Between The Sheets Read online

  'Make the most of it,' Sylvie urged, as doubt clouded Dana's face. 'Just imagine Gus's reaction if he saw a photograph in the paper of you looking gorgeous and happy; that would show him.'

  Dana smiled. 'Okay, then. You will come with me, won't you, Sylvie?'

  'Try stopping me,' her PA said eagerly.

  'Thanks. Let's do dinner first; I'm going to need a couple of drinks going to face reporters.'

  'Make sure it's only a couple,' Ian warned.

  Dana's eyes narrowed. 'I'm not stupid. I'm going upstairs for a bath, Sylvie. No calls.'

  'Walter really needs to talk to you,' the girl called after her, 'and Gretta was on again.'

  Dana, already halfway out of the door, didn't stop. 'They'll just have to wait. I can't deal with them right now.'

  Ian rushed out into the hall after her. 'I need to talk to you about some engagements I have lined up over the next few weeks.'

  'What?' Dana stopped.

  'Walter said I should get started without you,' he apologized.

  She shook her head, her eyes sad. 'I'm sorry, not now.' And she hurried upstairs, leaving him to stare after her.

  Still, at least he'd convinced her to go out tonight, that was something. Now he'd have to make sure that she was photographed. He stuck his head back into the office. 'Nice to meet you, Sylvie.'

  'And you.' Sylvie smiled happily.

  'Make sure you go to Lobo, okay?'

  'We'll be there,' she promised, already wondering if there was an outfit in her wardrobe that would help land her a millionaire rock star or property developer.

  Dana shut the bedroom door and leaned her head against it with a weary sigh. She'd rather stick pins in her eyes than go out tonight but she couldn't stay in her room forever and she did like the idea of showing Gus that she wasn't a crumbling heap without him — except, of course, that she was. She walked over to the mirror and stared at her reflection. She barely recognized the dejected, mournful character that stared back at her. This wouldn't do. It wouldn't get her man back. Tonight she would go out and she would smile and look happy if it killed her. And tomorrow she would get back to work.

  Striding purposefully into her wardrobe, Dana began to flick through the rails looking for something that would tell the world she was doing just fine without Gus Johnson. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at dresses that reminded her of happier times. Tonight, she realized, was going to involve the performance of a lifetime.

  'This is a great place, isn't it?' Sylvie said, looking around her, wide-eyed.

  'The food is good too, you should try some.' Dana looked pointedly at Sylvie's smoked-chicken salad that she had been pushing around her plate for the last ten minutes.

  'I had a big lunch.'

  Dana sighed. 'Sylvie, I know you want a man, but you really don't have to starve yourself to get him.'

  Sylvie reddened. 'I just don't have a big appetite. I never have.'

  Dana was about to pursue the matter but she didn't really have the energy. Anyway, there was no point in trying to talk sense to Sylvie, she never listened.

  An intelligent and pretty girl, Sylvie's only real flaw was that she was intent on finding a rich husband and seemed to think being incredibly skinny was the only way to reach her goal. Dana, who had never run after a man in her life, couldn't begin to understand it. She had dated lots of guys before Gus came along, men from all walks of life, but always on her terms. She'd had to be more discerning, of course, when she became rich as there were a lot of fortune-hunters around. She watched as Sylvie scanned the room with a calculating eye. Sadly, her PA might well be one of them.

  Dana snuck a look at her watch. She was finding this evening hard going. Keeping a radiant smile on her face at all times was exhausting. A few acquaintances had already stopped by their table, some of them asking after Gus. 'Aren't I allowed to have a girls' night out?' she'd trilled and changed the subject.

  She forced a last piece of the delicious monkfish into her mouth and put down her knife and fork. 'Shall we go?' she asked Sylvie, as it was clear that the girl wasn't planning to eat her meal and there was no point in even suggesting dessert.

  'Sure—'

  'Good evening, ladies, hope I'm not interrupting anything.'

  'Wally, what on earth are you doing in Dublin?' Dana smiled as her agent bent to kiss both her cheeks and then sat down beside her. Walter always let her know when he was coming to Dublin so it made her feel slightly uneasy that he'd just dropped in like this. Anyway, how the hell did he know she'd be here?

