The Playboy in Pursuit Read online

  No, she couldn’t keep lying when she was going to be out in public with Val this Friday night. The media was sure to show interest in the new woman on his arm at such a well-publicised première. Photos of them both would be popping up in the weekend tabloids.

  Lucille had already decided to go back to work this Thursday and Friday, because she could hardly have the whole week off and then be seen on Friday night, being escorted around Star City by one of Sydney’s most eligible bachelors.

  The same reasoning applied to Michele. She had to be told the truth.

  Lucille dropped her overnight bag and walked over to press the ‘rewind’ and ‘play’ buttons on the answering machine. The first message, however, was from her mother.

  ‘Mum, here. Just calling to see if you’re all right. We haven’t heard from you in ages. Please ring, Lucille. I’ve been a bit worried about you. Anyway, dear, I’m doing my Christmas shopping next week and wanted to see if there was anything special you’d like. Naturally we’ll expect you home for Christmas Day. You can stay longer if you like. Though you never seem to want to…’

  Lucille’s heart caught at the sad note in her mother’s voice. Guilt flooded her over not calling lately, or ever staying longer than was marginally polite. She was always so defensive where her family was concerned that she’d never stopped to think her standoffish behaviour might be hurtful.

  She hadn’t stopped to think she’d been hurting Val, either. Had she become one-eyed and selfish since leaving Roger? Suddenly she felt small and mean where her treatment of her family was concerned.

  ‘…anyway, do give me a call this week, dear, when you have time. Bye for now.’

  I’ll make time, Mum, Lucille vowed. And I’ll try to be a little more considerate of your feelings. I know I’ve been a disappointment to you, but I also know you do love me. You just don’t always know how to show it. But then…I’m not much better.

  ‘Lucille Jordan, where the hell are you?’ the next voice on the answering machine demanded to know in frustrated tones. This time it was Michele. ‘I called you at work and they said you were off sick. But you’re not at home. My suspicion meter is running, I can tell you. Whatever, get better by Friday! Tyler’s been able to get us these simply brilliant tickets to the opening night of that sexy South American dance show. Word is it’s hot to trot. Plus the perfect place for you to wear that fab red dress. I told you it had the tango written all over it. Ring me as soon as you can. And no excuses now. You’re going to that show with us and that’s final!’

  Lucille shook her head ruefully as she switched off the machine. She certainly was going to that show. She just wasn’t going with Michele and Tyler

  Fate seemed to have decided for Lucille. There was no way out now. Michele had to be told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

  Lucille’s stomach crunched down hard at the thought of her friend’s possible reaction. Hopefully, Michele would be so pleased at her finding a man-friend that she might overlook being kept in the dark all this time. Still, Michele was sure to have a shot at her over Val being a reputed playboy. After all, she’d given Michele hell over Tyler’s reputation with women.

  Having resigned herself to some teasing, Lucille picked up the phone and dialed Michele’s work number.

  ‘Lucille! Thank God. Where have you been? And don’t tell me you’ve been sick, because I won’t believe you.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t sick. I was mugged. On Monday night.’

  ‘Mugged! Oh, you poor thing. Are you all right? What happened?’

  Lucille told her briefly what had happened.

  Michele made sympathetic sounds. ‘And there was no one around to help you afterwards? How awful. You should have called me straight away. I’d have raced over and brought you home with me. You shouldn’t have been alone after something dreadful like that happening to you.’

  ‘Actually, I did call someone, Michele. And he took me home to his place for the night.’

  Michele’s stark silence was telling. ‘He?’ she quizzed at last. ‘Who, exactly, is he?’

  Lucille took a deep breath. ‘A man I’ve been seeing. And please don’t be angry with me, Michele. I met him three weeks ago and I…I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think our affair would go anywhere.’

  ‘Affair!’ Michele squawked. ‘You’ve been having an affair with some man and you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lucille said sheepishly.

