Authors: Jill Mansell
Kiss (26 page)
The club was absolutely heaving with bodies. Izzy, peering through the crowd, said, ‘There’s Sam. What do you want to do, be polite and say hallo, or ignore him?’
Vivienne coughed delicately. Her green eyes sparkled. ‘Ah well . . . as a matter of fact, you aren’t the only one with a bit of good news to celebrate.’
‘You mean . . .’ Izzy stared at her. ‘You and Sam?’
‘Oh hey, we aren’t getting married or anything,’ Vivienne giggled. ‘No need to look that stunned.’
‘But you . . .’
‘Got laid,’ supplied Vivienne with characteristic bluntness. She heaved a blissful sigh. ‘And it was as great as ever. I mean, really. Sam Sheridan is seriously fantastic in the sack.’
I bet he is, Izzy thought ruefully, but she was able to smile and be pleased for her friend. What she’d never had she couldn’t miss, she reminded herself, and even if she didn’t happen to believe that particular bit of propaganda, at times like this it came in useful.
‘I’m glad,’ she said honestly, as Sam made his way towards them. ‘But don’t forget, I want to keep this recording contract a secret for the time being. He still thinks I’m a dumb female and I want to wait until there’s something to really show him . . .’
‘Izz, I won’t breathe a word,’ protested Vivienne. ‘I
adore
our secret. Why, just this afternoon he was running you down something rotten and I stuck by you all the way.’
adore
our secret. Why, just this afternoon he was running you down something rotten and I stuck by you all the way.’
Incredulous, Izzy demanded, ‘What was he
saying
about me?’
saying
about me?’
‘Oh . . . something about this guy Tash Janssen coming to the club tonight,’ said Vivienne vaguely. ‘Sam said that if you saw him you’d turn instant groupie.’
‘And what did you say?’ Izzy’s dark eyebrows had disappeared beneath her hair.
Vivienne winked. ‘Why, honeychile,’ she drawled teasingly. ‘I said no way some rich rock star would get it for nothing. You’d charge!’
So annoyed with Sam that she didn’t even trust herself to speak to him, Izzy left them to it and went for a wander. And although she tried hard not to think about her lost opportunity with Sam, not to mention the new and ludicrous pairing of Gina and Ralph, she couldn’t help noticing that the rest of the world appeared to be going around in twos.
I don’t need a man, she reminded herself crossly. I have a recording contract instead.
But it had been an awfully long time; the days of Ralph and Mike and the happily synchronised subterfuge which had made her life so complete were long gone, and now even Katerina had fallen in love . . .
She had to step aside to avoid a couple with their arms locked adoringly around each other’s waists. As she did so, she glanced across and saw Vivienne laughing with Sam, over at the bar. Never mind Gina, thought Izzy with a forlorn attempt at humour quite at odds with her previous high spirits; at this rate it wouldn’t be long before
she
was the one carting Jericho around the park in search of men.
she
was the one carting Jericho around the park in search of men.
As soon as she returned from the loo, where excitement was high and lipsticks and Schwarzenegger-strength hairsprays were being wielded with abandon in anticipation of Tash Janssen’s rumoured arrival, Izzy observed the hive of activity around the entrance and realised that he had indeed turned up. Famous though The Chelsea Steps might be for its laid-back, no-fuss policy, and although there were no actual stampedes or hysterical screams of delight, the appearance of one of the world’s most outrageous and successful rock stars couldn’t help but evoke more than a frisson of interest.
Despite herself, Izzy smiled as freshly lipsticked, miniskirted blondes streamed out of the loo and gravitated towards the dance floor. The DJ, who evidently had a sense of humour, promptly played a record to which it was almost impossible to dance. The blondes, first hesitating then retreating in temporary defeat to the sidelines, pretended they hadn’t wanted to dance anyway and shot him looks of icy disdain.
