Fire With Fire. PENNY JORDAN

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СКАЧАТЬ herself to think calmly and quickly, and to detach herself from what was happening she viewed her options, and could only come up with one solution. Damn Drake Harwood and damn Camilla. She would have to agree, she decided bitterly. She had no real choice. Let him take his photographs, but he’d never be able to use them in the way he’d planned.

      Bitter anger tensed her muscles as she envisaged having to explain to Robert why she could not take the job … but he would understand. They wouldn’t want her on local television either … not once Drake Harwood had splashed her photograph all over his magazine. So what, she told herself hardily, she would be able to find another job in some other field where her public image wasn’t so important and at least she would have the satisfaction of defeating Drake Harwood. As he had said himself, photographs of her, as herself would have little appeal. As Emma Court she was no one and even though her mind and body screamed objections to what she would have to do she must ignore them.

      ‘Well?’

      She faced him coolly, ‘I agree. but first I must have a document signed by you, clearing Camilla from any charges you might make against her.’

      ‘You shall have it. I do admire a woman of keen perception Emma Court. Somehow I thought you and I would be able to reach a mutually acceptable agreement.’

      He was taunting her, Emma was sure of it, but she wasn’t going to respond.

      ‘How long will it take to get the document prepared and signed,’ she asked him coolly. She must know how much time she had. She daredn’t say that she wasn’t taking the job until she had that paper in her hand.

      He was watching her face. ‘It will be given to you immediately after the photographic session.’

      ‘Do I have your word on that?’ Her eyes were hard, and she noted the dull flush colouring his cheek bones.

      ‘You have it,’ he told her crisply. ‘Now let’s get down to the arrangements shall we?’

      He obviously didn’t believe in wasting any time Emma thought hollowly half an hour later as she left his office. Tomorrow she had to present herself at a studio whose address he had given her, and he had promised that she would also receive the documents releasing Camilla while she was there.

      She went back to her hotel and booked in for another night. Then she telephoned home and told her father she had been delayed. ‘Camilla wants to speak to you,’ he told her.

      Camilla sounded tense. ‘Did you see him?’ she demanded.

      ‘Yes, and he’s agreed to drop all the charges.’ There wasn’t much point in telling her sister the price she was having to pay for her freedom. There was nothing martyred or self-sacrificing in her decision; it was simply the only one she could make. She had grown so used to protecting Camilla that it was almost second nature.

      She put off telephoning Robert, her interview with him was best left until she got home. Thank goodness she hadn’t actually signed a new contract. The television company would be more than pleased to let her go when they knew why she was leaving. Once her photograph had appeared in Drake Harwood’s obnoxious publication no serious television station would want to touch her with a bargepole. Bitterness welled up inside her, but she fought it down; at least she would have the satisfaction of defeating his main purpose and that, she sensed, was something very few people ever did. He had been quite cold and callous about his reasons for what he was doing; her thoughts and feelings meant nothing to him and neither did the fact that he was destroying her career. She had sensed beneath the mockery a fine contempt of the female sex, and she shuddered inwardly, trying not to think about the ordeal to come.

      That evening after she had had her bath she forced herself to study her nude reflection in the bedroom mirror. Her body was slender and well formed, unmistakably feminine; the thought of exposing it to the eyes of some jaded photographer made her shudder with distaste. If only she could blot the whole thing out of her mind somehow … but that wasn’t possible.

      Neither was sleep; she lay awake for what felt like hours, prey to her thoughts and too-active imagination. It was difficult to visualise anything more degrading than what she was going to have to do, and her pride rebelled fiercely against it, but there was no escape.

       CHAPTER THREE

      MORNING came; she was heavy eyed and lethargic. The thought of breakfast held no appeal and having showered she dressed quickly in plain cream underwear. The moment her fingers touched the pale, silky fabric she started to shiver. Dear God, she could not go through with this; she could not subject herself to such sexual debasement. She ran to the bathroom and retched painfully, shuddering convulsively afterwards. If only she could simply walk out of this hotel and away from … from everything, she thought tiredly, but she couldn’t. She had spent too many years as Camilla’s older sister to do that. She could not desert the younger girl now.

      A blessed numb calm seemed to engulf her the moment she walked outside; it was like being encased in a soft plastic bubble; safe from all harm; from all contact with her own feelings.

      The taxi drive to the address Drake Harwood had given her was over all too soon. The studio was housed in an elegant Regency terrace; testament to how much money could be made from their business, Emma reflected bitterly as she paid off the taxi driver and rang the bell.

      It took several minutes for the door to open. A girl of about her own age stood there, dressed in tatty jeans and a bulky sweater. ‘Hi, come on in,’ she directed. ‘Drake warned me to expect you.’ She gave Emma a wide grin. ‘Feeling nervous? Drake said you might be. This way.’

      Following her down a narrow corridor, Emma gritted her teeth against the biting retort she was longing to make. Her relief at discovering that the photographer was another woman had quickly been displaced by fury that Drake Harwood should discuss her with her.

      ‘In here …’

      ‘Here …’ was an expensively equipped studio, dominated by the large bed on which several spotlights were focused. The bed itself was covered in a satin spread, the colour of rich cream.

      ‘Drake’s idea. I’m Pat Devlin,’ the other girl introduced herself. ‘I don’t normally accept commissions of this type, but Drake made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, as the saying goes. That was his idea,’ she added gesturing towards the bed and grimacing faintly. ‘He said the spread would be a perfect foil for your hair. Fancy a cup of coffee?’

      Nodding numbly, Emma tried to come to grips with reality. It seemed impossible to believe this was actually happening but it was … and there was no escape.

      ‘Oh and Drake left something for you, said I was to give it to you after we’d finished. It’s over there.’

      Emma looked at the thick envelope. So he had kept his promise to her. Somehow she had never doubted that he would. ‘Hey are you feeling okay?’ There was genuine anxiety in the question.

      Emma nodded her head. ‘First time nerves,’ she grimaced.

      ‘And second thoughts. Why not have third ones and forget the whole thing. It’s none of my business of course, but if you’re really hating the thought of it as much as you look as though you are, it will show in the photographs, and no matter how much Drake is paying you, it can’t possibly compensate for what it’s costing СКАЧАТЬ