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restrain myself from smiling idiotically when she located
me and waved an acknowledgement. With impatience I
watched her make a slow path across the room. Every
few steps someone called a greeting and she stopped to
say a few words. Then, when she reached me, I wasn't
sure what to say.
Reyne looked serious and rather tired. "You ready to
go?" she said.
I nodded. "More than ready. I'll just tell Hugh I'll make
my own way back to the hotel."
In the cab she gave the name of my hotel without
consultation, then sat back and shut her eyes. It was a
silence we didn't break until we reached my room. "I'll
order coffee," I said, "or do you want something
stronger?"
"Coffee. Anything else will send me to sleep."
Room service was commendably quick, which was
fortunate because pouring the coffee gave me something
to do, other than watch Reyne as she stood at the
window looking down at the lights of the Saturday
evening traffic.
"Are you going to come over here for your coffee, or
shall I bring it to you at the window?"
She smiled faintly at the bite in my tone. "When you put
it that way I'll come over there." She took the cup I
handed her, settled herself into the chair opposite me
and said coolly, "You're calling the shots, Victoria."
"Last night..." I stopped, uncertain of what I wanted to
say. She didn't rescue me, so I tried again. "I think I
gave you the wrong impression last night."
Reyne gave an infinitesimal shrug. "Perhaps it was my
fault. I didn't take Pippa Blaine's gossip column
seriously."
"About Gerald Humphries? You were right not to
believe it. We're the proverbial good friends."
Her sigh seemed to blend resignation and tiredness. She
didn't look at me as she said, "I simply read the signs
wrongly. I thought you were... interested."
"I am, but perhaps not the way you mean. I feel a great
deal for you, I can't remember being this way about
anyone before..."
Now she was looking at me, frowning slightly. "You
kissed me. I thought you wanted more." She took a
gulp of coffee. "You have to admit you gave me every
indication you did."
It seemed to me that every word we exchanged added
to the confusion I felt. "I don't understand!" I said
passionately. "I don't know what I want, or don't want."
Reyne put down her cup. Her dark eyes seemed even
darker. "Tell me when you find out."
I was terrified that she might go, that I'd never be able
to recreate this moment when we might be able to share
a true communication unclouded by civility and self-
protection. "Reyne, please. I must explain. I've always
been cold... frigid. Physical love doesn't mean anything
to me. There's something wrong. Something missing in
me."
There was bitterness in Reyne's voice. "And so you
decided to experiment with a woman."
"If it were only that easy." I was immeasurably relieved
to have actually put it into words. I looked at her and
imagined her arms around me. "If I did it'd be you."
"Don't say that!" She got up and began to pace around
the room. "It isn't fair, Victoria," she said harshly. "I'm
not about to become your sex therapist." She glared at
me. "I was stupid enough to believe..." With an
exasperated sigh she broke off.
"Believe what?"
"I was looking for a relationship. Someone important in
my life. God knows why I thought it might be you." She
turned to look for her things. "This is pointless. I'll go."
I couldn't believe the storm of emotion that had
overtaken me. "Please, Reyne. Please don't go."
"Why not?"
"I feel... I don't understand what I feel..." I had to smile
at the absurdity of it all. "Reyne, I don't know what it is
but it's for you. And it's so strong." When she didn't
move or speak, I said, "I'd call it love, but that would
be maudlin, wouldn't it?"
She smiled at me the first genuine smile I'd had from
her that evening. "It might be maudlin," she said, "but I
quite like the sound of it."
CHAPTER TEN
I sailed through the early morning interview in my hotel
room with the brittle, over-dressed reporter from the
women's magazine. I wasn't even ruffled when she
asked for "the woman's side of being a professor" and
whether I had any tips for aspiring bestselling authors,
other than to "load the manuscript up with sex."
Reyne had only stayed a short while and had left after
we'd agreed on a time for the interview on my early life
that we'd discussed in Sydney. We hadn't embraced,
but I felt much happier about our relationship.
Relationship: it was a word of infinite possibilities
and threats.
Hugh was delighted by my change of mood "See
what a good night's sleep can do, Victoria" and keen
to review last-minute changes in schedule for my trip to
the States.
"Hugh, we've already been through all this."
My protest made him purse his lips. "I don't want you
to accuse me of not telling you everything."
"Have you sneaked in more appearances?"
"Well, since you're in New York for three days..."
"No."
Astonished, he repeated, "No?"
I had an ulterior motive for refusing more appearances
in Rampion Press's home city. Reyne had told me last
night that she was spending a week in New York
visiting Millenium's head office, and as the time
overlapped my visit, I wanted as much time free as
possible so I would be able to see her.
"Hugh, Rampion's getting blood from me. I don't
believe I need to do any more."
Looking sulky, he said, "You seem to forget they
published your book."
I was suddenly impatient with him. "Hugh, Rampion
Press has done very well out of The Erotic Muse. It
wasn't printed out of charity. I'm willing to help promote
it, but enough's enough."
"Okay," said Hugh, smiling brightly. I'd learned that he
was as tenacious as a bulldog, so I expected him to
return to the subject when I was jet-lagged, or maybe
even slide the appearances into the schedule and not
mention them.
"And don't," I said severely, "try to add anything
without telling me."
"As if I would," he said, all injured innocence.
"You were seven when your parents died and you went
to your aunt and uncle's?" Reyne's tone was
businesslike and her expression one of professional
interest.
I matched her attitude. Staring at the miniature recorder
on the table between us, I said, "Yes. My parents died
together in a car crash."
"Where were you when it happened?"
"With Aunt Felice and Uncle David the relatives
who brought me up that day I'd been left there for
some reason."
She flipped over a page in her notebook. I looked at
her face intently, as though to print it on my mind. "Do
you remember being told your parents were dead?"
"Only very vaguely. I doubt that Uncle David would
think it his duty to tell me, and, knowing my Aunt
Felice, she would have said something like, Your
mother and father have gone to heaven, Victoria,
and then carried on as usual."
Reyne looked up. "Not a warm, sympathetic woman?"
The description made me smile. "Not by the wildest
stretch of the imagination."
"And your uncle?" She raised her eyebrows at my
succinct description of Uncle David. "He sounds a
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