Red Rose For Love. Кэрол Мортимер
the break,’ he said practically.
Her head went back. ‘I’d rather not.’
He frowned. ‘Who are they from?’
‘Guess,’ she invited dryly, hoping he would put her dislike of the deep red blooms down to their sender.
His face brightened. ‘Not Bart Jordan?’
‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘Not Bart Jordan.’
‘Don’t tease, Eve,’ he said seriously.
She turned angrily to face him. ‘What is it about this man? Why is he so special? I’ve had men like him interested in me before, but you never tried to tell me how to behave with them.’
He flushed. ‘I’m not telling you how to behave with Jordan either. I just don’t think it would do us any good for you to upset him. He has a lot of influence, he could make things very uncomfortable for us if he chose to.’
‘And do you think he might?’ She remembered the threat in Bartholomew Jordan’s voice.
‘I think he could do,’ Derek nodded.
‘And what do you suggest I do about it?’ she asked tartly. ‘Sleep with him just to make sure he stays sweet?’
Derek flushed. ‘I didn’t say that——’
‘I’m so sorry,’ her voice dripped sarcasm. ‘Maybe it just sounded that way to me.’
He gave an impatient sigh. ‘You’re impossible in this mood, Eve. It wouldn’t do you any harm to be nice to him.’
She stood up. ‘He doesn’t want me to be nice to him, he wants to go to bed with me!’
‘I’ll admit he’s attracted to you, but——’
‘He told me what he wants, Derek,’ she interrupted firmly. ‘He wants me, in his bed. And he isn’t getting me!’
‘Eve——’
‘The answer is no, Derek.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t have the time to argue with you right now, you have to be on stage in a few minutes. And for what it’s worth, Eve,’ he added almost gently, ‘whoever he was, he isn’t worth it.’
She froze. ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded tautly.
‘You know what I mean. I’ve known you almost five years now, and you’ve never let a man near you——’
‘I’ve been out on dates!’
‘Date, in the singular. You never go out with the same man twice.’
She gave a tight smile. ‘Maybe I just like variety.’
Derek shook his head. ‘That isn’t true and you know it. No man lasts with you because he isn’t allowed to get near you, either physically or emotionally.’
Eve flushed. ‘You’re near me.’
‘Only as a friend, and only as near as you’ll let me. Eve, you——’
‘I have to go, Derek,’ she interrupted abruptly. ‘But I’ve never interfered in your private life, and I don’t expect you to interfere in mine.’
‘Eve——’
‘I have to go.’ She hurried out of the room as the music began to play.
It was perhaps unfortunate that the first person she saw was Bart Jordan. He was sitting in the front row of the audience, in an end seat, his blond hair very distinctive.
Eve glared at him, her resentment a tangible thing. This man had caused her to argue with Derek, something she never did, and worst of all he had brought back the painful memories of Carl.
If anything her performance was even better than last night, her anticipation of telling Bartholomew Jordan just what she thought of him incentive enough for her to give the performance of a lifetime. She had never been so sensually abandoned during the rock numbers, so heartbreaking during the sad love songs.
By the end of the evening she knew the appreciative clapping and shouting to be wholly deserved, and a lot of the fans were rising to their feet. Only one man didn’t applaud; Bartholomew Jordan got up and left by a side door as her last number came to an end.
Eve watched him go with disbelief. She had been conscious of his still figure all through the concert, had tried a little harder with each new song in the hope that he would applaud that one. He never did, just sat watching her steadily with those luminous green eyes.
Eve became more and more frustrated as the evening went on, and those heavy-lidded eyes never left her, a mocking twist to the firm lips that had plundered hers so thoroughly the evening before.
Well, she would show him when he turned up in her dressing-room. If he thought he had had the brush-off last night he would find out what that really meant tonight!
She waited fifteen minutes for him to show up, and when he didn’t she knew he must be waiting for her outside. He had probably left early to get his limousine.
But once she got outside there was no limousine, no Bartholomew Jordan. The damned man had genuinely walked out on her concert!
EVE’S mood was explosive during rehearsals the next day; she was critical of the musicians, until at last one of them shouted back at her. That took her aback, so much so that she was speechless for several minutes.
‘Okay, take a break, everyone,’ Derek filled in the silence. ‘Back on stage in ten minutes. You come with me.’ He pulled Eve off the stage and down into her dressing-room. ‘Now, what’s going on?’ he demanded to know.
Her face was flushed. ‘You had no need to do that,’ she snapped. ‘I could handle it.’ She pushed her hair back impatiently.
‘Maybe you could,’ he sighed. ‘But I don’t think the boys could. You were throwing the proverbial tantrum out there, Eve.’
‘I was not——’
‘You were, and you still are. What on earth is the matter with you?’ he sighed his exasperation. ‘You’re being hell today!’
She glared at him angrily for several minutes, her expression one of rebellion. Then the fight went out of her. She was being hell, she was surprised someone hadn’t told her earlier; the boys in the group didn’t usually take any nonsense, not from anyone.
‘I’ll apologise,’ she said tautly, her hands thrust into the back pocket of her skin-tight denims, her lemon tee-shirt figure-hugging too.
‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ he said firmly. ‘What’s upset you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Eve!’
She bit her lip, looking down at her hands. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, she just felt angry at the whole world. ‘Maybe I’m tired,’ she shrugged.
‘We all are. That’s no excuse.’ He put his arm about her shoulders. ‘You know that, don’t you, Eve? Guy was playing that last number perfectly, you were the one off key.’
‘I’ve said I’ll apologise!’
He moved back. ‘Make sure you do. Having the musicians walk out on us is something I don’t need.’
‘Derek——’
‘Okay, okay,’ he held up his hands defensively, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know you in this mood.’
She didn’t know herself. Usually nothing got to her, and yet since her first meeting with Bartholomew Jordan her mood had been very erratic. And