Secrets of the Rich & Famous (7 page)

‘You look
fabulous
, darling!’ he exclaimed
delightedly, but then, as she glanced up to smile at him, he caught sight of the High Street jeans and old T-shirt combo she was wearing underneath and pulled a face. ‘Shame about the ghastly clothes. Let’s go and look through this stuff you’ve bought.’ He led the way through another door. ‘Don’t you just love the internet?’

Her heart sank as she followed him into a dressing room with glossy black floor tiles and a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree range of brightly lit mirrors. She’d be able to view her bony hips and flat chest from every angle. Terrific.

He ushered her behind a screen.

Alex flipped idly through his e-mails and ordered another coffee from the starstruck junior. Jen had been gone a good couple of hours now. Enough time for him to finish making notes on a new and exciting script idea which made him itch more than ever to get back to work. Jen was fast becoming the only thing taking his mind off it, and he wondered if there were any other ways he could help her—other contacts he could enlist to help her succeed with her project. Living with her was anything but dull. He never knew what she might throw at him next. He realised with a flash of uneasiness that he was beginning to get off on that unpredictability.

He glanced through an e-mail from his PR company which recommended that he attend a charity ball this week, despite the fact he thought it would be media suicide. The charity funded grants for underprivileged youngsters wanting to build a career in film and Alex was a patron. Surely with the words ‘casting couch’ hanging over his head it wouldn’t take much for a savvy journalist to come up with some sordid story about his association with them.

The PR company didn’t see it that way. Reverse psychology, apparently. To be seen at the ball would show he had nothing to hide, that the stories about him and Viveca were groundless tabloid pap when they actually weren’t.

It struck him with sudden amusement that his desire to party seemed to be disappearing. Since his life after Susan had been rebuilt as one long social event that was pretty damn unheard of for him. After failing so miserably at family life he’d gone for the opposite end of the spectrum, enjoying his situation to the full with no responsibilities to hold him back.

Worryingly, staying in was beginning to be more attractive than going out.

Once you realised his bonkers exterior was actually total perfectionism, Marlon turned out to be hilarious. And he was clearly harbouring a huge crush on Alex. He was devoted to him.

‘He’s never done this before.’

Standing in the middle of the circle of mirrors in flesh-coloured underwear, Jen was being treated to a view of her bony straight-up-and-down body that she could most definitely have done without.

‘Done what?’ she asked.

Marlon glanced up from the rail of clothes. She could see her own purchases in there among other stuff. He must have unpacked them while her hair was being fixed.

‘Brought in a waif and stray.’ He handed her the catsuit she’d bought with nightclubbing in mind. ‘Put this on.’

She began to step into it, hackles rising.

‘In fact, he’s never brought in anyone on a one-to-one basis like this. We go to
him
, usually. Film sets. Awards ceremonies. He doesn’t come to us.’

‘I am not a waif or a stray,’ she said, trying to look dignified with one leg in and one leg out of the catsuit. ‘We have a working arrangement.’

He raised sceptical eyebrows at her over the rim of his statement glasses.

‘He’s helping me with an article,’ she said. ‘I’m a writer.’ Oh, it filled her with joy to be able to say that to someone. ‘He’s using his contacts, one professional to another.’

‘Sweetie, this is the first time he’s ever had me style someone who isn’t on his payroll. So
you tell me what that means. And you’re staying with him?’ His voice rose with a hint of awe. ‘People would
kill
! You’ve got closer than the rest of the population in the last five years. Not for the want of trying.’

He winked at her and she shook her head at him.

‘You don’t understand. We’re not
together
at all.’

‘Not yet, maybe.’

She didn’t tell him she had Alex over a barrel with the threat of a front page tell-all. It was just so delicious to be thought alluring enough for it even to be
plausible
that Alex might be interested in someone like her. She opened her mouth to remind Marlon that Alex had seen her at her worst with her neon hair, but he cut her off with his own horrified squawk.

‘Oh, my life! What blind, tasteless person chose
that
?’

Her intended pirouette in front of the scary mirrors in the brightly printed catsuit turned at the last moment into a damp squib of a wiggle. It
was
a designer label, wasn’t it? Hadn’t it cost practically a week’s wages?

‘It cost me two hundred pounds,’ she said pointedly. ‘Second-hand.’

‘Sweetie, you were screwed,’ he said to her reflection. ‘Lesson one: bling does not equal
class, girlfriend. Just because you spent a fortune on it, does not mean it will look good.’

He spent the next twenty minutes ordering her in and out of clothes, mixing and matching, adding accessories.

