Red Rose For Love Page 5

  'Oh!' She blushed fiery red; his meaning was blatantly clear. 'I—I thought you would be married,' she said to cover her embarrassment.

  His mouth twisted. 'I haven't fallen into that trap yet, no.' His eyes narrowed. 'Is that why you've been rejecting my flowers?'

  Her expression was fierce. 'I happen to hate red roses!' she told him vehemently. Bartholomew Jordan gave a short amused laugh. 'That never occurred to me. I thought all women liked red roses.'

  'I don't!'

  'So it was the flowers you disliked, and not me?'

  'I wouldn't say that,' she said dryly, eyeing him mockingly.

  'Would you like an apology for the other night?' he queried softly, moving to sit on the side of the bed again.

  'An apology?' She blinked her bewilderment, wishing he would move away from her. He was an overwhelming individual, sensually so, and she didn't like him this close to her.

  Bart nodded. 'I was rude to you, crudely rude. Not that it isn't true about my wanting you,' he told her seriously. 'But I had no reason to suppose you even liked me, let alone that you would go to bed with me.'

  Eve frowned, not trusting his sudden change of attitude at all. This man was determined, ruthlessly so, and this could just be another way of getting his own way. 'I'm tired,' she told him distantly. 'I'd like to go to sleep now.'

  'Of course.' He bent and kissed her lightly on the brow. 'You aren't strong enough for this sort of life,' he said softly.

  She shrugged. 'I only have one more night to go.' Bart frowned. 'I don't think you'll make it.'

  'I have to,' she said simply. He tucked the blankets more firmly about her. 'I think I hear Derek.' He stopped at the door. 'Win you let me come and see you tomorrow?'

  She looked at his hard face, the determined chin, the firm mouth, the unflinching eyes, and knew he rarely asked in this way. He was a man who took, who acted without questioning, used to a wealth of authority, his orders carried out at a glance. And yet with her he had asked, possibly because he realised his autocratic behaviour wouldn't get him anywhere with her.

  'If you want to,' she shrugged dismissively. 'But I'll be better by then.'

  'I doubt it.' His eyes narrowed grimly. 'I'll be here about eleven o'clock.' He opened the door. 'But no roses?' she reminded him hastily. He turned back to smile at her. 'No roses,' he promised, softly closing the door behind him. Judy came in a few minutes later, very concerned as she looked down at Eve's face, almost as white as the sheet, her dark hair splayed out across the pillow. 'How are you, love?' she asked worriedly. 'Better.' Eve gave a wan smile.

  'Ba—er—Mr Jordan has been very helpful,' she admitted grudgingly.

  Judy's eyebrows rose as she took in Eve's appearance. 'He did this?'

  Colour flooded her cheeks. Judy was as much aware as Derek how Eve kept men out of her life, and yet HOW it looked to all intents and purposes as if she had calmly allowed Bartholomew Jordan to undress her. She had been too weak to stop him, but even if she hadn't been she doubted much would step that man. He oozed power, over his own life and others.

  She grimaced up at Judy. 'I didn't have much choice in the matter.'

  'A bit forceful, isn't he?'

  'A bit!' Eve derided.

  'I'll leave you to rest now,' Judy smiled. 'Derek will probably be in a moment.'

  Eve nodded, glad of the intervening time to think over exactly what had happened to her tonight. That the hard work of the last few months was finally taking its toll was obvious, but what she was going to do about it she just didn't know. Derek had gone to such a lot of work himself to get her this far, if she let him down now he might just decide she wasn't worth the trouble.

  She didn't even know if that would be a bad thing. The idea of going back to her home in Norfolk, writing a few songs to get her by money-wise, and singing for her own pleasure as she had used to, suddenly seemed very inviting. It was ungrateful of her, but maybe she wasn't cut out for this life, the sheer hard work, the grabbing meals when you had the time, or when you thought about it.

  And then there had been Bartholomew Jordan. His sudden appearance backstage tonight, the way he had taken control, hadn't exactly been a surprise. But his gentleness just now had been, as had his apology. But she had learnt well not to trust men like him, knew from experience that the gentleness Just hid his desire, that he hoped to get her defences down enough to make another move in that direction.