‘Hmm,’ murmured Vivienne, reappearing at Izzy’s side and gazing unashamedly in Tash Janssen’s direction. ‘I have to admit, he is
disturbingly
gorgeous. If I weren’t in love with Sam I might even be tempted to have a go at him myself.’
disturbingly
gorgeous. If I weren’t in love with Sam I might even be tempted to have a go at him myself.’
Izzy watched the Janssen entourage - all male, for now at least - settle themselves around The Chelsea Steps’ most coveted table. The singer, with his spiky dark hair, heavily lidded, even darker eyes and thin, tanned face, was casually dressed in a red shirt and black jeans. There was an air about him of deceptive languor, as he picked up his drink and murmured a few words to one of his black-suited minders. When he drained his glass in one go, another appeared before him within seconds.
‘Definitely dangerous,’ pronounced Vivienne, sounding excited. ‘Will you look at that mouth . . .’
Despite herself, Izzy was intrigued; how could a man who wasn’t, in truth,
that
good-looking, possess such an extraordinary degree of attraction for so many women? And had that attraction preceded the fame or become unleashed as a result of it? Whatever must it be like to exude such an aura . . . to be recognised by literally millions of people the world over . . . to simply
be
Tash Janssen?
that
good-looking, possess such an extraordinary degree of attraction for so many women? And had that attraction preceded the fame or become unleashed as a result of it? Whatever must it be like to exude such an aura . . . to be recognised by literally millions of people the world over . . . to simply
be
Tash Janssen?
‘You aren’t drooling,’ Vivienne observed, giving her a sharp sideways glance.
Izzy, who had been miles away, murmured absently, ‘I’m thinking.’
‘Never think,’ Vivienne declared, because it was one of her father’s favourite sayings. ‘Just act.’
Izzy grinned. ‘Don’t tempt me.’
‘Will whatever it is annoy Sam?’ Vivienne was looking interested now.
‘Oh yes.’
‘Will he be angry with me?’
‘Nooo . . .’
‘In that case,’ said Vivienne, smiling with relief and clinking her glass against Izzy’s, ‘what the hell are you doing, hanging around talking to me? Go for it.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ murmured Sam, twenty minutes later, as the larger of Tash Janssen’s minders made his way in a direct line across the dance floor and approached Izzy, now sitting demurely on her own at a small table in the very furthest corner of the club.
‘Maybe he’s asking her to dance,’ suggested Vivienne, doing her best not to laugh. The minder was addressing Izzy now, indicating that she should follow him.
‘What
is
she playing at?’ Sam had never quite overcome his fear that one evening Izzy - who knew no shame - would burst into song in front of one of his more celebrated guests . . .
is
she playing at?’ Sam had never quite overcome his fear that one evening Izzy - who knew no shame - would burst into song in front of one of his more celebrated guests . . .
Vivienne, reading his thoughts, squeezed his arm. ‘No, you cannot go over there,’ she admonished in stern tones. ‘He invited her, didn’t he? She hasn’t exactly forced herself upon him . . .’
With some unwillingness, Sam conceded that this was true. But he still wasn’t happy. ‘She planned this, somehow, ’ he said darkly, his eyes narrowing as he watched Tash Janssen rise to his feet and shake Izzy’s politely proffered hand. ‘I don’t know how she did it . . .’
‘Oh my,’ said Vivienne good-humouredly. ‘All this fuss over Izzy. Sweetheart, are you sure you aren’t just the teeniest bit jealous?’
‘Of course I’m not jealous,’ Sam replied evenly. Pausing, he took a sip of his drink. ‘I just don’t want her to start
singing
. . .’
singing
. . .’
Chapter 27
At close quarters, Tash Janssen was even more devastating to look at. Izzy, sitting next to him with her hands clasped modestly in her lap, wondered how many times he had enjoyed wild sex in the back of a limo, then hastily abandoned such thoughts in case he was able to read her mind.
‘Well,’ he announced finally, when he had finished subjecting her to a slow up-and-down scrutiny. ‘I have to say that I’ve had plenty of notes passed to me in my time, but none quite like yours.’
