Hollywood. What a splash they would make there together. He had never particularly wanted to do that before. Now it was different, because of Rosie. He longed to show her off. Once they were married he would give a party at the house; he’d never done that before either. He realized suddenly that he wanted to show off his house too, as long as Rosie was in it with him.
The waiter came and interrupted his thoughts when he asked what they would like as an aperitif.
Johnny looked across the table at Rosie. ‘Champagne?’
She nodded and smiled at him.
‘Bring a bottle of Dom Perignon, please,’ he said to the waiter, and then brought his eyes back to Rosie. She had picked up the menu the waiter had presented and, head bent, was reading it. He looked around, eyed the dining room where they were sitting. Le Voltaire was charming, intimate, with panelled walls, filled with mellow light, and although it was busy there was a certain calmness about the atmosphere that he liked. It was obviously a place dedicated to good food and wine, since there were no unnecessary folderols and no fancy decor. And the service was excellent.
Lifting her head, Rosie said, ‘I never know what to choose here, everything’s always so good.’
‘I’ll let you order for me. I’m only an expert when it comes to Italian food.’
‘I’ll be happy to, but let’s enjoy our drinks first,’ she said as the waiter returned to the table with the bucket of champagne.
Again they toasted each other, and then Johnny put his glass down and sat looking at her. It was impossible for him to keep his eyes away from her for very long.
Rosie wore a purple wool dress with a round neckline and long sleeves. Rather plain, he thought, but expertly tailored, and it accentuated her beautiful figure. The brilliant purple brought out the vivid green of her eyes, which were huge in her face.
‘You’ve been staring at me all evening, Johnny, and right now more than ever,’ she said quietly, leaning across the table. ‘What’s the matter? Do I have a smudge on my face or something?’
‘No, no. I was just thinking how great you looked, and admiring those pearls. They’re something else.’
‘Yes, aren’t they beautiful. Gavin gave them to me for Christmas.’
For the second time that evening Johnny experienced a violent stabbing sensation in his gut. He was aware that it was jealousy, even though this was an entirely new emotion for him. He couldn’t recall ever having been jealous in the past, not of anyone.
For a long moment Johnny Fortune could not speak, so amazed was he at his reaction: he was jealous of Gavin Ambrose. Unbelievable. He was momentarily thrown by this.
And then he worked a weak smile onto his face and said, ‘Good choice: they suit you.’
‘Thanks. Gavin always gives me a gift at the end of a picture.’
Johnny sipped the champagne and tried to push the jealousy to one side. ‘When does the new one start?’ he asked at last.
‘We go into preproduction in March, and since it’s such a big picture, and so costly because of the battle scenes, we’ll need about five months’ preproduction, perhaps longer. But Gavin hopes to start filming in August. He plans to do the exteriors first, while the weather’s good, and most of the interiors he’ll do later in the year. Others he’ll have to do as they come up. You see sometimes, when we have an actor only for four weeks, let’s say, we’ve got to shoot all of his or her stuff within that time frame.’ She picked up her glass, and smiled at him over the rim before taking a sip, then added, ‘This picture’s going to be a long shoot, in my opinion.’
To Johnny this sounded as if she was going to be tied up until the end of the year and his heart sank. He said, ‘When will you finish the costumes?’
‘I should have most of the designs completed by the end of April, early May at the latest. I’m ahead at the moment, and my two assistants will be coming over from London in a couple of weeks. They’ll be a great help to me, and they’ll be able to work on the less important costumes.’
‘I noticed that dress pinned onto the dummy in your studio. So, who makes all the costumes?’
‘Not me, thank God,’ she said, laughing. ‘Nor my two assistants. I use a number of seamstresses, and right now I’m pulling a pretty good team together here in Paris. A lot of the clothes for the extras, such as the soldiers in Napoleon’s army, we’ll hire from theatrical costumiers in Paris and London. And the dresses and accessories for the women extras as well. It would take forever if we had to design and make everything for everybody. I just concentrate on creating costumes for the principal characters.’
