The One And Only

If Dee was lucky she would have Marcus back in her company but, whatever happened, Joy was leaving with Danny and not Marcus. ‘It was nice to meet you.’ Joy put her hand out to Marcus in a formal parting. ‘But Danny and I really do have to go now.’

‘Well, if you and Danny have to go now, I suppose you have to go,’ he accepted in a hard voice, totally ignoring her outstretched hand to bend his head and lightly brush his lips against hers. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he told her, so softly that only Joy could hear him.

As only she had been meant to hear him! What did he mean, he would be in touch? In what way would he be in touch? He couldn’t—

‘Let’s go,’ Danny told her firmly, giving Dee a regretful smile before guiding Joy out of the nightclub.

Joy didn’t even start to breathe again until they were outside, and then she drew in a ragged, muchneeded gasp of air to her starved lungs. God, what a disaster, what an absolute, absolute disaster! She wished she had never come away for this week, wished she had stayed in the safety of her own little world. It was a sure fact that she didn’t belong in this one!

‘You haven’t heard the last of him, you know.’ Danny spoke softly as they travelled by taxi to her hotel.

She hadn’t wanted him to put into words what she thought she already knew. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped defensively, not even attempting to pretend she didn’t know who he was talking about—that would have been absurd.

‘I know him of old, Joy.’ Danny shook his head in the half-light of the taxi. ‘The only reason he wasn’t more insistent just now was so that there wasn’t a scene. But, above everything else, Marcus can be determined when he wants something.’

Had he been determined when he had kissed her in the middle of that crowded nightclub? Joy didn’t know whether it was determination or arrogance, but she did know that Gerald would never have behaved in such an exhibitionist way. Gerald…She hated to think what he would make of all the events of this evening and, more precisely, her own part in them!

Not that it was any of Gerald’s business what she did any more. It had stopped being so six months ago, when he had chosen to break off their relationship and announce that he was going out with a woman of his own age. Joy had been stunned by his decision; after almost four years together she had believed Gerald would ask her to marry him in the near future.

But instead Gerald had begun to date a widow of forty-five, a woman with grown-up children, leaving Joy to wonder why things had gone wrong between them. But that hadn’t been the worst part. Gerald was actually in charge of the library where she worked, and so Joy was also left with the humiliation of going in to work every day with the people who had known of their past relationship, and the reason it had ended so abruptly.

And Joy hadn’t thought about that for weeks. Well—days. Yes, it had been days, she realised with some surprise, the preparations for this week away having taken over her life for some time before she actually came to London. So why was she thinking about that past disappointment now? She knew it had to be because of the sharp contrast between Gerald and Marcus Ballantyne; two men more unalike she had yet to meet…

‘Marcus can be a very determined man, Joy,’ Danny repeated, at her continued lack of reply to his statement.

She thought she already knew that, knew that Marcus had meant it when he said he would be in touch. But he had to find her first. And there was only one way he could do that…‘I want you to promise me you won’t tell him which hotel I’m staying at, Danny.’ She looked at him determinedly, the light of battle in sparkling green eyes.

All Danny’s bravado had left him since the advent of Marcus Ballantyne into their evening, and he had the look of a hunted man on his face now. He drew in a ragged breath. ‘If he asks me—’

‘You aren’t going to tell him,’ Joy cut in firmly. ‘Look, Danny, he’s only playing games, and I’m not into game-playing,’ she added almost angrily. She wasn’t about to provide a fleeting amusement for anyone, not after what she had already been through with one man in her life.

Danny gave her a speculatively sideways glance. ‘You looked as if you were enjoying yourself a few minutes ago.’

When Marcus had been kissing her. There was no denying she had been completely under his spell then, hadn’t cared herself where they were or who could see them. Which was another reason she didn’t want to see him again; she had to return to her normal life when this week was over, and she didn’t want that to be any more difficult than it already promised to be.

‘So did you,’ she snapped back, relieved to see they were back at her hotel. ‘Don’t bother to come in, Danny; you may as well let the taxi take you on to wherever you want to go.’ Probably back to the nightclub, to the beautiful Dee. Where, hopefully, Marcus wouldn’t still be and see the other man’s return. On second thoughts, bearing in mind her warning to Danny, which she knew he had perfectly understood, maybe Danny wouldn’t go back to the nightclub…

As she expected, Danny made no move to get out of the taxi to open the door for her, a disgruntled look on his face. ‘I’ll see you at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon for the photographs,’ he muttered sulkily.

Joy came to an abrupt halt in climbing out of the taxi. ‘What photographs?’ She looked at him sharply.

He shrugged, still glowering. ‘It’s part of the competition prize, Joy,’ he explained badtemperedly, obviously wishing he had stayed well away from the whole venture. ‘Publicity for the magazine. Photographs of me with the competition winner,’ he continued as she still looked at him blankly.

Casey had forgotten to mention any photographs! Well, over her dead body was she posing for photographs with this man so that all the magazine readers could drool over them curiously; every one of those women was welcome to Danny Eames as far as she was concerned.

‘See you, Danny,’ she told him non-committally, having no intention of being anywhere near the hotel tomorrow afternoon. Photographs, indeed! God, how humiliating.

