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Gently she pressed her lips upon his, drawing back before he could respond.

'Darling Matt,' she whispered, 'sleep well and dream of me.'

'I do, every night, but one day it won't be a dream.' He paused, then climbed out of the car.

Going with him up the hotel steps, Caroline knew that tonight was not the night she had been hoping for. But she was not despondent. After all, she reminded herself again, Mark was not the sort to throw away ten thousand pounds.

Caroline
breakfasted on the terrace of her room, and was halfway through her second cup of coffee when Tom strolled in.

'Good morning,' he said cheerfully, planting a light kiss on her head. 'I thought I'd join you for breakfast.'

'You look like hell,' she observed. 'When did you get to bed?'

He grinned. 'I didn't—at least, not my own.
Entente cordiale
is much more
cordiale
in France,' he helped himself to one of her croissants and spread it thickly with butter and apricot jam. 'I did more for Anglo-French relations last night than the Common Market could ever hope to achieve! And what's more, I also had a bit of luck at roulette.'

'More's the pity,' Caroline muttered. 'Are you seeing Chantal again?'

'Naturally.'

'And what about her husband, or don't you mind pistols at dawn? It beats me why you can't find yourself a single girl.'

'I daresay I could, but I doubt if she'd be as accommodating as a twenty-five-year-old with a sixty-year-old husband!' Tom helped himself to another croissant. 'But enough about my love life. How did yours go last night?'

Caroline filled him in on the evening, leaving out the details of the drive home.

'So you're still just "good friends"?' Tom sounded disappointed.

'I can hardly propose to
him,'
she replied. 'And don't expect me to give you a day-by-day account of progress. If anything happens, you'll be the first to know.'

'I should hope so! There's a lot at stake.'

'Ten thousand pounds,' she said shakily. 'If Matt knew ...'

'He'll forgive you, Carrie. You didn't take the money for yourself.'

She nodded, but was in no way reassured, and was glad when, at eight-thirty, they all piled into the Renault that Matt had lent Lee, and drove down to Antibes.

Lee was a demon at the wheel, and they tore along the narrow one-way streets, just avoiding the cars parked on either side of the road. The bustling market was piled high with mounds of freshly picked fruit and vegetables, and Caroline made up her mind to get in very early one morning and have a look around. There was nothing more tantalising than home-grown aubergines—fat and purple—and baby courgettes, no bigger than one's finger and tender enough to be eaten raw.

'Here we are,' Lee grunted, and jerked to a violent stop beside the yacht.

Relieved to have arrived in one piece, Caroline stepped from the car as Matt strolled down the gangplank, sportily clad in denims and open-necked cotton top.

'Good morning,' he said cheerfully to them, before he swept Caroline into his arms and kissed her on the mouth.

She was acutely aware of the pine after-shave lotion on his skin and wondered if her body would always tremble when he touched her. From the corner of her eye she saw Helen staring down at them from the deck and she pulled away from him abruptly.

He followed her gaze. 'There's no need to feel embarrassed.'

'I'm not,' she lied. 'But there's a time and a place for everything.'

'Tell me the time and place and I'll be there!' he murmured, and stepped aside for her to walk up the gangplank.

He followed behind her, lightly swinging her heavy Louis Vuiton bag that contained all her make-up, hairpieces, change of shoes, scarves and accessories; an essential part of a model's life.

'I set aside a cabin for you and Ann to use,' he told her. 'You can keep all your things there and not bother taking them back to the hotel each night.'

Matt left them at the door of a beautifully appointed cabin, and Ann gave Caroline a curious look.

'What gives between you and Mr Rich?'

'I'm not sure,' Caroline smiled as if she did not care, 'except that I'm not doing any giving!'

'I'm glad to hear it. From what Lee's told me, our tycoon's got a long list of lovelies behind him, and our Helen makes sure they stay there!'

'Ann!' Lee bellowed from the deck. 'Where the hell are you?'

'Coming!' Ann called, and scuttled out.

