"The hell you were. You once accused me of using you, but I believe you take that prize. I was a babe in arms compared to you." She held up her hand as he started to speak. "Oh, you gave me fair warning. In fact, at first I blamed myself for being foolish enough not to heed you." She gazed at him directly. "But then I realized you knew I wouldn't pay any attention to warnings, Jason. You knew me. You're such a clever man, and you knew it was perfectly safe to take anything you wanted and still feel self-righteous about it."
"I hope I was never self-righteous."
"But you admit you knew I wasn't in your league."
He smiled faintly. "On the contrary, you were way out of my league."
She shook her head. "I was clay in your hands. You mesmerized me."
"You're speaking in the past tense." His voice was mocking. "Are you telling me you've recovered from my so-called Rasputin maneuvers?"
She nodded. "I woke up when Charlie died."
His smile disappeared. "I wanted to be with you, but I—"
"Don't lie." Her voice was shaking, and she tried to steady it. "If you'd wanted to be there, you would have come. You knew what you did to me that night, and then to come home and fine Charlie—" She had to stop as that memory rushed back to her. "I was bleeding inside and you let me face it alone." She stared at him defiantly. "Well, I faced it and I learned from it."
"That I'm a bastard?"
"No," she said quietly. "That I was a fool to think you could really care about me."
He looked as if she had struck him. "You weren't a fool."
She felt the tears stinging her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "A blind fool." She blinked back the tears and smiled bitterly at him. "I didn't even realize you were one of the tigers, Jason."
"I'm not, dammit." His lips twisted as if in pain. "I've always wanted to help you."
"Oh, yes, you want to make me a star." She shrugged. "Well, you're doing that, aren't you? And you're getting what you want at the same time. Clever, Jason." She swallowed hard to rid her voice of huskiness. "However, I'm glad you waited. I wanted to talk to you."
"I think you've said enough. I'm still writhing under the lash."
"Did you receive the portrait I sent you?"
He stiffened warily. "Yes."
"I want to buy it back from you."
"It's not for sale."
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Charlie's will probably wasn't even legal. I didn't have to send the picture to you."
"But you're a woman of honor, and Charlie wanted me to have it."
She gestured impatiently. "It was an impulse. He scarcely knew you. I know he wanted me to have that portrait."
"I think he had a reason for giving it to me."
She laughed shakily. "He gave it to you because he thought I was in love with you. Wasn't that silly?"
"Very silly." His voice was hoarse. "But you still can't have the portrait. I have plans for it."
"Dammit, it means something to me."
"It meant something to Charlie too."
"This isn't easy for me." She closed her eyes and whispered, "Please. Let me buy it from you. It's all I have of him."
"Daisy, don't you know I want—" He broke off and then said. "I can't do it."
Her lids flicked open and she gazed at him with eyes glittering with tears. "Dear heaven, you're cruel."
His face was pale as he nodded slowly. "Yes."
She made a low sound as she started past him. "Now that we've established that fact, you'll have to excuse me. Kevin is waiting and I—"
"Let him wait." His tone was suddenly fierce. "What the hell is Billings to you?"
"Anything I want him to be." She opened the stage door. "And none of your business."
"That's what I told myself." He grasped her elbow to help her down the step to the concrete landing.
At his touch, erotic heat stroked through her. Her gaze flew to meet his.
He smiled with savage satisfaction. "You see? He'll bore you. You're too much alike. All that sweetness and light will give you indigestion."
"Maybe I like sweetness and light. There's certainly nothing wrong with it."
The fierceness in his expression was replaced by an unutterable weariness. "No, there's nothing
wrong with it. It's normal and nourishing and safe. Stick to it, Daisy, and don't let anyone talk you into anything else."
His abrupt about-face caught her off guard. "Not even you?"
"Especially not me. We've already established what a self-serving bastard I am. Why should you make me an— What the hell!"
A blinding flash of light had illuminated the darkness, and brilliant dots danced before Daisy's eyes.
