Superstar (8 page)

Jenna
stared after her, looking confused. "What
secrets?"

Carrin
returned to the table, where Mark glanced at her and raised a brow,
probably noticing the sparkle of anger in her eyes. She was annoyed
with him as well, for had it not been for his unpleasant
personality, Jenna would not be so bitter and nasty.

Simon
Grey asked her to dance, and she accepted, ignoring Mark's glare.
He looked annoyed when she rose, and several of his friends glanced
at him with a mixture of sympathy and amazement. As she and Simon
reached the dance floor, the music slowed and the lights dimmed.
Carrin immediately regretted agreeing to dance with him, but it was
too late. He took her in his arms, and she followed his lead. Since
Simon Grey was six foot four, she soon got a crick in her neck, and
her back grew stiff. Jenna returned and sat next to Mark, leaning
close to speak to him.

Simon leant
down to murmur, "You've certainly put Mark's nose out of
joint."

"Why?"

"By dancing
with me, of course."

"I can dance
with whoever I like."

He chuckled.
"But not before you've danced with your own partner."

A twinge of
remorse went through her. "Well he didn't ask me. And why did
you?"

"I didn't
think you'd accept, to be honest. I was just having a dig at
him."

"I thought he
was your friend?"

Simon
grinned. "He is. I was just a bit peeved about the way he dumped
Jenna."

Carrin
gasped. "He dumped Jenna? I thought she dumped him."

"Dump Mark
Lord?" He laughed. "You must be joking."

"Well I think
she had a lucky escape."

"Are you
serious? Jenna would give her eye teeth to have him
back."

"She's welcome
to him."

Simon held her
away to stare down at her. "You really are a strange girl, you
know."

Carrin
finished the dance in a daze of confusion. Why was Simon surprised?
Surely everyone knew what Mark was like? Hadn't Helen said so?
Maybe they all thought that he was such a good catch it didn't
matter how badly he treated women. When Simon took her back to the
table, Mark was expressionless, but Jenna looked triumphant.
Several hard looks from Mark's friends unnerved Carrin as she
settled into her seat. Mark ignored her for a few minutes,
conversing with the man on the other side of him, and Carrin knew
that he was chastising her.

Simon
winked at her, which helped, but Jenna elbowed him, and they left
the table to dance. Carrin sipped her drink and watched them,
thinking what a lovely couple they made. Jenna was almost as tall
as Simon, and his blond Adonis looks complemented her red-haired
loveliness. When the music slowed again and the lights dimmed, they
moved into an intimate clinch that left no doubt about their
relationship.

Carrin jumped
as Mark's soft voice spoke in her ear. "Are you going to dance with
me, or would you rather wait for Simon?"

Carrin flushed
with embarrassment, noticing that some of his friends watched them
curiously. "Of course I'll dance with you, but can't we wait for a
fast one?"

"What are you
afraid of, Carrin?"

You,
she wanted to say, but shook her head instead.
"Nothing."

Mark rose and
led her onto the dance floor. He held her loosely, but she still
found his proximity unnerving. Dancing with him seemed far more
intimate than with Simon, since Mark was almost the same height as
her. She turned her head away, but could not ignore his warm
nearness.

The sad ballad
about lovers parted was one of her favourites, and her eyes burnt
as she thought about her departure the next day. She was falling
under his spell, her bones turning to jelly at his touch. She
longed to rest her cheek against his and press her lips to his
mouth. A glance at him showed her that he was looking elsewhere,
his expression angry.

Following his gaze, she spied Jenna swinging past in a
clinch with Simon Grey. Taking this rare opportunity to study Mark
up close, she noticed a tiny scar on his cheek, and that his hair
gleamed like watered silk. A flash lighted his eyes, revealing that
they were tinged with green, and not merely dark blue as she had
always thought.

Mark glanced
at her, and she looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring. He
pulled her a little closer, apparently to avoid the couple behind
her, and she strived to quell her stomach's quivering. Her hand on
his shoulder longed to creep up to his neck, but she restrained it.
His nearness was intoxicating. Her wildest dreams did not compare
to the magic of reality and the potency of his charisma.

