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  Janice laughed. "Well, you must be a real little prude, Miss York. There's nothing wrong with that scene. It's passionate, I like it."

  Carrin cast a scathing glance at the actress, not bothering to dignify that comment with an answer. Mark watched her with narrowed eyes, and again she wished she knew what was going on behind them. Harold ran a hand through his thinning hair.

  "Carrin, what we have here is a difference of opinion again. Our writers, when they looked over the script, thought that it needed a love scene, so they put one in. I'm afraid it's going to stay. The biggest draw card about this film is Mark, and his fans want to see him... well, shirtless, at least. Bits of this scene will be in the trailer too, it's important." He glanced at Mark, but the actor looked distinctly bored, staring across the set.

  "Are you implying that without Mark's hairy butt on display the film will flop?" Carrin demanded.

  "No, but it will greatly increase its chances of success -"

  Mark glanced around. "My butt's not going to be -"

  "Mark rarely agrees to do sex scenes, as you like to call it," Harold interrupted. "So the fact that he's agreed to do this one for the sake of the movie deserves a bit more appreciation from you, I would say."

  "It's not hairy, either," Mark muttered.

  In a last desperate appeal, Carrin turned to him. "Mark?"

  He looked at her, his eyes flat. "I don't really care, either way."

  Carrin slumped in defeat, trying to ignore Janice's spiteful smile. She turned to Harold. "Well you won't need my opinion of it. You already have it. When you shoot it, I won't be here."

  He nodded, looking relieved, but shot a worried glance at Mark. "Sure, that's fine, Carrin."

  Carrin walked away to find a chair and flop into it. Without Mark's support, she was alone and insignificant. He seemed to have taken her rejection hard. He must be so used to women falling for him that his ego had taken a massive denting. She had not thought that he would become so unfriendly simply because she would not go out with him. He acted as if she had hurt him deeply, yet how could she? How could he be so bitter and resentful over something so petty? Why couldn't they still be friends? The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. It was not fair that he should turn on her because she would not go out with him.

  Carrin watched the filming until Harold called the final 'cut' and everyone packed up. Mark headed for the make-up department, and she went after him. She was going to give him a piece of her mind, superstar or not.

  In the make-up room, Mark sat in the swivelling chair, and Jerry bent over him, wielding a cotton pad. He looked around in surprise, and Mark glanced up.

  Seeing the expression on her face, he said, "Jerry, would you give us a minute, please?"

  Casting Carrin a knowing look, Jerry left. Carrin folded her arms, her courage waning under Mark's flat gaze.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "I want to know why you've been so hostile lately."

  "Hostile?"

  "Yes. Ever since I told you that I have a boyfriend, and can't go out with you, you've been very unfriendly. Today, when I needed your support, you weren't interested."

  His brows rose. "There was nothing I could have done, anyway. I explained that to you, didn't I?"

  "At least you could have agreed with me."

  He looked away. "Yes, I suppose I could have done that."

  His soft agreement was her undoing. It was too much like her dream of him; his gentle words were salt in her wounds.

  Her voice rose. "You know, I have my own life to live. I have a right to have a boyfriend, get married if I want, without you getting nasty because I won't go out with you. You may be a superstar, but you can't always get everything you want. If I dented your bloated ego, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be another notch on your bedpost."

  "Carrin -"

  "You've got Janice running after you already, and before that you had Jenna, how many more women do you need?"

  "Carrin -"

  "I'll bet it just eats you up that some little country hick turned you down, because you think you're God's gift to women, but you're not everybody's cup of tea, let me tell you."

  "Carrin!"

  "If you don't have the common decency to be civil to me now, then making this film is going to be very awkward. I thought you were my friend. I thought you were going to help me through this, since you know so much more about it than I do. You -"

  Mark rose, cutting off her flow. "Stop it. I was angry about what you said because you were lying. I phoned your mother, and she told me that you don't have a boyfriend. I could see that you were making it up when you said it. You're no actress."

  Carrin stared at him, her mouth open. Her mind whirled in frantic circles, like a trapped bird. Mark took hold of her shoulders and gazed into her eyes.

