Golden Fever

The next few days were spent mainly in Gene’s company, their days being spent at Malibu Beach, where Gene spent most of his time on his surf board, although the waves hardly seemed high enough to accommodate him. But he enjoyed it, and Clare found it relaxing to be in his company. Their evenings were spent going to one party after another, renewing old acquaintances for Clare, and often making new ones. It was at one of these parties that she met Rourke for the second time.

She hadn’t completely forgotten him, but she had pushed the thought of him to the back of her mind. He hadn’t been to the house any more, and her mother never mentioned him, so it was hard to find out anything about him. Not that she was altogether sure she wanted to find out anything about such a dangerous man; just remembering the way he had looked at her sending shivers of apprehension down her spine. And his words that they would meet again had sounded almost like a threat to her sensitive ears.

It was almost a week later that Gene and she were at yet another party, the only thing making this one different from the others being that Rourke Somerville had arrived shortly after eleven o’clock, a beautiful blonde on his arm, a woman that Clare instantly recognised as Livia Marriott, an actress known for her more ’revealing’ roles. The last film she had made had been banned in many parts of the world, and it seemed she was no less daring in her private life, the black dress she almost had on having no back at all and hardly any front.

Rourke was dressed almost as casually, his white trousers skin-tight, his black shirt almost completely unbuttoned, the hair visible on his chest thick and dark.

Clare tried not to notice him and his affectionate partner, but it was impossible not to. When they danced together they almost made love, and when they didn’t dance Livia Marriott draped herself so sensuously over Rourke that they might as well have been making love then too.

She looked away, shocked by their behaviour, although no one else seemed to be taking the least bit of notice. Some of the other women in the room even looked jealous of the full-breasted actress—probably wishing themselves in her place, Clare thought disgustedly.

‘Why the frown?’

Once again Rourke had caught her unawares, leaning casually against the wall as she sat in a corner waiting for Gene to return from dancing with one of their friends.

She blushed. ‘I didn’t see you, Mr Somerville,’ she said stiltedly.

He moved to sit on the side of her armchair, much too close for comfort, smelling of some spicy, masculine cologne. ‘So the frown wasn’t for me?’ he asked throatily.

Clare moved uncomfortably, sure that he must be able to see straight down the low neckline of her cream halter-necked dress. And the frown had been for him, for his blatant behaviour with the young actress. ‘I didn’t say that, Mr Somerville,’ she told him stiffly, her years at the convent preventing her telling a deliberate lie.

‘Oh?’ His eyebrows rose. ‘What did I do this time?’

‘This time?’ She blinked her puzzlement, licking her lips nervously.

Rourke watched the movement, and those flames started to leap in his eyes once again. ‘Do you do that on purpose?’ he rasped.

Clare frowned. ‘Do what?’

He gave her a disbelieving look, his mouth twisting derisively. ‘Never mind,’ he dismissed scathingly. ‘So, what did I do?’

‘I—Why, nothing.’ She went to stand up, totally unnerved by his closeness, but Rourke’s hand on her arm stopped her. ‘Let me go,’ she requested softly.

‘Why?’

‘Why …?’

‘Yes. You know you don’t want me to really,’ his eyes teased her. ‘You aren’t what I expected ‘‘little Clare’’ to look like. Not at all,’ he added mockingly.

She already knew that! ’What did you expect, Mr Somerville, white socks and a gymslip?’ she flashed, resenting the hold on her arm that wouldn’t be shaken.

His mouth quirked into a smile. ‘Now there’s a thought,’ he leered wickedly.

Clare tried to be annoyed, but her humour got the better of her as she burst out laughing. ‘The nuns would be shocked,’ she giggled.

Rourke’s eyes darkened appreciatively. ‘I’m sure they would.’ He stood up in one fluid movement. ‘Let’s dance,’ he said abruptly.

‘Oh, but I—Miss Marriott?’

He smiled. ‘So that’s what I did wrong. Livia is busy—seducing a director.’

Clare’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t you mind?’

‘Should I?’ He sounded bored.

‘Well, I—You came here together!’

‘So?’

‘So you—well, you——’

He shrugged. ‘Livia and I make no claims on each other. Does Gene have any claim on you?’ His eyes were narrowed.

‘Gene …?’ she repeated in bewilderment.

‘The beautiful young daughter of Carlene Walters and the son of Perry Lester have been seen together all over L.A., at the beach, at restaurants, at parties,’ he added pointedly. ‘Didn’t you know you’re the talk of the town?’

‘No,’ her face was scarlet with embarrassment. ‘Gene and I are just friends——’

Rourke gave a mocking laugh. ‘Now where have I heard that before?’ he taunted.

Clare blushed. ‘I don’t think you’re a very nice person, Mr Somerville.’

‘I hope not,’ he still smiled.

‘You’re impossible!’ She spluttered with laughter, finding this outrageous man more and more attractive by the minute.

‘I hope I’m that too,’ he nodded. ‘Now, shall we dance?’

‘Yes, please,’ she accepted shyly.

‘I thought you were never going to agree,’ he groaned, taking her to the dance area before pulling her unresistingly into his arms.

Not an inch separated them as they slowly danced to the music, Clare resting her head on Rourke’s shoulder, her arms about his neck as his hands rested possessively on her hips.

‘Now aren’t you glad you didn’t become a nun?’ he murmured in amusement, his lips warm against her earlobe.

Clare smiled. ‘There was never any chance of that.’ She respected the wishes of the Sisters to shut themselves away from the world, from the love of a flesh-and-blood man, but she knew it wasn’t for her. She enjoyed being kissed, being held, and she knew that one day she wanted a husband and children to take care of.

‘No,’ Rourke gave a throaty chuckle, one of his hands exploring the curve of her spine now. ‘No, I don’t suppose there was.’

For some reason she didn’t like the way he said that, and she stiffened in his arms before moving away from him. ‘I think I’d like to return to Gene now,’ she said stiltedly.

Blue eyes narrowed with displeasure, his lashes ridiculously long for a man. ‘And if I don’t want you to?’

Her brows rose with more calm than she was feeling. ‘Should it matter to me what you want?’

She was surprised at her own coolness, her pulse fluttering erratically just to look at him. But she had seen the way her mother handled men, and she knew that if she showed Rourke how nervous he really made her feel he would tease her unmercifully—worse, he would know how deeply she was attracted to him.