Brand Of Possession. Carole Mortimer

There was soft background music drifting out from the strategically placed speakers, although the babel of conversation drowned a lot of this out.

      Matthew stayed at her side, grinning down at her. ‘I can't see our famous author yet.’

      Neither could she, but she could see her handsome stranger standing over the other side of the room with Martin Payne. He looked devastatingly attractive in a wine-coloured velvet jacket that fitted tautly across his wide powerful shoulders, a snowy white shirt with a ruffle front and black trousers that moulded to his firm muscular thighs. He stood head and shoulders above any other man in the room and was easily the most handsome man there.

      He moved slightly and for the first time Stacy saw the man standing at his side. She knew straight away that this must be Jake Weston; he fitted her description perfectly, even to the bald head.

      She turned with a triumphant smile. ‘I wish I'd made a bet over Mr Weston,’ she said to Matthew.

      ‘Mm?’ he followed her line of vision. ‘It looks as if you would have won.’

      The handsome stranger turned to look at them as if aware of their scrutiny, nodding distantly as he recognised Stacy. She nodded back before he turned away again, feeling strangely breathless at the brooding expression in his eyes.

      Matthew looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘Who was that?’

      She took a sip of her drink, giving him a composed look. ‘I have no idea.’

      He gave a splutter of laughter. ‘No idea, when he looks at you like that?’ He shook his head. ‘The man was mentally undressing you.’

      She coloured delicately. ‘Can I help that?’

      ‘No, I suppose not, not the way you look tonight. Did I tell you how beautiful you look?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Well, you do. Payne's a fool to drop you from this film, you're going to be a really big name one day.’ He looked up as a shadow fell across them in the dimmed room.

      Stacy looked up too, straight into those compelling blue eyes set in the deeply tanned face. ‘Hello,’ she said huskily, unable to think of anything more intelligent to say.

      He nodded. ‘Good evening,’ he drawled. ‘I have something I would like to talk to you about, Miss Adams.’

      Matthew took the hint. ‘I'll just go and get another drink from the bar,’ he said quietly. ‘Can I get you anything, Stacy?’

      ‘Er—no, no, thank you.’ She felt mesmerised by this tall arrogant stranger, unable to look away from his compelling features.

      ‘Okay, I'll see you later, then.’ Matthew nodded to the other man before leaving.

      ‘You found out my name.’ She said the first thing that came into her head.

      He nodded, a mocking smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘Stacy Adams,’ he drawled slowly. ‘Very professional.’

      She flushed at his intended mockery. ‘There's nothing professional about it, it happens to be my name,’ she snapped. ‘At least, the name I was given at the orphanage,’ she added resentfully.

      He looked unperturbed. ‘How long were you in an orphanage?’

      ‘All my life, until I was sixteen.’

      ‘Poor kid,’ he said softly.

      Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘I had quite a happy childhood as childhoods go. I certainly don't need your sympathy.’

      ‘You aren't getting it,’ he retorted hardly. ‘I came over here to tell you you've been reinstated. You still have the part of Kate.’

       CHAPTER TWO

      SHE shook her head disbelievingly. ‘I don't understand. Mr Payne sacked me.’

      ‘And now he's changed his mind.’

      Stacy gave him a sharp look. ‘This is your doing, isn't it? You got him to change his mind.’

      He gave a soft laugh. ‘How could I get him to do that? I don't have that sort of influence.’

      ‘You spoke to Mr Weston, then.’

      ‘And if I did?’ he watched her through narrowed eyes. ‘You're making it sound as if you'd rather be out of a job.’

      ‘No, I—— But what about Paul Forbes? He isn't going to like it.’

      ‘No one's asking him to. Just leave Forbes to me.’

      ‘But I——’

      ‘Forget about him, Stacy,’ he ordered abruptly. ‘Just concentrate on playing Kate.’

      ‘You know my name, but I don't know yours,’ she said almost shyly.

      ‘It's Jake.’

      She frowned. ‘Don't you find that rather confusing?’

      ‘Not at all. Does my name bother you, because if it does you could always change it. What would you like my name to be?’

      Stacy gave a nervous laugh. ‘Stop teasing me!’

      ‘So who's teasing? What's in a name anyway? My mother named me and you were given yours by some stranger at the orphanage, but who's to say either of us have the right name for us? You can have whatever name you choose. Do you like the name Stacy?’

      ‘Yes, yes, I do.’

      ‘So do I,’ he nodded agreement. ‘But I'm not that worried whether I'm called Jake or Harry, or any other name for that matter. You choose.’

      She laughed shakily. ‘You're mad! There's nothing wrong with your name, I was just surprised that it was the same as your employer.’

      He shrugged. ‘That's something that can't be helped. I'm sure there must be thousands of Jakes in the world, I was bound to meet a few of them.’

      ‘Okay, okay,’ she laughed, feeling as if they were going round and round in circles. ‘I give in—Jake.’

      The intimacy of his gaze deepened. ‘I wish all my women conceded defeat that easily,’ he said softly, almost caressingly.

      ‘I'm not conceding defeat, and I'm certainly not one of your women!’ she snapped.

      ‘How old are you, Stacy?’

      ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

      ‘Just answer the question.’

      ‘I'm nineteen,’ she told him resentfully.

      ‘And I'm exactly twice that,’ he mused. ‘And yet I want you to know that I find you very attractive, very desirable.’

      ‘You——’ she gulped. ‘You do?’

      ‘I do,’ he confirmed. ‘Has anyone told you that you look beautiful tonight?’

      She was becoming increasingly embarrassed, finding his sudden compliments a little too sudden. ‘It has been mentioned,’ she was deliberately blasé about it.

      ‘By Matthew Day?’ he probed harshly.

      ‘How did you——’

      ‘I'm paid to know things,’ he interrupted. ‘Have you been dating him long?’

      ‘Didn't your informant tell you that?’ she enquired sweetly.

      ‘I didn't ask them, I'm asking you.’

      ‘I've known Matthew for three years.’

      ‘That doesn't exactly answer my question,’ he said dryly.

      ‘No,’ she