Cathy Kelly 6-Book Collection: Someone Like You, What She Wants, Just Between Us, Best of Friends, Always and Forever, Past Secrets

‘Got yourself quite a babe there, Felix, my man,’ said one of the onlookers appreciatively.

‘I know,’ drawled Felix, draping one arm protectively around his property.

Hannah gave Carol a loaded smile. Don’t mess with me, it said.

More champagne was ordered, packets of cigarettes were circulated and nobody appeared to want to dance. They were all far more interested in posing in the exclusive section of the club, looking coolly distant each time anyone unconnected with their party was given admittance. Hannah was sure she recognized a couple of guys from an American rap band in one corner but as nobody gave them a moment’s notice she reckoned she was wrong. It was only when a fan sneaked past the library security to get an autograph that she realized she’d been correct all along. It was just that the gang of actors she was with refused to recognize anyone else. Hoping to be recognized themselves, they feigned ignorance of any other vaguely famous people. Her first insider glimpse into the world of showbiz made Hannah realize that there was only one thing more important than fame to this lot: looking coolly unconcerned. It was an art form that they all practised desperately. Hannah was pretty good at looking coolly unconcerned herself.

She drank champagne and sat calmly beside Felix, who was more animated than a Duracell bunny. She’d have loved to have asked him who everyone else in their party was. Who was playing which part, or even, were they all actors? They all appeared to work on the TV series with Felix but were quite vague about their jobs, apart from Carol, who told everyone within a fifty-metre radius that she was playing a nurse and had trained in RADA.

‘What do you do?’ she asked Hannah beadily, sinking into Felix’s seat when he’d gone off to the loo.

Without blinking, Hannah lied. ‘I run a property business.’

Carol looked upset at this information. Obviously Carol had hoped she was a bimbo, Hannah smiled to herself.

‘How did you meet?’ Carol wasn’t giving up yet. Watching her prey from narrowed eyes, she looked like a magpie about to launch itself on an unsuspecting worm. Hannah was no worm. She could bullshit with the best of them.

‘Carol was giving me the third degree while you were gone,’ Hannah told Felix later.

‘What did she want to know?’

‘What I did for a living and what my social security number was – you know, meaningless stuff.’

‘What did you tell her?’ he asked idly, eyes suddenly opaque.

Hannah nibbled his ear. ‘That I ran a property business and we met when I was showing you my most valuable property, a duplex overlooking the harbour in Dun Laoghaire.’

He smiled with satisfaction. ‘That’s my girl,’ he said. ‘Everybody in this business lies. It’s all about deception and perception. The more they think you have, the more they want you,’ he added. ‘They’re all impressed with you. We’re a good team,’ he said, before locking his mouth over hers.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#ulink_54ac2431-a5a1-5cb4-b881-09815dac2203)

Felix had Monday off and persuaded Hannah to do something she had always vowed she’d never do: phone in sick.

‘We could spend the whole day in bed,’ he said, nuzzling her ear as if he was sucking chocolate off an almond. ‘It’s only one day, after all, and I’m working all next weekend.’

Guiltily, Hannah phoned Gillian, lied about recovering from a twenty-four-hour bug, and crawled back under the covers with a delighted Felix.

Saturated with love, exhausted from a weekend of lovemaking, Hannah sauntered into the office on Tuesday. She was an unheard of half an hour late and didn’t care: she felt insulated by love and gloriously weary from sex. Even the dark circles under her eyes couldn’t hide her white-hot radiance of sexuality.

Despite having almost no sleep, Hannah’s face glowed and not even her Visa bill could dim the sleepy smile that lifted the edges of her full mouth so enticingly.

‘Did lover boy come home to roost?’ enquired Donna, as Hannah put her bag beside her chair and sank on to it, crossing long ten-deniered legs and smoothing down the flirty black skirt she’d never before worn into the office.

Hannah laughed throatily. ‘Is it that obvious?’

Smirking, Donna replied: ‘It couldn’t be any plainer if you had a sign over your head that had “This woman has been well bonked” written on it. That man sure is good for your complexion. Can you bottle some of whatever he’s giving you, because my skin could do with an instant boost.’

They both burst out laughing at the thought.

‘Hannah,’ said David James, ‘have you got a moment?’

She sashayed into his office, utterly unable to stop herself glorying in the wonderful feeling of being in love. Her body felt so alive, so vibrant. That was the effect Felix had on her: he was like a drug, a life-enhancing, erotic drug.