  Why did he have to be interested in her, why couldn't he choose another woman for his attentions, a woman who was equally interested in him? No doubt he had thought she would be in the beginning, and when she had shown she wasn't she had only made him all the more determined. The same thing had happened so many times in the past that she should have known what to expect. Admittedly most of the other men hadn't been rich enough to shower her with flowers every minute of the day, but Bartholomew Jordan's wealth just made him all the more sure he would win in the end.

  She was glad of Derek's entrance to stop her thinking of Bartholomew Jordan, finding herself alternately angry and mystified about him. And she didn't see why she should even be wasting her time thinking about him. After tomorrow night she would be leaving London, and would, she hoped, never see Bartholomew Jordan again.

  'He's gone.' Derek saw her frowning glance towards the door. He grimaced. 'He was furious with me.'

  Eve's eyes widened. 'But why?' she gasped.

  Derek shrugged. 'For letting you go on tonight. I had to tell him about your feeling dizzy last night,' he explained ruefully. 'He said I was damned stupid letting you go on again after that.'

  Angry colour darkened her cheeks, her eyes sparkling rebelliously. 'What the belt business is it of Ms?' she exploded.

  ‘Naturally he's interested——'

  'Why naturally?' she glared. 'Just because the man wants to go to bed with me it doesn't mean he can suddenly start to take over my life. God, I'll be glad when tomorrow's show is over and I can get back to normality. It will be nice to get back to nice honest people—you and Judy excepted, of course.’

  'Wasn't Jordan honest enough for you?' he teased.

  'Too honest. And I didn't mean that son of honesty. I meant down-to-earth day-to-day living. I can't stand the falseness here, Derek, the stabbing in the back.' She sighed. 'The wisest thing I ever did was move back to Norfolk.'

  'Jordan said I was to let you rest, so I'd better go ------‘

  'What's the matter with you, Derek?' she demanded impatiently. 'Since when did you start taking orders from Bartholomew Jordan?'

  He flushed uncomfortably. 'It isn't a question of taking orders—looking at you I can see the man's right. And no more arguments,' he added firmly as she went to speak again. 'After a run-in with Jordan I'm in the mood to argue with anyone—and enjoy winning.'

  'Who says you would win?' she asked with a return of her old spirit. 'I just had a run-in with him too, remember?'

  Derek grinned. 'Nevertheless, you're going to sleep now. Tomorrow we'll get a doctor out to you.'

  'I don't need—Don't tell me,' she sighed angrily. 'Bartholomew Jordan's orders?'

  'You guessed it,' he smiled ruefully. 'And no one wins an argument with him.'

  'I did.' But had she? She thought she had at the time, but now she wasn't so sure. He was still in her life, very much so, still telling everyone what to do and when to do it.

  'Sleep tight,' Derek said softly as he closed the door.

  That wasn't so easy once she actually tried to do it. Carl had been too much on her mind today, disturbing and upsetting her. She had seen him once more after the night he had taken her so forcibly. She had been out with Derek celebrating some minor booking triumph or other, she couldn't even remember now, and Carl had walked into the club she and Derek were at.

  It had been two years since their last meeting, and she had grown up a lot during that time, her naivete replaced by a wall of hardness that no man could penetrate—and still no man had. Then why did the thought of Bart Jordan keep com
ing into her mind? He was like a bulldozer— and didn't bulldozers knock down walls?

  Carl had looked just the same, the charm still there as he chatted to his own dining companion. But he had seemed bored, restless, his gaze passing over the other people dining, his eyes widening as he saw and recognised Eve. She had felt as if he were slowly undressing her, aware that her new slenderness emphasised the fullness of her breasts, that the way she now wore her long hair loose instead of secured at her nape gave her a wild gypsyish look. But she no longer looked or dressed to please herself when she was out, she had an image to create. And that Carl had liked that image had been obvious.

  Derek had left her briefly a few minutes later to use the telephone, and Carl had taken this opportunity to come over and speak to her.

  'Well, well, well,' he drawled appreciatively as he sat down.

  'Yes, I am, thank you,' she deliberately misunderstood him, her gaze steady. Carl grinned. 'You look fantastic!'

  'Yes,' she accepted calmly.