Although Johnny was somewhat disturbed that she would be involved and working on the movie for months on end, he was still interested enough to hear more. He asked, ‘Where will you be shooting?’
‘Various parts of France,’ she replied. ‘And in and around Paris. We’ll actually be based at Billancourt Studios here. Brian Ackland-Snow, our art director, will be building some of the sets out at the studios, but we’ll use some real houses and châteaux. And naturally we’ll film at Malmaison. The French Government’s already given permission.’
‘Malmaison?’ He frowned. ‘What’s that? Where’s that?’
‘It’s the château Napoleon bought for Josephine, their private home,’ she explained. ‘It’s just outside Paris, in Rueil, on the river Seine, about fifteen kilometres from here. It’s a museum now, and very beautiful. Would you like to see it, Johnny?’
Interested in museums he was not; on the other hand he would go anywhere if it meant he could spend time with her. And so he nodded quickly. ‘When do you want to take me? Tomorrow?’
‘If you’d like.’
‘Hey, that’s great, Rosie, and we’ll have lunch together. Is that okay?’
‘Yes. In the meantime, I think that perhaps we’d better order dinner. I’m getting slightly drunk on all this champagne.’
‘Anything you say, honey.’
‘Shall we start with a country pâté, and then have a grilled sole as the main course?’
‘You’re on, it sounds good.’
***
Later, as they ate the main course, Rosie remarked, ‘Nell told me that you brought quite a few people to Paris with you.’
‘Yep, I sure did. My personal assistant, Joe Anton. Kenny Crossland, who plays keyboard for me, and my manager, Jeff Smailes.’ He grinned at her. ‘There’s more of my group in London, but they wanted to stay put.’
‘And where are Joe, Kenny and Jeff tonight?’
‘Out on the town. Visiting a few of the famous Paris jazz joints.’
‘I bet they headed for the rue de la Huchette, there’re lots of terrific spots in that street, and in the whole area around the Boul Mich.’
He stared at her. A brow lifted quizzically.
‘Boulevard St Michel,’ she explained in answer to his unasked question.
Johnny nodded and reached for the glass of Montrachet. ‘Talking of the gang, have you ever been to one of my shows, Rosie?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. But I wish I had. I told you earlier, I love your voice, Johnny.’
‘How’d you like to come over to London next week? I’m doing a show at Wembley Arena.’
Rosie looked at him, not answering, full of sudden hesitation.
He said swiftly, ‘It’ll be no hassle. You can come with us on my plane on Monday morning. Or I’ll send the jet back for you later in the week. Say yes, Rosie. I’d love it, and so would you. It’ll be fun. And quite an experience, if you’ve never been to that kind of big, splashy concert.’
‘Yes, all right then, I’ll come,’ she said, making up her mind, smiling at him.
It was a smile that dazzled, and, before he could stop himself, he reached out, took hold of her hand resting on the table. ‘Don’t worry about a thing. Nell’s office’ll book a suite for you at my hotel. The Dorchester. And I can promise you a wonderful time.’
‘I’m sure you can, Johnny,’ she said. And then
she thought: I’m glad he invited me. I’m glad I’m going. I haven’t had any fun in years.
And deep down within herself Rosie knew that she and Johnny were going to become involved.
THIRTY-FOUR
It seemed to Rosie that Johnny Fortune had taken possession of her life. But then she had permitted it. She had been his willing accomplice.
Ever since their dinner at Le Voltaire on Tuesday he had been constantly at her side. After she had taken him out to visit Malmaison on Wednesday afternoon, he asked her to show him the side of Paris he had never seen on other trips he had made in the past. These had always been for his concerts and he had never had time to see the sights.
Rosie had used her imagination and selected places she thought he would enjoy. And they had had a wonderful few days, meandering around her favourite city, which she knew so intimately, eating lunch at a few choice bistros, and dinner at such five-star restaurants as Taillevent and Tour d’Argent. They had laughed together and found quite a lot to talk about. A nice camaraderie had developed between them.