  ‘She’s sorry! You’re certainly going to be if you don’t tell me all right here and now. Who is he? How—and when—did you meet him? And don’t even think about leaving out a single solitary detail, Lucille.’

  Lucille winced. ‘Well, I…er…met him three weeks ago last Monday, through work. He’s the man I found the luxury flat in Darling Harbour for that day, remember?’

  ‘Mr hard-to-satisfy Valentino. How could I forget? I asked you about him and you said he’d be the last man on earth you’d have a relationship with.’

  ‘I hadn’t been having a relationship with him then. I’d only been having sex with him. And his name isn’t exactly Mr Valentino. It’s Val Seymour. I’m sure you’ve heard of him,’ she added, then waited for the reaction.

  ‘My God!’ Michele exclaimed, then fell silent again.

  ‘Is that all you have to say?’

  ‘I’m speechless.’

  ‘I know, I know. He’s a playboy. But he’s not as bad as he’s reported to be. I thought he was in the beginning, and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you about him. But I don’t think so any more. He’s actually a very sweet man.’

  ‘Is this Lucille Jordan, North Sydney’s resident cynic, speaking here?’

  ‘I’m trying hard not to be.’ Lucille sighed. ‘Look, Michele, you yourself said I had to get over my marriage and that I was to start living again.’

  ‘You certainly took me at my word, didn’t you? Having an affair with Val Seymour. Good Lord! He makes Tyler look tame! I still can’t believe it.’

  ‘You will when you see me with him at the première of Takes Two to Tango this Friday night,’ Lucille said drily. ‘He’s the producer.’

  ‘What? Oh, Lord, so he is. What a coincidence! But a fantastic one. I’m excited already. Ooh, I can’t wait to see you with him, wearing my dress. Just wait till I tell Tyler. He’ll be so pleased. He thinks you’re a great girl and gets quite angry when I tell him you don’t want anything to do with men any more. ‘What a waste,’ I think his most recent words were on the subject.’

  ‘You…you don’t think I’m being foolish, Michele?’ she asked, doubt and fear returning with a rush.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! I couldn’t have picked a better man myself to crank up those cranky old hormones of yours.’

  ‘Er…he’s cranked up more than my hormones,’ Lucille said gingerly. ‘I’ve fallen in love with him.’

  ‘Oh, dear, that’s a worry. I thought you were just using him for sex and a bit of fun.’

  ‘He…he says he’s fallen in love with me too.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s all right, then.’

  ‘You really think so, Michele?’

  ‘Now why would a man like that say he loves you if he doesn’t? Val Seymour could have any girl he wants without ever having to mention that particular four-letter word. Some sensible person told me the same thing about Tyler once, when I was having my doubts about him, and it made perfect sense to me. Now I’m saying it to you. Trust me on this, Lucille. And trust him. Because if you don’t start trusting soon, you’re going to be doomed to an eternity of misery.’

  ‘I know you’re right.’

  ‘Of course I’m right. Can I be chief bridesmaid at your wedding?’

  Lucille’s stomach tightened. Why was it that Val’s never mentioning marriage bothered her so much? As she’d told Jane, they’d hardly known each other long enough to consider such a serious commitment.

  ‘It’s a bit soon for marriage, don’t you think?’ Luc
ille said defensively.

  ‘True. So when are you going to move in with him?’

  ‘He asked me to, but I said no.’

  ‘Good Lord, why? No, don’t tell me why. I don’t want to hear any more of your cynical views about men. Life is a gamble, Lucille, and so is love. If you don’t play, you can never win.’

  ‘I can never lose, either.’

  “‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.”’

  Lucille laughed. ‘You never give up, do you?’

  ‘Not when my friend’s happiness is at stake.’

  Lucille was touched by her friend’s words. And inspired as well. ‘You’re right,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s time to take a chance.’

  ‘Thatta girl!’

  ‘l’ll ring Val straight away. Tell him I’ll move in this weekend.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Then I’m going to ring Mum and have a chat.’

