The rest of the day was a nightmare. Joss disappeared after their interview with Helene reappearing only after the al fresco lunch which was served on the patio. As on the previous evening the pool and garden area were crowded with people, all of whom seemed to greet one another as 'darling', most of them men Sarah noticed, and all of whom seemed to form an adoring court around Helene. Watching her fondle the sun-bronzed back of one young boy who, despite his arresting physical appearance, could not have been a day over twenty years old, Sarah thought it was just as well that Joss wasn't there to witness what was going on.

He reappeared during the afternoon, dressed in swimming shorts, and looking rather grim. Watching the fast, demanding crawl with which he traversed up and down the pool for a dozen or so lengths, Sarah felt her heart ache with sympathy for him. He was not a man who would find it easy to stand on one side while his lover openly demonstrated her interest in other men. Harry Weinberger was sitting with Helene now, Sarah noted, absently admiring the skill with which the older man detached the young Adonis from Helene's side, and then captured her attention for himself.

"Envying her?" She hadn't seen Joss get out of the pool, and he showered small droplets of warm water on her skin as he came to sit down beside her.

"No," Sarah told him, with clear-eyed honesty, wondering why on earth he should think she was the slightest bit attracted to the film director, 'just admiring his technique. "

"Well, he's certainly had plenty of practice. He's just got rid of his fourth wife..."

"Do you think Helene will back down over the book?" Sarah asked him, wanting to distract his attention from the other couple, knowing what he must be feeling at the sight of them together.

"I doubt it. She can be very stubborn when she wants to be."

"So what will you do?"

"I've told Helene my stance on the subject," Joss said coolly, 'and I'm not going to change my mind not through b.l.o.o.d.y-mindedness but because I know I'm right. If we went ahead and published the book as Helene wants to write it, John Vincent would sue us straight away, and I can't say I would blame him. Helene's letting her desire to pay him out blind her to reality, I'm afraid. "

"And if we lose the book and she takes it to another publisher..."

She held her breath, knowing how much he had been depending on having the book in the shops for Christmas.

"Better to lose the book than face a law suit," he said, shrugging easily.

"It isn't the end of the world. To be honest, now that I've read what she's done so far, I'm not very impressed. Richard, her agent, has done most of the work for her, but in reality it's nothing more than a lot of badly cobbled together gossip. Even so it would have sold after some work by a good ghost writer. However, we can't win 'em all. Still I suppose I'd better go and see if I can talk some sense into her." He got up, his body sleek and supple, already a warm brown. She longed to reach out and touch him; to run her hands up over the silken planes of his skin, to. Gulping painfully, she closed her eyes and settled back in her lounger, mentally comparing her own very respectable chain-store bikini to the far more daring garments the other women were wearing.

Most of them were bare-breasted, with bodies that spoke of endless hours in gyms and working out.

Against her will, she glanced across to where Joss was sitting with Helene and Harry Weinberger. Helene was stroking the director's bare forearm, leaning into his body, laughing up at him, her every movement calculated to make Joss jealous, Sarah recognised, knowing that this was the actress's way of punishing him for defying her. She didn't know how Joss could stand it, and she marvelled at and admired his self-control.

A lesser man would have given in. but Joss wouldn't, she reflected.

Nothing would deflect him from his decision, and she suspected that Helene would not be pleased about that. She was a woman who was used to commanding the adoration and obedience of her men, but Joss was not cast in that mould.

Her long fingers curled round Harry Weinberger's thigh, her eyes narrowing in s.e.xual pleasure as she stroked the firm flesh. See, she seemed to be saying to Joss . see what you are missing, what pleasure I could give you . but Joss seemed to be oblivious to her manoeuvres, Sarah thought mechanically, knowing exactly how she would feel if she was there in his place, watching him openly and very sensually caressing someone else while she was at his side.

Unable to bear any more Sarah got up and went inside. Her small room at the top of the house was hot and stuffy, but at least up there she didn't have to endure the sight of Helene tormenting Joss--and enjoying every minute of it.

The stuffiness in her room made her head ache, but Sarah was reluctant to go back outside. She found some magazines that belonged to the maid and flicked idly through them, wishing with all her heart that Joss had left her behind.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside made her frown and put the magazine down, her frown changing to surprise as Joss thrust open the door and walked in.

"Good G.o.d," he exclaimed looking round the tiny room.

"It's like an oven in here. Can't you open the window?"

Sarah shook her head.

"No, they're all screwed down. Perhaps these rooms were once nurseries. Did you want me for something?"

"Yes we're leaving just as soon as you're ready," he told her tersely.

"Leaving!" Sarah stared at him.

"Have you...? Has Helene...?

"The answer to both those questions is " no"," he told her with dry irony.

"Helene it seems is more interested in securing a part in Weinberger's new film than discussing her book, so we might as well leave."

Poor Joss. Sarah could imagine how he must be suffering, forced to watch Helene flirting with Harry Weinberger. No wonder he wanted to leave.

"It won't take me long to pack," she a.s.sured him quickly.

"I'll meet you downstairs, in say... half an hour."

"Fine. I'll go and give our hostess the good news. I'm quite sure our presence won't be missed."

He was hiding his bitterness well, even managing to sound faintly derisive, but Sarah wasn't deceived.

Helene didn't even bother to see them off, and Sarah felt she could well understand the reason for the tension hardening the bones of Joss's face as they drove away.

It wasn't until they were clear of Cannes that he spoke to her, and then only to say briefly, "I hope to G.o.d we can find somewhere to stay tonight. It's not going to be easy, right in the height of the season."

His prediction proved all too accurate and it was well after ten o'clock when they eventually found rooms in a small family run auberge a few miles off the main tourist route, in a small village.

They would have to share a bathroom. Joss told Sarah briefly as he signed the register, but Sarah was beyond caring. They seemed to have been travelling for ever, and the long journey down to Cannes, and the tension of their stay at the villa, were now catching up on her.

"I've organised a meal for us," Joss told her, 'but first I need a shower. " He grimaced, running his hand through his hair.

"G.o.d, I'm tired..."

He looked it, too.

"You use the bathroom first then," she offered.

"I'm not too bad," she fibbed, 'after all you're the one who's been doing all the driving. "

She gave him half an hour before going upstairs herself. The door to the bathroom they were to share was open. Joss had obviously vacated it. She was too tired herself to bother about finding anything special to wear. What did it matter anyway? Joss wouldn't notice. His mind would be on Helene.

A soft cotton dress lay at the top of her suitcase and grabbing it and clean underwear she made for the bathroom.

Her shower revived her a little, and feeling at least clean and fresh she went downstairs in search of Joss and her meal.

The small dining room was empty. Frowning slightly she went outside thinking he might be in the garden, but it, too, was deserted. On her way back into the foyer, she b.u.mped into the proprietress, who shrugged her shoulders and looked blank when Sarah asked her in her schoolgirl French if she had seen Joss.

He must still be in his room . perhaps waiting for her, she realised, going back upstairs slowly.

His bedroom was opposite hers, the door slightly open. Sarah tapped on it and walked in, coming to an abrupt halt, his name dying on her lips as she saw Joss sprawled out across the bed on his stomach, the brief towel wrapped round his hips his only covering.

Her entrance had obviously woken him, and he turned his head, staring groggily up at her. Something in the way she was watching him must have betrayed her because almost instantly the grogginess disappeared from his eyes to be replaced by a glittering febrile intensity.