Even though she was only twenty-four it took hard work, time and money to look as good as she did. It wasn't easy maintaining the image. However, she wasn't complaining. Oh, no, not after all the things she'd gone through to get where she was today.

Matt might be dense, but he'd certainly called the shot when it came to Merrill.

She had given the powerful mogul a blow-job. It had happened early on in her career when she was desperate to score the lead in one of his movies, and the only thing standing in her way was Mr Zandack's sexual pleasure. So she'd done it. Once.

The good news was that it had got her the part, and that role had signalled the start of her ascent. She'd played a sexy young dancer who protects a small child and an adorable puppy from the wrath of an abusive husband. Excellent strong heroine stuff. The public ate it up, and suddenly she was a name. Scripts started coming her way, and the years of struggling in a series of humiliating bit parts playing maids and hookers were over.

One blow-job for her shot at stardom. Not such a big deal.

Later she'd found out that Merrill Zandack expected the same from all the actresses he worked with. She'd felt a lot better when she'd heard that it was a rite of passage. A simple blow-job to establish his power, and then they could be friends. He treated her with nothing but respect now.

She wondered if the skinny young blonde in the weird outfit with the odd name had done it yet. His protegee. Cat.

Probably. They all had to. It was part of the deal.

The phone rang in Tony Alvarez's Hollywood Hills home. He almost fell off the bed reaching for it.

'Tony, baby,' Lola purred into his ear. 'I miss you.'

'Who the flick's this?' he mumbled.

'You know who it is,' she replied in a husky voice.

'Lola?'

'Who else?' she said, as if he didn't know.

'Jesus holy Christ!' A beat. 'What's the freakin' time?'

'Let me see,' she said coolly. 'It's midnight here.'

'An' where the fuck is here?

'I'm at the Cannes Film Festival.'

'Jeez, Lola,' he groaned. 'Y'know I'm not into early mornin's.'

'Tony,' she said patiently. 'It's nine hours ahead in France, so therefore it's three o'clock in the afternoon in L.A. I'd hardly call that early morning, would you?'

'Shee-it.'

'Aren't you happy to hear from me?'

'Oh, sure,' he said, groping for a half-finished joint on the bedside table.

'I'm real psyched gettin' an early-mornin' wake-up from my married ex- fiancee.'

'That's what I called to tell you.'

'So tell me.'

'Things aren't working out between me and Matt.'

'No shit?'

'In fact,' she said, pausing dramatically, 'I'm divorcing him.'

'You mentioned this to him?' Tony said, lighting up.

'I will.'

'Why you callin' me?' he said, taking a drag off the half-smoked joint.

'I told you,' she murmured softly. 'I miss your hot body.'

'You do, huh?'

'Yes, Tony, I do.'

'You ran, baby,' he said, his voice hardening. 'You ran like a fuckin' thief in the night. Couldn't get away from me fast enough.'

'I had to. It was all getting too much.'

'You had to?' he said disbelievingly.

'That doesn't mean we're over,' she said quickly. 'I mean, you and I - we could never be over.'

'Lola, Lola,' he said, scratching his head. 'You are somethin' else.'

'I miss us being together.' A long beat. 'In bed. All warm and wet and hard and-'

'Too bad,' he interrupted.

'Look, I understand you're mad at me, and that's why I want to make everything right.'

'An' how d'you plan on doin' that?'

'First I have to ask you a very important question.'

'Keep talkin'.'

She hesitated for a moment, unwilling to set him off. Tony had a dramatic temper - for that matter so did she. 'It's not easy...' she began.

'Spill, Lola.'

'Are you still... using?'

'What're you - a fuckin' narcotics cop?' he exploded, furious she would ask such a question.

'Here's the thing,' she said, speaking fast. 'I want us to get back together, but I can't do it if your habit is likely to drag us both down.'

'Who the fuck needs this shit?' he said, abruptly cutting her off.

Unfazed, she immediately redialled. She knew Tony was not an easy get. She also knew that she'd hurt him badly by dumping him and marrying Matt, so now she had to make amends.

'Whaddaya want from me, Lola?' he sighed, answering on the first ring.

