It All Began in Monte Carlo (19 page)

How was it possible, he asked himself, to feel so strongly about a woman he had met only a few times, and who he now knew for certain was in love with somebody else? He had never believed in love at first sight, but now he was considering it. Was what he felt for Sunny love? It was certainly lust, because she was a beautiful and very sexy woman. Was it merely the attraction of opposites? And timing? Eddie, so deliberate, so attuned to his business life, with the dregs of his marriage getting him down, and Sunny, so vulnerable, so open in her emotions, so eager to laugh again, so cast down at the end of a long affair.

Last night's scene played out again behind Eddie's closed eyelids. Mac walking into the bar, holding out his hand to Sunny, and Sunny without a single word, a second glance, taking that hand and walking away with him.

That
was painful. And even though the redhead, Kitty whatever her name was, had plied him with drink and sympathy, Eddie had returned alone to his room and spent the night slumped in a chair, feeling as though he'd had too much to drink, wondering what the hell Kitty was all about and asking himself why Sunny had done that, and suspecting he knew the answer.

The plane was coming in to land. He looked out of the window at the checkered blur of the sprawling city; at the giant derricks in the shipyards; the blaze of fires where rivets were tortured into steel; at the gray pall of the northern climate on a bad day. He wished he were back in Monte Carlo. With Sunny.

 

 

Allie said to Sunny, “I want you to meet my friend Pru.”

Impulsively, Pru reached over and kissed Sunny. “Lovely to meet you,” she said.

“Wonderful,” Kitty said, when Sunny introduced her to Allie, eyes shining in that wide admiring way she had. “I'm so thrilled to meet you.” She totally ignored Pru.

Sunny explained that Kitty was a new friend and that she had invited her to join them on their shopping expedition.

“It wasn't meant to be
entirely
shopping,” Allie pointed out to her because she wanted them to be alone so they could talk. Especially about the “other” man. Besides, there was something in Kitty's eyes that made her uneasy. Kitty was pleasant, though, chatting on about where the best deals were to be had in Cannes and her favorite shopping area. Somehow, though, Allie did not think they were on the same wavelength, clotheswise. Allie was into the simple things of life, and Sunny had her own very distinctive half-biker-girl, half-romantic-sylph look, depending on the occasion. Or more usually on her mood, because Sunny didn't give a damn about “occasions.”

Pru climbed into the limo first and sat in the corner. Kitty got in and sat next to her, completely ignoring her. Sunny and Allie got in last.

When Sunny took off her dark glasses, Pru noticed her eyes were swollen. She'd heard the story about Mac from Allie last night, and had gotten an update when she'd been woken with a cup of hot coffee that morning and denied even a single croissant. Her coffee somehow tasted very French and not at all like the coffee-shop stuff she was used to. She wondered how on earth she, a hometown gal from the depths of Texas who had never really been anywhere in her life and who, if she had not known Allie in high school, would never have even met a movie star, let alone become involved with glamorous people in a fabulous place like Monte Carlo, a place everybody knew about but only the lucky few ever got to visit. She sneaked a look at Kitty, who was telling Allie that she lived in Cannes and that she was involved, in a small way, in the modeling business.

“How interesting,” Allie replied, uninterested. She turned to Sunny, who despite her promises was fighting back the tears.

“Pull yourself together,” Allie scolded. “We'll never get anywhere like this.” Sunny sniffed and Allie put an arm round her. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you too,” Sunny said, gripping her friend's hand tightly.

Watching them, a steel band wrapped around Kitty's heart, it tightened her throat so she was unable to speak.
She
wanted to be the one Allie Ray was talking to;
she
wanted to be the movie star's best friend; in fact right this minute she wanted to
be
Allie Ray. Hatred for Sunny shot through her. She glanced angrily out the window and she saw Mac Reilly on the hotel steps, watching their car pull away.

She saw that Mac had spotted Sunny getting into the car.

Kitty hated women like Sunny, who were so effortlessly comfortable with themselves, so easily able to charm. She envied people like Allie who had it all: looks, fame, money. Now she was determined to get the better of Sunny, the woman she could never aspire to be, and she had a
double
way to get even with her. Blackmail was on her mind, but murder lurked in her heart.

Mac watched them drive away. Sunny had not even bothered to answer his messages. He hoped Allie could talk some sense into her.

She had never stayed away from him this long, even when they'd had a fight, which, like everybody else, they sometimes did. Even Tesoro had not given him her usual woof of recognition. He was shut out of Sunny's life and he had never felt more lonely.

He thought about calling Ron Perrin, asking him to come down to help, or even driving up to see him in the Dordogne cottage and vineyard the ex-Hollywood mogul now called home. But it was too late.

Instead he dialed the Inspector's number on the cell phone. “I'm coming over to take a look at those photos,” he told him.

 

 

“Where to first?” The limo driver was heading on the autoroute to Cannes.

“The Presunic department store,” Pru said quickly, because she'd heard it was inexpensive and department stores were the only places she'd ever shopped. She'd never dared to enter the intimidating portals of the expensive boutiques.

“Hermès,” Kitty said at the same time.

“Chanel,” Allie decided firmly, because she liked classic things with a slight edge that she felt Pru needed.

Sunny said, “But isn't there a street market this morning? I hear they have great clothes there.”

“How did you know that?” Kitty asked, surprised.

“I remembered from last summer.”

“You were
here
? Last summer?”

“With Mac,” Sunny said, tight-lipped.

“Make it Chanel, driver, please,” Allie said with a touch of authority.

“But I can't afford Chanel,” Pru said.

