Snowbound Heart (10 page)

“Well, Janine,” Marvin Hobbs said after a long moment of silence, “what do you have to say to that?” When his wife sent him a tight-lipped glare without replying, he turned to Clare. “For myself, I admire your loyalty. It’s enough to make a man wonder what there is about the play, or about the man who wrote it, to call forth such a defense. I can see I am going to have to take a long and careful look at this whole thing. That being the case, I have a suggestion. What do you say we all join Janine at this lodge of hers? You, Clare, can learn your way about the slopes while the rest of us get in some exercise. And then after dark we can relax around the fire and discuss this project in detail during those long after-ski evenings.”

“I believe,” Janine said with a touch of sarcasm, “that the phrase is apres-ski.”

“Thank you,” Marvin Hobbs said gravely, then turned back to Clare and Logan. “Well? What do you say?”

Clare looked at Logan, waiting for him to decline for her. He avoided her eyes. “Clare and I will have to let you know later, if you don’t mind. Say, in the morning?”

The venomous look in Janine Hobbs’s green eyes was divided equally among Clare, Logan, and her husband. Marvin Hobbs ignored it. His face bland, inscrutable, he said, “After hearing Clare’s plea for your screenplay, I am not certain any longer which one of you will persuade the other to come this time. I can’t speak for Janine, but I will be disappointed if you don’t join us, both of you.”

There was no possibility of Clare and Logan discussing Marvin Hobbs’s proposal until later, much later. The chance did not come, in fact, until Logan saw Clare to the door of her hotel room. Taking the key from her hand, he unlocked the door. Instead of handing it back, he stepped inside the room, waited for her to enter, then closed the door behind them.

Despite the fact that she had slept in the same room with this man for two long nights and spent practically every waking minute in his company, Clare found herself amazingly nervous at being alone with him now. She moved away from him, taking a seat in one of the armchairs on either side of a lamp table at the far end of the room. With her lashes lowered, she toyed with the scalloped lace edge of her sleeve. Logan glanced at the other chair. Rejecting it, he took up a position on the end of the bed across from her.

“Well?” he said, his voice quiet. “Will you do it?”

Clare looked up at him. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“You actually want me to go on pretending to be your fiancee?”

“So far, I’ve seen nothing wrong with the way you carry it off.”

“Doing it for an evening is one thing,” she protested. “Trying to keep it up for several days is something else entirely.”

“I will be there to help you. I have had some small experience in making a role believable, you know, and also in supporting other actors.”

She gave him a wan smile. “I am not an actress.”

“I think you underestimate yourself, if this evening is any example. Everything considered, it was good of you to come to my aid and defense. I might even go so far as to say it was inspired.”

“You make it sound so calculated. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“Wasn’t it? Whatever the reasons, I am grateful.”

“That may be, but it is no reason to jeopardize this deal with Marvin Hobbs,” she said earnestly.

“If I didn’t believe going on with this farce of an engagement was the best way to bring this deal off, I wouldn’t suggest it. I wish Hobbs could judge my script for what it is, without personalities entering into it. That’s impossible now; Janine has seen to that. As long as I thought she was sincere in what she was doing, I was willing to overlook it, even to forget the whole thing and find another producer, to keep from coming between her and Marvin. As it is, I have an uncomfortable feeling that it was her vanity and nothing more that was hurt when I refused to play along, and it is spite now that has made her so determined to sabotage the project. Well, I happen to think too much of what I am doing to let her get away with it. I will do whatever is necessary to fight her. Marvin Hobbs likes you. If keeping you with me as my fiancee will encourage him to decide in my favor, then I will do it, if I possibly can.”

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that I may find it impossible to resist making use of what happens?”

His eyes narrowed. “I will have to trust you, won’t I? Maybe it would make you happier if I told you that if you will do as I ask, when this is over I will give you any kind of interview you please.”

Clare tilted her head. “Is that a bribe?” she inquired, her tone cool despite the flush across her cheekbones.

“You could call it that.”

His offer could be considered in two ways: as a gauge of how much he wanted to see his work produced by Hobbs, and also as a change in his attitude toward both Clare and her writing.

