'And you like this?' he continued, fondling her bare breasts.

'Oh, yes, yes.'

'Y'know, sweetie, I've been thinking,' he said, stopping for a moment and propping himself up on one elbow.

'About what?' she asked breathlessly.

'I think it's about time you quit taking the pill.'

She didn't dare tell him that she'd stopped three months ago. He was so paranoid about her getting pregnant that he usually pulled out before he reached orgasm.

'Are you telling me something that you know I want to hear?' she asked softly.

'I'm telling you you're the most beautiful, sweetest woman I've ever met,' he said, caressing her nipples with his fingertips.

Did this mean he was actually ready to make a baby?

Yes, she was sure it did.

A feeling of euphoria swept over her. This was the Linc she loved, the man she'd married. And now he was telling her that she could have his baby.

She put all thoughts and doubts out of her mind, lay back and totally surrendered to the moment.

Chapter Eleven.

'It's about time you got your lazy, good-for-shit fuckin' dumb ass back here,'

Merrill screamed at Jonas as soon as they returned to the yacht.

Cat was shocked; she'd never seen Merrill like this - red in the face, eyes bulging, sweaty double chins quivering like jelly. Since she was used to standing up to bullies - her father was a classic example - she was not at all intimidated. 'Quit with the screaming,' she said, staring defiantly at the angry mogul. 'You were the one who made him spend the day with me. And we've had a very nice time, thank you, in case you're interested.'

'He's got work to do,' Merrill yelled. 'Fuckin' work. We're throwing a goddamn party in case you've forgotten.'

'Whatever you need, Mr Zandack,' said Jonas, quick to fall back into loyal-assistant mode.

'I need you to get your useless ass in gear,' shouted Merrill.

Cat headed downstairs to her cabin. She didn't care to watch Jonas being humiliated in front of everyone. Today she'd discovered that he was a nice guy and he didn't deserve to be treated like shit.

Once in her cabin she picked up the phone and finally got through to Jump in Australia. 'I've been desperate to speak to you,' she said, totally psyched to hear his voice. 'What's going on? You're never in your room.'

'I'm here now,' he mumbled, 'an' it's the middle of the freakin' night.'

'Oh, sorry. How's it going?'

'Rock 'n' roll, babe,' he said, giving an audible yawn. 'What can I tell you?'

'Merrill's behaving like a pig. I can't wait to fill you in on all the horror stories when I see you. The best news is that I'm definitely getting my movie financed.'

'S'good.'

'So, tell me everything about the tour. What's Kris Phoenix like?'

'He's a cool dude, big star.' Another loud yawn.

'You sound out of it.'

'You'd be freakin' out of it if you were woken up in the middle of the night,'

he grumbled.

'You could've called me?

'Gettin' through to a boat is a hassle.'

'What're you talking about?' she said, frowning. 'It's a boat, not the freaking moon.'

'You tryin' to pick a fight with me?' he said belligerently. 'Is that why you called?'

'No, Jump,' she answered patiently. 'I called to tell you that I miss you. Don't you miss me?'

'Yeah, yeah.'

He was in one of his obnoxious moods, probably zoned out on weed. He was a big stoner, joints for breakfast, lunch and dinner. 'I think you should call me when you're conscious,' she said, determined not to lose her cool.

'Whatever,' he mumbled.

She slammed down the phone. What kind of a bug did he have up his ass?

She grabbed her iPod, lay down on the bed, put on her Bose headphones and began listening to Eminem at full volume. Playing loud music always made her feel better.

Donatella Versace had designed Lola a drop-dead, in-your-face, cut-down-to-the-crack-in-her-butt and plunging-in-the-front gown. There was not much material involved, but what there was, in slinky white silk cut on the bias, showed up every inch of her spectacular body. Her olive skin gleamed, her chestnut hair was wild and curly, swirling around her shoulders, diamond starburst earrings adorned her ears, and an emerald bullet hung round her neck, nestling between her breasts. She knew she looked hot.

When she left the hotel on Matt's arm, the photographers confirmed it by causing a small riot, all of them struggling and pushing to get the best shot. Matt was happy to pose beside her, the proud husband, determined to score a career of his own.

Merrill Zandack's people had organized an army of small boats to take the guests out to his yacht, which was moored majestically in the bay like a solitary shimmering summer jewel.

'How will I get on a boat in these heels?' Lola worried, pointing at her Manolos.

'Take 'em off,' Matt suggested, adding a gallant 'I'll carry you.'

'You'd do that for me?'

'I'd do anything for you, you're my wife,' he said, thinking of the photo opportunities.

She hated it when he was nice: it gave her an attack of the guilts. And Matt had been nice when she'd first met him. Nice and sexy and well endowed. Now he was just plain boring.

Fortunately the sea was as smooth as glass, making the ride to the yacht fast and easy. Several crewmen tripped over each other to help her aboard. She realized as she climbed on that she was giving everyone a fine view of her ass.

Let 'em have a cheap thrill, she didn't care.

The yacht was festooned with fairy-lights and exotic flowers; a Brazilian group played seductive background music; uniformed crew members were everywhere, plus good-looking, hot young waiters in tight white jeans and T-shirts with The Zandack emblazoned on the front in red lettering.