“I can,” Allie said. “And you will do as I say. Okay?”

“Okay.” Pru looked down at her green plaid outfit wishing she had had something more chic to wear to such a chic store.

Kitty turned her shoulder so that her back was to Pru. Fixing her beaming smile on Sunny, she said, “I just know you'll look wonderful in Chanel.”

“Sunny looks wonderful in anything, including black leather on a Harley,” Allie said.

“Is that so?” Kitty's accent emerged in the lift at the end of the sentence. The thought of Sunny in black leather interested her. Her first “sexual” outfit had been a black leather bikini that she had worn at a sex club in Budapest. But that was a long time ago.

 

Pru sat silently on Chanel's softly padded chair while an assistant brought shoe after shoe for her to try on. The other assistants were grouped in a corner and she guessed they were talking about the jewel robbery and the murder of the young woman assistant who, like them, worked at a boutique.

“Those look wonderful,” Allie said. “Get up and walk around, see how they feel.”

The shoes were black suede with three-and-a-half-inch heels, and a slight platform.

“
Madame
has pretty feet,” the saleswoman murmured. “Perfect for our shoes.”

“They
are
perfect,” Sunny said, as Pru's ankles wobbled.

“You just have to learn to walk in them.” Allie was determined she should have them. “What about red? Red shoes always make a girl feel good.”

The very idea of red shoes, which she knew would draw attention, terrified Pru. Allie got up to have a look around and Kitty walked behind her. Pru saw Kitty lift her cell phone and realized she must be taking photographs of Allie the movie star. She understood immediately that Kitty meant to sell them to the tabloids. She could just see the headline in the
National Enquirer
and
People
:
SHY ALLIE RAY SHOPPING AT CHANEL IN CANNES
, and Allie's hard-earned privacy in France would be gone.

She got up and grabbed Kitty's phone. Kitty snatched it back but it slid off the photo she was taking and onto another. A picture of a naked man with a studded leather collar round his neck. He was holding a whip and there was no doubt he was ready for action.

“Oh my God,”
Pru whispered, shocked.
“Who's that naked man on your phone?”

Kitty quickly stuffed the phone in her Prada bag. “
What
naked man? What are you talking about?”

“The one whose photo is on your phone.
Before
the ones you took of Allie just now.”

“I wasn't photographing Allie, I was taking a picture of some shoes. I'll look at the picture later at home and then decide if I want to buy them.”

“Liar,” Pru said, under her breath, not wanting to make a scene.

Kitty gave Pru a venomous stare. “You look like a housewife on a day trip.”

“And you,” Pru hissed, “are like a bourgeois older woman on the make. And I'll bet any man will do.”

“Bitch,”
Kitty snarled.

“Bitch,”
Pru whispered back.

War had been declared between Pru Hilson and Kitty Ratte.

 

Much later (in fact four pairs of shoes, including the red Chanel ones later, plus a pair of jeans that to Pru's amazement fit like a second skin—in fact they almost
became
her skin, holding her in and lifting her butt amazingly), they were on their way to a café. En route they had bought a few tops and a couple of sweaters from an inexpensive backstreet boutique (Chanel's clothes did not fit Pru and besides, she wanted to pay for things herself and not take advantage of Allie's generosity). They had also visited a local lingerie store where Pru had been fitted with a bra that not only lifted her to amazingly delicate new heights, but somehow looked soft and sexy. She had not been able to resist their lacy underwear which Sunny
assured her would make her feel like a new woman. Sunny had even made her buy a lacy garter belt and black stockings.

“After all, you never know when opportunity—in the form of a handsome man—might present itself—
himself,
” she corrected with a grin. “A girl has to be ready for that, you know, Pru.”

Pru looked doubtful. Handsome men did not just spring off the streets where she lived. Or if they did they were not springing at her. But then, she was not going to live there anymore. Definitely not. She did not yet know
where
she would live, but it would be a fresh start. That's exactly what she needed: a fresh start. And watching the salesgirl stuff shocking-pink tissue paper into the bag containing her new and sexy underwear, Pru smiled. Man or no man, she would feel good, wearing it. It was like a secret, kept all to herself.

And now Allie had made a hair appointment for the next morning and they were sitting at a café sipping glasses of rosé, nibbling on sweet French radishes, watching the passing sideshow.

“What a wonderful day this was.” Kitty beamed at Allie, humble with gratitude. “I can't thank you enough for inviting me.”

In fact Allie had not invited her, but she merely smiled. She said, “Pru, that was just a start. Did buying the shoes make you feel a little better?”

“I think so,” Pru said, still worried about the expense, though she knew Allie took pleasure from treating her. “And thank you.”

“So, Pru, we're starting you off on salad,” Sunny said, caught up in the makeover of Pru Hilson, who was after all a jilted woman, much like herself. Well, not quite. Sunny had not been jilted.
She
had done the jilting.

“Stop thinking about Mac.” Allie tapped Sunny's hand to bring her back to her senses. “We'll talk about him
and
the ‘other man' later. When we're alone.”

“And after a couple of glasses of wine,” Sunny said. “You know Mac always loved this South of France rosé.”

“Mac always loved
you,
” Allie said. Then she added, “In fact I've never seen a man so in love with anybody.”

“Except Ron Perrin with you.”

“And look how nearly I lost him; how nearly we lost each other.” Allie's gaze was serious. “Just think about what you're doing, Sunny. Promise me you will.”

Sunny promised.

Bored with Pru, Kitty stored the previous conversation about Mac in her mind for further use. She had already drunk a couple of glasses of wine and now she ordered another bottle. “My treat,” she said, beaming.