Carole Mortimer - The One And Only

Joy came to an abrupt halt in climbing out of the taxi. ‘What photographs?’ She looked at him sharply.

He shrugged, still glowering. ‘It’s part of the competition prize, Joy,’ he explained badtemperedly, obviously wishing he had stayed well away from the whole venture. ‘Publicity for the magazine. Photographs of me with the competition winner,’ he continued as she still looked at him blankly.

Casey had forgotten to mention any photographs! Well, over her dead body was she posing for photographs with this man so that all the magazine readers could drool over them curiously; every one of those women was welcome to Danny Eames as far as she was concerned.

‘See you, Danny,’ she told him non-committally, having no intention of being anywhere near the hotel tomorrow afternoon. Photographs, indeed! God, how humiliating.

‘We have two messages for you, Miss Simms,’ the receptionist of the hotel told her brightly when she collected her key.

Her heart leapt; surely Marcus hadn’t found her already? No, of course he hadn’t, she told herself self-derisively. There was no way he could find out which hotel she was staying at. And she was sure she could trust Danny not to tell the other man; after all, neither of them wanted Marcus to know of the competition.

‘A message from a photographer about tomorrow afternoon,’ the receptionist told her lightly, only raising her eyebrows slightly as Joy took the piece of paper with that message on and screwed it up into a hall. ‘And the other is that a Mr Simms rang at about one-fifteen,’ she smiled. ‘He said he would ring again.’

‘When?’ Joy asked abruptly, wanting a word with Casey herself.

‘He didn’t specify a time,’ the young receptionist told her apologetically.

Joy just bet he hadn’t. Damn Casey. And she didn’t need two guesses as to why he had telephoned at all; he wanted to know how she had got on with her date with Danny Eames. And as she hadn’t even been back in the hotel an hour ago, when he had rung, his imagination was probably working overtime. Damn Casey! Damn Danny Eames! And, most of all, damn Marcus Ballantyne!

Because for a brief time tonight her control had slipped completely—and he had been the cause of it…

The insistent knocking finally broke through the deep realms of her sleep-muddled brain, Joy coming awake with a resistant groan. Who could be calling on her at this time of the morning…? Oh, God— a glance at the illuminated bedside clock had shown her that it was only just still morning, the clock reading eleven-fifty. Of course, it had taken her hours to fall asleep after her eventful evening, and it had already been late when she had got in, but—

The loud knocking sounded again on the door of her suite. Perhaps there was a fire? Perhaps… It was no good sitting here wondering, she had to put on her dressing-gown and go and see who it was. Only it wasn’t her dressing-gown at all, she realised with a groan as she pulled on the grey silk robe that Lisa had lent her, along with everything else she was to wear this week. Oh, well, she was sure the staff in this hotel were used to seeing people dressed—or undressed—in all sorts of clothes.

She stumbled out of the bedroom into the lounge, noticing as she did so that the dress she had worn the night before was draped across one of the armchairs. She had undressed on her way to the bedroom when she got in last night, had just wanted to fall into bed when she got there. And then she had lain awake for hours…

Danny Eames stood outside her door, the disgruntled look on his face from the night before still there. What did he want now? It was far too early for—

‘I knew you weren’t going to be ready,’ he said impatiently, shouldering his way into the room. ‘You aren’t even dressed!’ he added disgustedly.

Joy frowned at him, completely unconcerned by the fact that she wasn’t dressed; he shouldn’t even be here, let alone criticising her appearance. ‘What do you want, Danny?’ she asked wearily.

‘We’re all waiting for you downstairs,’ he told her irritably. ‘We have been for the last fifteen minutes.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Twenty, now!’

She shook her head. ‘You’ve lost me, Danny.’ She sighed her own impatience; she was hardly in a mood to deal with riddles. ‘Who is waiting for me? And why?’ Not something else to do with this competiton prize that she had no idea about?

‘Don’t tell me you didn’t get the message about the photographic session being brought forward to this morning, because Reception said they gave it to you when you got in last night!’ He scowled. ‘Some of us have had to change filming schedules to get here on time, and you couldn’t even be bothered to get out of bed!’

She ignored the last accusation, concentrating on what he had said about the photographic session, remembering the message from the magazine that had been waiting for her last night—a message she had screwed up to throw in the bin when she got into her suite. She had assumed it was just a reminder for her to be there, not an adjustment of the time.

‘I…forgot to read the message,’ she admitted with a self-conscious grimace.

‘Forgot!’ Blue eyes blazed Danny’s displeasure. ‘Oh, never mind,’ he dismissed with an impatient shake of his head. ‘Just get dressed now and—’ He broke off as there was another knock on the door. ‘I told them I would come and find you.’ He glared in the direction of the suite door. ‘Just in case you…weren’t alone,’ he added with a shrug, seeming to take in her completely dishevelled appearance for the first time. ‘You are alone, aren’t you?’ He gave a questioning look in the direction of the bedroom.