Lola plucked a glass of champagne from a tray and basked in the attention coming her way.

Merrill greeted her with a sloppy wet kiss on both cheeks. She wished people wouldn't do that, it ruined her makeup.

Sharon Stone wafted by - the woman seemed to be everywhere. And then Lola spotted Linc Blackwood and Shelby Cheney, who, according to the buzz, was the actress of the moment.

Lola felt a shiver of resentment. Why couldn't she score a role like Shelby in Rapture? Why couldn't she work with an Oscar-winning director like Russell Savage?

She glanced around, seeing if she could spot Elliott Finerman. He'd better have made an offer to Linc, because if he hadn't she would be seriously angry.

Elliott needed her to get his movie made. Surely he realized that without her he had no movie.

'There's Linc Blackwood,' she said to Matt. 'Let's go say hello.'

'Sure,' Matt responded obligingly, and they headed in Linc's direction.

Shelby was surrounded by well-wishers all telling her how great her performance was in Rapture. She listened appreciatively, but all she really wanted to do was hold on to her husband. When he wanted to be, Linc was so attentive and full of love, and now that he'd promised they could try for a baby, she felt blissful.

It had been such a relief to hear him say those words.

She wondered if she was pregnant already. He'd made love to her in such a beautiful fashion. The moment they made a baby she wanted it to be the result of a special night of love exactly like tonight.

Soon they were separated. She didn't mind because Linc had promised faithfully he wouldn't drink.

Merrill Zandack greeted her effusively, hanging on to her arm. 'Magnificent!' he enthused. 'An Oscar-worthy performance, my dear.' Then he started talking about the script written by his young protegee. 'I want you to read it,' he said.

'It's a perfect role for you.'

'I'll read it, Merrill,' she said agreeably.

'Good, good. We should work together. Can't imagine why we haven't.'

'I'd like that.'

'Come,' he said, throwing his arm round her shoulders. 'I'll show you around.'

'I'm sure Linc would want to join us.'

'He'll see it later. Come with me,' Merrill insisted, leading her past the burly security man who guarded the long corridor leading to his stateroom.

'Your yacht is spectacular,' she said, admiring the oak-panelled walls Lincd with framed posters of his many films. 'How long have you owned it?'

'Too long,' he said. 'Wait until you see the new one I'm building. It's twice the size.'

Linc grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and swigged it down before Shelby noticed. Not that she was anywhere in sight, so he considered himself safe. He couldn't figure out why she objected to his drinking - it wasn't as if he got falling-down drunk or anything, although he had to admit that there had been times he'd blanked out and couldn't remember what he'd done. Hey - the bottom line was he could control his drinking, it was no big deal.

He smelt musky perfume, turned and Lola Sanchez was upon him. Good-looking broad - voluptuous and sexy and married. Not that it mattered. He wasn't interested: Shelby was enough for him. He loved his wife, and from now on he was determined to stay faithful.

'How nice to see you again, Linc,' Lola purred, behaving in an extremely friendly fashion.

He responded by checking out her outfit. It was impossible for the delectable Miz Sanchez to expose one more inch of skin without being arrested. The tits were almost out, the ass was a sight to behold, and the face, well, she had lips a man could kill for, and seductive brown eyes that promised myriad sexual delights.

'Hey, Lola,' he said. 'And, uh... Matt. How's it hangin'?'

'Pretty good,' Matt said, proffering a manly handshake.

Lola licked her glossy lips before taking a sip of her martini. It infuriated her that Linc still made her edgy after all this time. He was a prick.

Superprick. And she couldn't wait to bring him down for what he'd done to her.

'Linc,' she said, toying with the emerald nestling in her quite considerable cleavage, 'has Elliott Finerman talked to you?'

'Elliott, Elliott,' he said vaguely. 'Oh, yeah, I ran into him last night.'

'Did he say anything?'

'About what?'

'He, uh... mentioned that you'd be on top of his wish list for our upcoming movie.'

'Then he'd better speak to my agent,' Linc responded, his eyes lingering on her breasts.

'It's a romantic comedy,' she continued. 'New Tork State of Mind.'

'Yeah?'

'I'm starring in it.'

'Too bad,' Linc said lightly, "cause I always get top billing.'

'And so you should,' she said, making a mental note to tell Elliott that if she had to, she'd accept second place.

This was important. Linc deserved to be punished, and she was prepared to do anything to make it happen.

Emerging from her cabin, Cat scanned the hordes of guests, her green eyes searching for Jonas. They'd had fun that afternoon, she'd felt comfortable with him. She did not feel comfortable with the overdressed bunch of party guests busy talking, networking, ass-kissing and generally bullshitting. Hollywood by the sea. This crowd did not appeal to her.

She thought about Jump and their unsatisfactory phone call. Some conversation.

She'd been anxious to hear all about Kris Phoenix and the tour, and she'd also wanted to tell him all her stories about the Festival and what a bullying despot Merrill Zandack was. So it was three o'clock in the morning in Australia. Big freaking deal. Since when did Jump go to bed early? He was a night person, they both were. He could be such an asshole! She wouldn't be phoning him again in a hurry. It was his turn to call her.