Free Star Attraction by Sorcha MacMurrough

of the thrill of the
chase?   Or did something else
trouble him?   Perhaps she had been
right about her first assumption, the every first time she’d met him.   He was shy and insecure, and far from
having an exaggerated sense of his own importance, did not see himself as
anything special.
    And of course, Zaira couldn’t
blame him if the stories about his barbaric father were true. Cormac Clarke was
supposed to hate his son to the point of not even wanting to be in the same
room with him.   But again, this
could be explained as two proud men trying to find a place for themselves in a
very competitive career. The aging father was bound to resent his son, but also
be easily disappointed by him.
    Lastly, Zaira concluded, there was
his money.   She remembered all too
well when she and Jonathan had been living the high life, that they had been
surrounded by men and women all to anxious to flatter them, even go to bed with
them.  
    Zaira thought briefly that
Jonathan, weak as he was, had probably indulged in some of these flings, more
for the purpose of furthering his ambitions than any lecherousness in his
behavior.   Indeed, as a lover he
had been only adequate, certainly never very much interested in that side of
life.   As he had grown more and
more hard-headed and ambitious, they had grown more and more apart, and then of
course she had been away in England for almost three years on and off.  
    She could sympathize with Brad’s
caution where women were concerned, for she had learnt the same lesson
herself.   It was easy to be
temporarily dazzled by someone, and do something both would regret.   And it was easily to be taken in by
money, fame, prestige, but again, if there were no real respect or love between
two people, it became an empty and hollow life.
    Perhaps it would be different for
herself and Brad once he had moved in.   Zaira reminded herself that she had not been entirely honest with him,
for there was still the matter of her identity as Zoe Dominick to clear
up.  
    Zaira decided that if he didn't
figure it out on his own, that she would wait until he had moved in, and the
play was over, then confess all.   If the worst came to the worst, at least she would have a damned good Hamlet , Brad would have a fine
screenplay, and maybe he would be prepared to forgive her for her caution in
dealing with a complete stranger who had come into her life as fast as a
blazing meteor, and who might prove equally destructive if he proved
untrustworthy.  

 
     
     
     
CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Early Saturday morning, Zaira walked
down to the supply shop in Soho to buy her theatrical make-up and hair
dye.   She still felt guilty about
deceiving Brad, but their relationship as man and woman was too delicate, and
their work as colleagues too recently established for her to risk losing
him.   She opted for several spray
cans of black hair dye, and also found a pair of clear glass spectacles very
like her own.   She smiled, and was
delighted at the prospect of not having to wear her ordinary glasses to
university any longer.   They made her
nose ache, and she didn’t see very well out of them anyway.   She could wear her regular lenses all
the time and her violet ones as Zoe.  
    Zaira rushed home and put on a new
pair of black palazzo pants she had bought in a sale, with a jewelled
cummerbund, and pulled out her best blouse, a rather fluffy confection with
very full sleeves.   She went in the
bathroom, and sprayed her hair over.   It was rather time consuming, but the effect was fairly realistic, and a
lot more airy and free-flowing than the coarse theatrical wig she had been
making do with up until now.
    She let the hair dye dry while she
put in her lenses, and then ran her hands through to check that the powder
spray wouldn’t come off easily. She prayed it wouldn’t rain, but a quick look
out the window reassured her.   She
applied her make-up quickly, enhancing the violet eyes and her rather fine
cheekbones.