had to be desperate.’
Merry’s mouth tightened at his insulting tone. ‘I’m not so desperate that I’ll meekly agree to meet you when I’ve changed! I’ve heard of Gideon Steele, of course, and Harry seems convinced you are who you say you are, but I think we’re all agreed that Harry is an idiot.’
‘And after you defended him so bravely a few minutes ago,’ he taunted.
‘You were ridiculing him!’
‘He deserves to be ridiculed! If I had my way he would never be allowed near a theatre again,’ Gideon Steele bit out angrily.
Merry gave a half-smile. ‘He probably never will be.’
‘No,’ he agreed ruefully. ‘So if you don’t think I’m Gideon Steele, just who am I?’ he mocked.
She shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’
‘But you don’t intend meeting me later to find out?’
She looked at him unflinchingly. ‘No.’
‘So I need someone—other than Harry Anderson,’ he derided, ‘to vouch for me?’
‘There’s no need to go that far,’ she snapped. ‘Perhaps I could meet you somewhere tomorrow?’
He gave an impatient sigh. ‘Would you feel safer with me in daylight?’
‘I would feel safer if I never saw you again,’ she told him coldly, her head at a haughty angle. ‘But if you really are Gideon Steele …?’
‘Yes?’
‘I would be a fool not to at least listen to what you have to say.’
‘More so than you realise,’ he nodded grimly. ‘Okay, we’ll meet tomorrow. Do you have anywhere in mind?’
His derision rankled. After all, she hadn’t been born yesterday, and she had heard too many stories from friends of hers that had warned her to beware of the men who promised sudden fame. Even in this day and age it wasn’t unheard-of to be fooled by these men. She would be stupid to go off into the night with a man she didn’t even know.
‘The Ritz, I think,’ she told him airily. ‘For lunch.’
His mouth twitched. ‘One o’clock?’
To his credit he hadn’t even flinched at her choice of one of London’s leading hotels and restaurants. Perhaps he was Gideon Steele after all; his arrogance certainly seemed to say he was.
‘One o’clock will be fine,’ she nodded, deciding she had pushed her luck far enough for one day—or night. Goodness, she was tired, and if she didn’t soon get this heavy make-up off she would break out in a rash. ‘If you’ll excuse me …’
‘Meredith—–’ his hand grasped her arm, the skin firm and tanned, with a light sprinkling of dark hair, the fingers long and tapered, very strong, as he held her immobile.
She looked from that hand into the hard, inflexible face. ‘Yes?’ She suddenly felt breathless.
‘Don’t let me down,’ he instructed softly. ‘It’s too important. All right?’
‘All—right,’ she nodded, wishing the tightness away from her chest. And miraculously it was as he released her. ‘Good—goodnight.’ She went into her dressing-room, not looking back, although she wanted to, if only to see if he were still there.
‘Well?’ Vanda pounced on her excitedly as she entered the room, looking more like her normal self, her short blonde hair now in evidence, the thick make-up removed now, showing her own clear complexion and sparkling blue eyes.
‘Well what?’ Merry said absently.
‘Has he offered you a part in his next film?’
‘Not yet.’
Vanda frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s eleven-thirty at night, much too late to be discussing anything. I’m exhausted! We’ve arranged to meet tomorrow,’ she revealed reluctantly, knowing Vanda wouldn’t rest until she knew everything. ‘For lunch,’ she supplied before the other girl asked, and pulled the pink wig off with a sigh of relief, taking the pins from her ebony-coloured hair, allowing it to cascade in gleaming waves down her back, the feathered fringe swept back either side of her small heart-shaped face. Next came the make-up, and her skin really started to feel uncomfortable. ‘Ugh!’ She removed the artificial lashes, cleansing her eyes of the black clog applied to them earlier, instantly looking more like her twenty years without the cheap image she had projected on stage.
‘Sounds promising.’ Vanda sat cross-legged on the sofa that was pushed against one wall of the small room. The two girls were the only ones left, the others having already gone home.
‘Mm, he said it was important,’ Merry said slowly.
‘Even if it’s only a small part—–’
‘Oh, it will be,’ Merry smiled ruefully, feeling more comfortable in her denims and casual blouse.
‘But just to work for Gideon Steele—–’
‘If he is Gideon Steele.’ She picked up her shoulder-bag. ‘Ready?’
Vanda followed her out of the theatre on their way to the Underground. ‘You surely don’t have any doubts about that?’ she frowned.
‘Well, Harry’s hardly a good character witness,’ Merry derided. ‘We all know Liam only got the male lead in the play because he’s Harry’s “friend”.’
‘But it was Gideon Steele. All six foot three, one hundred and seventy-five pounds, thirty-four years, black-haired, blue-eyed bachelor inch of him,’ Vanda finished breathlessly.
‘Know a bit about him, do you?’ Merry teased.
‘Not really,’ her friend said tongue-in-cheek. ‘His father is Samuel Steele, he owns one of the big airlines, I’m not sure which one. Well, I wasn’t really interested in his father,’ she protested at Merry’s mischievous derision.
‘Of course not.’
Vanda grinned, sitting beside her on the Underground train. ‘He’s really rich, you know.’
‘The father or the son?’ Merry mocked.
‘Both. His father’s loaded, but Gideon Steele is rich in his own right now. And his films speak for themselves.’
Yes, they did. After that first youthful mistake, they had all been masterpieces in their own way, and last year’s Oscar had been well deserved. If she could get a part in one of his films her career could really take off—and in the right direction this time! The sooner this play was over and forgotten the better she would like it.
Vanda was of the same opinion. ‘At least you’re in with a chance,’ she grimaced. ‘I think it’s back to the dole queue for
