Wild Lady Part 11

"Yes, I suppose she is." She wondered if he realized the girl had a crush on him. "I'm sure she could be persuaded to stick around if you're a regular customer," she said, sucking in her cheeks.

He looked up, startled out of darker thoughts. "Me?" He suddenly realized what she meant. "For heaven's sake, Claudia, she's just a child."

"Old enough to think of leaving home. I would have said she was seventeen or eighteen." And right now bitterly regretting what she had done to her hair.

"Eighteen, I think. I'm certainly old enough to be her father."

As if that made any difference. "Then it's a pity you haven't had the decency to go bald, or lose your teeth, or run to fat," she told him. "As it is I'm afraid that to a susceptible girl you're probably the most dangerous kind of man there is."

"Dangerous?" he growled, turning on her. "What the h.e.l.l do you mean by that?"

"For heaven's sake, Mac, calm down. I didn't mean anything sordid. It's just that she's a romantic teenager. Your age, your experience will be half the attraction for a girl of her age. And you have the kind of lived-in face that some girls seem to find irresistible."

She didn't say they were crazy, she didn't have to, her voice did it for her. Mac didn't seem to notice any insult, he was too intent on dismissing her theory as madness. His lack of vanity was rather endearing, Claudia thought, but she didn't make the mistake of telling him so.

"Beauty and the beast is an enduring fantasy," she a.s.sured him. "Kiss the frog and find the prince ... you know the sort of thing."

"I'm beginning to get the picture. Which am I, the beast or the frog?"

"Take your pick. Then, of course, you're a widower. Hurt, suffering, a man in need of the most tender, loving care. What spotty youth could possibly compete with all that?"

"You're serious aren't you?"

"Trust me, I'm a woman. I know these things."

"I've got a gammy knee," he offered.

"It doesn't show."

"You've caught me on a good week."

"And stops you parachuting for the pure pleasure of flying through the sky?" Claudia recalled his intensity as he had described the sensation to her.

Mac apparently did not wish to discuss his injury. "I've still got a stick in the car if you think it would help -"

"Good grief, no," she exclaimed. "That would just make you seem even more glamorous to an impressionable teenager."

"Glamorous? For goodness sake, Claudia, you're being ridiculous -" he began, but she cut him off.

"Glamour is all in the eye of the beholder. Believe me, Mac, I was eighteen myself once and I had a crush on an actor who was even older than you."

"Did he have a limp?" he asked, sourly.

"No, he didn't limp, but he wore a patch over one eye. Just for the part he was playing at the time. A black patch. It made him utterly irresistible." A fact he knew and exploited to the full. Why else would he have worn the thing when he wasn't on stage...

"Did it?" Mac wasn't impressed. "Well I don't suppose you tried very hard."

He had an almost uncanny ability to find the weak spots in her armor, Claudia realized, which was odd, because she didn't think she had any. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had hurt her with his careless remark.

Instead she tutted, gently. "I thought you were trying to keep personal remarks out of this relations.h.i.+p, Mac. That wasn't very businesslike."

He dragged his hand through his hair. "No. I'm sorry."

An apology? He could take her by surprise too. But Claudia had a use for his unexpected vulnerability.

"You're right of course. I didn't resist at all; in fact I'm afraid I rather threw myself at him. I suppose I must have been a tremendous nuisance, but he relieved me of my virginity with the stylish elegance and skill that any eighteen-year-old would be grateful for." She raised her lashes and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm sure you would earn Heather's undying grat.i.tude if you -"

"Don't you dare say it!" he warned her.

"You're not the tiniest bit tempted?"

His brows shot up. "You're not serious?"

"Actually in your case, no. You'd feel so guilty that you'd feel you had to marry the child and that would be a disaster." Claudia eyed him over the rim of her gla.s.s. She felt sorry for Heather, but that kind of agony was part of growing up, something to be got through. She had implied that her actor had done her a favor, but a true gallant would have laughed at her precociousness, been cruel to be kind. Mac would probably react by staying away from his friends, which wouldn't be good for any of them.

She reached out and touched his face with the tips of her fingers. It was hard bone and she could feel the stubble that already shadowed his jaw. He turned to the gentle pressure of her fingers then, as their eyes met, became very still, as if the slightest movement would be a risk.