  ‘Did I hear right? Did you say you’re going to ring your mother?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘This is too much. I’ll have to hang up. There are only so many shocks a girl can take in one day.’

  Lucille laughed. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. They were all good news. But I really must go. See you Friday night. And don’t forget to wear my red dress!’

  Friday night came round all too quickly, with Lucille having a resurgence of nerves as she put the final touches to her appearance. She was at Val’s place, and had been since shortly after she’d rung him on Wednesday and told him she’d like to live with him. He’d been such an eager beaver to get her here, dropping everything and racing over to help her move straight away.

  Lucille hadn’t been able to bring herself to abandon her flat entirely, that little niggle remaining that she might need somewhere to go back to in a hurry some time, if things didn’t work out. Val didn’t know she owned the place, so she hadn’t volunteered that information, knowing it would only hurt him. He’d seemed genuinely thrilled with her decision and she hadn’t wanted to dampen his enthusiasm. He was such a different Val from the angry man she’d first met. Full of the joy of living. He’d even made up with his father, and had spent considerable time on the phone the previous night telling him all about her.

  Max—ever the superficial charmer—had waxed lyrical about her, saying he’d been very impressed on the two occasions he’d met her at Erica’s place. A class act, was what he’d called her.

  Her mother obviously didn’t think so, however. Lucille had bravely told her about Val during her call home the other day, thinking that would be better than her mother finding out about him via the newspapers.

  ‘I love him, Mum,’ Lucille had relayed, hoping that would be enough. ‘And he loves me.’

  ‘That’s all very well, dear,’ her mother returned carefully. ‘But men like that don’t marry ordinary girls like you. If they marry at all, that is.’

  Lucille flinched. Those sentiments were exactly what she’d first thought, practically word for word. She wondered if, down deep, she was a clone of her mother.

  ‘I suppose you’re sleeping with him,’ her mother added before she could defend either herself or Val.

  ‘Actually, I’m moving in with him today,’ she replied in one of those bursts of rebellious defiance which always got her into trouble.

  ‘Then he’ll never marry you. Why buy a cow when you can get the milk for free?’

  ‘Oh, Mum, that’s so hopelessly old-fashioned.’

  ‘Old-fashioned does not mean stupid, daughter. A lot of men would never marry if they had their way. Men like Val Seymour certainly have no need of it. They already have all the sex they want without giving their girfriends anything of lasting value except what’s in their chequebooks. If this man truly loves you, he will want to marry you. He will also want your children. But he won’t want to parade you around for people to talk about as little better than a tart.’

  ‘I am not a tart.’

  ‘No. You’re not, Lucille Jordan. So don’t do anything to make people think you are.’

  ‘Mum,’ she said, with the little patience she had left, ‘I love this man and I’m going to live with him. Please try to understand and support me in this.’

  ‘I just want you to be happy, Lucille,’ was her mother’s sad remark. ‘I know you, daughter. You won’t be happy without marriage and children. That’s why I was so upset when you left Roger.’

  ‘Roger was a pig, Mum. Not a prince.’

  ‘And this Val is a prince?’

  ‘I think so. And that’s all that matters. Look, can I bring him home for Christmas, or not?’

  ‘Of course you can. Just don’t expect your father to be impressed with a man who won’t marry his daughter.’

  Lucille sighed just thinking about that call now. The trouble was, her mother was probably right. She wouldn’t be truly happy without marriage and children. She also didn’t like the thought of people speculating about her relationship with Val.

  She wasn’t much looking forward to Christmas, either. She’d rather not take Val home at all, if her family were going to look down their noses at him, but then he would start thinking she wasn’t proud of him.

  A tap on the bedroom door had her whirling round. ‘No, don’t come in,’ she called out. ‘I’m almost ready. I’ll come out in a minute. I’m not late, am I?’

