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‘Did you say you’re keeping a protective eye on me?’ she said.
‘I think I need to, don’t you? And it’s what friends do, isn’t it?’
‘Oh yes, of course they do,’ she babbled.
‘It’s time you had a rest.’
‘Yes,’ she said with relief. ‘I think that’s what I’ll do.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE was glad to escape by stretching out and closing her eyes. His words had unnerved her, reminding her that it was she who was supposed to be watching out for him.
She dozed for a while and awoke to find herself alone. Dante was further down the beach, kicking a rubber ball around with some boys. For a while she watched him through half-closed eyes, unwillingly admiring the lines of his body, the athletically graceful way he moved.
She was no green girl; Sandor hadn’t been her first lover. At twenty-eight, she knew her own body well, knew how it could be most totally satisfied, knew exactly what it wanted.
But that could be a problem when it couldn’t have what it wanted.
It would have been easier to observe Dante leaping about the beach if she didn’t have to listen to the voice inside whispering how well he would move in bed, how subtle and knowing his caresses would be.
How fine would his tall body feel held close against her own long body? When she saw him give a mighty kick, she thought of his legs between hers. When he reached for the ball at an impossible angle, she could almost feel his hands against her skin, exploring her tentatively, waiting for her with endless patience, knowing exactly how to…
She sat up, trembling and annoyed with herself. What was the matter with her?
‘Just friendly’. That was the matter.
When Dante returned, he found her fully dressed.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ she said fretfully. ‘I think I’ll go into town.’
‘Great idea,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you the shops, then we’ll go to dinner.’
She ground her nails into her palm. Why couldn’t he at least show some ill temper, like any other man, thus giving her the chance to feel annoyed with him?
But the wretch wouldn’t even oblige her in that.
Because he wasn’t like any other man.
At least she’d made him put his clothes on.
They spent the rest of the day sedately, buying the odd garment, and also buying computer software. In one shop she discovered a superb programme that she hadn’t expected to be available for another month, and snapped it up. Over dinner, she enthused about it to Dante, who listened with genuine interest. It was the high point of the day.
On reflection, she thought that said it all.
Afterwards he saw her to her door but made no attempt to come in.
‘Goodnight,’ he said. ‘Sleep well.’
She went in, restraining herself with difficulty from slamming the door.
Furiously she thought of the signals he’d sent out that day, signals that had said clearly that he wanted her and was controlling it with difficulty. But the signals had changed. Now he might have been made of ice, and it was obvious why.
He was scheming. He wanted her to be the one to weaken. If either of them was overcome with desire, it must be her. In his dreams, she succumbed to uncontrollable lust, reaching out to entice him.
Hell would freeze over first!
Next day they promised themselves a lazy time in the sun.
‘I could happily stay here for ever,’ Dante said, stretching out luxuriously. ‘Who cares about work?’
It was at that exact moment that a voice nearby called, ‘Ciao, Dante!’
He started up, looked around, then yelled, ‘Gino!’
Ferne saw a man in his fifties, dressed in shirt and shorts, advancing on them with a look of delight on his broad face.
‘Is that…?’
‘Gino Tirelli,’ Dante said, jumping up.
When the two men had clapped each other on the shoulder, Dante introduced Ferne.
‘Always I am pleased to meet English people,’ Gino declared. ‘At this very moment, my house is full of important English people.’
‘So that’s why you asked me to delay my arrival,’ Dante said. ‘Who’ve you got there? Members of the government?’
‘A film company,’ Gino said in an awed voice. ‘They’re making a film of Antony and Cleopatra and shooting some scenes in the ruins in my grounds. The director is staying with me, and of course the big star.’
‘And who is the big star?’ Ferne asked, suitably wide-eyed.
Before Gino could reply there was a squeal from behind them, and they all turned to see a young man of about thirty with curly, fair hair and a perfectly tanned body strolling along the beach in a careless way, suggesting that he was unaware of the sensation he created.
But he was fully aware of it, as Ferne knew. Sandor Jayley always knew exactly what effect he was creating.
‘Oh no!’ she breathed.
‘What is it?’ Dante asked her in a low voice. ‘Good grief, it’s—?’
‘Tommy Wiggs.’
The young man came closer, pulling off a light shirt and tossing it to a companion, revealing a muscular body sculpted to perfection, now wearing only a minuscule pair of trunks. Regarding him grimly, Dante was forced to concede one thing: as Ferne had said, he did have magnificent thighs.
‘I’ve got to get out of here before he sees me,’ she muttered. ‘That’ll really put the cat among the pigeons.’
But it was too late. Sandor had seen his host and was starting up the beach towards him, doing a well-honed performance of bonhomie.
‘Gino,’ he called. Then, as he saw Ferne, his expression changed, became astonished, then delighted. ‘Ferne! My darling girl!’
Arms open wide, he raced across the sand and, before she could get her thoughts together, she found herself enfolded in a passionate embrace.