But now on Friday lunchtime, as she sat opposite him in the Relais Plaza, Rosie could not help wondering what had wrought the change in Johnny. He seemed cool, distant, distracted, even a little morose; he was hardly speaking to her at all.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked at last, peering at him, a worried frown knotting her brows.
‘No,’ he answered in a low voice.
She leaned a little closer and spoke in as low a voice as he had. ‘Look, Johnny, I know something’s the matter. Please tell me what it is.’
He shook his head but said nothing.
‘Have I upset you in some way?’
‘Of course not.’ He offered her a faint smile, as if to reassure her of this.
‘You seem so sad, Johnny.’
Silently, he glanced away.
‘You’re not eating a thing,’ she persisted, trying to draw him out, wanting to force the issue, needing to force it, to get to the root of the problem.
‘I’m just not hungry, Rosie.’
She glanced down at her plate of scrambled eggs, which she had merely been picking at with a fork, and muttered, ‘Neither am I.’
Johnny looked at her plate, saw that she had not eaten much herself. He stared at her for the longest moment, his eyes riveted on her face, which, he suddenly noticed, was unusually pale.
He put his hand over hers resting on the table and held onto it tightly, so tightly his knuckles whitened with the pressure. Slowly, he nodded his head as if something had just dawned on him. He said, ‘Shall we go up to my suite… for coffee?’
‘Yes.’ She gazed back at him, returning the pressure of his fingers.
***
She was carrying her coat and he took it from her the moment they were inside the suite.
Their hands brushed, and they looked at each other swiftly. Johnny threw her coat down on the nearest chair impatiently. Rosie followed suit with her bag and gloves.
Johnny’s eyes did not leave hers. ‘I can’t eat because I can’t stand this torture much long—’
‘I know why you can’t eat, Johnny,’ Rosie interrupted in an undertone. ‘For the same reason that I can’t.’
They exchanged a glance of sudden intimacy, and then they were in each other’s arms, clinging to each other.
His mouth found hers at once, and he devoured it, kissing her over and over again. His tongue slid gently in between her lips, to touch her tongue, and it lingered there. Then his hands moved up underneath her sweater. He found the clasp on her bra and unfastened it. Bringing his hands round to the front of her body, he pushed the sweater and the bra up so that her breasts were released. They were full and beautiful. He lowered his head, sucked on one nipple and then the other, pushed her breasts together and nuzzled them before sinking onto his knees in front of her.
Unzipping her skirt, he let it fall to the floor around her feet. She stepped out of it, out of her shoes, and then stood motionless in front of him. She wore only panty hose and the dark V of her hair was visible through the delicate fabric. Resting his head against her stomach, he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her, the wonderful sexual scent of woman, a woman growing ripe with desire. He began to kiss her mound through the fabric, stroking her buttocks, then pressing them harder, bringing her body closer to his face. Vaguely, as if from far away, he heard a long sigh escaping from her.
Opening his eyes, Johnny stood up, took her in his arms again and held her close to him. With one hand he reached out, bolted the door, and without letting go of her he walked her towards the bedroom.
They paused in the doorway to kiss. And suddenly, in a swift movement Johnny put his hands under her thighs and lifted her up onto his body. Putting her arms around his neck, she straddled him and he carried her over to the bed in this way. Placing her on it, he pushed her back against the pillows and reached for the top of her panty hose, rolling them over her buttocks and pulling them off.
She shed her sweater herself and lay looking up at him as he flung his jacket on a chair and tore off his tie. Striding across the floor, he closed the bedroom door and walked back to her, unbuttoning his white shirt as he did.
Johnny stood looking down at her. She had a slender body which made her smooth, full breasts seem larger; the aureoles were a dark dusky pink around the tight little nipples. They were the most tantalizing breasts he had ever seen. He wanted to sink his face into them, nuzzle them, rest between them for ever.
