Shadows in the Limelight Page 12

  ‘I’m sorry if I didn’t live up to your expectations but it isn’t the sort of thing you can slip into every conversation,’ Catherine replied in a tight voice.

  He made an unintelligible noise in his throat. Though his features were still grim, his tone was softer when he spoke. ‘I’m sorry, I suppose you’re rather upset, but so am I. You must realise I would never have...’

  ‘Look, you made your point, Kent,’ Catherine interrupted him angrily. ‘I’m sorry my inexperience ruined it for you. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again.’ She was barely aware of what she was saying, but she was perilously close to tears and knew they would spill over if she stayed silent. ‘I’ll see if I can arrange for some lessons or something, then if it ever happens again you won’t be disappointed—’

  ‘Shut up, Cat,’ Kent cut her off in a voice like slap. ‘This isn’t the time for one of your little neurotic tantrums.’

  ‘Neurotic...!’ Catherine exclaimed, outraged.

  ‘Yes, neurotic! But just put a lid on it.’ He cursed softly. ‘In my book, anybody who keeps as many secrets about themselves as you do has got to have something wrong with them. Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth! Everything I know about you I’ve had to fight to find out. Well, this just about tears it! We’re in one hell of a situation and we’d better figure some way out of it.’

  Catherine took a deep breath, blinking back her tears. She hated Kent Latimer. Neurotic—how dared he say she was neurotic! She made her face expressionless, only her eyes glared at him. She’d show him who was neurotic!

  ‘That’s better,’ said Kent, studying her pale, but composed countenance. ‘Now, I suppose it’s too much to hope that you were prepared for what happened in there.’ He nodded towards the bedroom.

  ‘Prepared?’ She couldn’t disguise her bewilderment.

  ‘I didn’t think so,’ Kent grimaced sardonically, ‘I figured that out soon after I found out you were a virgin. I think the safest thing to do is get married right away.’

  ‘What did you say?’ She blinked at him.

  ‘I said I think we should get married ... soon ... as soon as I can arrange it.’

  Catherine recoiled at the flatness in his tone and she started shaking her head. ‘Kent, what are you talking about?’

  ‘You heard me.’ He stalked over to the table, picked up the bottle of Scotch and splashed more of the amber liquid into his glass.

  ‘You mean, just because we went to bed together, you want us to get married?’

  ‘It’s the logical thing to do. Didn’t your mother ever tell you where babies come from?’ he asked, taking another drink from his glass. ‘I didn’t do anything to prevent it, and from the look of things, neither did you.’

  Catherine swallowed hard. A baby—Kent’s baby growing inside her. An oddly pleasant quiver ran through her, but it died quickly as she saw the expression on his face. She couldn’t be having his baby. ‘Just because we ... we ... th-that doesn’t mean I’m pregnant.’

  ‘But you could be, and I’m not going to take any chances.’ He set his glass on the table with a loud thud.

  ‘I’m not marrying you, Kent.’ The cold deliberation with which he was planning the rest of her life hit her like a dash of cold water. ‘You have to be out of your mind!’ She stood up and made for the bedroom.

  In two strides he was beside her, his hands going to her shoulders and roughly turning her to face him. ‘You’ll do what I tell you!’

  She gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper. ‘I think you’re being ridiculous. I’m not marrying you just on the off chance I might be pregnant!’

  ‘And if you are pregnant?’

  ‘OK, what if I am? So what? Lots of women have babies without having husbands.’ She wrenched herself away from Kent and covered her face with her hands, the impact of what could happen just hitting her. She knew all about illegitimacy, about growing up without a father. She felt sick with self-disgust—she would be just like her mother.

  ‘I’m sure that would suit you just fine, but I’m not going to let you play the little martyr with my career.’

  ‘What’s that crack supposed to mean?’

  ‘I mean Cat Devlin, the devoted sister, so overcome by grief when her brother kills himself in a high-powered car he couldn’t control that she throws away a highly successful singing career. Who five years later is still so stricken she can’t bear to talk about it, who tries to pretend that that part of her life never existed.’ His voice dripped sarcasm, his eyes filled with contempt. ‘Tell me something, did you really have ‘flu, or was it just a last-ditch attempt to back out of your promises to me and hang on to that martyr role you’re so fond of?’