  'Go and powder your nose, Sylvie, there's a good girl,' he said sweetly, before telling a hovering waiter to bring him a gin and tonic. He waited until the PA had flounced off before turning back to his author. 'Well, you don't look too bad, considering,' he commented.

  'Thanks a million,' she said drily. 'Please tell me you didn't come all the way from London just to check up on me.'

  'No, darling.' He winked as the waiter set his drink down in front of him. 'I've come to see my latest Irish author. He's suffering a little writer's block and so I decided to jump on a plane and come over and hold his hand.' He grinned. 'Not that it's a hardship; he's very easy on the eye. I'm taking him to dinner in some Japanese place in town.'

  'How did you know I'd be here?'

  'Ian called me, of course.'

  She scowled. 'I wish you wouldn't spy on me; there's no need.'

  'If you took my calls I wouldn't have to,' he retorted.

  'Sorry.'

  He patted her hand. 'That's okay, darling. I under-stand this is a difficult time. Has Gus been in touch?'

  Dana shook her head and reached for her wine glass. She was feeling dangerously close to tears.

  'Bastard. I don't know how he could do this to you.'

  'That makes two of us,' she said with a weak smile.

  'You know work is the best medicine for a broken heart.'

  'Really? I find Chablis works quite well.'

  'Yes, but it also ruins your looks and addles the brain. Come on now, my darling, don't be defeated by this. Gus is gorgeous, it's true, but you have to move on. Trust me, I know all about it.'

  Dana squeezed his hand sympathetically. It was almost two years now since Wally had broken up with his partner. They had been together for an astounding twelve years when he discovered that Giles had been unfaithful at least twice. Even then, Walter was ready to forgive the love of his life but Giles decided to leave anyway. The agent hadn't dated since, and although he pretended interest in every gorgeous young man he met, Dana knew that it would be a long time before he trusted anyone again.

  She could relate to that now as she never could before. 'Oh, Wally, I'm not sure I want to go on without him.'

  'Balls,' he retorted, then ignored the outraged look from the woman at the next table. 'You can and you will. You were a star long before Gus Johnson came along and you'll still be one long after he's gone. No one can bring Dana De Lacey down.'

  'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' she said, swallowing back her tears, 'I just wish I could believe it.'

  He sat forward and took both her hands in his. 'You know you must put all your feelings into this book. It will be hugely cathartic, make a damn good read, and,' he added thoughtfully, 'the whole ordeal may turn out to be an excellent way to promote the book.'

  'Wally!'

  'Sorry, but I am your agent after all.' He glanced at his watch, drained his glass and stood up. 'Must fly. Try to enjoy yourself tonight, Dana. When Ian told me you were going out on the town I was so proud. I thought, "That's my girl!" So go and show the world and your silly misguided husband exactly what you're made of. Understood?'

  Dana nodded, clinging to him when he embraced her.'Thanks, Wally.'

  Sylvie slipped back into her chair and eyed Dana warily. 'Is everything okay?'

  Dana dabbed her eyes with a tissue. 'Yeah, fine. Wally was in Dublin to see another author and he just dropped by to check up on me.'

  'Well, I hope
it gets him off my back for a while,' Sylvie said with feeling. 'I take it you've told him all about Gus.'

  Dana smiled ruefully. 'I hadn't intended to but he phoned rather late one night when I was halfway through my second bottle of wine. You can guess the rest. I must remember to put the answering machine on the next time I plan to get plastered.'

  Sylvie grinned. 'Well, at least it was only Wally and he's your friend as well as your agent.'

  Dana sighed. 'Yes, but he's also a businessman. I told him I wasn't writing and now he's going to be calling me on a daily basis to make sure I'm back working.' Dana groaned. 'Just like Gretta.'

  'To be honest, I think that's the mistake you've been making. It's because you wouldn't talk to them that they started to panic.'

  'That and the fact that this is the first time that, literally, I've been stuck for words.'

  'It's been a really difficult time.' Sylvie's smile was sympathetic. 'No one in your position would be able to work, never mind at something that requires creativity.'

  'Thanks, Sylvie, and I'm sorry I've made life so difficult for you these last few weeks.'

