Superstar (17 page)

"She would."
Mark sliced his meat with unnecessary vigour, frowning.

A surge of
pity for the actress went through Carrin. "But I'm sure she cares
for you."

"The only
person Janice cares about is herself. If she has any designs on me,
it's only to try and land herself a famous actor."

A woman
beater, too, Carrin wanted to add, and wondered if Janice knew
about his violent tendencies. The memory of Helen's battered face
momentarily spoilt her appetite. As she was trying to banish the
image, Mark asked, "Is that why you wouldn't go out with me?
Because you thought Janice was after me?"

"No." She
snapped, annoyed. "And I didn't think she was; I know she is."

"Okay. But
surely, if I was interested in her, I wouldn't have asked you?"

"People like
you like to play the field."

His brows
rose. "People like me?"

"Superstars,
celebrities."

"Ah. Well
we're not all the same, you know. Please don't compare me to a
superficial person like Janice."

Carrin
privately agreed. "So why did you want to go out with me? Is it in
fashion to date the writer as well as your co-star?"

Mark glanced
at her sharply. "No." He hesitated, looking away. "I thought we got
along well together."

She quelled a
sigh. Her fishing expedition was futile, it seemed, even though she
had used shark bait. He was as slippery as an eel, and an expert in
evasion.

To her
surprise, he elaborated, "We have a lot in common, you and I. A
love for horses and the country, good movies, genuine friends,
privacy."

"If you like
privacy so much, why did you become an actor?"

He smiled. "I
was very young when I started out, just nineteen. I thought fame
and fortune, glitz and glamour would make me happy."

"It
didn't?"

"No.
It's a lonely life. I have few close friends, like Ollie and Simon.
Most are just acquaintances; superficial people looking for
excitement, or wanting a bit of fame to rub off on them. It's hard
to weed out the genuine people from the hangers on. I know that
you're genuine. The limelight scares you, doesn't it?"

Carrin
answered without thinking. "No, it doesn't, but I'm not seeking it
either."

Mark's gaze
sharpened, making her uneasy. "I thought that was the reason you
made up that story to turn down my dinner invitation. You gave me
the impression you didn't like all the publicity."

"No. Well,
partly." Carrin flogged her flagging brain for a better answer. He
was so quick! Her anger flared. Too damned slick. He had probably
done this before, like a lawyer cross-examining a witness. Raising
her eyes, she glared at him. "My reasons are my own business. I
don't owe you an explanation."

Mark sat back,
his eyes narrowing. A slow smile tugged at his mouth. "I guess not.
Curiosity killed the cat. I don't like secrets, and you're a deep
pool whose depths I can't plumb, but I intend to get to the bottom
of it."

Carrin stared
at him, struck by this dangerous, dark side to him. He was used to
getting what he wanted; he used people and tossed them aside when
he grew bored with them. Like a child with too many toys, he was
unable to choose a favourite. Was this the real Mark Lord, the one
she had been warned about? Was the kind, gentle man just a facade?
She had turned over a rock and found a snake, now she did not know
whether to fight or run. From the look in his eyes, she knew that
the gauntlet had been thrown down. She had defied the immense charm
and charisma of a superstar, and by doing so, challenged him. She
sat back, her appetite gone. Mrs Martin removed Carrin's half-eaten
dinner, looking a little worried.

Mark
consumed his crème brulée with slow deliberation, and she wanted to
run to the safety of her room. When Mrs Martin had cleared away the
dishes, Carrin stood up.

"I'm tired.
It's been a long day, so I think I'll go to bed."

Mark rose and
walked around the table, and she wanted to back away from the
intense magnetism of his proximity. "Come for a night cap
first."

Carrin hated
the change in him. "Stop it."

"Stop
what?"

"This."

Mark smiled.
"I don't know what you're talking about. It's lovely on the
veranda, let's get some air." He took her wrist in a gentle grip
and led her towards the door. Shivers went through her at his
touch. If he was trying to prove that he could seduce her, she was
sure that she could not resist him.

Outside, he
turned to her. "What are you trying so hard to hide from me?"