As she closed her eyelids tightly for an instant she heard a low, triumphant laugh and the pounding of feet on the concrete of the alley.
"Damn him!" Jason released her arm and ran down the steps and chased after the shadowy figure bolting toward the street.
"What's he in such a fit about?" Kevin strolled out of the shadows at the foot of the steps. "It's only a picture. He got a shot of me too."
A flashbulb, Daisy realized with relief. Just a fan taking pictures. "What a persevering camera bug. It's nearly one in the morning."
Kevin shrugged. "It happens all the time here. If they get a good enough shot, sometimes they can sell it to the tabloids for a nice piece of change. A photo of you and me wouldn't pull in much loot, but a picture of Hayes might bring in a bundle." Speculatively, he looked toward Jason's running figure. "He was really mad. I wouldn't like to be in that guy's shoes when Hayes catches up to him."
"He won't hurt him," Daisy said quickly.
"How do you know?" Kevin's gaze shifted back to her face. "I thought you said you didn't know him."
"I know him well enough to be sure he wouldn't hurt somebody who couldn't defend himself." Kevin was still looking at her curiously, and she hurriedly changed the subject. "Where are we going for this fabulous chili?"
"Acapulco Sam's. Do you think we should wait around and see if Hayes catches the shutterbug?"
"No, he won't expect me to wait. We'd finished our conversation."
"Good. Then chili ho." He took her arm and gently propelled her toward the street. "Guaranteed to burn your taste buds to death and send them to heaven."
"Do they have anything tamer? I've had my fill of exotic dishes."
"Have you?" Kevin's expression became arrested and his gaze returned to the place at the end of the alley where Jason had disappeared. "Then we'll have to find you something that isn't quite so stimulating, won't we?"
Seven
Twenty minutes later Jason burst into the office on the top floor of the theater, where Eric was bent going over the costume accounts. "Someone snapped a picture of Daisy and me in the alley tonight."
"Damn." Eric straightened upright in his chair. "Did you get the film?"
"I couldn't catch him. The bastard was as fast as an Olympic runner." Jason paused. "You'll have to kill the picture."
Eric shook his head. "How the hell am I supposed to do that? You don't even know what rag it's going to be sold to."
"Phone around to the different tabloids and offer double for the picture if it shows up."
'Their circulation figures are usually more important to them than our cash."
Jason threw himself in the visitor's chair beside the desk. "I have to get that picture, dammit."
"Easy. Maybe it was just an over enthusiastic fan."
"At one in the morning?"
"Well, we don't know that—"
"I can't take the chance." Jason wearily leaned his head on his hand. "I shouldn't have come. I was stupid to run the risk. How self-indulgent can a man get?"
"I'm the one who sent up the red flare."
"It's no one's fault but mine. I didn't have to listen to you. I knew the dangers. I shouldn't have come."
Eric gazed at him curiously. "Why did you? I didn't really expect you to show up here toni
ght no matter now much hot water we were in with the scene."
Jason didn't answer for a moment. "I couldn't stay away."
"What?"
"It was an excuse. I wanted to hear her sing my song."
Eric nodded understandings "The creative demon raising its pesky head."
"No." Jason got jerkily to his feet and strode toward the door. "Daisy."
"I don't understand wh—" Eric broke off, gave a low whistle, and nodded slowly. "I guess I was afraid of this. The signs were all there. I just didn't want to see them."
"No more than I." Jason's laugh held a thread of desperation. "Get that picture, Eric."
The next moment the door closed behind him.
Three days later the phone rang six times before Daisy was fully awake and another two before she managed to get out of bed and stumble to the phone on the kitchen bar across the studio apartment.
"Hello," she croaked.
"Daisy?" Eric's tone was carefully casual. "Everything okay?"
"No," Daisy muttered sleepily. "I'm definitely not okay. I'm awake when I should be asleep. I didn't get to bed until three o'clock this morning and my idiot producer is calling me on the telephone in the middle of the night."
"It's eight in the morning. I warned you Jason was a terror."
