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His derision rankled. After all, she hadn’t been born yesterday, and she had heard too many stories from friends of hers that had warned her to beware of the men who promised sudden fame. Even in this day and age it wasn’t unheard-of to be fooled by these men. She would be stupid to go off into the night with a man she didn’t even know.
‘The Ritz, I think,’ she told him airily. ‘For lunch.’
His mouth twitched. ‘One o’clock?’
To his credit he hadn’t even flinched at her choice of one of London’s leading hotels and restaurants. Perhaps he was Gideon Steele after all; his arrogance certainly seemed to say he was.
‘One o’clock will be fine,’ she nodded, deciding she had pushed her luck far enough for one day—or night. Goodness, she was tired, and if she didn’t soon get this heavy make-up off she would break out in a rash. ‘If you’ll excuse me …’
‘Meredith—–’ his hand grasped her arm, the skin firm and tanned, with a light sprinkling of dark hair, the fingers long and tapered, very strong, as he held her immobile.
She looked from that hand into the hard, inflexible face. ‘Yes?’ She suddenly felt breathless.
‘Don’t let me down,’ he instructed softly. ‘It’s too important. All right?’
‘All—right,’ she nodded, wishing the tightness away from her chest. And miraculously it was as he released her. ‘Good—goodnight.’ She went into her dressing-room, not looking back, although she wanted to, if only to see if he were still there.
‘Well?’ Vanda pounced on her excitedly as she entered the room, looking more like her normal self, her short blonde hair now in evidence, the thick make-up removed now, showing her own clear complexion and sparkling blue eyes.
‘Well what?’ Merry said absently.
‘Has he offered you a part in his next film?’
‘Not yet.’
Vanda frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s eleven-thirty at night, much too late to be discussing anything. I’m exhausted! We’ve arranged to meet tomorrow,’ she revealed reluctantly, knowing Vanda wouldn’t rest until she knew everything. ‘For lunch,’ she supplied before the other girl asked, and pulled the pink wig off with a sigh of relief, taking the pins from her ebony-coloured hair, allowing it to cascade in gleaming waves down her back, the feathered fringe swept back either side of her small heart-shaped face. Next came the make-up, and her skin really started to feel uncomfortable. ‘Ugh!’ She removed the artificial lashes, cleansing her eyes of the black clog applied to them earlier, instantly looking more like her twenty years without the cheap image she had projected on stage.
‘Sounds promising.’ Vanda sat cross-legged on the sofa that was pushed against one wall of the small room. The two girls were the only ones left, the others having already gone home.
‘Mm, he said it was important,’ Merry said slowly.
‘Even if it’s only a small part—–’
‘Oh, it will be,’ Merry smiled ruefully, feeling more comfortable in her denims and casual blouse.
‘But just to work for Gideon Steele—–’
‘If he is Gideon Steele.’ She picked up her shoulder-bag. ‘Ready?’
Vanda followed her out of the theatre on their way to the Underground. ‘You surely don’t have any doubts about that?’ she frowned.
‘Well, Harry’s hardly a good character witness,’ Merry derided. ‘We all know Liam only got the male lead in the play because he’s Harry’s “friend”.’
‘But it was Gideon Steele. All six foot three, one hundred and seventy-five pounds, thirty-four years, black-haired, blue-eyed bachelor inch of him,’ Vanda finished breathlessly.
‘Know a bit about him, do you?’ Merry teased.
‘Not really,’ her friend said tongue-in-cheek. ‘His father is Samuel Steele, he owns one of the big airlines, I’m not sure which one. Well, I wasn’t really interested in his father,’ she protested at Merry’s mischievous derision.
‘Of course not.’
Vanda grinned, sitting beside her on the Underground train. ‘He’s really rich, you know.’
‘The father or the son?’ Merry mocked.
‘Both. His father’s loaded, but Gideon Steele is rich in his own right now. And his films speak for themselves.’
Yes, they did. After that first youthful mistake, they had all been masterpieces in their own way, and last year’s Oscar had been well deserved. If she could get a part in one of his films her career could really take off—and in the right direction this time! The sooner this play was over and forgotten the better she would like it.
Vanda was of the same opinion. ‘At least you’re in with a chance,’ she grimaced. ‘I think it’s back to the dole queue for me tomorrow.’