  'Don't worry about it, and don't worry about your writing either. Everything will be okay once you get back into a routine. I'm sure you'll fly through the book.'

  Dana said nothing. Once she would have agreed but the thought of getting back to work scared the hell out of her. Writing romantic novels had been easy when she was single and dating and then married to a man as gorgeous as Gus. But what would inspire her now? She felt as wrung-out as an old dishcloth and couldn't work up any enthusiasm for writing about passionate embraces or smouldering looks. How the hell was she going to finish The Mile-High Club?

  'Dana?'

  'Sorry.' She snapped out of her reverie and realized that Sylvie was talking to her.

  'I said shall we get the bill and head on to Lobo?'

  'You know, I'm not sure that it's such a good idea after all.'

  Sylvie's eyes widened in horror. 'Oh, no, you can't chicken out on me now. Ian will kill me!'

  Dana stood up, suddenly feeling a hundred years old. 'Okay, then, let's go and get this over with.'

  Chapter Three

  The office of Johnson and Cleary Architects stood in a leafy laneway in Donnybrook, on the edge of Dublin city centre. It was a Victorian red-brick townhouse that looked exactly like its neighbours, but that's where the similarity ended. Gus and his partner, Tom, had designed an extension to the rear that was a masterpiece of glass and steel. It allowed light to flood into every corner of the house, giving it an airy and sophisticated feel that, strangely, worked with the older features of the building. It had cost them enormously in terms of time and money but it had won the men their first award and was an instant advertisement for their talent at mixing old with new, maximizing space and creating individualistic and unique spaces.

  The boardroom Gus and Tom now sat in was equally impressive, with panelling in pale oak, a matching table that easily sat twelve, and chairs upholstered in soft, black leather. There was a small sofa and coffee table at the end of the room and a tall vase of lilies in one corner. Some pencil drawings of Johnson and Cleary's most impressive designs were the room's only adornment.

  Tom Cleary called the meeting to an end and stood up. 'I need to run; I'm having lunch with a client. Carla, can you type up those letters and get them out in this afternoon's post?'

  'Sure.' The girl stood too and looked down at Gus Johnson from under her long, sooty lashes. 'What about you, Gus, are you going out to lunch or shall I get you something?'

  He smiled absently. 'No thanks, Carla. I have to go into town so I'll pick something up while I'm out.'

  'Oh, lord, she's got her sights set on you,' Tom groaned when the young girl had sashayed out of the room. He pointed his finger at his business partner. 'And don't even think about it.'

  Gus raised an eyebrow. 'Why not? She's free, I'm free and she's got a great—'

  'Future in this office,' Tom cut in. 'She's the best PA we've ever had and you're not free — not properly.'

  The smile faded from his partner's face. 'Don't worry, I've had enough of women to last me a lifetime. Anyway, she's a bit young.'

  'That obviously doesn't bother her.' Tom's eyes slid to the newspapers spread out on the coffee table at the other end of the room. 'Did you see the photo?'

  Gus's eyes followed his and his expression sobered. 'Yeah.'

  'She looks well,' Tom remarked lightly. 'Not too devastated, thankfully.'

  Gus drummed his fingers on the table and stared straight ahead. 'No.'

  'Well, that's good, isn't it?' Tom said, slightly impatient. 'You wouldn't want her to be miserable.'

  Gus got to his feet, still not looking at his partner. 'Of course not.'

  Tom glanced at his watch, and cursing under his breath he picked up his briefcase and headed for the door. 'By the way, Ashling wants to know if you want to spend the weekend with us. She has this image of you living on crisps and chocolate and drinking too much.'

  Gus laughed. 'Tell her thanks but I won't be in Dublin this weekend.'

  Tom paused, his eyes narrowing. 'Oh? Where are you off to?'

  'I've just got a few things to take care of,' Gus said vaguely.

  'Oh?' Tom was looking at him worriedly.

  'It's nothing to do with work,' Gus promised.

  'I didn't think it was.' When Gus didn't offer any more explanation, Tom sighed and turned to leave. 'Gotta go, see you later.'

  Left in the conference room alone, Gus picked up the phone and dialled. 'Hello? May I speak to Walter Grimes, please?'