“I’m not certain the damage hasn’t already been done. Janine did a pretty thorough job of discrediting the idea this evening.”

“You repaired much of the impression she made. I think it’s worth a try. I owe the project that much.”

Clare nodded and looked away from him. “If I do decide to do it, several things must be understood. Number one, that I have to spend some time with Beverly and her husband. Otherwise, I can make no promises.”

“There should be no difficulty about that.”

“The second thing is that I will be able to stop at any time it becomes too much for me.”

“Agreed.”

“And finally, I would like to have an end to sarcastic remarks and accusations. No matter what you may think, I came into this accidentally. Whether I accept your offer of an interview or not, I want it accepted, at least verbally, that I never sought one. If I do as you ask, and if later I write an article, it will be because in both cases I feel that the results will be forth the effort.”

He stared at her, an appraising look in his intent blue eyes, as though he were weighing her, coming to some internal conclusion. A current of magnetism seemed to emanate from him, a positive force that made her sit completely still, unable to move, until he released her with an abrupt nod.

Rising with a lithe movement, he held out his hand. “That’s fair enough,” he said. “It’s settled, then. I’ll tell Marvin in the morning, and I’ll let you know what the plans are after I’ve talked to him.”

“All right,” Clare said, her voice husky in her throat.

“It may help you to look on this as a job. Since I asked you to hire on, I’ll take care of the expenses.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Clare said firmly. “I prefer to pay my own way. About this hotel room, I want you to have it changed into my name.”

“Would you have stayed here, in a place like this, if it hadn’t been for dinner this evening?”

“No, of course not — “

“Then I think we can safely say the expense was due to the project, and should be charged against it.”

As Clare looked up at him, she felt her senses assailed once more by the light in his brilliant blue eyes. “I … I have the feeling there is something wrong with that logic, but I’m not sure what it is.”

“When you decide, let me know. We will have plenty of time to discuss it.”

Smiling a little, he dropped a kiss on her forehead, and with quiet, easy footsteps, moved to the door and let himself out of the room.

“Why in the world did you ever agree to such a thing?”

Beverly sat across from Clare in a booth in the hotel coffee shop. Her brown hair hung in a shining pageboy about her heart-shaped face. There was a troubled look in her soft brown eyes, and the happy animation that usually enlivened her features was absent. Leaning forward, she repeated, “Why?”

Clare swirled the steaming coffee around the inside of her cup, then looked up. “I’m not sure. I guess one reason is Janine. I hate to see Logan disappointed because of her petty vindictiveness, and then, she didn’t exactly endear herself to me. On top of that is the screenplay. It really is good, Bev. Something that worthwhile deserves a chance.”

“Are you trying to tell me it has nothing whatever to do with Logan Longcross? Because if you are, I will have to tell you I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, naturally, I am doing it because he asked me. I would never have dreamed of suggesting it myself.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Do you mean you think I am going along with all this because of some idealistic infatuation with him as a movie star? You are as bad as he is!” Clare’s smile took the heat from her words.

“That’s what he thinks, does he?”

“It is certainly what he thought at first. I hope I convinced him he was wrong, but it’s hard to be sure.”

“Oh, yes, instead he thinks you are a lady journalist out to get him. Has it occurred to you, Clare, that he is just using you in much the same way that he thinks you meant to use him to further your career?”

“I can’t say it has,” Clare answered. “Even if it were true, I can hardly complain, can I?”

“You don’t intend to accept his offer of an interview, or mean to write an article, do you?”

“Don’t you think I will have earned it?”

“Clare!”

“Oh, yes, I know, I should do my bit, then fade into the background. When no article appears under my by-line, Logan will know he has misjudged me and I will be vindicated. I grant you there would be satisfaction in that, but there might be more in writing something that will let people know what he is really like.”

Beverly frowned. “From what you have told me, I’m not sure he would appreciate that.”

“Yes,” Clare said with a dispirited nod, “you are probably right.”