Merry’s eyes widened. ‘That soon?’
‘In case you didn’t notice, it was the critics who walked out first. This play will be heralded as Harry Anderson’s biggest folly to date.’
And indeed it was! The critics ripped him and the play to pieces. In fact, they didn’t have a good word to say for anyone in it either, although luckily no one was mentioned by name. When they turned up for rehearsal that morning it was to be told that ‘Mr Anderson has decided to take a cruise on his yacht. For an indefinite period’. All the staff were paid off, and they were all out of work again.
Merry dressed carefully for her luncheon appointment, wanting to make a good impression now that she had checked and found that Gideon Steele was who he said he was. It wasn’t too difficult to verify, he was a well-known personality in the crowd she mixed with, and it was rumoured that he was on the look-out for new talent for a film he intended doing later in the year.
She wished she hadn’t been so presumptuous as to choose the Ritz, though. It had been a perverse act of defiance on her part, and it had backfired on her. It wasn’t really her sort of place, not the pomp and ceremony, the snobbishness. Oh well, she would make the best of it. After all, she was an actress, wasn’t she?
None of her nervousness showed as she was taken to Gideon Steele’s table in the lounge area, and her red suit, the narrow skirt and blouson top, looked as good as any of the clothes the other women wore. Except the woman in the fur coat—and as she abhorred the killing of animals for furs, this really didn’t count.
Gideon Steele stood up as she arrived at the table, easily the most impressive man in the room, his light grey three-piece suit and black shirt perfectly tailored, very expensive by the look of the cut, his tie a perfect match in colour for the suit. And today the tinted glasses had been removed, revealing very deep blue eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes, the face incredibly handsome in a rugged sort of way. Certainly handsome enough to star in one of his own films instead of just directing them!
If Merry was bowled over by his good looks he made no effort to hide his surprise at hers. ‘God …!’ his eyes were intent on her face and hair as she sat down, sitting down himself once she had done so. ‘I thought last night that the hair was yours!’
‘Pink?’ she derided with sarcasm, giving every impression of frequenting restaurants like this every day of her life.
He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘It was possible. Women today seem to dye their hair to match the colour of their clothes.’
‘I never wear black, Mr Steele,’ she told him coldly. ‘But my hair stays that colour.’
‘And green eyes.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s incredible!’
Those green eyes widened, the lashes thick and silky, naturally dark, the tips golden. ‘There’s nothing incredible about my colouring, Mr Steele.’
‘Oh yes, there is,’ he nodded, watching her with narrowed eyes. ‘Let’s go in to lunch and you can tell me about yourself.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she dismissed.
‘Nevertheless, I want to hear it.’ He stood up to pull back her chair for her, towering over her as they walked side by side into the dining-room, the walls lined with mirrors, the ceiling very ornate. Meredith had never been here before, and she found it all beautifully elegant.
For the next fifteen minutes she gave him a résumé of what she had been doing since she left school four years ago, hardly noticing the food that was quietly and efficiently placed in front of her, only knowing that it was delicious.
‘And your family?’ he prompted.
She frowned. ‘Is that necessary?’
She couldn’t see what her family history had to do with giving her a part in a film, but after the indifference she had treated him with the night before she was willing to do anything to please him. Well, not quite anything, she thought ruefully.
‘Something funny?’ He quirked one dark brow, perfectly relaxed with his surroundings, taking the efficiency of the service for granted, the perfection of the food.
And also the female attention coming his way. And there was plenty of that! Young and old alike seemed to feel his magnetism, the aura of sensuality that Merry was becoming more and more aware of with each sip of wine.
‘Not really,’ she smiled. ‘It was really good of you to agree to meet me here. You must have thought me very audacious yesterday.’
‘Possibly,’ he replied enigmatically, dismissively. ‘You were going to tell me about your family.’
She looked at him over the rim of her glass. ‘What would you like to know?’
He sat forward, his expression intent. ‘Everything.’
‘What an invitation!’ she laughed huskily. ‘I’m sure you don’t mean “everything”?’
‘My dear Miss Charles,’ he drawled with barely concealed impatience, ‘I never do, or say, anything I don’t mean.’
‘How clever of you!’ her sarcasm was barely veiled.