  His amusement deepened. "You've grown up, Eve.'

  She nodded. 'A little late, but yes. Now would you mind, I'm here with someone... pointedly.' And so are you.'

  He didn't move, his gaze warm as he looked at the tow cleavage on the skinny-rib top she wore. 'I can put Barbara in a taxi, he said softly, moving closer, his arm across the back of her chair. 'Can you get rid of the man you're with?' His fingers trailed lightly down her bare arm.

  She moved away from him. 'I have no wish to "get rid" of Derek,' she said stiffly. 'But I wish you would go away.'

  Her reluctance had only seemed to make him more interested. 'I'm not married now, Eve,' he breathed huskily against her earlobe. 'So you don't need to worry about that any more.'

  'I'm not worried, Carl,' she told him coldly, wondering what on earth had happened to Derek; he seemed to have been gone for hours, although she felt sure it was only minutes. 'Although I'm glad your wife finally had the sense to divorce you.'

  His face darkened angrily. 'Still a bitch, aren't you, Eve?' He sat away from her. 'I couldn't give a damn about losing Helen and that interfering family of hers— but I miss my children,' he added fiercely. Eve looked at him calmly, seeing the pain etched beside his nose and mouth. It was reassuring to know that he cared for something else beside himself. 'Maybe you should have thought of that earlier,' she said callously, her hatred towards this man as strong as ever.

  His fingers dug into her arms as he pulled her savagely towards him, his face only inches away from her own. 'You cold little bitch!' he snarled.

  She looked at him steadily. 'It's better than being the bastard you are.'

  'You--------'

  'Everything okay?' Derek miraculously appeared at the table.

  Carl had stood up and walked away without another word, pulling the protesting Barbara to her feet and leaving.

  'He looked as if he was being nasty.' Derek frowned at her pale face.

  Eve shrugged. 'Nothing I couldn't handle.'

  Derek nodded. 'Carl Prentiss is one of the men to avoid in this world.'

  Her eyes widened. 'You know him?'

  'Who doesn't?' he dismissed. 'But I'm glad you didn't like him, he means trouble.'

  Derek had dismissed the whole incident as just another pick-up. He had no idea of the part Carl had played in her past, and she hadn't enlightened him, the painful episode with Carl was buried deep in her subconscious. She hadn't seen Carl from that day to this, although there was the occasional photograph of him in the newspapers, usually escorting one beautiful woman or another. As far as she knew he had never remarried, but if he had she could only pity his second wife, as she had pitied his first.

  It was after ten when she woke the next morning, just time enough for her to bath and dress before Bartholomew Jordan arrived.

  'Where do you think you're going?' Derek came into the bedroom just as she was getting out of bed. Eve felt no embarrassment, not with Derek. He was used to seeing her wandering about his flat in her nightclothes. Besides, the cotton nightgown hid a lot more than the clothes she wore on stage.

  'Bart Jordan 'isn't seeing me in bed again,' she informed him. It puts me at a disadvantage.'

  Derek grinned. 'I'm sure he's aware of that.'

  'So am I—which is why I'm getting up.'

  "The doctor will be here in a minute,' he told her. 'So perhaps you should stay in bed until after he's been.'

  Her eyes became stormy. 'I told you I didn't want to see a doctor!'

  He shrugged. 'I didn't call him. Bart Jordan is sending his own doctor. He telephoned shortly after nine to tell me to expect the man at half past ten.'

  Eve scowled angrily. 'He has no right----' she broke

  off as the doorbell rang. 'If that's Bart Jordan tell him I left the country late last night and you have no idea where I've gone,' she said childishly.

  Derek smiled. 'And if it's the doctor?'

  'Tell him—tell him—-'

  The door opened and Judy stood there, a tall distinguished man of about fifty standing at her side. Eve felt daunted just looking at him, the haughty expression on his face telling her that he had never before made a house-call on such a lowly dwelling, and his eyes widening slightly as he took in her crumpled nightgown. No doubt his female clients usually wore the sheerest lingerie.

  'Miss Meredith?' he asked stiltedly.

  She held back her amusement with difficulty, something Derek wasn't able to do, muttering his excuses and hastily leaving the room. She could hear his muffled laughter coming from the other room, his and Judy's, which meant that if she could hear them so could this doctor.

