Bruno digested this in silence. If he had been offered the choice between a week in St Lucia without Maxine and a week at home with her, he would have stayed. The idea of passing up a free holiday, however, evidently hadn’t so much as crossed her mind.
And although the thought of Maxine spending a week on a tropical Island with Guy Cassidy was bad enough, the idea of her socializing with a television crew in Manchester was somehow even more menacing. He might love her, but he still didn’t trust her an inch.
Particularly, thought Bruno, when she was so hell bent on furthering her career.
He frowned. ‘How long will you be gone?’
‘Only a week.’
‘A whole week? For one lousy walk-on?’
Maxine nuzzled his neck and smiled to herself. ‘Hmm, I know. But ‘I straddle two episodes. That’s the kind of trollop I am.’
Bruno said nothing. That was just what he was afraid of.
‘You’ve got a ladder in your stocking.’
Maxine, shaking back her hair and almost knocking herself senseless with her extravagantly gaudy earrings, said, ‘Oh, bum.’ From her seat in the studio canteen she grinned up at Zack Morrison, star of Romsey Road and heart-throb to millions. ‘I’m supposed to have two.’
He nodded. He had a great nod. The way that lock of dark hair flopped over his left eyebrow, Maxine decided, was positively mesmerizing.
‘I spotted you earlier, down on the set,’ he said casually. ‘You’re good.’
‘I know.’ Maxine, too excited to eat, abandoned her Danish pastry. The part he played was that of the womanizing dodgy dealer, irresistibly wicked one altogether dangerous to know. In truth he wasn’t actually that good-looking, just a damn sight better than the rest of the males in the cast. It was his character, Robbie Elliott, that really set the female pulses racing, as each woman secretly wondered whether she could be the one to tame him.
‘I’ve seen you in the Babysoft ad, too,’ he told her, and Maxine shrugged.
‘Stepping stones,’ she replied, crossing her legs and idly swinging one scuffed white stiletto from her toes. ‘Why don’t you sit down, before your salad falls off its plate?’
Zack Morrison, currently between wives, was captivated by Maxine’s honesty. The rest of her wasn’t bad either, he admitted to himself. He tended to go for brunettes, so blonde made a nice change. The smile was stunning. And even the terrible outfit she was wearing couldn’t disguise the fact that beneath it, aching to get out, was a stupendous figure.
It was the honesty, however, which appealed above all. Women, throwing themselves at him, invariably told him how unhappy they were with the men they were currently either involved with or married to. It was their way of letting him know how available they were.
But although he was pretty certain Maxine Vaughan was throwing herself at him, practically all she’d talked about throughout lunch was her idyllic relationship with somebody called Bruno Parry-Brent.
This Bruno character, according to Maxine, was outrageously attractive, a superb chef, seriously wealthy and the best company in the world. Zack, accustomed to being made to feel he was the one with all these attributes – apart from the cooking, of course – was almost jealous. She was practically implying that he didn’t match up, he thought, feeling absurdly put out. He was Robbie Elliott, for Christ’s sake, more than a match for any man.
And the more extravagantly she sang the unknown Bruno’s praises, the more intrigued be became. Maxine Vaughan both mystified and intrigued him. Unable to resist such a challenge, Zack heard himself say, ‘Ah, but he isn’t one of us, is he? He isn’t in the business. It’s not as if he could pull any strings to help you in your career.’
‘Of course he couldn’t.’ Maxine shrugged and spooned sugar into her cold coffee. ‘But that doesn’t matter. If I’m good enough, I’ll make it on my own merit. Plenty of people do, don’t they?’ She brightened and added proudly, ‘After all, I’ve got this far!’
‘One toilet-roll ad and a walk-on.’ Zack Morrison dismissed her dazzling achievements-to-date with a languid gesture. ‘It’s who you know in this game, darling. OK, this Bruno chap might be able to whip up a terrific omelette but that isn’t going to put your name in lights.’
Maxine looked him. ‘That’s hardly his fault.’
‘Whereas with the right man behind you,’ Zack drawled. ‘Well ...’
‘Oh come on,’ she remonstrated, giving him a good-humoured smile. ‘It isn’t that straightforward.’
‘Look, let me give you an example.’ He leaned across the table towards her and lowered his voice. ‘Just a for- instance. I’m what makes Romsey Road one of the top-rated shows on TV. ‘I have clout. If I went to the scriptwriters tomorrow and suggested they expand your character ...
really bring her into the storyline ... they’d listen to me.’ He nodded, amused by the expression of disbelief in her eyes. ‘Seriously. If I wanted to do it, I could. Now wouldn’t you agree that’s simpler than slogging round endless auditions in search of the next measly job?’
‘Of course it is,’ said Maxine quietly. The brightness in her eyes had faded and she was shifting almost imperceptibly away from him. She looked, thought Zack, disappointed.
‘And ‘I could do it,’ he boasted.
‘I’m sure you could.’ Maxine bit her lower lip. ‘Look I’m sorry, but I’m beginning to think I’ve been a bit naive here. What are you saying, that if I do you a ... favour, you’ll do one for me in return? Is this the old casting-couch routine?’
Zack Morrison grinned, bewitched all over again both by her troubled expression and forthright manner. ‘Why, would you go to bed with me if I asked you to? In exchange for a part in Romsey Road?’
‘No.’ Maxine shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t. I really am sorry, Mr Morrison, but I’m just not that sort of girl.’
She was terrific, thought Zack, filled with admiration. What a cracker! What an irresistible challenge.