Carrin
prayed for the song to end, even as she revelled in his closeness.
If only she could reveal her feelings. If only he was the kind,
considerate man of her dreams, who would be delighted by her
confession and admit his feelings for her. Then there would be no
more barriers between them, nothing to stand in the way of their
happiness, no nasty rumours, and no intrigue. It was just an
impossible dream, though. She stared at the pulse that throbbed in
the hollow of his smooth, tanned throat, her heart a lump of lead.
He was a living, breathing fantasy, and utterly
unattainable.

At last
the dance ended, and she moved away when he released her, unable to
look at him. Jenna and Simon were still locked in a lover's
embrace, and Carrin glanced at Mark, surprised to find him gazing
at her. She thought she glimpsed a hint of sadness in his eyes
before he turned to lead her off the dance floor, but dismissed it
as imagination.

Back at the
table, the party continued. Champagne flowed, laughter wafted
around them, and Carrin sat sunken in deep gloom. Over the next few
hours, other men asked her to dance, and she danced a fast dance
with Mark, surprised by how good he was. They left well after
midnight, by which time Carrin was exhausted. At the door, the
barrage of camera flashes was less than before, but she was glad to
reach the safety of the car. She leant back and closed her eyes as
the limousine whispered homewards.

At the house,
she headed for her room, but his soft call stopped her.

"Carrin. Come
for a night cap."

She shook her
head. Her tiredness undermined her will to remain aloof, and the
longing to surrender to his charms was becoming unbearable. "I'm
tired."

"I want to
talk to you."

"If you're
angry about me dancing with Simon before you, I'm sorry. I didn't
realise that I was making a mistake until he told me. I'm just an
unsophisticated country hick. I don't know all the rules and
regulations."

He
regarded her steadily. "I'm not cross. I know you like Simon. It's
understandable; he's a nice guy. But he's involved with Jenna,
so... I just want to talk to you, that's all."

The sadness in
his voice made her heart ache, but she hardened it. He was a very
good actor. She had heard him use that seductive tone in his movies
too, and she was too vulnerable to talk to him now. Shaking her
head, she turned to mount the stairs.

"I'm going to
bed."

He walked to
the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her, the hallway lights
throwing shadows into the contours of his face.

"Carrin,
please."

The
pleading in his voice spurred her, and she almost ran upstairs. In
her room, she flung herself on the bed and glared at the ceiling,
fighting the urge to weep. Why was life so cruel? Why did the man
with whom she had fallen in love from an image on a screen have to
be so bad inside? Helen was right, he had no real feelings. He used
women and tossed them aside when he was finished. Jenna was proof
of that. It was far better to love him from a distance, and let him
remain an out-of-reach dream. She had enough pride not to join the
droves of women who chased after him. She would be the one who got
away, and leave with her dignity intact, no matter how much it
hurt.

With a sigh,
she rose and went into the bathroom to wash and remove her borrowed
finery. Cinderella's ball was over, and it was time to become a
commoner again. The diamond necklace formed a pool of white fire in
her palm, and she placed it on the dressing table. It was probably
worth more than her mother's farm all by itself. She folded the
dress and placed it in the walk-in wardrobe with the shoes. Donning
her well-worn robe, she went out onto the balcony. A splash made
her look down. Mark forged through the water up and down the pool.
She turned away and climbed into the big soft bed for the last
time.

The next
morning, Carrin packed her few clothes, put on a comfortable outfit
for travelling, and went downstairs. She sat on the patio and
ordered coffee, enjoying the cool, scented breezes that wafted
through the garden. Rita looked upset, even tearful, and Carrin
wondered why. Mark was out, apparently, and she was glad that she
did not have to face him. When the time came for her to go to the
airport, however, there was still no sign of him. Wasn't he even
going to say goodbye? Her gladness at his absence turned into a
fierce longing to see him one last time. By the time Rita informed
her that John was waiting to take her to the airport, her wish had
reached unbearable proportions. She rose and walked through the
empty mansion. John waited by the car, she slid in, and he closed
the door.