"I'm not complaining. I'm too tired to complain. What do you want, Eric?"
"When are you leaving for the theater?"
"Eleven. Why? Has Joel pushed up the rehearsal time?"
"No." Eric paused. "I've got some business in your neighborhood, and I thought I'd pick you up and drive you to the theater. I'll be there at ten forty-five."
"Okay. May I go back to sleep now?"
"Sure." Eric hesitated. "Is your door locked?"
"Eric ..."
"Just checking. New York isn't Geneva."
"You and Peg gave me that lecture the first day I came to the big, bad city."
"It can be bad, Daisy," Eric said soberly. "Never doubt it. 111 see you soon."
Daisy hung up the phone and stumbled sluggishly back to the bed across the room. Eric's entire conversation had been puzzling and completely out of character, but she was too tired to analyze it now. She had at least one more precious hour of sleep before she had to get up and face getting ready for another exhausting day of rehearsals.
She got back into bed and pulled the covers up around her, wondering drowsily what business Eric had in this part of town.
"I thought you should see this trash." Eric tossed a newspaper carelessly onto the coffee table. "But don't pay any attention to it. It's strictly yellow journalism."
Daisy picked up the newspaper and unfolded the tabloid she had often seen on the checkout counter at the supermarket near her small apartment. Jason and her own face stared up at her from the front page. In the photograph they were gazing at each other with an identical expression that held a sensual intimacy that startled her. Dear heaven, had she actually let Jason see that look of desire and total absorption on her face? She felt suddenly stripped, naked before the world. Another shock jolted through her as she saw the headline over the picture.
Hayes and New Star Make Sweet Music Together.
"What a nauseating play on words," she said dully. "Kevin said the picture might be sold to the tabloids."
"I tried to track it down and stop it." Eric shrugged. "But no deal."
"It seems fairly innocuous." Daisy swiftly scanned the story. "At least, it doesn't claim we're sharing a cozy penthouse somewhere."
"The tabloids have been sued so often, they try to avoid blatant libel." He paused. "But they've managed to place you both in Geneva at the same time."
Daisy looked up from the newspaper. "You're really worried about this, aren't you? Will it hurt ticket sales?"
Eric shook his head. "We're already sold out for the first eight months. A little scandal will just send sales skyrocketing."
Daisy disdainfully tossed the newspaper back on the coffee table. "Then I refuse to worry about it. Joel gives me enough headaches without paying attention to this garbage."
"Very sensible," Eric said, relieved. "I just thought you'd want to know." He took her elbow and urged her toward the door. "Now we can forget about it." He didn't look at her as he opened the door. "By the way, Peg wants you to come and stay with us for a few days." She looked at him in surprise. "Why on earth?" "Why not? I thought you liked Peg." "You know I do." She shook her head. "But with the way rehearsals are running, I can't commute from Long Island to Manhattan at all hours." "Sure you can. We'll just put a limousine at your disposal." He grinned. "Every star should have a limousine." "I'm not a star."
"You will be in two weeks." Eric closed and locked the door before handing her the key. "Live the role."
"Maybe when I have the credentials as well as the title." Daisy shook her head. "Tell Peg I appreciate the offer, but it will really be more convenient for me to stay here until the play opens." "Daisy, I believe you should—" He broke off, his lips twisting ruefully. "I didn't think I'd be able to persuade you, but I thought I'd give it a shot." He took her elbow and started down the flight of stairs. "But with the tabloid boys on your trail, at least let me stick around and beat them off with a stick."
She looked at him in surprise. "Is this what all your concern and the invitation is about? Aren't you lending this story too much importance?"
"Maybe." He smiled easily. "But I'd feel better if you'd' let me play Galahad. Guys like me don't get the chance very often."
"But I don't need ..." She saw the disappointment on his face and smiled gently. "I'm sure Peg sees you as Galahad."
"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, she does." His eyes twinkled. "But then, she's a lady of rare vision, and I feel the need for a wider audience." His expression sobered. "So let me pick you up and take you home until all this hullabaloo with the press dies down. Okay?"