“On the other hand,” Beverly went on, “he did offer you the interview. You didn’t ask for it as a condition for playing his little game. That must mean something.”

“I told you about his reading the tear sheets,” Clare said, tapping the sheets of newsprint she had handed over to Beverly. “Maybe it means he approved of my writing.”

“I supposed it might,” Beverly agreed. She sipped her coffee, then sat back. “If you have made up your mind, there is nothing I can say to stop you. I only hope you know what you are doing.”

“I think so. It will only be for a few days.”

“You are moving up to the lodge at Snowmass after lunch?”

“Yes, that’s right. Bev, I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for not making a fuss. I know I’ve ruined all your plans for this week.”

“Listen,” her friend said, an impish smile creeping into her eyes, “don’t worry about it. I do want you to come and see the cabin John and I fixed up, but other than that, we will still spend plenty of time together. There are the ski slopes; John and I will be out there helping you learn to ski so you can keep up with the rest of them. Then maybe we can have a few drinks or dinner together one night. It will all be great fun, and,” she added, her tone elaborately casual, “if Logan Longcross should be somewhere in your vicinity, I won’t complain! I’m not exactly immune to his charm.”

“And what, I wonder, would your John say to that?” Clare teased.

“He would say it was fine with him, so long as I didn’t get too serious. It’s not a bad attitude, now that I think about it. Don’t you get too serious either, will you, Clare? I would hate to see you get hurt.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Clare said, but she was uncomfortably aware that she had not mentioned to Beverly that gentle loss before Logan had left her room the night before.

The morning was sunny and bright, blindingly bright, Clare and Beverly, bundled up to the ears, spent the remainder of it seeing to the business of estimates and insurance forms on her car repairs, and afterward visiting some of the shops in the little Victorian mall. If Clare was going to learn to ski, she would have to have the proper attire. She had debated using waterproofed jeans and sweaters, then decided against it. Janine, she was certain, would be wearing the latest from the ski resorts of Europe, Clare could not hope to compete, of course; still, she did not intend to be entirely outclassed.

She had left the hotel that morning without informing Logan. To begin with, she did not want to give him reason to think she expected his escort everywhere she went. In addition, though she might receive better service following in Logan’s wake, she did not particularly care to have her expedition turned into a three-ring circus. There was one other thing. Logan could see to the everyday expenses of the next few days if he pleased, but she did not mean to have him pay for the clothes she wore. There might not be much of the money she had saved for this vacation trip left when she had outfitted herself, but what she wore would be her own. And if she needed justification for such an outlay, she could always tell herself that she would be coming back to visit Beverly; there would be other skiing holidays.

The down-filled parkas, the bib overalls, and the coveralls and matching sweaters seemed to come mainly in vivid primary colors of bright yellow and green, blue and red, or in darker earth tones. It was difficult choosing among them. At last, after much discussion and a trip to the dressing room, Clare decided on an ensemble of warm but lightweight red nylon with sweater-knit cuffs and collar of soft gray and white, and a coordinated sweater and cap of alternating bands of red, gray and white. Beverly, looking at this and that while Clare shopped, had found a matched set of gloves, scarf, and cap that she could not resist. They carried their purchases to the checkout counter.

The woman attendant turned from serving another customer, gave Clare a warm smile that seemed to hold more than a little interest, and began to fold her things, writing down each article on a sales pad. That done, she tore off a copy of the sales slip, stapled it to the bright-colored plastic bag with its ski motif, and handed it across the counter.

Clare stared at her. “But you haven’t told me how much I owe you.”

“Why, nothing, my dear. While you were in the dressing room, the gentleman waiting in the car outside came in and told me I was to send the bill to him at his hotel.”

With the package in her arms and a flush on her cheeks, Clare turned, following the direction of the woman’s nod. Through the glass door of the shop, a car could be seen, the dark-colored rental car consigned to Logan. A man sat behind the wheel, a man wearing a ski cap and dark glasses. Even if she had not had the advantage of knowing his identity, she thought she would have recognized him anywhere. The shape of his head, the way it sat upon his shoulders, his relaxed, animal grace, were unmistakable.