Greatly relieved, Caroline sat down in front of the dressing table and mulled over Ann's warning as she applied her make-up. Helen was appearing an insurmountable obstacle to her happiness, and it would
be all too easy to blame the girl if Matt did not propose. Yet surely he had a mind of his own? An insidious doubt began to nag at her. Did Matt encourage Helen in her behaviour because it suited his purpose? Was she used by him the way some 'misunderstood' husbands used their wives; as protection against other women?

There was a knock at the door and a middle-aged woman came in and introduced herself as the make-up woman.

'I do my own,' Caroline explained. 'But my brother will need your assistance.'

As she went out, make-up box in hand, ah effeminate young man took her place. His English was poor but he was a master at hairdressing, and could magically change the style of Caroline's hair with a few clever strokes of his brush. By the time she and Tom were ready, Lee had worked out the shots he wanted.

To Caroline's relief Tom turned out to be a 'natural', knowing instinctively how to pose for the best effects, and what position showed off his clothes to the greatest advantage. Despite this, progress was slow, for the many changes of clothes necessitated different backgrounds to complement them. It was also tiring work in the hot sunshine, and they were all relieved when a break was called for lunch.

It was then that Matt joined them, helping Caroline from the cold buffet that had been laid out in the dining saloon.

'I've enjoyed watching you,' he said, as he sipped his white wine. 'I never realised what hard work modelling was. I thought you stood in a fixed pose and that the photographer went click, click.'

'That type of shot went out with the Ark,' she laughed. 'Nowadays it's all action photographs, with high speed film and ten different kinds of lenses. It's a bit like working on a film set. The more movement there is, the more life we give to the clothes.'

'Time's up!' Lee called. 'Stop stuffing your faces. I don't want to take shots when the sun's low.'

During part of the afternoon Matt stood silently on the deck watching Caroline at work. Helen sunbathed at the far end, though at four o'clock she disappeared into the saloon with Matt, who as far as Caroline could make out, began to dictate letters to his secretary. From another cabin she could hear the noise of a ticker-tape machine, punctuated by numerous telephone calls. Even on holiday, it seemed, Matt did not relax.

By four-thirty the light had faded and Lee called a halt. Caroline went down to change into her own clothes, and when she came up on deck again Matt was waiting for her.

'I'll collect you at eight for dinner,' he said. 'There's no need to dress up.'

Promptly to time Caroline was waiting for him on the hotel steps, and she stepped into the car before he had a chance to get out, and with a swift smile at her he drove off.

He seemed in an unusually quiet mood, and even when she ventured a comment or two, she received such terse replies that she finally lapsed into silence. Something was worrying him, and she wondered if it was what she hoped. Knowing how bitterly he felt about his first marriage, she could understand his feeling of disquiet about entering into a second.

They had to park some distance from the restaurant, for there was a surprising number of cars considering it was early in the season, and they walked up the hill for a hundred yards before reaching the arched entrance that led them to the grounds of the hotel where the restaurant was housed.

Once inside, they went down stone steps into a cavelike interior. The bare stonework of the walls was softened by brightly woven tapestries depicting scenes from the Arabian Nights, and the only lighting in the room came from candles fitted into glass lamps on the tables, and into medieval-style wrought-iron fitments that hung on the walls.

'How romantic,' she murmured as they were led by the maitre d'hotel to their table in the far corner of the crowded room.

Matt grunted. 'Personally I hate eating in a place where I
can't
see my food.' He peered at the menu he had been handed. 'Last time I was here the place was lit normally.'

'I'm quite willing to leave,' she said at once, hoping to pacify him.

'No.' He made an effort to be equable. 'It's late and you've hardly eaten all day. You must be starving.'

'I am,' she confessed. 'Do you recommend me to try anything special here?'

'There's no need. It's
all
special!'

The food, when it came, proved him right. Reluctant to force him into conversation, Caroline concentrated on her plate, and was relieved when, during their entree, Matt had mellowed enough to apologise for his ill-humour.

'I had a frustrating couple of hours after you left,' he confessed. 'I was on the phone to London most of the time.'

'Do you want to tell me about it?' she asked.

