Professional Lover Part 3

Carried away by her thoughts, she hadn't heard him come in. She swung round to face him.

But at the actual sight of him standing there, his nice, good*looking face puzzled, all the words she had planned to say went out of her head. She felt awful, at a loss. Yet she had to say something.

"I came to see you about ... about your wife. She*" She broke off in confusion. The words seemed to stick in her throat.

Stephen stiffened instantly. His brown eyes clouded.

"About my wife, Miss Thayle?"

"Yes," Starr went on desperately, in a small, hoa.r.s.e voice. "I * I thought you ought to know.

She's going to elope with Rex Brandon tonight."

5

Stephen Desmond said nothing, only by a quick stiffening of his body, a twitch of his lips, and a sudden blaze in his dark brown eyes did she know he had heard her. The silence held.

To Starr it was agonizing. She stood by that super*shining desk, her small face deathly white, her fingers playing nervously with a paper weight, praying he would say something, anything to end this awful tension. She didn't know what she had expected, but when he did speak she was amazed at the queer calmness of his voice.

"You wouldn't have told me unless you were sure, would you?"

She shook her head. She wet her lips with her tongue, they were so dry. "No, Mr. Desmond.

I * I found them together in Mr. Brandon's apartment. All her luggage was there. And... she practically told me herself what she intended doing."

He ran a hand back over his hair. His lips twitched again. He made an effort to speak but didn't speak. Then, abruptly, he crossed to the window and stood with his back towards her staring out.

"So this is the end," he said at last. And his voice was m.u.f.fled.

Another pause. Then suddenly he gave a harsh laugh and added: "The end? Why shouldn't it be the end of everything? What's the use in living now?" He made a vague motion towards the windowsill. An awful presentiment came over Starr. She fled across the room. She gripped his arm. "Mr. Desmond... for G.o.d's sake...."

He tried to wrench his arm free from her grasp. His face was strange. As though, momentarily, he didn't realize who she was. "Let me go!" he cried.

"Mr. Desmond, please, please!" Starr's voice was desperate. "You don't know what you're doing! I'll ... I'll have to call for help if you don't stop struggling."

That seemed to bring him back to his senses. He stared at her as though he had only just become conscious of her presence. He raised one arm and brushed it across his damp forehead.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I must have been mad."

She let him go, and he walked across the room, sinking down into the chair before his desk.

He bent his face in his hands and gave a short groan. "What must you think of me, Miss Thayle? I... I, well, I haven't slept for a week now, maybe longer. And working against time all day on this new picture, too. My nerves snapped, I guess.... Please don't despise me!"

Despise him? Starr could have laughed aloud. Despise him, when she loved him so much.

When, to see him like this, defeated, was such agony she could scarcely bear it. She had a sudden vision of the Stephen Desmond she had first known, had first loved. Eager, enthusiastic, laughing in the face of every adversity, fiercely ambitious, proud of his work,living for it... And here he was a broken man, whose face was lined and bitter, whose nerves were strung to the breaking point. And that woman was responsible. The lovely blonde wife who had betrayed him. G.o.d knows why she had married him. Perhaps because a talkie director was a new sensation! Starr hated her in that moment as she never thought she could hate any woman. Vain, selfish, shallow... and this was the woman Stephen loved!

"I don't despise you, Mr. Desmond," she said quietly. "I think I understand. And... and it isn't too late yet."

But he didn't seem to hear her. He went on as though speaking his thoughts aloud, while slowly his hands clenched on the desk before him: "I knew this was coming. I've been sensing it for weeks. That's what has wrecked my nerves, waiting for the blow to fall. I knew she was in love with that man. Infatuated, rather. The great Rex Brandon! The polished lover of women * at so much a picture! I've paced the floor of my bedroom night after night trying to summon up sufficient courage to go into her room and ask her outright. Ask her what Rex meant to her and what she intended doing! But I was afraid. And now I wish I had asked her!

Maybe it wouldn't have been too late then. Maybe I could have reasoned with her, for I know she'll never be happy with him. He doesn't understand her. He won't even try to. I've watched them together. He's not really in love with her. I know. When you love someone deeply yourself, you sense intuitively how much other people love them!"

"You love her so very much?' An odd break in Starr's voice.

He opened out his hands and clenched them again in a fierce helpless gesture. "So much!"

He gave a short harsh laugh. "So much that I can't go on living without her! She's like a mad unsatisfied craving in my blood. I want her always. I could never love anyone else."

Starr winced, yet she had always felt that when Stephen fell in love it would be like this. He was made that way. And while she admired him tremendously, it was heartbreaking too. And so futile! If he got Rita back now, the situation would only be repeated with some other man.

