Golden Fever. Кэрол Мортимер

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ struggle along with their suitcases, carrying only the briefcase that had accompanied him on the plane. He flicked open the briefcase, and a photograph of Clare miraculously appeared from its depths. ‘Here,’ he handed it to her to sign, censure in his frowning blue eyes.

      Clare bit her bottom lip, knowing she was being less than gracious, favouring the boy with a smile designed to dazzle—knowing she had succeeded when he flushed his pleasure.

      She couldn’t be more than four or five years older than this lad, and yet she felt miles apart from him, knew that her way of life, the glitter, the falseness, had given her a sophistication that more than matched Harvey’s thirty-five years.

      But she was going off at a tangent again, her thoughts constantly wandering today. Once again she smiled at the waiting boy, and took a gold pen from her handbag. ‘Who shall I write it to?’ she queried softly.

      ‘Nick,’ he said eagerly, watching as she scrawled his name across the bottom of the photograph, accompanying it with her own. ‘Thanks,’ he accepted it gratefully, disappearing into the crowd as suddenly as he had appeared.

      Harvey took hold of Clare’s arm, guiding her outside with a firmness that dared even the most ardent fan to accost them, ushering her into the waiting limousine as a crowd began to gather about them.

      ‘What’s the matter with you? he demanded as the car glided smoothly away from the excited people staring in the windows. ‘You almost didn’t give that boy your autograph,’ he added sternly. ‘A couple of stories in the press of you not appreciating your fans and you’ll have your nickname changed to ‘‘the Golden Bitch’’!’

      Clare smiled, with her lips only, her eyes remaining coolly golden. ‘That ‘‘fan’’ walked off with my pen,’ she told him sweetly.

      Irritation furrowed his handsome face. ‘You should have stopped him——’

      ‘And risked my image?’ she taunted softly, the smile still curving her peach-coloured lips. Her make-up was very light, her lashes naturally dark, her skin the colour of honey and glowing with good health. Only the dullness of her eyes showed her dissatisfaction with her life, the questioning of whether, now that she had her fame and fortune, that were all there were to life.

      ‘The pen was gold, Clare,’ Harvey snapped.

      She shrugged. ‘Gold for the Golden Lady.’

      ‘But I gave it to you!’

      Her expression instantly changed to one of contrition, her hand moving to rest lightly on his thigh. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I’ll make my—thoughtlessness up to you later,’ she added provocatively.

      His frown told her that this didn’t please him either, the look he shot in the direction of their driver showing her the reason why it didn’t. He firmly took her hand in his, shaking his head.

      Clare turned to look out of the window, at the palm trees that grew along the roadside, the abundance of tropical plants. The weather was hot and humid, a smog shrouding the city like a blanket, looking almost like a London fog. Harvey was already beginning to look hot and uncomfortable, perspiration starting to bead his forehead. Of course the grey suit he wore was more suited to an English summer than the humidity of L.A., but then the weather had been cool in England for August.

      Clare frowned as the limousine turned on to the all-too-familiar Sunset Boulevard. ‘Where are we going, Harvey?’ she asked sharply, emotion at last etched into her face.

      ‘Your mother——’

      ‘Tell the driver to turn the car around, Harvey,’ she ordered stiffly, sitting tensely in her seat.

      ‘But, Clare——’

      ‘Now!’ she bit out, her eyes flashing deeply gold.

      ‘But your mother——’

      ‘Can wait. And she can go on waiting.’

      ‘Clare——’

      ‘Will you tell the driver or do I have to do it myself?’ Her tone brooked no further argument.

      Harvey sighed his impatience, leaning forward to issue new instructions to the driver. Clare watched him with angry eyes. Her fianc$eA was very good-looking in an executive sort of way—blond hair almost as gold as her own was kept short to control its tendency to curl, his eyes were the blue of the sea, his nose short and straight, his mouth thin, unsmiling now, his jaw thrust out aggressively, his body slender, the sort of body that wore clothes well.

      Harvey had taken control of her career—and her life—three years ago, and she very rarely opposed him in this way. But about her mother she would remain adamant.

      He sat back, still angry with her. ‘I’ve told him to take us to the hotel,’ he told her tightly.

      The hotel was the ship Queen Mary, and it seemed strange to think of an over eighty-thousand-ton ship as a hotel. Moored at Long Beach since 1967, it was now run as a hotel. Clare had never travelled on her while she had been in service as a cruise liner, and she was curious to see the huge ship that had been saved in this unique way from being broken up for scrap.

      But she couldn’t let Harvey off this lightly. ‘When did you speak to my mother?’ she wanted to know.

      ‘I called her——’

      ‘You did?’ Her eyes widened in exasperation. ‘Why would you call my mother?’

      ‘She is going to be my mother-in-law——’

      ‘That’s never bothered you before.’ Her mouth twisted.

      He flushed his irritation at this unexpected show of anger from her. ‘It doesn’t bother me now, it wouldn’t bother any man to have Carlene Walters as his mother-in-law.’

      Clare could hear the admiration in his voice, and she prickled resentfully. ‘Then maybe you should be marrying her and not me.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous!’

      She sighed, smoothing the yellow dress down the long length of her thighs. ‘What did you talk to her about?’ she asked casually.

      ‘You, mainly,’ Harvey was eager to explain. ‘She really wants to see you, Clare.’

      ‘I’ll bet!’ Her tone was derisive.

      ‘Clare, please,’ he sighed. ‘It’s been years now——’

      Once again she turned to look out of the window, no longer listening to him. She knew exactly how long it was since she had last seen her mother, could have told Harvey down to the last minute exactly how long it was since she had walked out of her mother’s house determined never to see her again—and nothing had happened in the last five years to change her mind about that.

      ‘Clare, are you listening to me?’ Harvey asked impatiently.

      She didn’t even turn. ‘No.’

      ‘You’re being unreasonable——’

      Now she СКАЧАТЬ