  Judy Higgins was sitting in Hannah's Hair & Beauty Salon in Wexford getting her highlights done when one of the girls handed her a selection of newspapers and magazines. 'Thanks very much.' She smiled at the girl and started to flick through one of the tabloids. She paused on the Social & Personal page to study the images of Ireland's rich and famous, and laughed when she saw a familiar face. 'Oh, Hannah, look! That's my friend, Dana O'Carroll; we went to school together.'

  The hairdresser leaned over her shoulder to take a closer look. 'She looks vaguely familiar. Is she in one of the soaps?'

  'No, she's a novelist. Her pen name is Dana De Lacey.'

  'Is she the one who's married to that hunky architect?'

  'That's right. Gus Johnson. He's gorgeous, isn't he?'

  The hairdresser looked back at the picture. 'She's quite well preserved but I suppose that's what money does for you.'

  Judy made a face. 'Yes, you wouldn't think we were the same age, would you?' She glanced at her reflection which showed a friendly-looking, mumsy kind of figure — someone you'd trust to mind your kids or run the cake stall at the school fair.

  'Looks aren't everything,' Hannah said wisely. 'She doesn't seem to be so lucky in love.'

  Judy frowned when she read the caption above the photo: LOVE ON THE ROCKS . 'What on earth—'

  She quickly read the short paragraph beneath.

  Romance author Dana De Lacey was out on the town last night but without handsome husband, renowned architect Gus Johnson. When pressed, Dana admitted that they were taking some time apart, but would say no more.

  'This is just terrible,' Judy murmured. She'd always thought that her friend was very happily married and when they'd last talked, only a few weeks ago, everything had seemed to be fine.

  'So, are you two close?' Hannah asked.

  Judy sighed and shook her head. 'Not really. Well, you know how it is; life takes you in different directions. Dana went to university in Dublin after school and never came back. I used to visit her a lot in the early days but then I got married and the kids came along and we sort of drifted apart. Now we just talk on the phone from time to time.'

  The hairdresser's eyes met hers in the mirror. 'Maybe now would be a good time to call.'

  Judy nodded slowly. 'Yes, I think you're right.'

  Iris McCarthy went to 9 a.m. Mass and, as she did every morning, she li
t a candle for her late mother, father and brother before making her way briskly to the Johnsons' house in Ranelagh. Collecting the post and newspapers from the letterbox, Iris let herself in and went straight through to the kitchen. As she took off her coat and hung it on the hook, she noted that the room was immaculate. A sure sign that Mrs Johnson probably hadn't eaten — yet again. Iris decided that once she'd finished the dusting and cleaned the four bathrooms, she'd make some breakfast and take it up. Mrs Johnson would pretend to be annoyed but she'd probably eat a little of it, which was something.

  An hour later she took a tray with a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, toast and a pot of coffee upstairs, the newspapers clamped tightly under one arm. Outside the master suite, Iris shifted the tray slightly so she could knock on the door. Going in, she nodded in the direction of the bed but kept her eyes discreetly averted. 'Good morning, Mrs Johnson. I've brought you some breakfast.'

  'Iris, you know I only ever take coffee,' Dana protested mildly, emerging from under the covers and stretching.

  'But you've hardly eaten a thing in days and you can't possibly work on an empty stomach,' Iris pointed out.

  Dana frowned. 'Did Walter tell you that?'

  Iris sniffed. 'I'm sure I don't take orders from the likes of him.'

  Dana grinned as Iris set the food down. The eggs did look delicious, just the way her mother used to make them. 'Believe it or not, I went out to dinner last night she informed the housekeeper. 'Sylvie and I went to l'Ecrivain and then on to a club. If Ian Wilson has done his job properly, we should be in one of those papers.'

  'That's nice,' Iris said, not convinced that it was.

  Dana quickly flicked through the papers until she came to the photo and then, with a snort, she handed it to Iris. 'It's not the best of photos.'

  'You look lovely,' Iris said truthfully and then frowned as she read the piece under the photo. 'But why are they making such personal comments? What has your marriage got to do with your work?'

  'Ah, good question! Apparently any publicity is good publicity.'