  Her head went back in challenge. She hadn't asked this arrogant man here, so why should she care what he thought?

  'Yes, I'm Eve Meredith,' she confirmed coolly.

  His harsh features broke into a smile as he held out his hand to her. 'Edgar Holliston.'

  That charming smile came as something of a surprise to her, and she accepted his hand almost dazedly.

  'Bart Jordan asked me to call.' His voice was warm now.

  'I—Yes. But I don't need a doctor,' she told him

  hurriedly. 'I-----'

  'Bart has already told me of your near collapse test night, Miss Meredith,' Edgar Holliston frowned. 'And if you don't mind my saying so, you sound desperately in need of a doctor.'

  She did mind him saying so. Her weakness last night had been nothing, it had passed now, and she didn't appreciate this man making the incident seem more than it was.

  'I'm perfectly all right now,’ she insisted.

  'Then it won't hurt if I just give you a little checkup, will it?' He put his black bag down on the bed, looking at her expectantly as she still stood beside the bed.

  'I don't need a check-up,' she told him firmly. 'Besides, you aren't my doctor.'

  'As of this morning I am.'

  'This morning.. .? Eve frowned. 'But—How?'

  He shrugged. 'Bart made the arrangements for you. Now could you please lie down, Miss Meredith? I had to cancel several other appointments to come here this morning, so your co-operation would be appreciated.'

  She lay down, fuming all the time he was examining her. Not that he wasn't good at his job, he was very thorough, she would just like to wring Bart Jordan's neck for him. And when he got here at eleven o'clock she just might do that!

  Edgar Holliston stood back. 'Your blood pressure is slightly raised, but I would put that down to temper,' he smiled.

  'Bart is only thinking of your health by insisting on these precautions,' he added gently. Eve glared up at him. 'I've managed so far without

  any interference from him!'

  He chuckled, and the last impression of haughtiness disappeared. 'Bart said you were a little on the fiery side,' he continued to smile.

  Eve scowled. She wasn't in the least fiery, she didn't allow things to bother her enough to either enrage or anger her. And yet hadn't she been in one temper after another since her first meeting with Bart
Jordan?

  'I'll thank Bartholomew Jordan to keep his opinions to himself,' she said crossly.

  'Back on form, I see,' he drawled from the doorway.

  She turned to glare at him. 'Don't you ever knock before entering a room?' she snapped, pulling the sheet up over the open neckline of her nightgown, ever conscious that last night this man had seen her without any clothes at all. She knew he was thinking of that too; there was a mocking quirk to his well-shaped mouth as he came farther into the room, moving with the grace of a jungle cat.

  ‘Dr Holliston could have still been examining me,' she added in a disgruntled voice.

  'I don't mind if Sir Edgar doesn't,' he taunted.

  Eve looked at the doctor with accusing eyes. 'Sir Edgar?'

  'Welt—yes,' he looked a little bashful, 'but I rarely bother with the title.'

  'How's it going, Edgar?' Bart Jordan asked briskly.

  Eve shot him another resentful glance. He had no right to look so virilely healthy, not when she had the energy of a limp rag. He also had the advantage over her of being impeccably dressed, the chocolate brown trousers complemented nicely by the open-necked tan shirt. His tanned skin looked even darker, his blond hair brushed back in the casually windswept style he favoured. He looked very tall and overpowering, and Eve disliked him all the more for it.

  'I've finished my examination,' Sir Edgar said thoughtfully. 'It's as you said, Bart, complete exhaustion.'

  'I'm fine!' Eve instantly claimed, knowing she had never felt so tired in her life. Just the small effort of getting out of bed this morning had been almost too much for her. She felt as weak as a kitten, and she was aware that she was spitting like one when forced into a corner. But she had let a man like Bartholomew Jordan take over her life once before, she wouldn't let it happen again.

  'You're far from fine,' the doctor told her sternly. 'I think perhaps I should admit you to a clinic for a week or two, make sure you get complete rest. You're a lovely young lady, Eve, but you should take more care of this body of yours. It must have been crying out for weeks now that it's had enough, that it needs to rest.'