Rita waved
from the steps, and Carrin returned the gesture before she
remembered that the tinted windows hid her. She stared out at the
passing scenery, her mind numb. At the airport, the limousine slid
to a halt at the front doors, and a group of paparazzi rushed
forward. John helped her out while the photographers peered
hopefully into the empty car. Seeing that Mark Lord was not with
her, they lost interest.

Carrin
wondered how they had found out about his supposed trip to the
airport. Perhaps that was why he had not come. Still, he could have
said goodbye. Maybe that was what he had wanted to do last night?
She regretted not speaking to him then, but she had not known that
it would be her last chance. John carried her case through to
customs, where the conveyer belt swallowed it. As she paused at the
door to the departure lounge, he doffed his cap and held out a
hand.

"Have a good
trip, Miss York. It was a pleasure having you visit."

"Did Mark tell
you to say that?" she asked, desperate for some last message.

He frowned.
"No."

"Where is
he?"

"He went out
early this morning, Miss York." John lowered the hand that she had
neglected to shake.

"Does he
usually fail to say goodbye to his guests?" Anger made her tone
sharp.

"No."

She held out
her hand, and he shook it. "Goodbye John, it was nice to meet
you."

John replaced
his cap, looking confused. Carrin spun on her heel and marched into
the departure lounge, where she turned in time to see him vanish
into the crowd. Well, that was that. She was on her way. She
settled on a seat and stared into space, listening to the constant
bonging and soft-voiced announcements. When her flight number was
called, she rose and wandered over to join the queue that formed at
the boarding gate. The queue shuffled forward, and she was jostled
out. Not caring whether she was at the front or the back, she
allowed more eager passengers to push past. A touch on her elbow
made her jump, and she swung around in surprise. There he stood.
Mark Lord, superstar. He wore sunglasses and a baseball cap, which
disguised him somewhat. She gasped, glancing around to see if
anyone had recognised him, but the people were too intent on
boarding their flight.

"Did you think
I wouldn't say goodbye, Carrin?" he murmured.

"It didn't
seem like it."

"I had a
problem getting past the paparazzi. Someone tipped them off
again."

She gazed at
him, unable to read his expression behind the dark glasses. "Well,
thanks for making the effort."

His brows
rose. "Why do you dislike me so much?"

"I don't. It's
just... well, you're a movie star, and I'm a hick writer from
Africa. We have nothing in common."

"I disagree."
He paused, looking around. "Carrin... "

A balding,
middle-aged man clad in a loud Hawaiian shirt pushed between them.
"Mr Lord? It is Mark Lord, isn't it?"

Mark frowned.
"Excuse me, I'm busy."

The man held
out his boarding pass. "Oh please, will you autograph this for me?
It's for my daughter Kelly, she's mad about you."

Mark took the
boarding pass, and the man hunted through his pockets for a pen.
Carrin gazed at Mark sadly, noticing that her queue was almost
gone. The flight attendant waited, looking expectant. A woman
spotted Mark and hurried over, armed with a magazine and a pen. The
man got his autograph and hastened into the gate. Mark tried to
avoid the woman and failed. Carrin backed away towards the boarding
gate.

Two more
people came over to hamper the star, and others, who waited for
later flights, saw that something was happening and joined the
growing crowd. Two security men noticed the commotion and
approached. An eager throng surrounded Mark, who tried to excuse
himself, but they would not let him go. The security men tried to
extricate him, and the final call for Carrin's flight echoed around
the terminal. She raised a hand as she gave her pass to the
attendant.

Mark was still
trying to push through the fans when she turned to leave, her heart
filled with sadness. How terrible it must be to be a star, she
reflected, unable to go anywhere without being mobbed. She caught a
final glimpse of him in the centre of the throng, gazing after her
while the security men tried to rescue him.