‘You look…different,’ David said as Hannah sat down and ran a languorous finger through her curls in a way she never normally did.

Hannah grinned at him. ‘I had a good weekend,’ she said happily. ‘Did you?’

‘Well, yes, all right.’

He didn’t look as if he’d had a good weekend, she decided. He looked a bit peaky really, almost uncomfortable.

‘What I wanted to say…’ he began.

Hannah had to interrupt. She just knew he was going to apologize for saying what he did about Felix, and she was far too happy and full of love to let him embarrass himself by doing it. She was happy, they should let bygones be bygones.

‘David,’ she interrupted, ‘I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry, too, about Friday. I was upset because Felix and I had had a row and I shouldn’t have said what I did to you. That was unforgivable. And it’s kind of you to look out for me,’ she went on earnestly, ‘but there’s really no need, David. Felix and I are both grown-ups and we can take care of ourselves. I know he’s a friend of yours, but I’d prefer it if we could keep the office and my personal life separate, OK?’

David seemed unable to meet her gaze. ‘So it’s back on, is it?’ he asked gruffly, suddenly interested in opening up the e-mail on his computer.

‘Yes,’ she beamed.

He exhaled slowly, almost painfully. ‘If you ever want a shoulder to lean on,’ he said, ‘mine is available.’

‘David, you are a pal,’ Hannah said fondly.

‘Yes,’ he said grimly, ‘I am a pal.’

She danced out of the office. Life was wonderful.

As November drifted into December, a pattern developed to their days together. Felix would arrive late most Friday nights, sometimes in a taxi from the set; sometimes in a limo with a crowd of actors, all half-drunk and eager for Hannah to climb in with them and head off to a wild party or nightclub. Hannah liked the taxi nights best. Then, Felix was hers alone and after drinking whatever bottle he’d brought with him – usually some variety of champagne, vintage or non-vintage depending on how broke he was – they retired to bed where their noisy lovemaking paid Hannah’s downstairs neighbours back for their constantly over-loud TV. On Saturdays, they spent the mornings in bed, consuming brown toast and honey with the strong Colombian coffee Felix loved. Then in the afternoons, they went to the gym together. Nobody could accuse Felix of having a beautiful body without working at it, Hannah thought, marvelling at how long he could spend on the weights machines, honing each muscle with almost obsessive precision. She’d never met a man who could spend longer working on his body, consumed by making it better and taking care of it. Felix had more body lotions than she did and he was far more assiduous in his application of body scrub than she’d ever been. But, she got used to his vanities.

She also got used to the girls in the gym blatantly chatting him up while she was away working on the stepper. Well, she almost got used to it. Her glutes weren’t the only muscles clenching when some nymphet dawdled around the lateral pull-down machine, chatting earnestly to Felix as his muscles rippled under the show-off T-shirt he deliberately wore.

She once snapped that she wasn’t surprised he was ogled by all and sundry, seeing as how he went in for the type of T-shirt only male strippers wore with the intention of having them ripped off. Felix had laughed loudly and long to that one.

‘Jealous, are you, my pet?’ he said, in unconcern. ‘You’ll have to get used to it. Women chat up actors all the time: fame is a huge lure, you know.’

Conversely, he preferred Hannah to work out in more conservative work-out clothes. Keen on being admired by the opposite sex, he disliked the same thing happening to her. When she’d worn her shiny lycra thong-leotard with the sleek purple leggings and had been chatted up by an earnest body builder who was at least two inches taller even than Felix, he hadn’t been impressed.

‘I don’t like strange men hanging around you,’ he said possessively, before casually adding that he preferred her wearing T-shirts and shorts to the gym instead of her second-skin leotard.

Emma had thought this was odd when Hannah had laughingly told her about it over the phone.

‘What’s sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander,’ Emma said. ‘I mean, if Felix is allowed to dress to thrill, why can’t you?’

Hannah had immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She’d been trying to explain to Emma – who hadn’t met Felix yet – that he adored her, was crazy about her and couldn’t bear other men to so much as look at her. But Emma had picked it up all wrong and more or less said Felix was possessive.

Emma didn’t understand, Hannah thought impatiently. She didn’t understand that there was a difference between possessiveness and real passion. Anyway, look who was talking: Emma wouldn’t stand up to her father if her life depended on it.