"What about me, Mac? Are you tempted by me?" He didn't answer. "Would you kiss me if I asked you to?"

"Why would you do that?" She didn't answer.

"The last couple of times you didn't seem terribly keen." His voice was gravelly, just a little ragged.

"Three's a charm," she murmured and sliding her fingers into the crisp, close cut hair, she leaned into him so that the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s brushed against his arm. "Try it and see." And she closed her eyes.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

FOR a moment nothing happened. It seemed she had hung herself out on the was.h.i.+ng line and he was leaving her there to dry. Then his lips touched hers, his mouth extraordinarily gentle as it moved over her own, asking questions to which she had no answers. Quite without warning, what had been nothing more than a skilled performance, a scene acted out for the benefit of the girl watching them from the window, became more. Much more.

Claudia found herself the victim of her own trap as her body was invaded by a delicious weakness, a barely remembered yearning that had too much in common with Heather's adolescent fantasies for comfort. As Mac raised his hand to cradle the back of her head, to hold her, claim her, she recognized a very real hunger to be loved.

She had thought she was totally in control of the situation, she was always in control, but as Mac deepened a kiss that was beginning to spiral out of control, she was seized by an almost forgotten blissful feeling of vulnerability ...

A sudden crash behind them put an abrupt halt to the moment as he released her and swung round, startled.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?"

Claudia opened her eyes with the tiniest of sighs. "I'm rather afraid it was the sound of Heather's heart breaking."

He swiveled back to face her. "She was watching us?"

"She was clearing the table in the window," she admitted.

He stared at her for a moment then looked back towards the pub but the girl had disappeared. "That was a pretty cruel trick -"

"Possibly, but it was kinder than leaving her yearning hopelessly for something she can't have, don't you think?" She was distinctly irritable on her own account. She wasn't much given to hopeless yearnings and it was disconcerting to be caught out by one. "Or were you getting to like the idea?" she added, unkindly.

"Don't be ridiculous. She's a child."

"No. She's not a child." Heather was feeling the kind of pain that every woman went through and right at that moment Claudia had more sympathy with the girl than she would have believed possible. "Don't worry, Mac. She'll go and have a good cry; she might even tattoo my name on an old Barbie doll and stick pins in it. Then she'll realize that you're having fun while she's being miserable so she'll decide to make you jealous by flirting with some local boy. With any luck he'll flirt back. And that's the way the world goes round." She felt him relax slightly. "But I warn you, if she tips soup in my lap you'll get the cleaning bill."

He grinned. "It might be a good idea to avoid the soup."

She grinned back. "Cheapskate."

"Actually, I was thinking of you. Heather doesn't do things by half. It would be scalding." He looked up as Diana put her head around the door. "Are you ready for us, Di?"

"Any time you like, Mac."

He stood up and offered Claudia his hand. "What do you say? Are you prepared to risk it?"

"I'll have to, or faint from lack of nourishment."

Diana led them to the table that Heather had been working on. "Have you decided what you want?"

"Oh, no. I'm sorry." Claudia looked up from the noticeable damp patch on the carpet. "I'm afraid I've been too busy admiring the view. It reminds me of something..." She glanced out of the window to the village green.

"It is lovely isn't it?" Diana smiled at her. A genuine smile full of warmth. And she felt slightly ashamed of her earlier suspicion that the mother, like the daughter harbored fantasies about Mac.

"Have I seen it on the television? It's like something that might have been used for one of those dreamy pre-war family -" Claudia stopped. She suddenly knew what it reminded her of. She'd been reading the script of the television film her father was planning to produce in the autumn. This village would make the perfect location. "Has it ever been used for filming?" she asked.

"Not that I've ever heard of. Now that would be good for business." Then she sighed. "Not that everyone appreciates living in rural tranquillity. Heather can't wait to get away to university in October."

"What's she going to read?" Claudia asked.

"English and drama. I think she's probably kicking herself for being so rude to you. I'm sure she'd love to talk to you about working on the stage."

"If she can come up to town one day tell her to give me a ring and I'll be happy to show her around the theater. In fact why don't to come with her and you can both stay and see the play ... although I don't suppose it's likely to be Heather's cup of tea."

"Maybe not, but it's certainly mine," Diana said. "Mark and I used to go to the theater all the time."

"Don't leave it too long."