  "Why did you lie to me? Why are you so afraid of me? If you didn't want to go out with me, why didn't you just say so?"

  "I..." Carrin found her mind blank, her eyes locked with his.

  "I'm not looking for another notch on my bedpost; there aren't that many there anyway. You're not that kind of girl, anyway. You're not like Janice or Jenna."

  Carrin gulped. "No."

  "So why wouldn't you go to dinner with me? I wasn't going to try to seduce you." He smiled. "I doubt I would have succeeded, anyway. When you made up that story to avoid my company, I thought that was the way you wanted it, so I left you alone."

  She longed to cry, 'I don't want you to leave me alone, I just wish you were a good person, instead of a cruel woman beater!' No words at all would issue from her tight throat, however, and she cursed inwardly. He was so close, only inches away, within easy reach. The temptation to touch that famous face was almost overwhelming. She longed to trace its perfect contours with her fingers as her pencil had so often caressed his image. That would only reveal her feelings for him though, and cause her monumental humiliation, in the face of his undoubtedly triumphant mockery. No matter how hard it was, she must never allow him that satisfaction. She looked away, her mind still blank with panic. He was waiting for an answer, his warm hands sending tingles through her.

  "I just... don't want to go out with you."

  "May I ask why?"

  "No. It's a lot of things. I can't..." To her horror, her throat closed up again.

  "It's okay," he murmured. "I think I understand. We can be friends, though?"

  "Yes, of course."

  He smiled wryly. "Good. By the way, I don't think I'm God's gift to women."

  Carrin flushed, scowling. "How did you get my mother's phone number?"

  "The computer records all numbers that are dialled from my house."

  "Oh."

  His hands slid from her shoulders, and he turned away. She stared at him in confusion as he went over to the make-up chair and settled into it again. How could this be the same man who had beaten Helen so badly? He seemed so gentle, so understanding. If only it was real. Surely this was an act. For whatever reason, he wanted to stay friends with her. Why? What could he possibly want with her? What use did he have for her, as he had told Simon Grey? Still, despite his sinister reasons for being her friend, she was ridiculously glad that he was warm towards her again. Sweet lies. How sweet it was, to be his friend. No matter if it was not real, she would enjoy it while it lasted, for it was the nearest she would ever get to her dream of him coming true.

  Remembering the reason for the discussion, she said, "Will you tell Harold then?"

  "Tell him what?"

  "That you don't like scene twenty-eight."

  "Oh." He smiled. "Actually, I really don't mind sex scenes. They only shoot me from the waist up. It's Janice who'll be baring all, and she loves it."

  Carrin sighed. "Couldn't you get him to tone it down? Make it more tender, less raunchy?"

  "I could try."

  She nodded. That was good enough. If Mark Lord tried, the scene would be changed, she was sure of it. He stared into space, looking preoccup
ied, and now she was just hanging around.

  "I'd better go, the car will be waiting."

  He glanced at her. "Yes, sure. Goodnight." As she left the dressing room, he called, "Jerry, come and take the rest of this gunk off me."

  On the way back to the hotel, she went over what had happened. Whatever use he had for her had to have something to do with her going out with him, though she could not imagine what it could be, since he could go out with just about any woman he wished. That was why he had been so angry when she had lied to avoid his invitation. That was why he had phoned her mother to check up on her. Now he had apparently decided to be friends with her again in the hope of persuading her to go along with his plans at some future date. Well, she was forewarned, she would be cautious.

  Chapter Six

  The following day, she returned Mark's greeting with a warm smile, and Janice glared. Warren and Harold seemed relieved, however. At lunchtime, Mark took Harold aside for a long chat, at the end of which Harold returned to the set looking harassed. Carrin smiled sweetly at him when he shot her an accusing look. Two days later, a new draft of scene twenty-eight appeared on one of the tables, and all were instructed to read it. Carrin paged through it, well satisfied. It was still a sex scene in her opinion, but in much better taste. Janice pulled a face, openly dissatisfied, and shot her a dirty look.