‘I can’t believe I’m the first person he’s introduced to you who isn’t working for him,’ she said, dragging the subject back to Alex the first chance she got. ‘I mean, come on.’ She gave him a wink. ‘I’ve seen the papers. He’s always dating.’

‘Exactly,’ Marlon mumbled, then removed the pin he was holding in his mouth to speak clearly. ‘He
dates
. That’s the important word. It never lasts. He’s never really interested and it’s usually a mutual benefit.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Those women he sees—all the same type, usually up and coming. Maybe with a movie in the pipeline or a DVD release to publicise. Nothing like being seen on Alex’s arm to get a bit of exposure, and he gets a no-strings date out of it. Genius.’

‘So it’s more of a publicity stunt than anything?’

Her heart felt suddenly floaty. Maybe his playboy image was just that—hype, the papers twisting things. Perhaps there
could
be more to his helping her out than the damn agreement between them. He didn’t have to do any of this,
after all. She would have been happy with a few nuggets of advice from him. Her stomach felt suddenly melty at the thought of his interest in her being more than just … well, a
contractual requirement
.

‘Well, of course he beds them,’ Marlon said with brutal matter-of-factness, making her floaty heart plummet as if he’d stuck it with a pin. ‘I mean Viveca Holt. Exquisite. Of course he beds them—who wouldn’t?’

‘Of course!’ she said, with a chummy laugh that wasn’t quite convincing enough to hide the fact he’d stamped on her feelings. Stupid feelings that she shouldn’t be having.

‘That’s all it is, though, darling,’ he comforted her. ‘Don’t you fret. He hasn’t shown any real interest in anyone since the nightmare with his ex-wife.’

‘I am
not
fretting!’ she snapped.

Marlon made a cynical face.
Whatever you say
, it said.

‘Did you know Susan?’ she asked.

He pressed his lips together in a hard line.

‘The wife?’ He pulled a face. ‘I knew them both. I worked on his first film. I wasn’t long qualified myself, then. She was very normal. Not famous. Miss Ordinary. They were at college together.’

So Susan was like her, then. Nothing like the film star conquests Alex was linked to now.

‘He’s always been very close to his family. Probably thought he had it all. Happy families, career booming. No wonder it hit him so hard when it all went pearshaped.’

He flicked through the rack of clothes and produced a silk shift dress, cornflower-blue.

‘You need to cinch in that waist to give you an illusion of curves while making the most of those legs,’ he said.

‘Did it come as a surprise to you when they broke up? she asked, hungry for more information.

‘I think it came as a surprise to everyone—including Alex. Imagine that. You build yourself up from nothing, just get to the point where you don’t have to worry about money, and then your wife calls the whole thing off and takes half of everything. Can’t have been easy.’ He fiddled with the waistline of the dress, not looking at her. ‘And of course he didn’t have a pre-nup. He wasn’t anyone at all when they married, so she really did take him to the cleaners.’

She let Marlon finish the outfit. So the press stories were true. Susan had really hit him where it hurt—in the wallet. No wonder Alex wasn’t keen on promoting any of his conquests from overnight guest to a more permanent position.

Had he thought he could trust Susan because she knew the real Alex? The one before he became
a celebrity goldmine? She could see now why he surrounded himself with superficial relationships.

She was too preoccupied to be shy about Marlon’s no-feelings-spared advice. By the time he’d put together outfits for casual wear, dinner, cocktails and lunches, she was desensitised to standing in her underwear and wasn’t even cringing any more.

‘I’ll just get changed back and then I’ll be on my way,’ she said, when he announced that he’d finished.

‘You will
not
!’

He grabbed her saggy-kneed old jeans out of her hand, balled them up and threw them in the nearest bin.

‘There’s no going back now,’ he said. ‘Wear the clothes. Think class, not chav. Get yourself in character and stay there.’

He took her proudly by the arm.

‘Now, let’s show Alex what he’s missing.’

Alex glanced up as the door opened, heaving a sigh of relief. He hadn’t banked on it taking this long. Clearly whatever horrific process Marlon had had to put Jen through to restore normality was more complicated he’d expected.

It was a moment before he saw her because she was shuffling nervously about behind Marlon.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Marlon beamed smugly, stepping aside. ‘Isn’t she just stunning?’ He waited, clearly ready to bask in anticipated praise.

It took a moment for Alex to reply because his tongue had momentarily stuck to the roof of his mouth. When he’d driven her here this morning, half-eaten toast in her hand, his own borrowed baseball hat jammed over her eyes, she’d been girl-next-door Jen, still hanging her head over the monstrous hair mistake, and in spite of himself he’d been beginning to like having around far too much. Somewhere in the last few hours, under Marlon’s supervision, the double cream skin had become lightly sun-kissed and the ghastly orange hair had morphed into soft golden tresses.