"I won't." Diana gave a little sniff. "I'll send one of the girls over in a minute to take your order. Excuse me."

"Oh, lord," Claudia remarked, as Diana hurried away, "I'm afraid she's going to cry. I haven't done much for Diana or Heather have I?"

"I can't speak for Heather, but Diana likes to talk about Mark. Remembering him, remembering the good times we all had together keeps him alive for her."

His forehead creased slightly and Claudia wondered if it worked two ways, Diana was someone who knew his wife, someone he could talk to about "the good times", while she knew nothing, not even her name.

""It's good too talk?"" Claudia murmured, just a touch wryly.

"Doesn't your father talk about your mother?" Mac asked.

Claudia retreated, her insides contracting as they always did when she thought of her mother. "He prefers not to," she said and s.h.i.+fted her attention to the menu.

"It's a mistake to bottle up feelings. They can choke you."

That rather depended on the feelings, Claudia thought. Some things were better left unsaid. "I think I'll have the avocado salad and then chicken in a leek sauce with baby vegetables," she said, pointedly changing the subject on her own account.

He ordered for both of them. Then he sat back and looked at her across the table. "Tell me about your mother."

Everyone wanted to talk about her mother. "Why? You might be old enough to be Heather's father but you're a bit on the young side to have been one of Elaine French's besotted admirers."

"Perhaps, but I did see her perform once." She didn't encourage him. "On a school trip to see Anthony and Cleopatra."

"My father played Anthony, he's a pretty good actor too. Why don't we talk about him?"

"Another time. I'm particularly interested in your mother because although you've gone out of your way to trade on your likeness to her, even to the extent of recreating one of her most famous roles, you seem to resent her so much."

Claudia's hands tightened momentarily in her lap. Then she forced herself to relax, smile. Normally it was easy. Easy to bury the more searching questions beneath all the well-known foibles of a star. Like the fact that she would only accept perfect white roses from husband and admirers alike. That her scent was made for her by an adoring perfumer who burned his blending notes on the day she died and scattered the ashes on her grave. That her contracts always included a clause that her costumes were her own personal property and would leave the theater with her, never to be used by another actress. Somehow facing Gabriel MacIntyre's searching blue eyes she wanted to say much more. "You said it, Mac. She's a hard act to follow."

"Then why bother? You don't need a second hand ident.i.ty."

"It was rather thrust on me. Sometimes I think that it's all I'll ever have. Years from now some stone mason will chisel it on my headstone. Here lies Elaine French's daughter." She shrugged. "She had me trained from my cradle to be exactly like her."

"Just you? Not Fizz?"

At least he hadn't told her she was being stupid. Paranoid. "Fizz was never really like our mother. Oh, don't get me wrong. She went through the motions, in fact she was tremendously talented, a naturally gifted actress, but somehow she was never quite as dazzled by it all as I was." Claudia gave a little shrug. "Just as well, if she had, I wouldn't just be Elaine French's daughter, I'd be Felicity Beaumont's sister as well."

"I'm sure you underrate yourself."

"No, it's true. She had that something extra. She didn't rely on technique."

"So why is she running a radio station?"

"She had a bad experience right at the start of her career and I guess she saw it all for what it was. So she stepped back, let it go. For a long time I thought she had made a mistake. Now I'm not so sure." She gave an awkward little shrug. "I'm not deliberately trading on the likeness to my mother, Mac. I did Private Lives for Fizz."

"Oh?" He sounded just a touch skeptical, as if he doubted her capable of an unselfish act. She stabbed at her salad with a fork and he caught her wrist. "I'm sorry, Claudia. Tell me about it. Please."

Claudia flickered a glance at him, uncertain of his motives. But he seemed sincere enough. "Fizz and Luke had the most enormous row after Dad collapsed from exhaustion back in March. The doctors said it was stress-related and she blamed Luke for it."

"Why?"

"Oh, it was all to do with Melanie. Anyway, she wouldn't see him, speak to him, even tell him that she was expecting his baby."

"Wouldn't he have noticed, sooner or later?"

"Well, no. That was the problem. When Fizz sent him about his business he went off to Australia to lick his wounds out in the outback somewhere. And she wouldn't let anyone else tell him. She was hurting so much that we didn't dare take the risk of defying her."

"So, how did Private Lives help?" Mac prompted, when she seemed reluctant to continue.