'I told you.'

'One thing about you, babe - you got yourself a set of big brass balls, that's for sure.'

'Thought you liked that in a woman,' she teased.

'Listen, I hate't' break the news, but this is one dude who's moved on.'

'I don't believe you.'

'Same old Lola,' he said, with a dry laugh. 'Think you're the only woman in the world.'

'The only one for you,' she countered.

'Get it into your brain, baby,' he said harshly. 'You made the goddamn break, now you gotta live with it.'

'Wrong.'

'Right. 'Cause there's no way I'm gonna have any woman policin' me.'

'I'll be back in L.A. in a few days,' she said, confident that he didn't mean a word of it. 'I'll call you then.'

'Don't bother.'

'Trust me, Tony - we'll work things out.' He was silent. 'You know you want to,'

she added, in her most seductive voice, clicking off her phone just as Matt began hammering on the bathroom door.

'What're you doing in there?' Matt yelled.

'Can't a girl have any privacy?' she yelled back.

'You've been in there for half an hour.'

'So what?'

She stepped out of her high heels, removed her makeup, brushed her teeth and sauntered back into the bedroom, where Matt waited impatiently.

'What's wrong with you?' he said, in a whining voice. 'You've turned really cold on me lately.'

'I'm too tired to talk now,' she said, climbing into bed and pulling up the covers.

'When can we talk?'

'Soon,' she murmured and, ignoring her irate husband, she drifted off to sleep.

The Mediterranean was eerily dark and quite rough as the tender made its way back to the yacht, careening over the waves. Apparently Merrill Zandack did not like his yacht to come into dock; he preferred to distance himself from the action.

Sometimes Cat had nightmares about the sea. Although she was an excellent swimmer, sitting in a crowded tender at dead of night was hardly her favourite thing to do. She concentrated on thinking about Jump. Australia seemed so far away, and yet it would only take her a day to fly there. Maybe she'd hop on a plane and surprise him, which wasn't such a bad idea.

The only problem was that she was supposed to stay in Cannes for several more days, trapped on Merrill Zandack's yacht. 'You gotta meet people, Kitten,'

Merrill had informed her. 'Distributors, foreign sales, press. People who'll help make your next movie bigger than the first.'

When they reached the yacht it was a performance getting Merrill safely aboard.

The tender was rocking and bumping against the side of the yacht, and the big man was slightly unsteady on his feet after God knew how many shots of tequila.

How awful if be falls in the sea, Cat thought.

How funny! As long as he doesn't drown.

Two of the crew gamely hoisted him up the unsteady rope-ladder, one pulling him from the front, the other shoving him from behind. His Russian girlfriend didn't say a word. Well, she couldn't, could she, considering she didn't speak any English?

Once they'd got Merrill safely aboard, Cat was next. She climbed the ladder with Jonas right behind her. Hmm... he's probably checking out my ass, she thought. I do have an ass like a boy - just his style.

The captain was waiting to greet them, looking snappy in his pristine white uniform. 'Do you wish to sit outside on the deck, Mr Zandack, or in the living room?' the captain asked.

Merrill chose to sit outside.

The chief steward approached. 'And what can I get everyone to drink?' he enquired, falsely jovial, because it was past midnight and he was ready to get some sleep.

'Nothing for me,' Cat said, stretching and yawning. 'I'm off to bed.'

'No!' Merrill said forcefully. 'Have a drink with me. I did what you wanted, now you do what I want.'

Crap! How much rope did she have to skip to get her movie made?

'Okay, I'll have a glass of water,' she said, reluctantly sitting down.

Ignoring her request for water, Merrill told the steward to bring a bottle of Cristal and a dish of caviar.

'I don't like champagne,' Cat remarked. 'It gives me a hangover.'

'You've been drinking the cheap stuff,' Merrill snapped. 'No hangover with Cristal.'

Since it was quite obvious to his Russian girlfriend that she was being ignored, the woman got to her feet and marched inside. Merrill did not appear to notice.

'Anything else I can do for you tonight, Mr Zandack?' Jonas asked, hovering by the table.

'No, no, you can take off,' Merrill said, waving his cigar in the air.