After shedding the rest of his clothes, Johnny took hold of her hands and pulled her up into a sitting position, gently easing her off the bed. He drew her towards him, brought her into his arms, smoothing one hand down her spine as he did, moving her against him so that she could feel him. He had an enormous erection, and he wanted her to understand how much he desired her. He was sick with desire, and had been for days. The agony of wanting her had grown unendurable; he was ready to explode. First kissing her mouth and then her neck, he bent his head to suck and fondle her breasts.
Rosie was trembling in his arms, and as Johnny moved his body against hers, stroked her and lavished her with kisses, she felt her legs start to shake. A lovely warmth was spreading through her loins, into the innermost core of her. It was an extraordinary sensation, one she had not experienced for a long time, ever since her marriage had foundered, and she had thought she would never feel this way again. But she did. Here and now with Johnny Fortune. He was handsome, loving and warm, and she wanted him as much as he wanted her, had wanted him ever since their dinner at Le Voltaire. In fact, she had been waiting for him to make a move, longing for him to kiss her, to make love with her.
Johnny was so aroused now, his desire was exciting her more than ever. Running her hands down his back, she let them rest on his buttocks, stroking them, and then increased her pressure. He lifted his head from her breasts and began to kiss her, his tongue slipping in and out of her mouth in the most sensual way. She ran her hands up his back and onto his shoulders, gripped them, let her fingers slide onto the nape of his neck and up into his hair. Their mouths were locked; they were welded together.
A moment later Johnny was pulling the coverlet off the bed and pressing her down onto the sheets. Bending over her, he whispered against her face, ‘Don’t leave,’ and disappeared into the bathroom.
Rosie lay still, her eyes closed, waiting for him to return. Her emotions were running high, all of her senses were clamouring for him. She was aflame.
There was a slight sound.
Opening her eyes, she saw that he was closing the curtains, shutting out the sunlight. As he turned around and walked towards her she saw how big he was and she shivered involuntarily. Then she realized he had gone into the bathroom to put on some protection.
Touching her face lightly, half smiling at her, he lay down on the bed and took her in his arms, covering her face with kisses. His hands were wandering all over her body, stroking, fondling, exploring, learning every bit of her.
Slowly, tenderly, his fingers slipped down between her thighs, and he found the core of her and soon was arousing her to fever pitch.
Unexpectedly and without any warning, Johnny pushed himself on top of her and entered her quickly, almost roughly, and she stiffened, nearly exclaimed in pain and managed to stifle the cry in her throat.
Pushing his hands under her, he lifted her body closer to his, plunged deeper into her and still deeper, until she thought he was touching her heart. Clinging to him, she found his rhythm and they moved in unison, relentlessly so, full of longing and need, desperate to satisfy their own desires as well as each other’s.
Rosie felt herself growing more moist and soft. Opening to him, she accepted all of him inside her. In a sudden rush of movement against her, as his rhythm accelerated, Johnny cried out her name, urged her to come, to give herself to him. And she did. His name was on her lips as they climaxed together.
He sank down on top of her like a dead weight with his face against her breasts. He lay like this for a while.
Eventually a deep laugh rippled through Johnny. He began to shake.
‘What is it?’ Rosie asked, sounding baffled, touching his shoulder lightly.
He lifted his face, and still laughing, he explained, ‘It’s not supposed to be like this, honey. You know, so good the first time.’ He shook his head. ‘We’re supposed to get to know each other, babe…’
Rosie also laughed, and smoothed his blondish hair away from his face. But she made no comment.
Johnny pushed himself off her body carefully, muttering half to himself, ‘I gotta get rid of this lousy thing,’ and disappeared into the bathroom.
Then he was back on the bed, stretching out next to her. Propping himself up on one elbow, he gazed down into her eyes, moved a strand of hair away from her brow and kissed the tip of her nose.
‘We’re good together, Rosie, really great. I hope you’re gonna stick around.’
‘Of course I am. You’ve got to feed me before I leave.’
‘I didn’t mean now. I meant stick around for… you know, a while.’ He wanted to say for ever, but he did not dare. Not yet, at least. He was aware that he had to go slowly with her. He didn’t mind. After all, he was playing for keeps.