‘Wow,’ he said eventually, because he’d only just regained control of the hinge of his jaw. A one-syllable word was about the limit of his capability right now. The golden tan made her blue eyes stand out more than ever, and the blonde highlights and freckled nose with her skinny figure made her look like an off-duty model just back from a shoot in the Bahamas.

He suddenly wondered at what point he had thought it would be a good idea to let Marlon loose on Jen. After all, she was never going to look
less
attractive, was she? Focusing on getting her out of her latest scrape with the horror
hair and, he had to admit, enjoying the madness of it all along the way, it hadn’t occurred to him that he might be making the situation a whole lot worse. If he was getting off on just being around her when her hair looked like a fright wig, it stood to reason that a makeover was only going to make things a shedload more complicated. He could kick himself.

A blush rose in her cheeks, making her look prettier than ever, and she ran a hand self-consciously through her hair.

‘Does it look OK?’ she asked him. ‘Come on—give me your opinion.’

There was an awkward smile on her face that told him she wasn’t completely comfortable with this. His heart gave a soft flip. The dark slim jeans made her legs look longer than ever. The shirt looked classy and expensive. She bore little resemblance to the shorts-clad indignant young woman with the bed-hair he’d found in his apartment a few nights ago. His stomach knotted with tension.

OK
didn’t even start to cover it. The collar of his shirt felt strangely tight, and it suddenly seemed degrees hotter in there. The freezing air outside was suddenly attractive. He’d been cooped up way too long.

‘Terrific,’ he blurted out. ‘Excellent job, Marlon, as ever. We must get together soon and catch up.’ He stacked his papers on top of his laptop
and got to his feet. ‘I need to get back and make some calls.’

What he really needed was to get out of this situation
right now
. He ignored her puzzled expression and made for the front door of the studio, bandying about promises to meet Marlon for lunch soon. Unfortunately not looking at her didn’t go any way at all to numbing his sharp awareness of her as she followed him out, her high heels sounding every step she took on the tiled floor.

I
T
WAS
fantastic to wake up and look in the mirror and actually quite like what she saw for a change. Makeovers were seriously underrated, Jen decided. A few blonde highlights and make-up tips and she felt as if she could conquer the world single-handedly.

As long as the world didn’t include Alex.

She squashed the churning disappointment she still felt at his lack of enthusiasm yesterday. He’d made barely any comment about her transformation and had disappeared to his study the moment they’d got back from Marlon’s studio. She was furious with herself for minding so much. What was she expecting? That Alex Hammond, who had the pick of the world’s most beautiful women, would swoon at the sight of her in a pair of designer jeans?

Yesterday had been a turning point. She’d been building their friendship up in her mind when to him it was clearly no more than a distraction from his own problem situation. He’d
been sticking to his side of the gag order, nothing more, and she had been a fool to read anything else into it. Well, she was truly back on task now. Being here was all about work, nothing more. She intended to live the rich life properly, really get into character, do her article justice and make the sale.

Wearing the new jeans and a casual fitted shirt, she made her way to the kitchen for toast.

He was there, looking at his laptop screen with a face like thunder. He glanced up as she breezed into the room and went to the fridge. She removed a pint of milk and went to switch the kettle on.

‘Morning,’ she said, without looking round. Flatmates, that was all they were. ‘Coffee?’

Alex realised he was staring at her with his mouth open and snapped his gaze away.

‘Please,’ he said automatically, not caring one way or the other about coffee. Watching the lithe way she moved around the kitchen was making him wonder what it might feel like to have those long, long legs wrapped around him.

For the hundredth time since yesterday he wondered just who would end up getting the benefit of her transformation. Who would she be targeting on her next madcap trip out? The thought caused a burning sensation deep in his chest. She might look like a super-confident socialite, but underneath all that gloss she was
a kid with big aspirations. He felt an irrational angry aversion to this whole project that was so damned important to her.

‘Can’t you just write your article based on research?’ he said suddenly. ‘You know—do a few interviews, surf the net a bit?’

She turned from the coffee to stare at him, a bemused expression on her face.

‘Well, I could, if I wanted to be like every other writer out there,’ she said. She ran a hand distractedly through the perfectly undone hair. ‘The whole point is that I live the experiment. Doesn’t matter whether or not the plan works. It’s the process that provides the background for the article. It’s meant to be light-hearted, remember?’

‘You mean it doesn’t make any difference whether or not you actually manage to score a date with a guy?’

‘Not to my article, no. I could write about where I went wrong and why it didn’t work. But it would be great if it did work, because it would give me more material to play with. Why are you suddenly so interested?’