‘Yes,’ he agreed tersely.
‘Don’t you know that it’s fatal to invite an actor or actress to talk about his or herself? I could go on for hours,’ she warned lightly.
‘I’m willing to take the risk,’ he taunted, the blue eyes deeply mocking.
‘All right,’ Merry sighed. ‘I’ve lived a very normal life, with very normal parents.’
He scowled at her, the black brows dark over his eyes. ‘That was hardly hours,’ he snapped.
‘I can’t help that,’ she shrugged. ‘That’s been my life so far. I’ve lived a very uneventful life. In fact,’ she added softly, ‘the most exciting thing to happen to me so far is meeting you.’ Her eyes were widely innocent.
His mouth twisted with scepticism. ‘I don’t need flattery, Miss Charles,’ he rasped. ‘Especially the insincere kind.’
She flushed at the way he had seen straight through her. So much for her acting! He was right, her flattery was insincere. Something about this man warned her to beware, that he was dangerous. Maybe it was the way he kept staring at her, those deep blue eyes totally unnerving, making her wish he had kept the tinted glasses on. Whatever the reason for her nervousness, she knew that here was a man she could never relax with, and her guard was well and truly up—although she had nothing to hide.
‘Do you still live with your parents?’ he asked now.
She shook her head. ‘My father lives in Bedfordshire. I have to live in London for my work.’
‘And your mother?’
A flicker of pain crossed her face. ‘She died, two years ago,’ she revealed huskily.
Gideon Steele nodded. ‘I didn’t think there’d been any mistake. The moment I saw you today, without the wig and that atrocious make-up, I knew Harrington hadn’t been wrong about you. But I had to be sure.’
‘Sure of what?’ Merry frowned, suddenly tense. ‘And who is Harrington?’
‘That isn’t important for now,’ he dismissed impatiently. ‘What is important is that Anthea sees you straight away.’
‘Who is Anthea? Your casting director?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! Anthea is—–’ he broke off with a frown. ‘Why did you think I wanted to meet you today?’ he asked slowly.
‘Well, everyone knows you’re in town looking for people for your next film, and—–’
‘You thought I was going to cast you?’ he finished incredulously.
She flushed resentfully. ‘Why else would you want to see me?’
‘Because of your mother,’ he rasped. ‘Good God, girl, you could be a brilliant actress for all I know, but I certainly wouldn’t have been able to tell from Anderson’s play.’
‘That isn’t the only thing I’ve been in,’ she defended heatedly, her disappointment acute. He wasn’t going to offer her a part after all. ‘And what does my mother have to do with you? I told you, she’s dead.’ Her voice shook with emotion.
‘You told me Sarah Charles is dead—–’
‘That is my mother. And how did you know her name?’ Her voice was sharp with suspicion. ‘I didn’t tell you.’
‘I already knew it. I also know your father’s name is Malcolm, that you were born on April the fourteenth twenty years ago, that you had a boy-friend called David—–’
‘How do you know all that?’ she gasped, her glass landing heavily on the table, unconcerned with the curious glances now coming their way. ‘Why did you need to know that? You had no right going into my background!’
‘I had every right,’ he told her abruptly. ‘You see, I’m your stepbrother. Your mother is married to my father.’
Merry paled. ‘My mother is dead,’ she said weakly. ‘I just told you that.’
He gave her an impatient look. ‘I meant your real mother—–’
‘Real mother?’ she echoed shrilly, her eyes huge in her pale face. ‘I don’t know what you mean!’
‘Perhaps we should get out of here and go somewhere where we can talk more privately?’ he suggested abruptly, signalling the waiter for their bill.
Merry’s movements were jerky as she picked up her handbag. ‘We have nothing more to say to each other.’
‘Meredith—–’
‘Take your hands off me!’ She wrenched away from him. ‘You got me here under the pretence of offering me a part in your film—–’
‘I didn’t,’ he sighed. ‘You surmised that all on your own.’
‘What else was I supposed to think?’ Her eyes flashed deeply green. ‘I had no idea you had some sort of dossier on me!’
‘Meredith, you have to listen,’ his expression was intent, the jaw rigid. ‘Anthea wants to see you.’
‘Who is Anthea?’ she cried her bewilderment, wondering if this man were deranged.
‘Your mother.’
