Living Together. Carole Mortimer

him.’

      ‘Are you sure this party isn’t going to be an orgy from start to finish? I’ve heard his parties can be pretty wild.’

      ‘So have I,’ Jenny grinned. ‘I’ve been looking forward to it all week.’

      ‘You’re incorrigible!’ Helen scolded. ‘I don’t know why you ever got involved with this mad crowd.’

      Her cousin shrugged. ‘Brent introduced me to them.’ Brent Shaw was her television producer boss. It was also through him that she had met Matthew Jarvis, another television producer.

      ‘He would,’ Helen frowned. ‘He’s as immoral as the rest of them.’

      ‘Brent’s all right, now that he knows I have no intention of sleeping with him.’

      ‘You see what I mean? I don’t think—–’

      ‘Go and dry your hair,’ Jenny cut in. ‘We don’t have time for one of your lectures right now. I’m going to have a bath, you paint your nails.’

      ‘I thought you wanted me to dry my hair.’

      ‘All right, dry your hair, then paint your nails,’ and she disappeared into the bathroom.

      Helen moved mechanically to do as Jenny had told her. She always ended up doing as Jenny suggested, and she couldn’t possibly take offence because it was always done so goodnaturedly. Besides, in the long run it was easier to agree than argue about it.

      She dried her hair in soft black waves, adding a light make-up but leaving her deeply violet eyes as the only colour in her face, huge violet eyes like beautiful pansies. She had been right about the gold dress, it did cling revealingly to her breasts—too revealingly, the plunge neckline showing a creamy expanse of her firm flesh.

      ‘You look great,’ Jenny enthused. ‘Turn round, let me see the back.’

      Helen did so. ‘It’s too tight up here,’ she grimaced down at her bust.

      ‘It’s perfect,’ Jenny admired the just-below-knee-length dress on her cousin.

      Helen’s eyes widened as she took in the skimpy creation Jenny was wearing, its black Grecian style only just decent. ‘You aren’t actually going out in that?’ she gasped.

      Jenny grinned impudently. ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’

      Helen raised her eyebrows. ‘I can think of another word for it. People are going to get the wrong impression of us in these clothes.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Jenny dismissed. ‘You’ll see, we’ll be overdressed compared to some people.’

      She was proved correct when they arrived at the party. Several of the women there were so skimpily dressed they might just as well not have bothered. Nevertheless, Helen felt very selfconscious in her borrowed gown, trying hard to fade into the background of this flamboyant party.

      She had no doubt that when it didn’t have dozens of people crushed into it this penthouse apartment was very luxurious and spacious, much too big for one man. She hadn’t met their host yet, and doubted if she would in this crowd. She gratefully accepted the drink someone handed to her and then retreated to a safe corner. Half a dozen couples were attempting to dance, if what they were doing could be classed as such, and she wished them luck.

      ‘Great party, isn’t it?’ Jenny beamed, her green eyes avidly searching the sea of faces.

      ‘Is it?’ Helen returned dryly.

      ‘Fantastic!’ her cousin enthused. ‘Can you see Leon Masters anywhere?’

      ‘I haven’t looked.’

      ‘Well, start,’ Jenny encouraged.

      ‘Why?’ Helen asked uninterestedly.

      ‘Because he’s gorgeous.’

      ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’

      Jenny’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Don’t you think so?’

      Helen shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Although he’s a bit over the top, isn’t he?’

      ‘Over the top?’ Jenny frowned.

      ‘Well, he’s too much. Too tall, too rugged, too good-looking—–’

      ‘Too sexy,’ Jenny put in mischievously.

      ‘That too,’ Helen agreed.

      ‘But he’s a brilliant actor.’

      ‘So he ought to be for the money he earns. I read in a magazine article only last week that he was being paid millions of pounds for his last film. No one is worth that much money.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Jenny’s eyes twinkled. ‘If I had a couple of million I’d buy him.’

      ‘I don’t think you buy the man, just his talent.’

      ‘Oh, I’d buy that too,’ Jenny said meaningly.

      Helen burst out laughing. ‘You’re impossible!’ she chuckled.

      ‘As long as it makes you laugh I don’t care what I am. You don’t laugh enough.’

      She sobered. ‘There doesn’t seem to be a lot to laugh at.’

      ‘Not since Michael.’

      ‘No,’ Helen agreed abruptly. ‘I think I see your sexy actor,’ she changed the subject, indicating Leon Masters as he stood across the room.

      Jenny followed her line of vision. ‘Oh boy, I just have to get an introduction. I’ll ask Brent. Coming?’

      ‘No, thanks,’ Helen grimaced. ‘I don’t want to listen to how wonderful he thinks he is.’

      ‘He may not be conceited.’

      ‘Want to bet?’

      ‘No,’ Jenny laughed. ‘Although Matt and Brent think he’s great.’

      ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, love, but as far as I’m concerned that’s no recommendation.’

      ‘Okay,’ her cousin shrugged. ‘You’ll be all right?’

      ‘I think I’ll be safe,’ she teased.

      ‘See you later!’

      Helen watched with amusement as Jenny persuaded her boss to introduce her to their host, smiling as Jenny proceeded to try and dazzle him with her beauty. From the way Leon Masters listened to her with lazy amusement she didn’t appear to be succeeding.

      Suddenly he looked up and those tawny coloured eyes met hers across the smoke-filled room. She shifted uncomfortably under that steady gaze, her violet eyes shadowed. She turned away, her cheeks fiery red. The look in his eyes had been insolent and assessing, and she had felt almost naked as his gaze ran slowly over her.

      She looked back at him, her nervousness lessening slightly as she saw he was now concentrating on Jenny’s bubbly conversation. At least Jenny would be pleased.

      Leon Masters looking at her like that had unnerved her. He had looked at her as if he saw her as an attractive woman, something she hadn’t felt for a very long time. Oh, she was passable to look at, quite pretty if you liked small, dark-haired women. But Leon Masters looking at her like that had made her feel totally feminine.

      He was hot property in the acting world, and had been for the last fifteen years. He was constantly working, his acting superb. She had just seen him in a play on television where he had been almost unrecognisable in the role of the bumbling idiot, a character far removed from the suave man of experience he was in reality. He looked totally the dominant male tonight, dressed completely in black from head to foot, the black silk shirt clinging to his powerful shoulders and chest, the trousers fitted snugly to his hips and thighs.

      It was obvious that most of the women