That was a good question. Why the hell was the idea of her throwing herself at some rich Lothario bothering him so hideously? Staring at these four walls was obviously making him lose the plot. He needed to get outside, get some perspective.

He didn’t answer. Instead he looked back down at his laptop and forced himself actually to digest the e-mail from his PR manager, which he’d read now three times without actually taking in.

He stared at the words, anger finally tipping over the edge. Enough was enough. Right now he didn’t care how many people had a stake in this film’s success. He just wanted to live his own life again.

He logged out and shut the laptop, glancing up at Jen as she handed him a mug of coffee.

‘What are you doing today?’ he asked on impulse.

She took a sip of her drink, shrugged.

‘Getting out and about,’ she said. ‘Testing out my new look.’

With a supreme effort he managed to stop himself looking down at her legs again.

‘I’m going stir crazy here,’ he said. ‘Want some company?’

She stared at him, mouth open in surprise.

‘Aren’t you meant to be under house arrest?’

He stood up.

‘A couple of hours won’t hurt. I need to get out of here.’

‘What if you get recognised?’

He crossed the kitchen and put the coffee down on the counter next to her. She was looking up at him dubiously, as if they were at school and he’d suggested they play some prank on a teacher. There was something irresistibly unspoiled about her. Before he could stop himself he’d slipped an arm around her shoulders and given her a squeeze.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a few places up my sleeve. And, anyway, what are they going to do? Give me detention?’

‘Kensington Gardens?’ she said.

He’d brought her to the smaller entrance to the gardens on the Bayswater Road—a low-key gate in black wrought-iron that was less attractive to tourists. So he wasn’t completely throwing caution to the wind, then, no matter how stir-crazy he claimed to be feeling. She’d returned his baseball cap and he was wearing it himself today. With that partially obscuring his face, and a jacket with turned-up collar, he didn’t seem to be drawing any second glances from passers-by.

He glanced sideways at her.

‘You sound surprised.’

‘That’s because I am. You don’t strike me as the kind of person who likes the great outdoors.’

They began walking down one of the elegant tree-lined avenues. The air was crisp but there was a hazy glow of winter sunshine tempering it. The trees were completely bare, dusted icy white. Their breath puffed out in soft clouds.

‘Well, that just goes to show how little you know me,’ he said. ‘Sometimes a bit of open space is just the thing.’

‘This is lovely. I’ve never been before.’

‘You should do the sights. You’ve missed out.’

They began walking again down the avenue of trees. Frost clung to the grass. It felt as if they were walking through a Christmas card.

‘Except for the Science Museum,’ she added.

‘The Science Museum?’

‘School trip.’

He grinned down at her.

‘London can be a fantastic place for kids,’ he said.

‘I’ll expect you to relocate back here, then, shall I? In a few years, maybe, when you meet the right film star?’

‘Very funny.’

‘I’m being serious.’ She kept her face straight. ‘I’ll probably be a senior editor by then, maybe on one of those glossy celebrity mags.’ She
looked up at the sky dreamily. ‘I could do a fantastic photo spread.
Alex Hammond and family at their London home
.’

He didn’t smile.

‘That’s never going to happen.’

‘I’m a gifted journalist, you know! And I’m aiming high. The cheek!’

He still only cracked a faint ghost of a smile.

‘I don’t mean your ambitions. I wouldn’t put it past you to end up editing
Vogue
. I mean me.’ He paused. ‘I’m not family material.’

She’d obviously touched a nerve. Her curiosity flared.

‘Everyone is family material. Some people just don’t know it yet. You’re not exactly over the hill.’

‘Not me.’

‘I thought you had a happy family background? You told me you were close to your parents.’

She deliberately didn’t mention his wife.

‘I did. I had a good childhood. Hardly any money, but a happy home. Parents who loved me, not to mention each other. Brother who was also a good friend. I’m a psychologist’s nightmare—there’s nothing they could pin on my upbringing.’

‘Don’t you want to replicate that, then?’ She was genuinely puzzled. ‘With your financial
position, you could do an even better job than your parents.’

‘Yeah, well, I used to think that, too. But look at my life—the public scrutiny, the constant demands. Hell, my own ambition. How does all of that fit with having a family? We were always there for each other. That’s how I was brought up. That’s why they weren’t crazy about my big career ideas. We were encouraged to be happy with what we had. My parents put us and each other first.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t be a father
and
make films at the level I want to. Not if I don’t want to do one or both of those things substandard.’

The sound of children playing grew louder as they neared a playground. She dug her hands in her pockets to warm her fingers.

‘Coffee?’ he asked as they approached a café. The play area was bathed in hazy sunshine, with tepees and a huge pirate boat climbing frame with kids hanging off it.