It made her feel furious suddenly. She wanted to shake Stephen and say, "Don't let this woman spoil your life. There are other women. Other women so much more worthy * please believe that!" But what would be the use of saying it? A man like Stephen didn't love a woman because she was worthy. He loved her because he couldn't help it!

"Why did you come here to tell me this?" he asked slowly.

A slight flush stained the death*like whiteness of her face.

"I thought you once said we were friends, Mr. Desmond."

He laughed again, that short harsh laugh, a wealth of bitterness behind it. "Yes, friends always do hasten with bad tidings, don't they?"

Her face flamed as though he had struck her. "Mr. Desmond, please believe it wasn't that! I thought if you knew in time you might be able to stop them... if you wanted to stop them."

"Wanted to stop them!" His voice was incredulous. He pushed back his chair from the desk with a jerk. Momentarily he was the old Stephen Desmond, purposeful, vital. "G.o.d, don't you know I'd do anything in the world to stop them? You say it isn't too late?"

She shook her head. "No... they're sailing on the Beutonia for Honolulu tonight."

"How do you know?"

"I saw it on her luggage. And she told me herself that Mr. Brandon was going away on a cruise.""She seems to have told you everything!" His voice was ironic.

"Not everything..."

"Enough anyhow!" He flung it at her sarcastically.

She turned to face him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Desmond, but I didn't want to come here and tell you this! I'm not enjoying it, I a.s.sure you!" And her voice was bitter.

There was a pause. Miserably Starr picked her gloves and bag off his desk. There was a lump in her throat, and the back of her eyes felt hard and gritty behind, as though they had been rubbed with sandpaper. But before she reached the door he crossed the room in a few long strides and caught her by the arm. "Please, Miss Thayle, I apologize. I don't know what I'm saying, what I'm doing! I'm sure you are trying to be my friend. Won't you continue being my friend and help me?" There was a note of pleading in his voice, and a certain roughness as though he were trying to keep it from trembling. It undid her utterly. The tears that ached at the back of her eyes were very real now.

"That's all right, Mr. Desmond. I'd do anything to help you." She added, in a lower voice, "I think you know that."

His grip on her arm tightened in reply. He ran the other hand back over his hair. "I don't know why you're so decent to me." His voice was humble.

"You were awfully kind to me when I worked for you," she murmured. And added, quickly, "But if you're going to stop them sailing there's no time to be lost."

"What do you think I should do?" He spoke with a desperate eagerness.

Starr thought a moment. "I think I should drive down to the boat," she told him. "It will be too late now to stop them at his apartment. If you start right away you'll have plenty of time."

Queer how she was making all these plans for him. just as she had done when she was his secretary. She had always been more practical than he. Stephen was too much of a dreamer.

"Then when you get down there*" She resumed.

'I think I shall know what to do then!" he interrupted grimly. 'I think I can deal with the man who is trying to steal my wife!"

Something in his tone frightened her. And he looked so desperate! What mightn't he do to Rex Brandon, once he found him with his wife? Of course she didn't care about Rex, she a.s.sured herself pa.s.sionately. The worst fate would be too kind for him. A man who will deliberately steal his friend's wife. The very friend who has made his career, too! No, she didn't care about him. But she did care what might happen to Stephen afterwards.

"Let me come with you," she pleaded suddenly. "I don't think you should drive all that way alone."

"You think I'll drive recklessly and smash myself up?"

She seized on that eagerly. "Yes, you might. But with me there you wouldn't, would you? I * I couldn't bear anything to happen...." Her voice trailed away in a queer, half*stifled sob.

He looked at her strangely, his dark brows drawn together. "Why should you care?" he spoke almost savagely.She turned half away from him. Her face was in shadow. "Why shouldn't I care? We * we used to work together. And * I believe in your future." But her voice was uncertain. Yet he was too full of his own thoughts to pay much attention.

"Very well," he said curtly. "Come if you want to. I guess" * his lips twisted bitterly * "I'll be grateful for any company on that drive down tonight."

6

Rita said, "I think this is a very nice suite, darling. You needn't look so dissatisfied. Ever since you came aboard this ship you've looked positively grim!'

Rex tried to rally. After all, there was no sense in rousing her suspicions. She'd never let him get away if he did. Perhaps she suspected something. He'd made several excuses already to try to leave her, but she'd clung to him like a leech. Still, he reflected with a certain bitter determination, nothing was going to stop him leaving this boat once the last bell rang!

"I'm sorry," he said curtly. "Perhaps I don't feel very well."

"Not seasick already?" She threw back her small blonde head and laughed merrily.

"Darling, don't be seasick. It's such an unromantic complaint. And vou know you are so romantic. Besides, I'm sure it would be rotten publicity. Just think of the myriad of women who adore you reading, 'We regret to state that Rex Brandon was seasick during the entire voyage!' What a horrible picture for them to hug to their spinsterish bosoms * metaphorically speaking, of course!"

