Red Rose For Love. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.
held out her hand pleadingly.
For a moment it seemed he was going to ignore that plea, then he relented and gave a rueful smile. ‘Our first argument.’ He shrugged. ‘Not bad after five years.’
‘I really am sorry,’ she bit her lip. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
‘Nerves,’ he dismissed. ‘Hurry and change, Eve. Only another hour to go and then you can sleep for twelve hours if you want to.’
‘Tomorrow’s rehearsal…?’
‘Forget it. You couldn’t be any better than you are right now. And I happen to think you need the rest more. Just get through this hour, Eve, and you can take tomorrow off.’
‘All right,’ she nodded, her smile bright, but that smile faded as she went back into her room.
She was trembling all over, her skin cold and clammy. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, and yet she knew she couldn’t let Derek down. Derek? Shouldn’t she be going through this gruelling torture for herself, and not because of loyalty to Derek?
She knew he wasn’t lying when he said he had just about sold his soul to get the money together for this weekly booking. She had had one hit record, her second was slowly starting to creep up the charts, but that didn’t make her a star. Backers for a relative newcomer weren’t easy to come by, and it had taken Derek months of hard work to get the cash together.
And now she wished it were all over, wished she never had to perform in front of an audience again. She loved to sing, had always enjoyed it, but maybe the reviewers were right when they said she didn’t have the stamina to compete in the big time.
It took all her will-power to change into the red suit, but her entrance back on stage was greeted with ecstatic applause. She was halfway through the first number when the spotlights playing across the stage picked up the fair head set at an arrogant angle on the first row of seats, the bright light emphasising the many shades of blond.
Bartholomew Jordan was now sitting in the seat he had reserved! He must have come in during the interval. She hadn’t spotted him at first because it just hadn’t occurred to her that he would arrive this late in the show.
But there he was, just as self-assured as ever, looking totally out of place amongst the teenage audience she had attracted, the deep green velvet jacket, snowy white shirt, and black trousers equally out of place. He looked as if he were either on his way to, or had just come from, a dinner engagement.
Once again he didn’t applaud her performance, but his green-eyed gaze didn’t deviate from her once as she sang song after song. This time he stayed until the end of the concert, but he made no effort to come backstage to see her.
Eve had to admit to being puzzled by his behaviour. He obviously hadn’t lost interest in her, and yet he wasn’t pursuing her as doggedly as she would have expected him to. Not like Carl; he had been very persistent. But she hadn’t been so unwilling then, hadn’t got her fingers burnt.
Carl. She would never forget him, or the lesson he had taught her. Her mind was plagued with thoughts of him as she tried in vain to fall asleep that night. She was exhausted, she should have fallen asleep instantly, but memories of Carl wouldn’t be denied. She could see him now, tall, dark, incredibly handsome, with a lethal charm that no woman, least of all the naïve fool she had been then, could resist.
She had been singing in a club out of town the first time she saw him, singing the meaningless songs that didn’t intrude on the enjoyment of the patrons as they ate their meal before going in to gamble on the gaming tables in the other room.
Carl had been with a tall blonde woman, classically beautiful, her clothes obviously having an exclusive label. And yet for all her apparent wealth and beauty the other woman hadn’t been able to hold Carl’s attention, Eve had done that.
The intensity of his gaze made her blush, and she even stumbled a couple of times over the songs she had been singing night after night for the past two weeks, ever since the club had opened. She had been lucky to get the job in the first place, although she was far from being the top entertainment the club had to offer, the top stars appearing in the gaming-room.
Carl had come back the next night, alone this time. He had invited her over to have a drink with him during her break. She had refused, as the club rules said that she wasn’t to mix socially with the customers. She had been grateful enough for this stipulation when she first went to work at the club; a lot of the places she had worked in in the past had treated her as little more than a call-girl. And yet she had been attracted to Carl, had wanted to be with him, had been regretful at having to turn him down.
He had finally realised what the problem was and had arranged to meet her away from the club, although he usually managed to get into the club to see her for a few minutes each evening when she was working. That first evening they had gone out for a late supper. Carl had got her to talk about her family, about her dead parents, the godparents who had brought her up since their death. He had seemed genuinely interested in her life, although he revealed little about himself, except that his name was Carl Prentiss, and that he had a business in the City.
Eve had been naïve, naïve and totally stupid, infatuated with a surface charm and the way he received only the best service wherever they went together. His affluence was something he took for granted, but something that in her naïveté she had been impressed with.
When he kissed her goodnight he never took advantage of her eagerness, another clever move on his part, she now realised. She would have run a mile if she had known of his true interest regarding her.
She could still remember that last painful scene between them, when she had learnt exactly what Carl wanted from her.
They had been seeing each other for about two months by this time, meeting one or two evenings a week. Carl often took her to dinner after she had finished work. By this time she was so much in love with him, with his confidence, his maturity, that when he had told her he had a present for her, a surprise present, she had instantly thought of an engagement ring, of marriage.
‘I’ve found you an apartment,’ he told her once they were out in his car, a Porsche, its sleek lines telling of its price. Carl told her he had had it custom-built, and she could believe that; the car was the last thing in luxury.
She had blinked up at him dazedly. ‘An apartment?’
‘Mm,’ he nodded, his smile at its most persuasive, his handsome face flushed with pleasure. ‘Somewhere we can go to be alone.’
‘But——’ she frowned, her disappointment about the engagement ring very acute, ‘I already have an apartment.’
‘With four other girls!’ he scoffed. ‘I said somewhere we can be alone, Eve. And I do want to be alone with you, darling,’ his hand came out to grasp her thigh, his fingers lightly caressing through the thin material of her skirt. ‘Completely alone,’ he added throatily.
‘But I can’t afford an apartment of my own.’ Surely he wasn’t suggesting they moved in together! It might be prudish, and totally out of fashion, but she believed a wedding should come before she lived with any man.
Carl turned to smile at her. ‘The rent’s very cheap, darling,’ he assured her. ‘And it means I’ll be able to visit you there whenever I can get away from the office.’
‘And when I’m not at work myself,’ she put in worriedly, a little overwhelmed with the speed with which things were moving. So far she had only received goodnight kisses, and now it seemed Carl intended spending a lot of time with her in the privacy of an apartment he had found for her.
Nevertheless, she had been delighted with the apartment, with its location overlooking the river, with the furniture Carl assured her came in with the modest rent. The rent had finally been the deciding point, that and the way Carl had made love to her more intimately than any other man. She had made an embarrassed comment about the size of the bed that occupied the only bedroom, and Carl had wanted to demonstrate that it was only just big