Joy had been having trouble following his conversation—the unaccustomed wine the night before, followed by her inability to get to sleep, and then falling into a deep sleep and being woken so suddenly, were not conducive to clear thinking. But the meaning of his last comment was unmistakable.

‘Of course I’m alone,’ she snapped.

Danny gave a mocking nod of his head. ‘I wasn’t sure whether Marcus might have paid you a latenight call.’

She knew exactly what he had thought, had seen the way he had taken in her appearance, noted her dress from the night before thrown over the arm of the chair—and she didn’t in the least like the assumption he had made.

‘I should get that if I were you.’ Danny nodded in the direction of the door as the knock sounded yet again, throwing himself down into an armchair to watch her with some amusement. ‘You have some explaining to do,’ he added with satisfaction.

She had intended explaining nothing, hadn’t intended even to be here. She cursed herself for not reading that message from the magazine the night before; if she had, she would have made sure she was far away from the hotel this morning.

Her politely enquiring smile as she opened the door was frozen on her lips as she saw who her second visitor of the morning was. Marcus Ballantyne.

And as he looked past her into the room, to where Danny sat sprawled in an armchair, his gaze slowly returning to take in her own dishevelled appearance, it was obvious by the sudden hardening of that cobalt-blue gaze that he no longer believed either of their claims of an old friendship between them, but that he thought it was still very new!

‘SO, DANNY,’ Marcus drawled coldly, brushing past Joy as he strode uninvited into her hotel suite. The arm brushing against her caused Joy to take a step back, an action he acknowledged by the raising of one dark brow before he turned his attention back to the younger man. ‘This is the reason you’re too sick to be at work today!’ he taunted with hard scepticism.

Joy looked at Danny too, and noted the way his face suffused with colour at the sight of Marcus, the way he sat up guiltily. And no wonder! So much for the noble claim of changing work schedules to be here this morning; Danny had simply called in sick. And from the look on his face, if he hadn’t felt sick before he certainly did now.

Danny swallowed hard, his face pale now. ‘Joy and I…still had some catching up to do,’ he blurted out awkwardly.

Joy stared at him open-mouthed as he said exactly the thing to make the situation seem worse— and definitely different from what it actually was. Danny wasn’t just a bore, he was stupid too.

‘So I see,’ Marcus rasped harshly, his expression glacial now. ‘And did it occur to you, Danny—’ the words were bitten out like darts flying between the two men, each one making its target ‘—that you have inconvenienced a lot of other people today because of your supposed sickness? Including myself,’ he added softly. Too softly.

Danny gave a nervously dismissive smile. ‘You’re exaggerating, Marcus—’

‘Am I?’ the other man returned evenly, the calmness of his exterior belied by the blazing anger in his eyes. ‘I don’t think so, Danny,’ he bit out tautly. ‘As you must have known, we had to reschedule all this morning’s scenes. And all because you, apparently, couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed with your old friend Joy!’

She gasped her indignation at the accusation. How dared he? Who did he think he…? She bit her bottom lip in agitation as Marcus bent down to pick up the shimmering green dress she had been wearing the night before, looking at it scathingly before holding it out to her. Joy took the dress unthinkingly, clasping it to her, well aware herself now of exactly how damning this situation looked.

But she didn’t owe anyone an explanation—even if what Marcus was thinking about Danny and herself had been true. She could understand Marcus being annoyed with Danny for not being at work this morning, but on a personal basis it was none of his business whether Danny had spent the night here with her or not. And that was the only side of this that concerened her; Danny would have to get himself out of the other scrape he had got himself into.

‘I’m going to get dressed,’ she abruptly told no one in particular, looking at neither man as she walked towards the bedroom, hoping—she knew futilely—that both men would have left by the time she returned.

‘That might be a good idea,’ Marcus said coldly behind her.

Her back stiffened at the insult she could hear in his voice, and she quickly made good her escape into the bedroom. And it did feel like an escape; the air in the other room had been electric with angry disapproval. As had Marcus himself. She had no idea why he was here, how he had found her hotel, but she knew all three of them wished he hadn’t.

God, what a disaster! It was stupid of Danny to have told such a lie. Even more stupid of him to be caught out in it in such a way. And even more stupid than anything else to involve her in the lie in the way he had! Oh, she was involved, as far as being the winner of the competition went, but the impression he had given Marcus had been of something completely different between them.

And after all that she had said to Marcus the night before about Danny and her just being old friends. Maybe sometimes old friends did go to bed together, but she and Danny weren’t old anything; after the mess he had just made of things, she knew they never would be either. How on earth either of them was going to be able to talk themselves out of this one, she just didn’t know.

She felt decidedly more comfortable once she had dressed in close-fitting denims with a black jumper neatly tucked in at her narrow waist, brushed her hair loosely about her shoulders, and applied a light make-up to add some colour to her pale cheeks. She had a feeling she was going to need all the confidence she could muster to get through the next few minutes. Surely that was all it would take for Marcus to tell the two of them exactly what he thought of them—if he hadn’t already—and be on his way.