  ‘No. Plenty of time. I just thought we’d open a bottle of champagne before the car arrives. Come out to the bar when you’re ready.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Lucille had dressed in one of the guest-rooms, wanting to surprise Val with the finished product. The mirror showed Michele had been right about the red dress. It was seriously sexy and very glamorous-looking, now that she’d added the strappy gold sandals and gold drop earrings. She’d pulled her hair up at the sides but left the rest down to flow in a honey-blonde curtain over her largely bared back. Her make-up was just as dramatic, with loads of eye make-up and a bright red lipstick which matched the colour of the dress.

  But it was her body which would perhaps stop Val in his tracks. With one of Femme Fatale’s cleverly boned corsets, her lush figure had been shaped into a devilish hourglass, whittling her already small waist into a tiny circle whilst rounding her derrière and lifting her breasts to form an eye-popping cleavage.

  Satisfied she looked as sensational as she’d hoped to look, Lucille sprayed some more Eternity perfume all over her body, picked up her swish gold evening purse and exited the room.

  Her journey down the long rectangular-shaped living area was deliberately slow, her hips swaying as she undulated towards where Val was standing behind the bar, pouring champagne into a couple of glasses. His hand froze, mid-air, once he spotted her, his eyes telling her all she needed to know.

  ‘Wow,’ he said in awed tones when she drew near. ‘That is some dress. And some woman in it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said coolly, even though her heart was pounding. Partly from the way he was looking at her, but mostly from his own dashing appearance. Most men looked good in a black tie outfit, but Val took her breath away.

  ‘You look very handsome,’ she told him.

  ‘And you’ll outshine every woman there tonight.’

  ‘Michele said it had the tango written all over it.’

  ‘She’s right.’ He put the bottle down and came round from behind the bar, stretching out his right hand as he approached, his head held high, his body in instant tango mode. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘But I don’t know the tango.’

  ‘Can you dance at all?’

  ‘Yes. I’m quite good.’

  ‘No trouble, then. I’ll lead. You follow. Just watch my eyes, and trust me.’

  Lucille laughed. ‘Don’t you mean watch my feet?’

  ‘Never do that with the tango. Always look into your partner’s eyes.’

  ‘What about music?’

  ‘I’ll supply that,’ he said, and began to hum the famous tang
o number from Phantom of the Opera.

  His left hand landed firmly in the small of her back, his right clasping hers away from their bodies.

  Lucille had no idea how he managed it, or how she managed it. But dance the tango they did. Or a version of it. Their own private and personal version, full of a passion and intimacy which stunned her. Not even when Val had been making love to her had she felt such a complete bonding with him.

  It wasn’t till he dipped her back over his arm in a dashing finale that she realised it was all in the eyes.

  It was said eyes were the windows to the soul, and they were, once all defences were down and the true soul was allowed to shine through. His eyes told her of the depth of his love for her. She could only hope hers were telling him the same.

  ‘It’s no good,’ he groaned, and wrenched her back upright. ‘It can’t wait. I have to do it now.’

  Abandoning her abruptly, he stalked off towards his bedroom, leaving Lucille to stare after him, her heart racing madly. Where was Val going? And what did he have to do now?

  He was gone for less than twenty seconds, returning with rapid strides to bring him back to where she hadn’t moved a muscle. When he dropped down onto his knee in front of her, she gasped. When he flipped open a small green velvet box he’d had hidden in his hand, her stomach squeezed tight.

  A huge emerald and diamond ring sparkled up at her.

  ‘I know this is premature,’ he said, his expression almost anguished. ‘I know I’m risking rejection. But I can’t stand it any more, Lucille. I love you so much and I know you love me. Say you’ll marry me. The wedding doesn’t have to be too soon, if you need time to be sure. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you for ever.’

  Lucille could not believe the joy which burst into her heart with his wonderful words. Tears filled her eyes.

  ‘Oh, Val…’

  ‘I hope they’re tears of happiness I’m seeing,’ he said thickly. ‘I hope that means yes.’

  ‘It means yes,’ she managed huskily, her whole being choked up with emotion.

  He jumped to his feet, his face astounded but joyous. ‘Yes!’ he cried. ‘My God, she said yes!’