Hot Nights with the...Australian. Nicola Marsh

he said carelessly, then shot her an ironic smile. ‘Much better not to give them a stage to star on. Let them fade into insignificance as the show moves on.’

      Chloe returned some irony of her own. ‘You know what the most sickening part is? Both my mother and Tony talked me out of having a baby because starring in your show was more important.’

      His gaze dropped from hers as he frowned over this new information.

      ‘I guess you wouldn’t have wanted me if I had been pregnant,’ she put to him, interpreting his frown as confirmation that her mother and Tony had been right about that.

      He shook his head. ‘Nothing would have changed my determination to star you in that particular vehicle.’ His eyes targeted hers again with their riveting power. ‘If you had been pregnant, Chloe, I would have had the storyline altered to accommodate it.’

      ‘Really?’

      His mouth twitched with amusement at her wide-eyed wonderment. ‘Really.’

      ‘Then they were wrong.’ It was weird how much satisfaction that gave her, as though it totally vindicated her current course of action. ‘Not that it matters,’ she added. ‘It would be a worse mess now if I had got pregnant, with Tony fooling around with Laura behind my back. And I bet my mother knew about it, too. Nothing escapes her eye.’

      ‘I’d say that was a fair assumption,’ Max dryly commented. ‘She showed no outrage or disgust over their behaviour when I confronted them at the hotel. Only anger over the boat being rocked.’

      Anger … Chloe winced, having been belittled by it too many times. And she’d always hated the strident way her mother dealt with other people, even with the man sitting opposite her, making sure she saw and covered all the angles. It was an agent’s job, but the manner in which it was done … Chloe imagined Max had quite enjoyed severing the business connection with her mother. It was a huge relief to feel free of it herself.

      She sipped her drink, noticing that Max seemed to have drifted into a private reverie, gazing out across the pool, his eyes narrowed as though he was thinking through a problem, assessing its effects, how to deal with it. After a few minutes, he turned to her with a curious, inquisitive look.

      ‘Tell me … you’re only twenty-seven, Chloe … are you desperate for a baby?’

      She flushed, embarrassed at having babbled on about having one, knowing many women waited until their early thirties before starting a family. ‘Not desperate, no,’ she quickly denied, then with a rueful little shrug, confessed, ‘I just wanted to have something I knew was real in my life. My mother would twist things around. Tony did, too. But a baby … well, there’s nothing more honest about a baby, is there?’

      ‘Honest,’ he repeated musingly.

      ‘I’m glad it didn’t happen,’ she blurted out. ‘It would have chained me to Tony for the rest of my life.’

      ‘Yes. At least this way you can put him behind you.’

      She grimaced. ‘Except for the divorce.’

      ‘That can all be done through lawyers,’ he said dismissively. ‘There’s no need for you to meet. I was just wondering if you had the urge to rush into bed with someone else and get yourself pregnant.’

      It shocked her into a vehement denial. ‘I’m not that stupid, Max!’

      He shook his head. ‘I don’t think you’re stupid, Chloe, but people often don’t react sensibly to a traumatic change in their lives.’

      ‘I have a big enough problem sorting out my own life,’ she insisted. ‘I wouldn’t add a baby to it.’

      He smiled, satisfied that she was not about to run madly off the rails and ruin this chance to get herself straight on a lot of things. Yet she sensed something more in his satisfaction—something sharkish. A little quiver ran down her spine.

      ‘I’m hungry,’ he said. ‘It’s lunch-time.’

      Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. The something sharkish had nothing to do with wanting a bite out of her.

      He picked up a mobile phone, which had lain behind the tray. ‘I’ll call Edgar to bring it out here. Shall I say lunch for two? It won’t be any trouble to Elaine. I ordered salad and she always keeps enough provisions for an army.’

      The invitation was irresistible. Despite the occasionally disturbing undercurrent of strong physical attraction she couldn’t quite ignore, she liked talking to him, liked hearing his view of her situation, liked the way it clarified things in her own mind. She didn’t want to end this encounter by the pool. Besides, having eaten the scrumptious chicken casserole last night, the offer of another meal prepared by Elaine was an extra temptation.

      ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

      Max watched her smile, the sweet curve of her lips, the dimples appearing in her cheeks, the warm pleasure sparkling in her lovely blue eyes, and thought how artlessly beautiful she was. She wore no make-up. Her hair was drying in natural waves around her face—tighter than if she’d used a blow dryer. Her skin glowed, not a blemish on it anywhere.

      He wanted to touch her, taste her, but now was not the time. He called Edgar and ordered lunch for two by the pool, knowing he had to keep this encounter a casual one, relaxing, enjoyable, trouble-free, building the case for her to stay the two months.

      The baby issue had been a snag in his plans. It was a relief to have it dismissed. Though, for a few moments, that something special about Chloe had actually had him wondering how life would be if they filled the children’s house together. A brief flight of fancy. Not really feasible, given the jet-setting life he enjoyed, winning the challenges that added to his success in the battlefield he’d chosen.

      They spent another two hours by the pool, sharing a leisurely lunch, chatting about the television business. He kept the conversation impersonal—safe—drawing Chloe out on how she saw and felt about the show, her part in it, her view of the other cast members and how they were dealing with their roles.

      ‘You know, Max, I don’t have a special gift for tapping into emotion on cue,’ she said at one point. ‘It’s not like some magic I was born with. When I get a part to play, I make up the whole life behind the character so I know everything about her in my mind, why she is doing or feeling the way she does in various situations. When I’m on camera, I am her. It’s real. I show it. That’s all.’

      He respected the work she put into adopting a character, but she was wrong about not having a special gift. It was innate. The play of emotion was on her face all the time in her own life. He didn’t have to study her to read her feelings. They were mirrored in her expressions.

      He’d first noticed her in a coming-of-age soap opera that had run for years. She outshone everyone else in the cast. He’d learnt that she’d been on television all her life—commercials featuring a baby, then a toddler, children’s shows, teenage shows. He kept her in mind, waiting to acquire a storyline that would showcase her special talent, and she certainly wasn’t disappointing him now that he had it.

      By all accounts, her father had also been a very gifted actor. There were still people around who deplored his early death—suicide, in the grip of depression. He couldn’t imagine Stephanie doing anything to help him out of it, more like driving him into it with her self-serving demands.

      He didn’t want Chloe falling into a depression, unable to put it aside to play her part in the show—a very solid reason for her to be here with him, out of her mother’s reach. She looked happy at the moment. Nevertheless, he couldn’t control her mood when she was alone.

      An idea came to him. She’d wanted a baby. He’d give her a puppy or a kitten, something for her to look after and pet, another attraction for staying in the children’s house and it should lessen any loneliness she felt.

      As it turned out, he didn’t need to add another attraction.

      Edgar