‘No?’ said Izzy with the utmost politeness. The note, which she had handed over to her favourite barman, now lay on the table in front of them, but Tash Janssen quoted the first sentence without even glancing at it.
‘I’m not offering you my body, I don’t have blonde hair and I am old enough to be your mother. But I would like to make you the very serious offer of a song which may interest you a great deal.’
‘Yes,’ Izzy replied simply.
‘You aren’t old enough to be my mother,’ he observed with a crooked smile.
‘My only fib,’ she conceded, the corners of her own mouth beginning to curl.
‘And you’re telling me that this song is great?’
‘Oh, the greatest.’
‘Another . . . fib?’
He was amusing himself. Izzy knew perfectly well that he wasn’t taking her seriously. Yet at the same time she sensed that even if he didn’t actually believe her, she had captured his interest, temporarily at least.
‘This song,’ she said mildly, ‘is the best.’
Tash Janssen laughed and glanced briefly at his watch. ‘Look, are you sure you wouldn’t like to change your mind about sleeping with me?’
‘It would take
five
minutes . . .’ Izzy protested, realizing that the softly-softly approach wasn’t working and that she was in danger of losing him.
five
minutes . . .’ Izzy protested, realizing that the softly-softly approach wasn’t working and that she was in danger of losing him.
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Excuse me, but that just is not
true
. . .’
true
. . .’
‘To listen to my song, stupid.’
He raised his hands in relief. ‘I thought we were discussing my sexual prowess. OK, OK, why don’t you send me a tape, care of my record company? I promise to listen to it.’
‘No,’ said Izzy, opening her bag, lifting out her copy of the demo tape and flicking it away from him when he reached out to take it from her. ‘I have a car waiting outside. Come and listen to it now.’
‘I . . . do . . . not . . .
believe
. . . it,’ said Sam, through gritted teeth.
believe
. . . it,’ said Sam, through gritted teeth.
Vivienne, beside herself with joy, replied consolingly, ‘Now, now. She is an adult, after all.’
‘That woman is the second most amoral adult I know.’ Sam, glaring at the departing figures, observed that Tash Janssen’s hand was resting lightly upon Izzy’s shoulder. ‘And she’s just walked out - practically arm in arm, for God’s sake - with the first.’
‘Maybe,’ suggested Vivienne, ever helpful, ‘they’ve gone to feed his meter.’
Izzy, adoring the expression on the face of the photographer who had earlier doubted her, grinned at Tash Janssen, said, ‘Your car or mine?’ and took three steps towards her own rented limousine before he could open his mouth. With a shrug, she continued smoothly, ‘OK, mine. Thank you, George . . . would it be rude to ask you to wait outside the car for a few minutes? Mr Janssen and I have some private business to discuss.’
‘Full of surprises,’ remarked Tash, when they were safely inside, protected from prying eyes and lenses by blacked-out windows. Leaning closer to Izzy, he murmured conspiratorially, ‘Have you ever done it in the back seat of one of these things?’
‘Since before you were born,’ replied Izzy with a sigh. Pushing him upright, she went on. ‘Look, nobody can hear us now, so you can drop the big rock-star act. Just behave like a normal human being for five minutes and listen to my song.’
He laughed. ‘Have you ever thought of becoming a schoolteacher?’
‘Sssh.’ Izzy fitted the cassette into the tape deck and adjusted the balance for quadraphonic sound.
‘Your hands are shaking,’ he observed.
‘That’s because I’m nervous.’
He looked interested. ‘You practically kidnapped me. Why should
you
be afraid?’
you
be afraid?’
Turning to face him, her dark eyes huge, she said slowly, ‘This is important to me. I’m afraid that you won’t take the trouble to listen properly, because you’re treating this whole thing as a joke, whereas I’m serious.’
After a moment, he took her hand in his, kissed it, then replaced it with care on the seat beside him. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I’ll listen properly. I can be serious, too.’
The opening bars of ‘Never, Never’ flooded the car and he listened. Izzy watched him listen - with his eyes closed and his long legs stretched out in front of him - and scarcely dared to breathe for the entire four minutes.
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