'And exactly why do we have to do that?'

'To see everyone,' Isabelle answered vaguely.

'No. I'm ordering room service.'

'You've got to come down,' Isabelle pleaded. 'If I go sit by myself, nobody will know who I am.'

'I'm sure you'll tell them,' Lola said drily.

'Don't be a bitch,' Isabelle said, still admiring the watch. 'I'm your sister, it's a treat for me to see famous people. You see them all the time, so it's not fair to shut me out. Please let's go down.'

'Fine,' Lola said reluctantly. 'Just this once, 'cause the rest of my time here I'm only leaving the room for treatments.'

'Okay,' Isabelle said, heading for the closet. 'Can I borrow one of your silk shirts? My clothes are crap. How about the purple one? It's not a good colour on you.'

'Go ahead.' Lola sighed. 'And give me back my watch.'

'Can I wear it to dinner?'

'I suppose so.'

It wasn't as if she had a choice. The annoying thing was that Isabelle always managed to get her own way. She always had.

'Mr Blackwood, it's a pleasure to welcome you back, sir,' said the doorman at the Ritz gambling club.

'Nice to be back,' Linc said, slipping the man a hefty tip.

He'd joined the club when he'd first come to London with Shelby a few years ago.

Gambling was a passion he'd picked up in Vegas, but in London it was more civilized, especially when the croupiers were mostly pretty girls in low-cut dresses - although none of them were any competition for his wife. Or Lola Sanchez, for that matter.

He'd been thinking about Lola, and the movie he was about to say yes to. There was something about Miz Sanchez. She had an animal sexuality that was quite intriguing. And if Shelby was so intent on giving him a hard time, there was nothing wrong if he cared to take it further.

He was fucking married, not dead.

Cat was asleep when she heard the key in the door. She'd always been a light sleeper. Jump, on the other hand, slept through anything: it would take a major earthquake to wake him.

She wondered if a burglar was breaking in, and lay very still, waiting to see what would happen next.

The door opened, and somebody entered the room. She heard the rustle of clothes, and then the weight of a body flopped down on Jump's side of the bed. 'Sorry about earlier, hon,' said a female voice with a strong Australian accent. 'You were right as usual. I was wrong. We shouldn't let a stupid fight get in the way of another fab fuck. An' this time I've got something special for you. Wakey, wakey.'

Cat hit the light switch.

Straddling Jump's sleeping body was a bubblehead brunette, quite pretty in a zaftig kind of way, and totally naked apart from a wicked-looking piercing in her left nipple.

'Who the hell are you? the girl shrieked, glaring at Cat in shock and horror.

'I'm his wife,' Cat said. 'Which means I belong here. So, here's the real question of the night - who the fuck are you?'

Chapter Fifteen.

Against her better judgement, Lola accompanied Isabelle to the dining room - a high-ceilinged, airy space overlooking a huge Olympic-size pool and exquisite gardens filled with jacaranda trees and lush walls of bougainvillaea.

She had to admit that the surroundings were more than tranquil, or at least they would be if Isabelle would only shut up.

'You don't understand what a break this is for me,' Isabelle said. 'You try taking care of two boys under six. My kids drive me loco. I get no sleep, then I have to work. Now Armando is home, hangin' around the house all day, gettin' in my way. It's a zoo.'

'You have help,' Lola pointed out, remembering that Mama had asked her to pay for a woman who cooked and cleaned several days a week.

'Not as much as I need,' Isabelle said resentfully. 'You don't realize how lucky you are, Lucia. You have a big mansion with people runnin' to do everything you want while you lie back eatin' chocolates an' watchin' TV.'

'The reason I have a big house,' Lola explained, 'is because I worked extremely hard to afford it.'

'Acting's not work,' Isabelle snorted derisively. 'Acting is play. A bunch of people kissin' your fat ass. I'd give anything for that.' She laughed. "Course, my ass is fatter than yours, but if I had nothin' to do, like you, I'd be in better shape. Mind you,' she added, with a self-satisfied smirk, 'Armando has no complaints.'

Lola attempted to tune out. She wondered if Otto had ousted Matt by now. She hoped so, because two days of listening to Isabelle was bound to drive her totally nuts.

It occurred to her that she should have asked Claudine to accompany her.

However, the trouble with Mama was that she asked too many questions, and before long she would've got her daughter to reveal that a reunion with Tony Alvarez was in her future. Then Mama would've started contributing her opinion - 'You can't do it,' she'd say. 'Why would you want to be with a drug addict like that?'

The trouble with family was that they felt they could say anything - and usually did.

Across the room Lola spied Serena Lake, a petite brunette with big blue eyes and a tentative girl-next-door smile. They vaguely knew each other, but Lola was hardly in the mood to socialize. However, once Isabelle saw her, it was all over. Isabelle nudged her sister. 'Do you know her?' she asked, in a reverent whisper. Lola shook her head. 'You go to all the same premieres an' parties,'

Isabelle insisted. 'You must know her.'