Rex, his tall lean form looped in the doorway, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, raised one dark eyebrow quizzically. "I must say you don't seem very concerned about leaving your husband and breaking up your happy home!"

She blew him a kiss. "Sweetheart, why should I be? Parting from a husband you don't love is much less painful than parting from a tooth! Much less expensive, too. Dentists are so grasping these days!" She sighed mockingly.

She was sitting on the arm of the couch, swinging pretty, silk*clad ankles. In the vivid red*

and*gold boudoir gown she had slipped into when they came aboard she looked fantastically lovely. But Rex eyed her with an indifference that bordered on actual dislike.

"I suppose a year from now parting from me would be much less painful!"

"Darling, how can you!" She jumped off the arm of the couch and fled across to him with arms outstretched. "I love you. I adore you. You're the most exciting thing that has ever come into my life. Only," * she put her head on one side and pouted prettily * "you're not very exciting right now, are you, my own?"

He smiled. That attractive crooked smile all women adored. "What do you expect me to do to be exciting? Stand on my head and twiddle my toes? Or perhaps I could oblige with a somersault!"

She threw an arm round his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're awfully funny, aren't you, my pet?" Then she nodded mysteriously. "You know what I mean by exciting!""I'm afraid I don't know, my angel!" His voice was mocking.

She stamped her small foot in sudden anger. "You're being positively hateful. You've been hateful ever since we left your apartment, for that matter! Nervous, upset*?"

"Perhaps I'm not so used to eloping as you seem to be!" he interrupted.

"You should be! You've done it often enough in your pictures, " she flung at him. "You're most romantic then!" And she looked at him aggrievedly.

He folded his arms across his chest and laughed mirthlessly. 'Whom do you think you are eloping with, my dear? Rex Brandon, the great screen lover, or me? That's the trouble with women, they can't disa.s.sociate you from the role you play on the screen. If they like the character you portray, they think they're in love with you! If they detest it, they detest you equally strongly. And your own personality is probably a hundred times removed from any character you have ever portrayed! It's comic! It's pathetic! But there it is!"

Rita sighed and laid her head against his shoulder, nuzzling up to him rather as a small fluffy kitten would. "Darling, do be like you are on the screen, then! Like you were in Love's Troubadour. All cynical and pa.s.sionate. I adored you in that!"

His smile twisted. "Don't forget I was paid many thousands of dollars for behaving like that, my sweet!"

She turned petulantly away from him. "Don't be so mercenary. If you talk like that I'll begin to think you don't love me. And" * she smiled up at him suddenly * her moods changed with bewildering rapidity * "I know you adore me. Just think! We're actually here on the ship, about to elope. Isn't it thrilling? I adore the rose*and*pink decoration of this sitting room, don't you?

I feel we're going to be happy here. Too marvelously happy!"

Rex picked a cigarette off the table and glanced about him. He supposed, in its way, it was attractive, though it was too fluffy and ultra*feminine for his personal taste.

"It looks a very expensive suite," he murmured. "I hope it didn't cost you too much."

She took a cigarette, and he gave her a light. "I'm not so mercenary as you. I don't count the cost!"

"No, I'm sure you don't!" he murmured wryly. He frowned suddenly and added, "What name are we supposed to be traveling under, anyhow?"

"A Mr. and Mrs. Valentine. Isn't it a romantic name? It took me an hour to think of it! But of course I confided to the shipping people confidentially who you really were."

Rex started. "The devil you did!"

She nodded wisely. "Yes, I had to. Pa.s.sports and all that sort of thing. I confided in the purser we were eloping. I found him most sympathetic. None of the pa.s.sengers need know, of course, although," * she smiled happily * "you're bound to be recognized!"

He looked at her curiously. "Wouldn't that upset you, to have the other pa.s.sengers know we were traveling unchurched, as it were?"

She laughed again, and her amber eyes shone. "Why should it? No one cares these days *

not much, anyhow! Besides, I've always wanted to be involved in a scandal. One should taste every one of life's experiences, I think! And this will be such a romantic scandal! Your name will do that!"

"Thanks!" His voice was coldly sarcastic."Now you're going horrid again!" She kicked the tail of her rest gown aside fiercely with the toe of one small golden mule. "Darling, please be sweet to me. You haven't kissed me yet!

Not once! Rex, do you realize you've never kissed me?" Her voice was slightly shocked.

He looked down at the glowing end of his cigarette. His lips, twitched slightly. "It does seem rather extraordinary, since we're at this moment eloping together, doesn't it, my own?"

"Well, you can rectify that!" She came close to him again and smiled up into his face. Her lips were very close to his, very red, very inviting.