His Last Gamble (5 page)

‘Right, go back a little, so that your feet are in the foam. No, not that far,' he yelped, as the waves threatened to splash the long, wispy beach robe she had on. In creams and yellows, it would darken and show off every spot of moisture.

‘Dippy, don't you know enough not to get the merchandise wet,' Jinx drawled from her sprawled position on a deck chair. Fizz, next up, looked across, surprised. Charmaine bit her lip, knowing the other girl had a right to be taken aback at such unprofessional behaviour. Then she jumped as Phil yelled at her again not to ruin her lipstick. He called to Rebecca, who obligingly re-touched it.

Even from where he stood at the back, Payne could see the painful colour come then
go
from her face. She stood stiffly awkward, not at all with the loose-limbed grace of the other girls.

‘OK, let me get in close . . . yes, that's it,' Phil said, much more favourably. A thin, wiry cockney in his forties, he'd seen and done it all. He cared only about getting the perfect shot, which meant cajoling or bullying the best out of the clothes and woman wearing them.

The sea breeze lifted the long, straight, gossamer strands of her hair in a way that no wind machine could match. That, and the stark blue sky behind her, the playful sea, and the rippling of the cream beach coat against her lithe form, gave him, he knew the perfect shot of the day. Maybe even of the whole shoot.

If only the girl would loosen up. He knew from Jo-Jo that this was her first professional job, but surely she wasn't a complete novice?

‘OK, lean forward and no . . . not that far. Think of the shadow.'

Charmaine blinked. Shadow?

‘Sunlight, girl,' Jinx's hateful voice drawled once more from the sidelines. ‘Don't want the shade of your big fat nose or hooked chin falling over the breasts, babe,' she called loudly, making the crowd ripple with uneasy laughter.

Charmaine blushed, looking bewildered and hurt, and automatically Phil snapped furiously. He was not sure why. He knew he'd never be able to use them. The customer wanted sexy,
fun,
jaunty. Not haunted and sad.

But again, he knew he'd just taken a picture in a million. The wide pained eyes, the brush of hectic colour, the immobility of a face frozen in shame and time. She'd never looked more beautiful. But who would he give the picture too? Jo-Jo wouldn't want it. It was no good to
Jonniee
.

Realising the girl was in trouble, he forced his voice to become kind. ‘OK, Charmaine, you're doing great. Just angle the head back a little, that's it, no, not your body, just your head. Yes, good, now flick back the hair a little. Don't forget to smile.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Charmaine could see Coral exchange a look with Frizz, and she fought back a groan. She could almost hear them silently asking the other how such a clown had managed to make it onto a
Jonniee
fashion shoot. If only they knew that the gorgeous clothes they were modelling where her own. But of course, she could never tell them so.

‘Now, slowly, slowly take off the robe. No, one shoulder at a time,' Phil yelled, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice.

Payne stirred, aware of a dark, nasty anger building up inside him. He wanted to stalk across there and tell Jinx to keep her catty spiteful comments to herself. Wanted to yank the photographer aside by the scruff of his neck and ask him if he couldn't see for himself
that
Charmaine was terrified. What she needed was patience and confidence-boosting encouragement. Not more hassle.

The robe slithered to her feet, where it pooled like pale cream, revealing a simple but stunning cream and apricot one-piece bathing suit. The sea caught the robe, but since Jo-Jo didn't seem to care that the precious merchandise was getting ruined, neither did Phil, who took the opportunity to take some fantastic shots of the silken robe, the silken model, and the restless sea foaming at her feet.

‘OK. Fizz, you next. I actually want you cavorting in the surf for this, so make sure you wear something that'll actually take salt water. Jo-Jo, you included some, right?'

Jo-Jo nodded, but could have told him that Charmaine, as chief designer, always insisted on the right materials for the right job, and had always maintained that the people who bought her clothes, actually expected their swim wear to allow them to swim! It was only Jo-Jo who designed for the true beach bunnies who only wanted to look good on sun loungers.

Charmaine walked quickly away, her relief on escaping clear for all to see.