‘Hot chocolate,’ she countered. ‘I’ll buy.’

He watched her queue for drinks. The place was full of families enjoying the winter sunshine. A long-discarded desire of his own had resurfaced and he crushed it down again. Family life or work success? That same old dilemma. To have both just wasn’t an option. He knew that. His choice was long since made—Susan’s betrayal
had certainly hammered the last nail in the coffin of any desire for a wife and kids—and he never discussed it. So why the hell was he revisiting it now?

She returned with the drinks and they carried on walking. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink from the cold, frost sparkled on her eyelashes, and he fixed his gaze straight ahead to avoid watching her slowly sip the hot chocolate. As if he needed any more attention drawn to that soft pink mouth.

‘There are lots of ways to crack a nut, you know,’ she said, wrapping both her hands around her cup. ‘My father wasn’t there at all and I never felt neglected. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.’

She only vaguely registered two women approaching on the opposite side of the path—until one of them did a sharp double-take as they passed.

‘Excuse me?’ the dark-haired woman called out.

Jen stopped and turned, was aware of Alex doing the same. The woman was staring at Alex intently.

‘Alex Hammond? It
is
you, isn’t it?’ She elbowed her companion. ‘I told you I was right!’

Jen sensed rather than felt Alex tense next to her and squashed her own irritation at the interruption. She had felt for the first time that
she was seeing beyond the exterior he showed everyone else. His being recognised now was the last thing he needed. She acted on impulse.

‘Hah! He wishes!’ she said, loudly enough to talk over any admission Alex might be thinking about making. ‘I wish, too, come to that. Wouldn’t mind Alex Hammond’s money.’

Both women looked uncertainly towards her. Jen crossed her arms and looked appraisingly at Alex. He stared back at her, eyebrows raised.

‘Can’t say you’re the first to say it, though,’ she added.

‘Really?’ The woman eyed Alex with a frown. ‘It’s a remarkable resemblance.’

‘You think so?’ Jen said. ‘That Alex bloke is far better looking, in my opinion. Roland’s eyes are too close together.’ She gave Alex a friendly punch on the arm. He was looking at her as if she were completely insane. ‘No offence, honey.’

The woman took a couple of steps back, clearly disappointed.

‘I was going to get my photo taken with him, post it online. I’m a mad fan. I’ve got loads of press cuttings about him.’

She saw a look of horror cross Alex’s face, could see the unspoken word in his eyes.
Stalker!

‘You can have your picture taken with Roland if you like,’ Jen offered. ‘Better be
quick, though, we’re pitching for the management contract on the toilet servicing for the park. On our way to do a quick survey.’

That seemed to do the trick. The women drifted away.

Alex looked down at her, a grin lifting the corner of his mouth.

‘Roland?’ He said. ‘That’s the name that springs to mind when you look at me?’

‘I was trying to put you as far away from reality as possible,’ she protested.

‘And my eyes are too close together?’

He fixed them on her and her belly gave an excited little flip in response.

‘Nobody’s perfect,’ she said.

As they began walking again Jen tucked her arm through his. He was sharply aware of it, of the closeness of her. She probably walked arm-in-arm like that with all her friends, but it didn’t stop his body reading more into it. Heat zipped up his spine and simmered on his skin just at the touch of her.

‘Maybe we should make a move before she realises that actually your eyes
aren’t
too close together,’ Jen said, glancing over her shoulder. The women seemed to be lingering, still in sight.

He felt an unexpected pang of regret at the thought of ending the outing. He hadn’t realised
how much he enjoyed her ability to make him laugh, to put a light-hearted spin on every situation. The deep heat in his abdomen warned him that friendship was not the limit of his wanting and he crushed it. He wasn’t about to lose control of his feelings just because she happened to make him smile.

‘Let’s find somewhere and grab something to eat. I know just the place,’ he said.

On their way back, just a few turnings away from the apartment, was a small restaurant, smart but relaxed, with dark wood tables and a select menu. Coloured fairy lights were strung around the walls. The sky had darkened as they left the park and a thin veil of icy rain now coated the windows. Jen didn’t mind. It felt intimate and cosy. They sat at a corner table and ordered steaks with caramelised onions, thin-cut crispy fries and hot coffee.

‘You’re not worried about being mobbed? I’d have thought you’d want to go home, not go to another public place,’ she said as soon as the waiter had brought their food.

He sliced into his steak.

‘I’ve yet to be mobbed in here,’ he said. ‘It’s off the beaten track so it doesn’t get touristy. Plus it’s nearly two o’clock. The lunchtime rush is over.’