"Nothing. It's
not a crime to turn down a dinner invitation, is it?"

"Maybe it is,
if you don't have a reason. But you do have a reason, don't you?"
He raised a hand to trace the curve of her cheek.

Carrin
remembered Helen's battered face and suppressed a shudder. She
stepped back, only to find a wall behind her. He placed his other
hand on the wall beside her head.

"Tell me,
Carrin."

Mark's voice
caressed her name, and his eyes were midnight pools. Her eyes
dropped to his mouth, so close, yet for her, forbidden. The dim
light softened his famous features, which she had studied and
sketched until she knew them as intimately as if she had caressed
them a hundred times. She could hardly breathe, and her pounding
heart made her dizzy. His fingers lingered on her cheek, then
cupped her chin. As he leant closer, desperation took hold of her.
If he kissed her, she would be lost. Her bones seemed to be turning
to jelly.

The rage that
had been born from, and eased her through, her hard life, saved
her. Cold fury swamped her, and she slapped him. Mark jerked back
in surprise, allowing her to slip under his arm and run into the
garden. Safely hidden amongst the bushes, she sank down on a wooden
bench. Sorrow quenched her anger. How could he? Did he know how
close he had come to making a complete fool out of her?

Had he done
that, she would not have been able to bear his scornful mockery.
She did not want to lose his friendship, it was too important to
her. Without it, her life would be empty and meaningless. If her
secret was discovered, however, she would have to go back to
Africa, rather than face the humiliation of his ridicule.

Her heart
ached as she remembered the bittersweet moment. If only it had been
real. Having him so close had been unbearable. The longing to slide
her arms around him and surrender to his charm had almost
overwhelmed her. Did his plans require that she be in love with
him? Was that why her rejection had annoyed him so much? Was that
why he had brought her here and tried to seduce her? Or was it, as
Helen had said, that he merely wanted to conquer her heart?

Afraid that he
would come in search of her, she rose and walked away into the
gathering dusk. Her steps led her to the stables, and she sought a
golden horse. Sirius snuffled her when she entered his stall, and
she put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his silken
mane. Sirius whickered, but stood still, as if sensing that she
needed his neck to lean on. After a while, her despair ebbed,
leaving her cold and numb. Carrin released the palomino, which went
back to pulling hay from the rack. In the darkness, surrounded by
the sweet earthy smell of horses and their quiet, wholesome
presence, she found calmness again.

Well, she had
won this battle, at least. No doubt he had expected her to succumb
to his charms, as so many had done before her. He had failed,
however. Her inbred stubbornness had rescued her in the nick of
time. Slapping his face might not have been such a good idea, she
reflected. It might also have ruined their friendship, but at least
she still had her dignity. She replayed that moment over and over
in her mind. The warmth of his proximity, so close, yet so
unbearably out of reach. Much as she longed to hold him, it was his
heart that she truly yearned to touch, as he had touched hers.
That, she would never do, she was certain. Years of meaningless
relationships with cold, ambitious women had turned his heart to
stone.

Carrin roused
from her reverie stiff and cold, crouched in the corner of Sirius'
stable. She rose and stretched, discovering that one of her legs
had gone to sleep. With a grateful pat, she left the gelding and
hobbled through the stable as feeling returned to her numb limb. By
the time she reached the garden, the limp was gone. She mounted the
steps to the veranda, where the double glass doors stood open.

A shadow
stepped out in front of her, and she recoiled. The darkness made
Mark's face a mystery of pale features and shadowed eyes. She
backed away, unsure of his mood. He held out a hand.

"I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to frighten you."

She stopped,
staring at him.

He sighed and
lowered his hand. "I expect you're angry with me, and I don't blame
you. It was a stupid thing to do, I know. For a moment there I
forgot how different you are, and I'm truly sorry."

Carrin could
hardly believe her ears. He moved closer, reaching out as if to
touch her shoulder, and she stepped back, out of range. He raised
his hands in a gesture of reassurance.

"It's okay,
I've learnt my lesson." He turned aside and leant on the veranda
railing. "I feel like an idiot. I should have known better than to
try and pull a stunt like that on you, and I got what I deserved.
I'll try to explain, and I hope you understand." He paused, staring
into the darkness.