  The filming went on for another two weeks without a hitch. They shot the bar scene, where Jason Talbot took the call from the mafia and agreed to meet them in the empty warehouse. Then they did another scene with Talbot and the mafia don, and finally a street scene in which Talbot spotted his prey and started the chase that would escalate throughout the movie.

  This was complex, and involved a lot of extras and a great deal of hair-pulling for Harold when the extras forgot their queues and blocked the cameras or got in the actors' way. Mark was friendly without seeking out her company, supportive yet objective. He treated her with kindness and courtesy, a distant sadness in his eyes. Pictures of him with Janice at a nightclub appeared in a magazine, which Janice gloatingly showed her. Carrin wondered if she knew what kind of man she was getting involved with.

  One afternoon, as she was leaving the set, a young man waylaid her. She recognised him as Tony Hill, one of the supporting actors, a dark, handsome man with pale blue eyes and a nose that was just a little too large for him. He smiled at her, looking a bit uncertain.

  "Hi."

  "Hello."

  "I was wondering, er, if you had any plans for tonight."

  "No." She smiled. He struck her as a pleasant man, quiet and unobtrusive, with a passive sort of charm and a lively wit. Several times he had flirted with her on the set, and once Harold had rebuked him. She did not know him well, but had developed a liking for him.

  "Well, I was wondering..." He glanced around. "If you're free, maybe you'd like to go out somewhere."

  "What did you have in mind?"

  He grinned, growing more confident. "Whatever you like. Dinner, a movie, dancing, you name it."

  She considered. "Dancing sounds nice."

  "Great. I know a good club, you'll love it. They -" He broke off and looked past her, suddenly wary. Carrin turned to find Mark approaching, heading for the side door that led out of the studio, where his limousine waited. She caught a glimpse of anger in his eyes, then it was gone, and he smiled as he moved past them.

  "Goodnight, Carrin, Tony."

  Tony made a nervous gesture. "Goodnight, Mr Lord."

  Carrin smiled. "'Night."

  Tony watched him leave, turning back to Carrin when Mark had closed the studio door behind him. "Phew!" He fanned himself. "That guy makes me nervous, don't you find?"

  "No. Why should he?"

  Tony grinned. "I don't know, he's just so... intense. Imagine being a big star like him. Hell!"

  Carrin remembered that Tony was given to inane comments and forced a smile. "So, what time will we go?"

  "Huh?"

  "To the club."

  "Oh! Right, um, how about eight-ish?"

  Carrin nodded. "Okay. You'll pick me up at my hotel?"

  "Yeah. See you then."

  Carrin went back to the hotel, where she had an early supper, dressed in smart but casual jeans and a T-shirt and waited for Tony to arrive.

  Tony picked her up in a Ford Mustang and drove to a nightclub. Carrin found it too dark; the music's pounding beat prevented any conversation, and the service was non-existent. Tony appeared to enjoy himself, and constantly dragged her onto the dance floor. She enjoyed dancing to the energetic music, and Tony was a good dancer, if a little over-enthusiastic. Several men asked her to dance when she did get a chance to sit and sip her drink, but Tony chased them off.

  By midnight Carrin was ready to leave. She had worked since eight that morning and would have to do the same tomorrow. When she asked Tony he nodded, assuring her that they would go soon, but made no effort to do so, and five minutes later he ordered another round of drinks. As the evening wore on, he became drunk, and ignored her pleas to take her back to her hotel. He was enjoying himself, he stated, and he was not ready to leave yet. Her eyes grew heavy with weariness, and her enjoyment of the entertainment waned. The loud music gave her a headache, and the drinks that she had consumed left a sour taste in her mouth. For almost half an hour, she stayed in the toilet to escape him, perched on the vanity counter. When she felt ridiculous, she returned to the table. Tony danced with another girl, but as soon as the song finished he came over to her.

  "Hey, I thought you'd got stuck in the loo."

  Carrin glared at him. "I'm tired, I want to go."

  "Naw! Don't be such a spoilsport! The night's still young!"

  "It's not. It's almost two in the morning, and we've both got to work tomorrow - today."

  "Aw, c'mon, let's dance, that'll wake you up."

  "No." She jerked away when he grabbed her hand. "I'm too tired to dance."