'I kind of do,' Lola admitted. 'We're not friends, though.'

'I should go over and tell her you're here,' Isabelle said. 'She looks awfully lonely sitting by herself.'

'No!' Lola said.

'Why not?' Isabelle argued. 'I'd give anything to meet her. Then I can get an autograph for my boys.'

'Your boys are too young to know who she is.'

'Yes,' Isabelle said, never at a loss for words, 'but when they grow up they'll know.'

'Do me a favour,' Lola said, sipping mango juice. 'Leave her alone. She's come here to relax, like me.'

'She's so pretty,' Isabelle said, craning her neck to get a better look.

'Do you think so?' Lola said, 'I don't.'

'Well, she's not sexy like us,' Isabelle said, placing herself in the same league as her sister. 'She's got that all-American kinda sweet thing. Some men go for that.'

'I'm sure they do.'

'Gotta go to the little girls' room,' Isabelle announced, jumping up.

Lola picked at her salad and thought about Tony. Almost engaged, indeed! What utter crap. The man was scared, frightened of the passion they'd once shared. He was wary of getting burned again, and she couldn't blame him.

On her way back from the ladies' room, Isabelle stopped at Serena Lake's table.

Lola saw this from across the room and inwardly groaned. What was her pushy sister up to now?

Within minutes Isabelle came running back to the table, beaming. 'Serena has promised to sign pictures for the boys,' she said proudly. 'An' I told her you'd be happy to get together while you're here.'

'You did what? Lola said, frowning.

'She's by herself...'

'I told you I didn't want to socialize. Serena's not a friend, she's an acquaintance.'

'Please, Lucia,' Isabelle begged. 'Do it for me.'

'No, I won't.'

'You've changed,' Isabelle said accusingly. 'You've forgotten how you used to come over to my house, an' I'd cook you your favourite spicy chicken, an' we'd talk about clothes an' boys an' stuff. Now you're Miss Big Fancy Star, an'

everythin' I do is wrong.'

'That's not true.'

'When you were workin' as a waitress, my God, nothin' was too much trouble. I remember the time you saw Linc Blackwood at a party when you were datin' that disc-jockey guy. You were so excited. Bet you wish you'd got his autograph.'

'I do not.'

'I'm your older sister, Lucia, an' don't you forget it.'

'How can I forget it when you're always reminding me?'

Isabelle was determined. 'Serena Lake needs us,' she said dramatically. 'And I need to meet her.'

'I am not getting into Serena Lake's business, and neither are you,' Lola responded. 'What did you say to her anyway?'

'Told her we were willing to help her in any way we could.'

'I don't fucking believe you!'

'Nice language, Lucia. It's a good job Mama's not here.'

'Stop calling me Lucia. I've been Lola for the last five years.'

'Lola's a stupid name,' Isabelle said, tossing back her frizzy red hair. 'You'll always be Lucia to me.'

'Hello.'

They both glanced up in tandem; they'd been so intent on arguing that neither of them had noticed Serena Lake approaching their table.

'Oh... hi,' Lola said, taken by surprise. 'How are you?'

'Okay, I guess,' Serena answered wanly. 'Do you mind if I join you?'

'Um, no,' Lola managed.

'Oh, yes, please do sit down,' Isabelle said, turning into an awestruck fan with manners. 'My sister and I are here for you. You must have suffered terribly.

Those supermarket rags are nasty. How do you put up with all the horrible things they say about you? As an ordinary person my sympathies are with you.'

'Thanks,' Serena said, sitting down.

There goes my peace and solitude, Lola thought. Better get on the phone to Otto.

I'm never going to make it here for two days.

Shelby began experiencing pangs of regret around three a.m. when she couldn't sleep, and Linc had not yet returned to the hotel. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he making a fool of himself?

She should've stayed around to protect him. The London press were notorious, and that was all she needed, lurid stories about Linc getting drunk and out of control in the morning papers. Her parents would appreciate that.

She sat up in bed, switched on the light and called down to the concierge, requesting to be put through to the Ritz gambling club.

'Certainly, ma'am,' said the concierge.

She waited impatiently until someone at the club answered. 'This is Mrs Blackwood,' she said. 'I believe my husband might be there.'

'Mr Blackwood left a couple of hours ago,' said the receptionist.

'You're sure?'

'Quite sure, madam.'

Damn! Where could he be? The bar in the hotel was probably closed by this time, so it was no good looking for him there.

She had no idea what to do. Trust Linc to mess with her mind as usual.

'It's not what it looks like,' Jump yelled, after he'd shoved the bubble brunette out of the room, clothes and all.

Man, he must think I'm pretty naive to believe that old chestnut. Cat thought, glaring at him. Not what it looks like indeed. Some naked bird crawling all over him.

'Then what is it?' she asked, pulling on her jeans.