Superstar Read Free Page A

his
sensual mouth. Oh yes, she had seen that little smile many times
before, and drawn it, too. She raised her chin and met his gaze
again.
    "You startled
me, Mr Lord. I thought I was alone."
    "Or you
wouldn't have been making rude comments about my pool."
    Carrin's
hackles rose. "It is rather warm. On a hot day it's nice to swim in
cool water."
    "Then you
should have used the other pool."
    "Other
pool?"
    He pushed his
hands into his pockets and sauntered closer. "Yes, the one on the
side of the house, which I use for daytime parties and such. This
one is for my nightly dip."
    Carrin
folded her arms. "I didn't realise you had so many. Most people are
content with one."
    Mark Lord
shrugged. "I have five; another at my ranch in Louisiana, one at my
holiday home in Spain, and one at my house in England. That one's
also heated."
    Carrin noticed
his distinct lack of accent. He had hardly any of the nasal
American twang. He stopped near her and turned to contemplate the
garden, allowing her to study his famous profile. She looked away,
not wanting to be caught gaping at him.
    "Well, if you
don't mind, I'll go and dress."
    "Why?" Mark
Lord swung back to face her, looking surprised. "You wanted a cool
swim, go and have one."
    "I came here
to do business, Mr Lord, not for a holiday."
    He almost
smiled. The wish to was obviously there, but she had never seen him
smile. "My dear Miss York, I invited you to stay here for a week,
and while you're in my home, you must feel free to amuse yourself
any way you wish. Our business will be taken care of; there's no
rush."
    She smiled. "Thank you, but I feel refreshed enough, and it's
getting late."
    He glanced at
the setting sun and shrugged. "As you wish. Oh, I'm having a little
dinner party tonight, just a few close friends."
    Carrin's eyes
widened. She had barely enough clothes to wear during the day, and
definitely nothing to wear to a dinner party.
    He cocked a brow. "What's wrong?"
    "Er, I don't
think I'm feeling up to a dinner party tonight, actually. Jet lag,
you know."
    "I expect you
to attend, Miss York. My friends want to meet you. You can retire
early if you wish."
    Carrin's
mind boggled. She was a failed writer of no note whatsoever from
the backwoods of South Africa. Why would he want his friends to
meet her? Was she to be the freak on show? Did they expect her to
wear a springbok-skin skirt and walk around with a pot on her head?
She was not ashamed of who she was, and if her lack of smart attire
embarrassed him, that was his problem. He was not as tall as she
had expected. He looked tall in films, yet he was no more than four
inches taller than her, and she was only five foot seven. His black
silk shirt was open at the neck to reveal an expanse of smooth
tanned chest. Well-cut matching trousers, a gold watch and grey
shoes completed his tasteful outfit. Becoming aware that he was
still waiting for an answer, she inclined her head.
    "I'll see you
later then."
    "Around seven.
Helen will show you where we are."
    Carrin
re-entered the house, aware of his eyes on her back and wanting to
run. In her room, she changed into dry clothes and sat in front of
the mirror. Her hair was damp and wild, and she dragged a brush
through it, but it just curled back into its former state. Compared
to Helen, she looked like a waif dragged in from the rain, or
backwards through a hedge. To make matters worse, there would
undoubtedly be beautiful women at the dinner tonight. Carrin
shrugged and pulled a face.
    "You know you
don't have a hope in hell anyway, stupid. Why even bother to
try?"
    Well,
she had met him. Any romantic notions were unrealistic anyway. A
lot of things about him had surprised her, too. He was not only
shorter than she had expected, but slender, though well built.
Without the benefit of film make up, his face was not as striking,
yet nothing could detract from the perfection of his features.
Sighing, she dragged herself from her dream and went to
shower.
     
    Carrin
glared at the