‘We have two messages for you, Miss Simms,’ the receptionist of the hotel told her brightly when she collected her key.

Her heart leapt; surely Marcus hadn’t found her already? No, of course he hadn’t, she told herself self-derisively. There was no way he could find out which hotel she was staying at. And she was sure she could trust Danny not to tell the other man; after all, neither of them wanted Marcus to know of the competition.

‘A message from a photographer about tomorrow afternoon,’ the receptionist told her lightly, only raising her eyebrows slightly as Joy took the piece of paper with that message on and screwed it up into a hall. ‘And the other is that a Mr Simms rang at about one-fifteen,’ she smiled. ‘He said he would ring again.’

‘When?’ Joy asked abruptly, wanting a word with Casey herself.

‘He didn’t specify a time,’ the young receptionist told her apologetically.

Joy just bet he hadn’t. Damn Casey. And she didn’t need two guesses as to why he had telephoned at all; he wanted to know how she had got on with her date with Danny Eames. And as she hadn’t even been back in the hotel an hour ago, when he had rung, his imagination was probably working overtime. Damn Casey! Damn Danny Eames! And, most of all, damn Marcus Ballantyne!

Because for a brief time tonight her control had slipped completely—and he had been the cause of it…

The insistent knocking finally broke through the deep realms of her sleep-muddled brain, Joy coming awake with a resistant groan. Who could be calling on her at this time of the morning…? Oh, God— a glance at the illuminated bedside clock had shown her that it was only just still morning, the clock reading eleven-fifty. Of course, it had taken her hours to fall asleep after her eventful evening, and it had already been late when she had got in, but—

The loud knocking sounded again on the door of her suite. Perhaps there was a fire? Perhaps… It was no good sitting here wondering, she had to put on her dressing-gown and go and see who it was. Only it wasn’t her dressing-gown at all, she realised with a groan as she pulled on the grey silk robe that Lisa had lent her, along with everything else she was to wear this week. Oh, well, she was sure the staff in this hotel were used to seeing people dressed—or undressed—in all sorts of clothes.

She stumbled out of the bedroom into the lounge, noticing as she did so that the dress she had worn the night before was draped across one of the armchairs. She had undressed on her way to the bedroom when she got in last night, had just wanted to fall into bed when she got there. And then she had lain awake for hours…

Danny Eames stood outside her door, the disgruntled look on his face from the night before still there. What did he want now? It was far too early for—

‘I knew you weren’t going to be ready,’ he said impatiently, shouldering his way into the room. ‘You aren’t even dressed!’ he added disgustedly.

Joy frowned at him, completely unconcerned by the fact that she wasn’t dressed; he shouldn’t even be here, let alone criticising her appearance. ‘What do you want, Danny?’ she asked wearily.

‘We’re all waiting for you downstairs,’ he told her irritably. ‘We have been for the last fifteen minutes.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Twenty, now!’

She shook her head. ‘You’ve lost me, Danny.’ She sighed her own impatience; she was hardly in a mood to deal with riddles. ‘Who is waiting for me? And why?’ Not something else to do with this competiton prize that she had no idea about?

‘Don’t tell me you didn’t get the message about the photographic session being brought forward to this morning, because Reception said they gave it to you when you got in last night!’ He scowled. ‘Some of us have had to change filming schedules to get here on time, and you couldn’t even be bothered to get out of bed!’

She ignored the last accusation, concentrating on what he had said about the photographic session, remembering the message from the magazine that had been waiting for her last night—a message she had screwed up to throw in the bin when she got into her suite. She had assumed it was just a reminder for her to be there, not an adjustment of the time.

‘I…forgot to read the message,’ she admitted with a self-conscious grimace.

‘Forgot!’ Blue eyes blazed Danny’s displeasure. ‘Oh, never mind,’ he dismissed with an impatient shake of his head. ‘Just get dressed now and—’ He broke off as there was another knock on the door. ‘I told them I would come and find you.’ He glared in the direction of the suite door. ‘Just in case you…weren’t alone,’ he added with a shrug, seeming to take in her completely dishevelled appearance for the first time. ‘You are alone, aren’t you?’ He gave a questioning look in the direction of the bedroom.

Joy had been having trouble following his conversation—the unaccustomed wine the night before, followed by her inability to get to sleep, and then falling into a deep sleep and being woken so suddenly, were not conducive to clear thinking. But the meaning of his last comment was unmistakable.

‘Of course I’m alone,’ she snapped.

Danny gave a mocking nod of his head. ‘I wasn’t sure whether Marcus might have paid you a latenight call.’

She knew exactly what he had thought, had seen the way he had taken in her appearance, noted her dress from the night before thrown over the arm of the chair—and she didn’t in the least like the assumption he had made.

‘I should get that if I were you.’ Danny nodded in the direction of the door as the knock sounded yet again, throwing himself down into an armchair to watch her with some amusement. ‘You have some explaining to do,’ he added with satisfaction.

She had intended explaining nothing, hadn’t intended even to be here. She cursed herself for not reading that message from the magazine the night before; if she had, she would have made sure she was far away from the hotel this morning.

Her politely enquiring smile as she opened the door was frozen on her lips as she saw who her second visitor of the morning was. Marcus Ballantyne.