Payne watched her approach the changing area, scowling ferociously. If having her picture taken was such a nightmare for her, why was she doing it? Did she crave fame and adoration so much? Was she out to snare a rich husband, and thought the glamour of
being
a fashion model might help her make it happen? Or did she just want the jet-set lifestyle, the shoots in Barbados, the apres ski in Aspen, the yacht on the Mediterranean?

‘The photographer looked pleased,' he said, walking up to the edge of one bed sheet. He slowly raised one amused brow as she snatched up a huge fluffy beach towel and pulled it around her.

‘I'm sorry?' she said coolly, wishing she'd known he was there. How long had he been watching? Had he really seen her make such a fool of herself?

‘The photographer. I was watching him. He might have sounded put out for the most part, but once or twice, there, he looked positively radiant.'

Charmaine's eyes hardened. ‘There's no need to be sarcastic. I know he couldn't wait to get rid of me.'

It was true that he'd only lingered on her shots for five minutes or so, whereas the others had been at least twenty minutes long.

Payne shrugged. ‘If you want to put yourself down all the time . . .' he let his voice trail off suggestively.

Charmaine bit her lip. ‘Look, you, I don't care . . .'

‘Mind the lipstick,' Payne interrupted chidingly, and then laughed as her fists closed in temper. No doubt she'd have liked to kick his shins again, but he already had a bruise
there,
and wasn't about to give her the chance to give him any more, thank you very much.

‘You know, you look like an outraged kitten when you scowl like that. What's the matter, did someone take away your bowl of cream?'

‘Oh, go to hell,' Charmaine muttered, turning her back on him.

Suddenly, she felt two warm lips on the top of her right shoulder, the contact shooting down through her bones like liquid lightning, grounding her to the floor. She staggered forward, spinning in outrage, aware that, under the concealing terry-cloth of the towel, her nipples had tightened into hard, tingling buds.

‘How d-dare you,' she gulped.

He was looking utterly innocent. ‘How dare I what?'

She blinked. Had she imaged that featherlight kiss? She gulped. Even worse, had she secretly been craving such a caress, such public acknowledgement of his desire for her, that she'd imagined it?

‘Didn't you just . . . .touch my shoulder?' she asked breathlessly.

Payne smiled. ‘Oh yes,' he said softly, with such evident self-satisfaction she gaped. ‘And very lovely it was too. Just a taste of sea-salt, warm, smooth, as creamy as that bathing suit you're still wearing.'

His eyes, his grey, fathomless eyes, seemed to draw her in, in and down, drowning her in
the
desire to feel those lips again. On the side of her neck. Nibbling her earlobe. On the cusp of her breasts, sucking on her now painful nipples, running down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel . . .

She drew in a long, shuddering breath. ‘I think you're despicable,' she finally managed. ‘Just because we're models, it doesn't mean we're there for you men just to . . . just to . . .' but she couldn't actually get the words out. She'd watched as his eyebrow rose higher and higher in amusement at her outburst and now she was so angry she was incoherent.

‘Oh, but I don't want to “just to, just to” with any other girl but you,' he mocked. ‘Doesn't that make a difference?'

And, before she could angrily deny that it made any difference at all, he stepped closer, straining against the flimsy bed-sheet cordon and threatening to knock it over, his hand reaching over the top to cup her chin in his palm. ‘Doesn't that make a difference, Charmaine?' he demanded huskily, his eyes on her trembling lips.

Charmaine gulped. Her skin felt on fire where his finger and thumb held her in a firm grip. His eyes once more threatened to sink her, and it was all she could do to step back, tearing herself from his grip.

‘N-no,' she managed to rasp, although her voice would have carried much more authority if it hadn't been so weak and tremulous. ‘No, it
makes
no difference. You can't just go around kissing girls on the shoulders when they're not looking.'

‘How about when they are?' he purred, and she gave a yelp.

‘Don't you dare,' she warned, at the same time as Jo-Jo called over, ‘Charmaine, you're up again.'

He noticed Payne and moved across to them, holding the next fashion item in his hands. ‘Payne, good to see you again,' he said, his eyes moving speculatively from Charmaine and back to the casino owner. He could have sliced the atmosphere with a machete. Well well! His eyes gleamed with interest. Was his shy partner finally coming out of her shell at last?