It was an act, she thought, hearing the cheers around them. For some reason he’d calculated that this would be useful to him so he was taking what he wanted, selfishly indifferent to the effect it might have on her. For she was terrified in case she reacted in the old way, the way she now hated to remember.
Nothing happened. There was no pleasure, no excitement. Nothing. She wanted to shout to the heavens with joy at being free again!
‘Tommy—’
‘Sandor,’ he muttered hastily. Then, aloud, ‘Ferne, how wonderful to see you again!’ He smiled down into her eyes, the picture of tender devotion. ‘It’s been too long,’ he said. ‘I’ve thought of you so often.’
‘I’ve thought a few things about you too,’ she informed him tartly. ‘Now, will you let me go?’
‘How can you ask me to do that when I’ve got you in my arms again? And I owe you so much.’
‘Yes, those pictures didn’t do you any harm, did they? Let me go!’
Reluctantly he did so, switching his attention to Gino.
‘Gino, how do you come to know this wonderful lady?’ he cried.
‘I’ve only just met her,’ Gino said. ‘I didn’t realise that you two were—are…’
‘Let’s say we’re old friends,’ Sandor said. ‘Close friends.’
Ferne became awkwardly aware of Dante standing there, arms folded, regarding them sardonically. After everything she’d told him about Sandor, what must he be thinking?
A little crowd was gathering around them as news went along the beach that the famous Sandor Jayley was among them. Young women sighed and regarded Ferne with envy.
‘Sandor,’ she said, backing away from him, ‘Can I introduce you to my friend, Signor Dante Rinucci?’
‘Why, sure.’ Sandor extended his hand. ‘Any friend of Ferne’s is a friend of mine.’
Dante gave him an unreadable smile.
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Then we’re all friends together.’
‘Let’s all sit down.’ Sandor seated himself on her lounger and drew her down beside him.
He was in full flood now, basking in the warm glow of what he took to be admiration, oblivious to the fact that one of his audience was embarrassed and another actively hostile.
‘Just think,’ he sighed. ‘If that house where we were going to shoot had come up to scratch, we’d never have moved to Gino’s palazzo and we—’ he gave Ferne a fond look ‘—would never have found each other again.’
‘There were rats,’ Gino confided. ‘They had to find somewhere else fast, and someone remembered the Palazzo Tirelli.’
‘Why don’t you join us?’ Sandor said suddenly. ‘That’s all right with you, isn’t it, Gino?’ Asking the owner’s permission was clearly an afterthought.
Far from being offended, Gino nearly swooned with delight.
‘And it will give Ferne and me the chance to rekindle our very happy acquaintance,’ Sandor added.
‘Sandor, I don’t think—’ Ferne protested quickly.
‘But we have so much to talk about. You don’t mind if I take Ferne away from you for a few days, do you?’ he asked Dante.
‘You mean Dante isn’t invited too?’ Ferne asked sharply. ‘Then I’m not coming.’
‘Oh, my dear, I’m sure your friend will understand.’
‘He may, I won’t,’ Ferne said firmly. ‘Dante and I are together.’
‘So loyal,’ Sandor cooed in a voice that made Ferne want to kick him in a painful place. ‘Signor Rinucci, you’re invited too, of course.’
‘How kind!’ Dante said in a voice that revealed nothing. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Ferne turned horrified eyes on him. ‘Dante, you don’t mean that?’ she muttered.
‘Of course I do. Getting really acquainted with the place may help me with the sale.’
‘How? You’ve never needed it before.’
‘Well, perhaps I have my own reasons this time,’ he said, his eyes glinting.
Sandor didn’t hear this exchange. Champagne had arrived and he turned to lift two glasses, one of which he handed to Ferne, saying, ‘It’s all settled, then. Here’s to our reunion!’
A young girl detached herself from the swooning crowd on the beach and asked him for an autograph, handing him her lipstick so that he could write his name on her back. Beaming, he obliged, then gave Ferne a questioning look.
‘No camera today? Not like you.’
‘I left it in the hotel.’
‘You? The lady who never moves without her camera? Well, well.’
His look was heavily significant, clearly meant to recall the last time she had turned her camera on him. She faced him back, her eyes full of anger.
Dante watched them and said nothing.
Having established the scene, Sandor didn’t linger over the champagne. Indicating the crowd, he said modestly, ‘You see how it is—wherever I go. I’ll leave now, and see you at the villa this evening.’
He strode away, pursued by adoring fans, plus Gino.
‘So that’s him,’ Dante said. ‘He’s exactly as you said, except worse.’
‘I don’t know what’s going on here,’ she said wildly. ‘When we last met, he couldn’t find words bad enough for me.’
‘But that was three months ago, and he did pretty well out of it. He’s a bigger star now than he was before, thanks to you. So clearly he wants to shower you with his favours. Tonight you’ll be his honoured companion.’
‘Are you trying to be funny?’ she asked stormily. ‘Do you think that’s what I want?’
He gave a strange smile. ‘Let’s say I’m interested to find out. I didn’t mean to offend you. Let’s get going.’