'I'm sure you're not interested in hearing my problems.'

'I'm interested in everything about you,' she said with honesty, 'Or do you prefer to keep your relationships on a superficial level?'

'Mostly yes, but not with you.'

She was warmed by the reply and made up her mind to say what she had been feeling for some time. 'I get the feeling you keep your true feelings tightly bottled up inside you. You're still afraid of being hurt, aren't you?'

'I've never pretended otherwise.'

'Will you go through life that way?' She was deliberately provoking him in the hope that he would put the question she longed to hear.

'Of course,' he said seriously. 'But naturally you're hoping to reform me.'

'How clever of you to guess! It's the only reason I'm still seeing you.'

He took it as a joke. 'Hasn't it occurred to you that I might not want to be reformed? After all, I can plead mitigating circumstances.'

'You mustn't allow your unhappy marriage to affect your entire life.'

Without answering Matt took a cigar out of a black crocodile case, and she saw this gesture as a termination to this particular conversation.

'Tell me what's been worrying you,' she encouraged him.

Slowly he started to speak, and as he began
to
sense that her interest was genuine, he elaborated on his
problem, which concerned a take-over bid for a large engineering firm in the Midlands. A great deal of what he told her was hard for her to follow, but she knew that just speaking about it eased his mind, and she vowed that once they were married she would always take an interest in his business problems.

'You're a good listener,' he said finally. 'You've helped me to make up my mind what I should do.'

'Have you never thought of taking things more easily?'

'Many times, but I won't do it for the next ten years. I enjoy power too much.'

It was an honest answer, though she hoped he would not want to exercise it over her.

On the way back to the hotel, he parked his car on the beach outside Antibes. The shoreline was deserted and they took off their shoes and walked along the sand, hand in hand like two teenagers. The moon lit up the midnight blue velvet sea and frothy white ruffles of lace curled upon the sand. The air was filled with romance, and when Matt drew her into his arms, Caroline allowed herself to remain there, matching his passion with her own as he sought her lips.

That day and evening set the pattern for the next three: hard work from ten until four-thirty, and three-star restaurants to follow. Matt knew his way around the coast as well as he did London, and enjoyed taking her from one gourmet's delight to another, knowing that her appreciation of food and ambiance equalled his own.

Tom was also behaving unexpectedly well. He was never late, even though his maximum nightly sleep rarely exceeded five hours, nor did he question her again about Matt. It was Caroline herself who was getting worried. The days were going by and he still had not proposed.

On Thursday, after a particularly gruelling session, he announced that he was taking her to Monte Carlo the following day.

'We've still a lot to do,' Lee muttered.

'I'll try and make up the time,' Caroline said consolingly, as Lee drove her and Tom back to the hotel.

'Get Bishop to stop watching you all day,' Lee grunted. 'You work better when he's out of the way.'

This was a fact Caroline could not deny. She knew how much Matt enjoyed watching her and it gave her a sensual awareness as she posed.

'Damn!' Tom suddenly exclaimed. 'I've left my watch on the boat. Can we go back for it, Lee?'

'Can't it wait till tomorrow?' Lee saw Tom's face and resignedly turned the car around and headed back for the harbour.

No one was on deck and Tom dashed aboard and disappeared from sight. It was nearly ten minutes before he returned to the car, looking so pale that Caroline asked if he were ill.

'I just had a shock,' he muttered. 'I couldn't find my watch and I thought it might have dropped overboard.'

Caroline was puzzled. Tom's watch was inexpensive and she could not imagine him caring all that much if he lost it. She knew he was lying, but also knew he would tell her the truth when they were alone.

In this she was right, for once in the hotel he came to her room.

'You're in for a shock, Carrie,' he said. 'I think you'd better sit down.'

'Don't be dramatic, Tom. Just tell me what's wrong.'

He hesitated, then blurted out: 'The reason I took so long finding my watch was that when I went back to get it, I overheard Mark talking to Matt. They didn't hear me coming because of my rubber-soled shoes, and when I heard them mention your name, I listened.'