Free Hollywood Husbands by Jackie Collins Page A

many times.’
    She stared at him. ‘I want you to tell me again.’
    Shaking his head he chanted, ‘I did not sleep with my three dopey little model girls. And I do not sleep with my wife.’ He paused. ‘Does that satisfy you?’
    ‘How long is it since you have slept with her?’
    ‘Jade—’ an edge crept into his voice – ‘I’m tired and I’m very hungry. It’s been an arduous journey and I would like to relax.’
    ‘How long, Mark?’
    She was giving him one last chance to be truthful and tell her everything.
    ‘Fiona and I have not slept together since I met you,’ he snapped. ‘You know that perfectly well, and I resent being questioned in this way.’
    Her eyes glittered dangerously. ‘Not even once?’
    He returned her gaze unblinkingly. ‘Not even twice.’ Removing his jacket he added, ‘Now, please may I have a scotch and soda. A hot bath. And the unadulterated pleasure of your beautiful body. In that order.’
    It was over, but why not prolong it? Make him suffer, as he had done to her.
    ‘Certainly, sir,’ she said lightly. ‘One large scotch with a dash of soda coming up. And I’ll get your bath ready.’
    He relaxed. ‘What a girl!’
    What an English asshole!
    In the bathroom she turned on the water to fill the tub – only the hot. Then she went into the kitchen and poured Kentucky bourbon into a plastic glass – Mark hated plastic glasses almost as much as he hated bourbon – and added two cubes of ice – which he couldn’t stand.
    Whistling, and looking ridiculous in baggy boxer shorts, Mark strolled into the bathroom. She followed him with his drink.
    Stripping off his shorts he stepped into the steaming tub. ‘Jesus Christ!’ he screamed, hopping out immediately. ‘It’s scalding hot!’
    ‘Sorry,’ she murmured, handing him his drink.
    ‘He took a healthy sip and almost gagged. ‘This is bourbon,’ he said accusingly. ‘You know I hate bourbon.’
    ‘Oh, dear.’ She stared at him without feeling. He was not the most attractive sight in the world standing in her bathroom, naked. His legs were too skinny, and bright red feet and calves from the boiling hot bath water did not help matters. He had a limp penis, a slight paunch, and a chest matted with gingery hair flecked with grey.
    This was exactly how she wanted to remember him.
    ‘There appears to be something on your mind,’ he said at last. Apparently he was not completely insensitive to her feelings.
    Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the crumpled clipping of Lady Fiona cradling the latest little Lord or whatever it was.
    Keeping his cool, he glanced at it. ‘Oh,’ he said calmly. ‘That’s a printing error. Damned silly mistake. This is a picture of Fiona with my brother’s child.’
    He must think she was an idiot. And why not, indeed? She had behaved like one for six years.
    ‘I checked,’ she said coldly. This is your son.’
    He stretched for a towel and tied it around his waist, his eyes refusing to meet hers. ‘How did you do that?’ he asked, a tad nervously.
    ‘It’s all right,’ she said flatly. ‘I didn’t call Fiona and ask her. You’re perfectly safe to go home.’
    ‘Now, listen,’ he said, pulling himself together. ‘This whole baby thing was an accident, pure and simple.’ Warming to his theme he added, ‘I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want to upset you.’
    Staring at him scornfully she said, ‘An accident , Mark?’
    ‘Let us go and sit down and I’ll explain it to you over a drink.’
    He attempted to pass her. She blocked the bathroom door.
    ‘Explain it to me now,’ she said icily. ‘I can’t wait to hear.’
    He cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts. ‘It’s quite true that since being with you I have not slept with Fiona,’ he began.
    ‘What does that make the baby – an immaculate conception?’ she interrupted sarcastically.
    He continued, seemingly unperturbed, not to be stopped from telling his story. ‘A while ago I