Payne, Charmaine noticed angrily, was now stood back from the changing area, and looking as if butter-wouldn't-melt.

‘Hello. I just thought I'd come down and see if you wanted any extras for your fashion shoot at the Palace. You know, croupiers, waitresses. Real staff, real people. Or if you want the place deserted. As you know, I can only close the gambling rooms off for an hour,' he said, all friendly and business-like.

Liar, liar, pants on fire, Charmaine thought childishly. He'd only come down so he could ogle the girls, just like the rest of the entire beach's male population.

‘Oh I don't know. I'll ask Phil. My
immediate
thoughts are that we won't want anybody, not in close up. But perhaps as a wide room shot—perhaps with all five girls at a gaming table each. Hmmm, food for thought. Oh, babe, here,' he added, handing Charmaine what seemed to be a handkerchief.

It was, in fact, a shimmering gold bikini brief and see-through, almost non existent, gold lace beach jacket. ‘Where's the bikini top. You know, the brassiere part?' she asked. This wasn't one of her designs, but one of Jo-Jo's.

‘There isn't one. It's for a topless beach,' Jo-Jo said, then abruptly realised his mistake. He'd picked up the wrong outfit. This one had never been meant for her at all.

Charmaine looked ready to faint.

She felt ready to faint.

Go topless? In front of all these people. In front of Payne? She shot stricken, help-me eyes at Jo-Jo. At the same time, Jinx, having spotted Payne, was all but running up the beach behind her, her eyes riveted to the gold outfit.

‘I can't wear that,' Charmaine whispered, as Payne took an instinctive step closer to her. She looked so pale, he thought she was actually going to pass out.

‘Oh, for pity's sake, give it to me,' Jinx hissed, smiling sneeringly at Charmaine. ‘Jo-Jo, you shouldn't go teasing the amateur talent,' she added, even more devastatingly.

To Payne's surprise, Charmaine seemed to
agree.
‘Yes, Jo-Jo, Jinx must wear it. It's far more her colour than mine.'

And then, puzzling him even more, Jo-Jo nodded, just as eagerly. But even he, no fashion connoisseur, could see that the glittering gold outfit was probably the most fabulous of all the outfits. Jinx had obviously picked it out as the costume with the greatest ‘wow' factor, and guaranteed to get its wearer noticed.

He watched the look of shared relief pass between Charmaine and Jo-Jo as Jinx triumphantly swanned off with the prize, but not before casting a gloating look in Charmaine's direction, and a much more flirtatious one in his, which he ignored completely.

Payne looked suspiciously from Jo-Jo to Charmaine. He had no doubts now that Jo-Jo was gay—he'd seen him flirting shamelessly with a male beach attendant not ten minutes ago. So if Charmaine wasn't sleeping with him—why was the owner of
Jonniee
so anxious to please her?

‘I'd better go make sure Phil doesn't go overboard on the close ups,' Jo-Jo said wryly. ‘We're not filming for Penthouse.'

Charmaine laughed with utter relief. Then jumped as Payne Lacey tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around, chin up, eyes spitting, an Amazon ready to commence battle.

‘Want
to tell me what's going on?' he said mildly.

Charmaine felt her blood chill. ‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean, what's going on,' he repeated with heavy patience. ‘You've obviously never modelled before in your life, even I can tell that. And no real fashion model would have passed up a chance to model the star exhibit. And Jo-Jo treats you like bone china.' He smiled grimly. ‘What's the matter, Charmaine? Speechless? Do you think I'm so brainless that I can't tell when something's off? And something's off here, sweetheart, by a mile. So tell me. Why are you really in Barbados?'

Charmaine stared at him helplessly. What to say? What to do? She couldn't tell him who she really was. Luckily, she and Lucy didn't share the same last name, so there was no reason for him to suspect her true identity. But she had to distract him somehow.

And she could only think of one way.

Taking a bold step forward, she smiled lazily.

‘That's for me to know and you to find out,' she said sexily, then reached over the top of the bed sheet to loop her arms around his neck, drag his head down to hers, and kissed him.

Hard.

CHAPTER
FOUR

The moment her lips touched his, Charmaine knew she was in trouble. Deep trouble.