  Was that how it looked? Was that what he really thought? ‘You know nothing, Kent, nothing about me, about Cat Devlin, about why I quit,’ Catherine flung at him, not daring to accept that his assessment could be true.

  ‘Because you won’t ever tell me,’ he reminded her harshly. ‘But that doesn’t matter any more. I’ve catered to your little neurosis long enough. This time my career is the one on the line and I damn well am not going to give it up.’ His mouth was a thin line as he eyed her. ‘It’s common knowledge that we’ve been going out together. You end up pregnant, I’m labelled a scoundrel unless we’re married. What do you think that will do to my political career?’

  ‘Your career! That’s all you think about!’

  He stared at her a moment, then suddenly the anger faded from his face. He looked older, his features etched with lines of fatigue. ‘It’s not just my career,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m thinking of you, too.’ He walked over to her and rested his hands gently on her shoulders. The sudden shift in mood threw her off balance, dissolving her own enmity, and she didn’t resist when he pulled her into his arms. Her head rested against his chest, the steady throb of his heart beating in her ear.

  ‘Cat,’ he said presently, ‘you said I know nothing about you, but you’re wrong. I’ve watched you these past weeks, watched you stringing yourself out because you can’t face what happened five years ago. I don’t think you could handle something like this on your own.’ She stirred, and he continued quickly, ‘You’d try. I’m not saying you wouldn’t. But Cat, despite the sexual revolution and all the talk about modern attitudes, there is still a stigma attached to being an unwed mother, to illegitimacy. Life wouldn’t be easy for you.’

  Catherine leaned against him. He was right—she, if anyone, knew that. ‘Well ... if we were sure, I suppose ... then we would have to get married,’ she conceded. They would have to—she could never let her child grow up fatherless as she and Casey had. ‘But we don’t have to go rushing off to do it tonight.’

  ‘That would be the best way, Cat,’ he insisted. ‘There’ll be eyebrows raised as it is if we become parents nine months after the wedding. And nobody would fall for that old line about it being a premature baby if we wait. Besides which, that by-election is going to be called any day now, and once the campaign is under way, we can’t suddenly get married in the middle of it. It would look damn funny, especially when Junior shows up. We’ll get married as soon as possible.’

  If there was a baby, if they waited, some day it might find out that that was the reason they married. It would be better to do it Kent’s way; that way no one would ever know. ‘Yes, I suppose we have to,’ Catherine whispered, knowing she was defeated.

  ‘Fine,’ Kent replied. ‘I’ll call the airport, see if we can get a flight to Reno or Vegas either tonight or tomorrow.’

  ‘Why? Why can’t we get married here?’ Catherine protested. She didn’t want to go to Nevada, not there, where Cat Devlin had lived.

  ‘It will appear better that way—make it look like we’ve eloped. The press will think it’s terribly romantic,’ he added, with a return of irony. He went to the phone and picked up the receiver. ‘Go and make us some coffee while I do some phoning—and get something to eat,’ he ordered, then turned away and started to dial.


  Several hours later they stepped off the plane in Las Vegas. Since agreeing to Kent’s proposal, Catherine had been trapped in a numbed lethargy, her actions automatic and robot-like. She supposed she was in a state of shock, she didn’t even think, her mind was shrouded in mist. Somehow she had managed to pack, but she had left everything else to Kent, letting him deal with their travel arrangements and contact Paula about the shop.

  As she walked across the tarmac with Kent at her side, the glittering lights of the Strip in the distance, reality started filtering info her numbed consciousness. Within a few hours she would be married, married to Kent. The involuntary shiver that passed through her had little to do with the chill desert air in the early hours before dawn. Beginning to panic, she stumbled. Immediately, Kent’s hand shot out to steady her and he retained his grip on her elbow as they made their way to the terminal.

