To take me out?’ Olivia stared at him, aghast. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps you interest me.’ His brows lifted mockingly. ‘Perhaps I find your can-dour refreshingly—new.’

  ‘Don’t you mean gauche?’ she demanded, convinced now that he was only baiting her. ‘If I accepted your invitation, you’d run a mile.’

  ‘Well, I do that, too,’ he admitted modestly. ‘Exercise is good for the body.’

  Olivia sighed. ‘Where I come from, people say what they mean.’

  ‘But I am saying what I mean,’ he protested. ‘You intrigue me. You do. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite so intriguing before.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  He feigned hurt. ‘Why don’t you believe me?’ He paused. ‘Can’t we put the past behind us and start again?’

  ‘Start what again?’ Olivia shook her head. ‘This is just a game to you, isn’t it? Do you flirt with every woman who happens to cross your path? If you do, I can understand why Diane sent that Isaacs woman to keep an eye on you. She probably doesn’t trust you at all.’

  ‘No?’ His attractive mouth twisted. ‘And why should you say that unless you think I really am interested in you?’

  ‘I don’t—’ Olivia was embarrassed now, and she was sure she showed it. She glanced enviously towards the lifts. ‘Look, I’ve got to go.’

  ‘If you insist...’ He seemed to accept her ultimatum and she pressed her lips together nervously as she started across the foyer. ‘Oh, Olivia,’ he called, just before she pressed the button to summon the lift, and she turned apprehensively towards him. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’