She hesitated and then nodded. "Okay, but it isn't really necessary, Eric."
"I think it is." He paused. "And so does Jason." He felt the muscles of her arm stiffen beneath his grasp, and he looked down at her. "He wants to help you, Daisy. Don't shut him out."
"So he sent you to fill in for him again." Her lips twisted bitterly. "Just as he did when Charlie died." She strode on ahead of him, opened the front door, and went out onto the street. "I don't have to shut him out, Eric. He does it himself."
He muttered something beneath his breath and hurried after her.
"Eric, wait!"
Daisy turned to see a dark-haired woman in a red suit hurrying along the street toward them.
Appearing to be in her middle thirties, she had wide-set dark eyes, blue-black hair worn in a sleek chignon, and an exquisite madonnalike face that was at odds with her voluptuous body. She reminded Daisy of a flamboyant hibiscus; stunning, exotic, completely dazzling.
She heard Eric utter a soft curse.
The woman stopped before them and smiled sweetly. "Eric, it's so good to see you. We never seem to run into each other anymore."
"We move in different circles."
The woman nodded sadly. "But only because you and Jason close me out." She sighed. "How I miss the old days."
"We're in a hurry, Cynthia."
"Don't be rude," the woman chided, her magnificent black eyes shifting to Daisy. "Introduce me to your friend."
"I think you know who she is."
Her eyes widened innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Never mind." Eric said. "Daisy Justine, this is my stepsister, Cynthia Hayes."
Daisy's eyes widened in surprise. "How do you do?"
"Very well. I always make sure of that," Cynthia said with a brilliant smile. "I'm delighted to meet you." She wrinkled her nose. "Though I have to confess Eric was right. I did see that ghastly article in the Journal and had to come along and meet you."
"You shouldn't have bothered. The article was a pack of lies," Daisy said.
Cynthia's smile widened. "Oh, but there's usually a kernel of truth in every
lie." Her voiced lowered to dulcet sweetness. "And you're such a pretty little thing. I read that you grew up in Europe?"
"Switzerland."
"I've been skiing in St. Moritz." She paused. "I almost went to Geneva once, but I discovered it wasn't necessary."
"Come on, Daisy, we'll be late." Eric pushed Daisy toward the car at the curb. "Good-bye, Cynthia."
"I'll see you later." Cynthia stood watching them. "I wish you'd tell that tiresome man at the stage door to let me attend the rehearsals. I'd love to see this darling thing perform."
Eric stiffened. "The rehearsals are closed."
Cynthia's smile remained in place. "But then, they're always closed to me, aren't they? Jason never realizes how he hurts me when he does that."
Eric didn't answer as he hurriedly opened the passenger door for Daisy.
"It was very nice meeting you, Miss Hayes," Daisy said automatically as she got into the car.
"Cynthia. I'm sure we have far too much in common ever to be formal with each other." The brunette's smile took on added voltage. "And it's Mrs. Hayes. Didn't you know? I'm Jason's wife."
Daisy couldn't bring herself to speak until Eric had pulled away from the curb and driven over two blocks.
"He's . . . married?" She asked jerkily, looking straight ahead. How foolish to feel this hurt and betrayal when Jason and her own relationship was over.
"No," Eric said. "Not anymore. Not for a long time. Jason married Cynthia when he was nineteen and she was only seventeen. They were divorced two years later."
"She doesn't seem to remember that."
"Cynthia has always believed what she wants to believe."
"Then she must still care for him."
"As much as she can care about anyone."
She swallowed to ease the painful tightness of her throat. Cynthia Hayes had appeared very pleasant, but it was clear Eric had no use for her. Still, if the woman loved Jason, it was cruel to let her suffer. "Then perhaps I'd better pay her a visit to assure her that there's really nothing between Jason and me. Where does she live?"
"No!" She glanced at him in surprise at the violence in his voice, and he tempered his tone. "Jason wouldn't like you to interfere. Their relationship is . . . complicated. Stay away from her."