  ‘Kent.’ She stopped suddenly as they reached the entrance to the building. The other passengers on the flight streamed around them, hurrying past them without a second glance, their thoughts on slot machines and blackjack.

  ‘Come on, Cat.’ He tugged at her elbow impatiently. ‘We’re in the way here.’

  ‘No, Kent, please!’ she cried desperately, trying to pull away. ‘I can’t. It’s not too late, we don’t have to go through with it.’

  ‘We had this all out before, Cat,’ he growled impatiently, drawing her through the door. ‘It’s far too late now, so just make the best of it.’ Under the fluorescent lights of the terminal, her complexion was greyish, her eyes enormous pools of apprehension. As he relented, his tone grew gentle. ‘You’ll feel better after you’ve rested and had something to eat. We’ll pick up a car here and go straight to the hotel.’

  He put his arm around her waist and drew her along with him until he spotted a lounge area. Settling her into a chair, he looked down at her, frowning slightly. ‘Wait here while I get the luggage and the car—and stop worrying, everything will be fine.’ He smiled encouragingly at her, and walked away.

  Catherine leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. The terminal was busy even at this hour, bustling with the activity of travellers, the clang of the inevitable slot machines. If only it would be as Kent had said, that everything would be fine. She couldn’t back out of it, not for either of them. She didn’t want Kent hurt, and he would be if she refused to co-operate now and found out she was pregnant later. And, if she was, she knew she couldn’t let the child grow up as she and Casey had, with a birth certificate with ‘father unknown’ and the label of bastard. Somehow she would make it work; she would have to.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CATHERINE heard the sound of approaching footsteps amid the background noises of the airport. Kent had been gone for several minutes, and must be returning. Opening her eyes, she sat up straighter, determined to lay her doubts aside, to forget her fears for the future.

  ‘Cat ... Cat Devlin! I thought it was you.’ She blinked rapidly. There was no reason for her to expect to see Rick Moss just because she was in Las Vegas, yet she wasn’t surprised to find him standing in front of her. For a moment she stared at him, wondering why she couldn’t feel anything more than indifference.

  ‘Hello, Rick,’ she said flatly, continuing to study him. Physically, he had changed little, was still the thin wiry man with ferret-sharp features he had been five years ago. With dispassionate interest, she noted that his suit was outdated, the cuffs of his shirt slightly frayed. Rick had always prided himself on his wardrobe: the custom-made shoes, the tailored suits and silk shirts. Perhaps he’s fallen on hard times, Catherine thought, wondering why the thought didn’t afford her any satisfaction. Over the years her hate must have tempered, lost its intensity, until now she only felt a faint revulsion for her ex-manager.

  Rick gave her an ingratiating smile and slipped into the seat next to hers. ‘What brings you to Vegas? You haven’t come to find me by chance? Have you finally realised how much you gave up when you walked out?’ her ex-manager asked, leaning close to her and watching her face avidly.

  She knew better than to mention Kent to him. ‘I’m just here on holiday,’ she prevaricated, shifting slightly away from him.

  ‘Cat Devlin on holiday in Las Vegas!’ Rick started to laugh. ‘Not likely. Darling, surely you can tell me what you’re doing here?’ He rested his hand on her knee in a familiar gesture. ‘After all, we’re old friends. Why I’ve always thought of you as a daughter!’

  Catherine could only stare at him. How could anyone have the nerve to utter such a blatant lie? She and Casey had never been anything to Rick but a source of money. If she hadn’t been aware of it before, he had proved it without a doubt when he had concealed Casey’s addiction from her and everyone else. He let her brother die rather than jeopardise that precious image he had so carefully constructed for them and reaped the profits from. A feeling of nausea rose in her stomach as the old hatred for the man welled up inside her. Abruptly she stood up, unable to bear his company a moment longer. ‘I don’t have time to go into it now. Goodbye, Rick.’

  He followed her to his feet, catching her arm to keep her with him. ‘Don’t run off, love. Whatever brought you here, now that you’re back on your old stomping grounds, don’t you see that you should never have left? It’s not too late, darling. Cat Devlin can still go back on that stage. As a single you could be bigger than the Devlin kids ever were.’ His fingers stroked her wrist, his smile coaxing.