  He snorted. "Okay, suit yourself. There's plenty of chicks here."

  Tony reeled away in search of another partner, and she glared after him. Carrin toyed with the idea of leaving alone and catching a taxi, but at this time of the morning, cabs would be scarce. She did not think that it was a good idea to be out on the streets alone at such a late hour, either. Tony went from table to table, propositioning girls. Some danced with him, but by then his antics on the dance floor were clumsy and embarrassing. Soon no one would accept his invitations, and male companions pushed him away when he became too forward. Tony returned to their table and flung himself into his chair, slugging back the last of his drink. He stared at her owlishly.

  "Well, looks like I'm stuck with you. Hope you've had a rest."

  Carrin shook her head. "It's time we left."

  "Rubbish! I'm just starting to enjoy myself."

  Carrin decided that she would have to call a taxi. As she rose, Tony grabbed her hand.

  "Where're you goin'?"

  "To the loo," she yelled over the music.

  "Oh, okay."

  Tony released her, and she headed for the bar. The middle-aged man behind it explained that the public phone was out of order, and Carrin cursed. The bartender looked sympathetic.

  "I'd say use the manager's phone, but he's gone home and locked the office. The nearest other phone is almost two blocks away."

  Carrin shook her head and returned to the table, where Tony clapped to the music. He undoubtedly had a cell phone, but she could hardly ask to borrow it to call a cab. She really needed to get a cell phone that worked in America. As she reached him, he jumped up.

  "C'mon, let's dance."

  "No! I want to go back to the hotel, Tony."

  "You're no fun. One more dance, then we'll go."

  Desperate, she agreed, her feet aching. One dance turned into two, and Tony would not let her leave the floor. Carrin was thoroughly fed up by then, and a little scared. She hardly knew Tony, and did not know what to expect. A slow dance started, and he pulled her close, his hands wan
dering. She fended him off, then wrenched free and marched away, leaving him to follow. A glance at her watch told her that it was close to three in the morning, and she had to be at the studio at eight. Tony staggered up, almost falling over a chair. Now he was far too drunk to drive anyway. How was she going to get back to the hotel?

  While she was wondering what to do, another man approached and asked her to dance. He looked far more sober than Tony, so perhaps he would give her a lift. She smiled and nodded, but Tony jumped up, overturning his chair. He pushed the newcomer and sent him staggering into a nearby table covered with empty bottles. Glass smashed, and the stranger rolled to his feet, his face twisted with fury. Tony grabbed her as the stranger attacked, pulling her into the melee. The stranger pushed her aside, intent on Tony, and she fell over the overturned chair. The bartender entered the fray armed with a baseball bat, but the two men were too embroiled to notice. Carrin struggled to get to her feet, finding her legs tangled with the chair. A man crashed to the floor beside her, and she yelped in alarm.

  Someone pulled her to her feet. She swung a fist, thinking it was Tony trying to use her as a shield again. A hand caught her fist, and she stared into Mark Lord's angry eyes. As she stood frozen in stunned disbelief, his eyes focussed on something behind her. He pushed her aside, and she followed his gaze. The bartender had succeeded in quelling the stranger, who lay groaning on the floor, but Tony climbed to his feet and charged Mark. The superstar's hand on Tony's throat brought him up short, and held him away long enough for him to register who his target was. He goggled, blood running down his chin from a split lip. Mark did not have to say anything, or raise a fist. Tony stepped back, his mouth open, and Mark followed, locking eyes with the young actor. He was a fraction shorter than Tony, but never had Carrin seen anyone look so dangerous. He filled the room with his dark presence, dwarfing the taller man. Mark raised a finger and prodded Tony in the chest.

  "Don't bother coming to the studio tomorrow, you no longer work there."

  Tony spluttered, "You - you can't do that!"

  "I can." Mark gave him a push that made him stagger back. He tripped over the fallen chair and sprawled amongst the debris, staring up at Mark with a mixture of awe and fear. Mark paused to glare at him, then turned and gripped Carrin's arm, pushing her towards the door. The bartender watched him pass open-mouthed. The few remaining patrons muttered, and an overdone blonde by the door stepped into Mark's path.