"I hate
secrets. In my youth, before I learnt what most of the women who
run after movie stars are like, I fell into many traps. Ambitious
women played me like a trump card. All they wanted was the glory of
sharing the spotlight, and getting their names attached to mine.
Oh, sure, they wanted to marry me. Some swore undying love and
devotion, but, when I didn't propose fast enough, they ran off with
a better prospect. That was, of course, before I became really well
known. Now there aren't many better prospects."

He gave a
bitter laugh. "But now I'm wise to them. I see through their false
words and lying smiles. For a moment back there I thought you were
playing the same game, keeping secrets and playing hard to get. But
you weren't, were you? You made that point quite forcefully. I
thought I was pretty good at dodging, but you really took me by
surprise."

He
rubbed the side of his face. "That was quite a swing. I've never
been smacked when I was being friendly. Usually they deck me when I
tell them to go peddle their wares elsewhere. Like Jenna. If she'd
connected the swing she took at me, I'd probably have been in
hospital for a week with concussion." He turned to face her again.
"I don't know what your secret is, but you can keep it. I'll
respect your wishes and leave you alone, if you'll forgive me. I
want us to stay friends, okay?"

Something deep
inside Carrin tore apart. Her longing to believe his soft words
warred with the more logical part of her, which warned her that
this was another ploy, another set of lies designed to break down
her resistance. Actor! Glad that the darkness hid her expression,
she nodded.

"Sure,
okay."

Mark gazed at
her as if he wanted to say more, or perhaps he was surprised that
this tactic had not worked either. Asking her out had failed, and
trying to seduce her had earned him a slap, so now he was appealing
to her compassion? Did he think that if he portrayed himself as a
poor, ill-treated movie star, it would win her heart? Think again!
Some of it was probably true, but she doubted that any of those
scheming women had hurt anything other than his ego.

Had he wanted
to see if he could win her heart with false kindness and
gentlemanly behaviour? When that had not worked, he had resorted to
the well-practised tactic of using his immense magnetism and
charisma. How many hearts had he broken with his charm, she
wondered. Well, she was not going to be added to the tally. She
stepped around him.

"Good
night."

Carrin strode
into the house, glad to escape to her room, where she flung herself
on her bed and tried to sort out her hopelessly tangled feelings.
Clearly he was a bitter man who, in his youth, had had shallow
starlets bruise his ego many times. It surprised her that so many
women had tried to use him instead of making the most of his
affection. Then again, perhaps they had not. Maybe it had been his
suspicious mind. How could a man in his position know whether or
not a girl was serious about him, or just acting? Actresses
surrounded him, and supermodels' egos were so bloated that they
would never admit to having any feelings.

Then there was
the temptation of all the other handsome men who moved in Mark's
circle of friends. Like Simon Grey. Even a girl with genuine
feelings might fall foul of his seductive powers, if she did not
have a strong will. Now Mark had turned the tables, and used women
as he had once been used, or thought he had been used. He would
never allow a woman to capture his heart. Breaking hearts was now
his idea of entertainment, just as Helen had said.

If he ever
found out how she felt, he would treat her with the scorn that he
accorded his previous conquests. So long as they were only friends,
she hoped that he would respect her. Could she be happy with that?
Could she stand by and watch him go out with other women, never
knowing the intimacy he shared with them? She would have to, she
told herself angrily. A lasting friendship was better than a brief,
amorous affair that would end in bitterness and hurt. Comforted by
her resolve, she went to wash before flopping into bed,
exhausted.

When she came
down for breakfast, the atmosphere was rather strained. Mark shot
her worried glances, which she pointedly ignored. He asked if she
would like to help herd the cattle back to their pasture, and she
accepted with a smile. They joined the cowboys, and during the
course of the day, her stilted politeness gave way to friendliness
again. Mark took her to a quiet stream bank, where they sat beside
the gurgling water and chatted about inconsequential matters. The
previous evening's fiasco was not mentioned, and Carrin relaxed,
once again finding that she enjoyed his quick wit.