  At his persistence, his touch, her temper flared. ‘Don’t ever touch me,’ ordered Catherine. Angrily she jerked her arm out of his grasp. ‘Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I wouldn’t go back on stage. If I sing, you’re my manager. You thought you were so clever when you got Casey and me to sign that contract. You owned the Devlins, lock, stock and barrel.’ Catherine suddenly laughed. 'But you can’t own something that doesn't exist, can you? Casey’s dead, and Cat Devlin no longer exists. You didn’t realise that I would rather give up my career than be associated with a little sewer rat like you.’

  A muscle twitched along Rick’s jawline and his grey eyes hardened to granite. ‘You always were a sharp-tongued little bitch. Have you forgotten I know where all the bodies are buried? You should be more cautious, though I’ll forgive you this time. Just remember, when you change your mind I’ll be waiting for you. Cat Devlin can’t sing unless I say she can. Got that?’

  ‘I’m not likely to forget it,’ Catherine retorted. She saw Kent approaching them and shooting Rick one final look of distaste, turned and walked quickly towards him. When she reached him she asked quickly, ‘Are you ready to go?’ He nodded, his eyes questioning. Catherine knew her colour must be high, her eyes still glittering with the remnants of temper, and that Kent had noticed.

  ‘Is there some problem, Cat?’ His eyes had moved to Rick, who was standing where Catherine had left him, watching them speculatively.

  Taking Kent’s arm, she turned towards the door. 'No problem. Can we go?’

  Outside, Kent had a rented light blue Ford LTD waiting for them. He had collected their luggage earlier and stowed it in the boot. The hotel was not far from the airport, and it was only a few minutes before they reached it. Kent had been silent during the drive, concentrating on the traffic that was heavy even at this hour. Almost before she knew what was happening, Kent was tipping the porter who had brought up the cases and closing the door on the suite he had arranged for them.

  ‘Do you want a snack or something?’ he asked once they were alone.

  Catherine nodded. Though she ached with fatigue and wasn’t the least hungry, she knew that if she went to bed now, she wouldn’t sleep. Seeing Rick again had stirred up old memories, old fears. How could she marry Kent without telling him about the past? But where would she find the courage?

  ‘That’s probably a good idea. I noticed you didn’t eat much on the plane, Cat, and you’ll probably sleep better if you have some food inside you. I’ll have the desk send up some coffee and sa
ndwiches.’

  Since arriving in Las Vegas, Kent had been so gentle, so solicitous. The anger that had been so evident in Vancouver had dissolved as if it had never been while they had flown through the stratosphere to reach here. As Catherine watched him phone room service, she was puzzled by his attitude. He was accepting the situation far more calmly than she would ever have expected. Knowing him as she did, she knew he didn’t like it when things did not go his way, yet he had been acting almost as if he was pleased or, at least, satisfied by this turn of events.

  ‘You might as well freshen up while we’re waiting,’ Kent suggested, breaking into her thoughts. He crossed over to her and reaching out, pulled her gently to her feet. ‘Come on, put on your night clothes, then you can get some sleep as soon as you’ve eaten.’ She looked up at him, her mouth suddenly dry. He looked tired, faintly haggard even, but it somehow added to his attractiveness. Lazy desire stirred within her.

  ‘You shouldn’t look at me like that,’ he said quietly, then almost reluctantly, lowered his lips to hers. Her response was instantaneous, and he gathered her closer to him, his mouth moving slowly over hers—exploratory, sensuous, tender. But there was a certain restraint too, and Catherine longed for him to deepen the kiss. She slipped her arms around him, clinging to him in unconscious appeal. She wanted him to abandon his control, to take her into the magic state they had shared earlier, where she wouldn’t have to think, to worry about anything.

  She caressed the firm muscles of his back and felt a tremor pass through him. Then he was putting her from him. Moving several feet away from her, he turned his back to her. His voice was low and strained as he spoke. ‘Go get changed, Cat. The meal will be here soon.’