Lucia was very fond of her best friend, but she didn't think Cindi had the potential to be another Pamela Anderson - not even a Carmen Electra, because even though Lou had paid for Cindi's makeover, including a nose job and large silicone breasts, Cindi did not have that special something that Lucia knew she possessed.

Lucia was disillusioned with her progress as far as breaking into show business was concerned. She'd been going out on audition after audition, and the only jobs she'd managed to score were a couple of walk-ons playing maids. She'd been offered the role of a stripper in a Steven Seagal film, a part she'd turned down because it called for total nudity and she couldn't bring herself to do that - her family would disown her.

Coming to Cannes with Lou and Cindi was an exciting diversion, especially as she'd never been out of America and it was an all-expenses-paid trip. Who knew what might happen ? She certainly had nothing to lose.

Lou had his scenario down. He'd found out about a photo session that was to take place on the beach for an Italian starlet, and when the girl finished and left the scene, he planned for Cindi and Lucia to sashay past the photographers wearing the very briefest of thong bikinis.

'If you really wanna grab their attention,' Lou suggested, with a sly smile, 'you'll take your tops off.'

'No way,' Lucia said firmly.

'Understand this,' Lou answered, with a stern shake of a bony finger. 'To be a star, that's what you gotta do.'

Cindi was up for it: she wasn't sleeping with Lou Steiner for the pure joy of sharing his bed. Like Lucia, being discovered was her constant dream.

The scene went exactly as Lou had promised it would. The moment the Italian starlet made her exit, Cindi and Lucia undulated into the picture. The photographers - spotting two pretty, scantily clad girls - began snapping away.

Lucia immediately experienced an addictive sensation of power. She'd never had this much attention and it was quite a kick.

Lou, standing on the sidelines, began waving his hands in the air, indicating to them that they should drop their tops. The photographers got into it, too.

'C'mon, girls,' yelled a couple of the English ones standing at the front. 'Show us your titties.'

Cindi unhooked her bra. Out tumbled her enormous new silicone breasts with huge, erect nipples.

Now the flashbulbs really started popping. Lucia hung back, suddenly feeling shy. 'You, too,' yelled one of the photographers. 'C'mon, darlin'. Show us your boobs.'

She wasn't ashamed of her body, but the thought of her dad and the rest of her family seeing the photographs stopped her. 'Sorry, this is all you're getting, guys,' she said, still trying to pose provocatively like she'd seen in the magazines.

But their focus was no longer directed at her. Cindi was the one getting all the attention.

By the time the photographers lost interest and drifted off, Cindi had posed for hundreds of photographs.

Lou came running over as Cindi put her top back on. 'You did it!' he said excitedly. These photos will hit the front pages everywhere.'

'The front pages of what?' Lucia asked, a tad jealous. 'Magazines, newspapers,'

Lou crowed. 'You lost out, honey. Shoulda listened to me.'

Unfortunately - much to Lou's chagrin - the photographs did nothing for Cindi's career. Topless photos were no big deal any more, so she and Lucia returned to America disappointed and undiscovered.

Lucia kept slogging away at her waitress job, going to auditions whenever she could, not dating much and having dinner at her family's house every Saturday night, where her dad lectured her on the importance of giving up her dreams and getting a proper job in a bank like her sister, Selma. He kept nagging her about making sure she had a secure future.

Secure future indeed. No, thank you. One way or another she was going to become a star.

The only good thing that came out of her brief encounter with Lou Steiner was his name-change idea. A few weekends later she was watching TV with Selma, when on came a Barry Manilow special. 'Can we switch channels'?' she asked, preferring a more soulful kind of music.

'No way!' Selma protested. 'This Manilow guy is so cute! You gotta sit still an'

watch him.'

So she did. And when Mr Manilow - resplendent in a white suit and gold brocade vest - began singing his famous hit 'Copacabana', she suddenly sat up very straight. 'Her name was Lola', he sang. 'She was a showgirl...'

Yes! That was it! Lola. Lola Sanchez. It had a certain ring to it.

The moment she changed her name from Lucia to Lola, good things began to happen.

She landed a legitimate agent who thought she had potential, then a small role on a cable soap show, and finally a minor but pivotal role in a real movie.

After that, her big break came, starring in Merrill Zandack's film.

Stardom, when it came her way, was fast and furious.

Now, five years later, she was back in the South of France. Only this time she wasn't staying in a cheap hotel desperately trying to get noticed. This time she was a star. Lola Sanchez.

Superstar.

It had been some trip.

'Take your pick,' Linc said, indicating a treasure trove of exquisite diamond jewellery laid out in open black leather boxes lined with rich crushed velvet.

'Or maybe you'd like to choose everything.' He grinned - the little-boy grin she found so damned appealing. 'Catch me while I'm in a generous mood, sweetheart.

You know it doesn't happen every day.'

Shelby sighed, happy to see him sober, yet still disturbed by the previous night. 'You don't have to do this,' she said.

'I know I don't have to,' he said, still grinning. 'I want to. There's a big difference.'

She sighed again. Why did he feel he always had to overcompensate? A simple apology would've been enough. Or a guarantee that he would never do it again.

'What's it gonna be?' he said, putting his arm around her.

She stared at the glittering jewellery, unable to decide on any of it.

'Personally I favour the pink diamond,' he said. 'Got a feeling it matches my eyes.'

