Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [148]
Damn it, she really must keep busy. She wasn’t going to think it through all over again. She’d go and write another letter to Kate while she waited for Paris.
Paris was hot and dusty and tired. The coast road had been one endless traffic jam and the drive grueling. She stood under the shower in the well-equipped bathroom that adjoined the cabin Venetia had arranged for her, enjoying the cooling spray of water and wondering what the hell she was going to do about her sister. Of course Vennie had made a fool of herself, but then, she would hate to remember how many times she had made a similar fool of herself…. The shudder that ran through her body was not because of the chill of the water. It seemed that neither of them was destined to have much luck.
Toweling herself dry she slipped on a pair of shorts and a brief bandeau top. Venetia was busy in her galley. Perhaps she’d take a look around this wonderful yacht. Paris hadn’t realized that the Fiesta would be so impressive. She explored the spacious interconnecting rooms, the big salon with its deep, comfortable sofas and a Cezanne on the wall, the dining room with a table big enough to seat at least two dozen. Everything had a solid feel of comfort, yet was simple and unostentatious, unless you considered a Cezanne ostentatious, she thought with a grin. The decks were spotless and a young crewman was polishing brasswork that surely could gleam no brighter. Paris was staggered by the realization of exactly how rich you had to be to afford a yacht like this … rich enough not to care how much anything cost. Strolling the Fiesta’s decks only brought home exactly how broke she was.
The sun was still burning down and she made for the shade of the blue awning on the afterdeck. Someone was there before her … a sleek brown body drowsing in the afternoon heat … a body she knew!
“Olympe!”
Olympe’s eyes flew open. “Paris! How wonderful to see you—and what a surprise. I didn’t know you knew Fitz McBain. Ah—wait a minute, I expect you’ve come to see your sister—the mysterious Venetia.”
“Venetia? Mysterious?” Paris couldn’t think of anything less likely.
“Well maybe I’ll tell you that story later.” Olympe’s smile was mischievous as her opaque gray eyes checked Paris out from head to toe. “You look wonderful, Paris, but then—you always do. Come and sit by me.” She patted the chair next to hers and leaned back, stretching her arms above her head lazily.
Paris settled on the cushions, averting her eyes from Olympe’s lavish display of smooth, suntanned flesh. A different kind of heat from that of the sun burned her as she remembered the night with Olympe and Hugo … she pushed away that memory hurriedly.
“I owe you an apology,” said Olympe. “I was going to call you after your show, Paris, I promise I was, but I was called away suddenly that same night—swept off my feet you might say—by Beny.” She laughed. “Well, not quite—you know Beny. But I am sorry, Paris,” she added seriously, “that it didn’t work out. It was bad luck.”
Paris shrugged. She wasn’t so sure about that anymore. “I’m beginning to doubt that I had enough talent in the first place.”
“But how can you say that? I wish I had half your talent.” Olympe seemed genuinely shocked by her statement, and Paris looked at her in surprise. Did Olympe believe in her, then? If so, she was the only one.
Venetia appeared carrying a tray of iced coffee. She stopped as she saw Olympe sitting with Paris. “Oh, I didn’t realize there was anyone else. I thought you’d all gone on a picnic.”
“I loathe picnics,” said Olympe, “and I’m really glad I didn’t go because now I’ve met Paris again. We know each other quite well,” she added wickedly, “don’t we, Paris?”
Venetia avoided looking at Olympe. “I’ve rather a lot to do … you know where to find me, Paris, if you want me.” She hurried away and Paris stared after her in surprise. What was the matter with Vennie?
“Are all the Haven women