The One And Only. Carole Mortimer
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.
And as he looked past her into the room, to where Danny sat sprawled in an armchair, his gaze slowly returning to take in her own dishevelled appearance, it was obvious by the sudden hardening of that cobalt-blue gaze that he no longer believed either of their claims of an old friendship between them, but that he thought it was still very new!
‘SO, DANNY,’ Marcus drawled coldly, brushing past Joy as he strode uninvited into her hotel suite. The arm brushing against her caused Joy to take a step back, an action he acknowledged by the raising of one dark brow before he turned his attention back to the younger man. ‘This is the reason you’re too sick to be at work today!’ he taunted with hard scepticism.
Joy looked at Danny too, and noted the way his face suffused with colour at the sight of Marcus, the way he sat up guiltily. And no wonder! So much for the noble claim of changing work schedules to be here this morning; Danny had simply called in sick. And from the look on his face, if he hadn’t felt sick before he certainly did now.
Danny swallowed hard, his face pale now. ‘Joy and I…still had some catching up to do,’ he blurted out awkwardly.
Joy stared at him open-mouthed as he said exactly the thing to make the situation seem worse— and definitely different from what it actually was. Danny wasn’t just a bore, he was stupid too.
‘So I see,’ Marcus rasped harshly, his expression glacial now. ‘And did it occur to you, Danny—’ the words were bitten out like darts flying between the two men, each one making its target ‘—that you have inconvenienced a lot of other people today because of your supposed sickness? Including myself,’ he added softly. Too softly.
Danny gave a nervously dismissive smile. ‘You’re exaggerating, Marcus—’
‘Am