She couldn't help laughing as he picked up the magnificent seven-carat ring and slipped it on her finger. 'Perfect fit. Now I'm gonna havta marry you all over again.'

The ring was certainly beautiful, but she didn't want him buying her expensive presents simply because he felt guilty.

'I hate it when you drink,' she said softly.

'I know,' he replied. 'You don't have to remind me - I turn into Jerk of the Year.'

'Then why do you do it?'

'Ah...' he said ruefully. 'Wouldn't it be nice if I could come up with a simple reply?'

They both knew it wasn't simple. Nothing about Linc was simple.

At least he realized he'd behaved like a jerk, that was something.

'How about making up your mind to quit?' she suggested. 'That's what would really make me happy.'

'It's not that big a problem, sweetheart,' he said, anxious to move on.

'Yes, Linc,' she persisted. 'It is.'

'No, baby,' he said, his voice hardening. 'It isn't.'

They'd had this conversation many times and nothing ever changed. She had a nagging feeling that one of these days she'd have to leave him.

The sad thing was that he'd force her into it.

Chapter Eight.

'Zandack would like to see you in his stateroom,' Jonas said, catching Cat outside her cabin.

'Forget about it,' she answered brusquely. 'I told you, I'm outta here.'

Jonas was on a mission, and there was no way he was allowing her to escape. 'You could show him the courtesy of explaining why.'

'Trust me,' she said, narrowing her green eyes. 'He knows why.'

'Can't you give him two minutes?' Jonas urged, well aware that Merrill had a nasty way of punishing the wrong people, and he was directly in the line of fire.

'Why?' she asked.

'For me,' he said. 'I'll be right outside the door. And if you don't work it out with him, I promise I'll personally put you on the tender. How's that?'

'Y'know, this isn't fair,' she said, running a hand through her short blonde hair. 'This scene doesn't interest me. I want to split.'

'I know you do,' he said, peering past her into her cabin. Shit! She was packed and ready to go. 'If you could just do it for me I'll be forever in your debt,'

he said calmly. It hurt him to beg, but what else could he do?

Hmm... for ever in her debt, huh? Not such a bad thing. 'Well... okay,' she agreed, although she'd already made the decision that she didn't care how difficult it would be to find somebody else to finance her movie - she was through with Merrill Zandack.

'Thank you,' Jonas said, sounding properly grateful. 'I owe you one.'

She followed him upstairs and down the long corridor that led to Merrill's stateroom. Jonas knocked tentatively, then opened the door. She walked into the room while Jonas remained outside.

Merrill was sitting up in bed wearing chocolate brown silk pyjamas. His Russian girlfriend - fully made up - was in bed beside him, clad in a lacy neglige. A tray of breakfast goodies sat on his lap. It was a cosy scene of domestic bliss that hardly rang true.

'Uh... y'know, I wasn't exactly planning on saying goodbye,' Cat said, hovering by the door, 'but apparently it's the rule around her.' She took a bold step forward. 'Would you please instruct your captain to let me off this boat before I'm forced to jump?'

'Ah, Cat, Cat,' Merrill said, shaking his head. 'You are a very impulsive girl.'

She was impulsive! What about him? Was it possible that he actually didn't recall demanding that she suck his pathetic erection last night? 'Excuse me?'

she said, glaring at him.

'If I did anything that offended you I deeply apologize. Perhaps I had too many tequilas - I remember nothing.'

Oh, so now he'd come up with the tried and true I-remember-nothing excuse.

Didn't that go out of style with the old Rock Hudson and Doris Day movies that she saw so often on late-night TV?

'Of course you may leave, if that's what you're certain you want,' Merrill continued. 'As long as you don't forget that tonight I am throwing a party for you, and there will be many people attending that you should meet for the sake of your career.'

Oh, man, now he was laying a guilt trip on her. She'd totally forgotten about the party.

'If you like, Jonas will accompany you into town,' Merrill added. 'You can spend the day shopping. Buy anything you want - Jonas has my credit card.'

'No, thanks,' she said. 'Shopping's not my thing.'

'You could walk around the town,' he suggested. 'You're not a prisoner on my boat.'

'Well, yeah,' she said indignantly. 'That's exactly how I feel.'

His Russian girlfriend was staring at her with a totally blank face. Cat wondered if she actually spoke perfect English and couldn't be bothered to get involved. Highly likely, and wise.

'Take the tender to shore,' Merrill said magnanimously. 'Jonas is yours for the day. He'll buy you lunch, and tonight you'll attend my party.' A crafty pause.

'Or should I say our party?'

Now what was she supposed to do? Fortunately she hadn't reached Jump, because if she'd told him about the incident he'd insist she get the hell out of there. On the other hand, if she was smart she'd stay, and hopefully cement the financing and support for her movie.

'Okay,' she said at last, mad at herself for weakening. But it wasn't as if Merrill was a threat - he was simply a fat old producer who obviously got off on trying to control women sexually.

'Excellent decision,' Merrill said. 'You're a clever girl.'

Was she? She didn't feel clever.

'Jonas,' Merrill yelled. 'Get in here.'

Jonas entered the room. 'Take Cat to lunch,' Merrill ordered, 'and whatever else she wants to do. Be back here by five.'

Jonas shot her a quick glance. She wondered if he thought she'd caved in too easily. So what? She didn't care what he thought.

'Tonight's the party,' Jonas said, obviously not thrilled at the thought of spending the day with her. 'I should be here.'