Claude rushed up and swept her into his arms, and in typical French fashion kissed her on both cheeks.
Katy's eyes misted with tears. 'Claude, it is so good to see you.' She had not realised just how much she had missed his companionship. At fifty, he was still a very attractive man, his steel-grey hair beautifully cut, his clothes, as one would expect, the last word in fashion and taste.
'Ah, Lena, let me look at you.'
For a moment Katy was disorientated; she had almost forgotten her Lena Lawrence image.
'No, Claude, it's Katy now; just plain Katy.'
'Cherie, you could never be plain in a million years. Your bones, even in the grave, will be beautiful.'
'Not for some time, I hope!' Katy laughed at his extravagant compliment, and the tone was set for the weekend.
Reaching Claude's house on the outskirts of Paris felt like coming home to Katy. She greeted Alain with kisses and a shared slightly sad smile as they both remembered Anna, her friend, his wife. Then all her attention was captured by the dynamic little ball of pink frills, with a shiny black curly topknot, that was her god-daughter and namesake Caterina.
'You darling!' Katy exclaimed, swinging the little girl up in, her arms. At two, she was already a perfect replica of her mother, and as the innocent childish eyes smiled into Katy's she had to swallow hard on the lump in her throat.
Saturday was spent with the three adults indulging every whim of the little girl—her second birthday was a big occasion. In the afternoon quite a few of Claude's staff turned up and joined the party, and finally, when Caterina had fallen asleep from exhaustion, Katy carried her upstairs an
d put her to bed.
Katy sat by the little bed for a while, gently stroking the tumbled black curls from the small brow. She was a beautiful child; it seemed so unfair that she had lost her mother. With a deep sigh Katy stood up and, turning, walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. Very soon she herself would be a mother, and the enormity of her problem threatened to overwhelm her once again.
Determinedly she straightened her shoulders and descended the stairs. She was not going to think about her problems tonight. Claude's home was quickly filling up with his friends, quite a few of the models he used, and the adult party was getting underway.
Katy mingled with the guests, meeting old friends, listening to the gossip of the fashion world, the quite often bitchy comments, but more often funny ones. She danced and smiled and drank champagne, but as the clock passed midnight secretly she wished she could sneak off to her bedroom. But as Claude's hostess for the evening it wasn't possible.
It was after three when the final guest reluctantly departed, one of Claude's new models, a girl Katy had never seen before. She watched for a second the couple in a passionate clinch at the door, a wry smile curving her lips as she slowly made her way to the kitchen. Claude was incorrigible, she smiled softly to herself. A cup of coffee and bed was what she needed.
The coffee percolated, Katy poured herself a cup and sat down on the hard pine kitchen chair, propping her head up with one elbow on the table. She raised her eyes as the door swung open. 'So soon, Claude? Don't tell me you're losing your touch?' she joked.
'In deference to you, Katy, darling, I chased the girl off.' He helped himself to a cup of coffee and sat down opposite her. 'Jen is a very beautiful girl—lovely bone-structure, very photogenic—but unfortunately nothing between her ears, and any man between her legs.'
Katy choked on her coffee and burst out laughing. 'Claude, you are terrible!' she spluttered.
'I know, chine, but at my age I am allowed to be. I am still a man and on occasions I need a woman. Once I almost tried for you. Until my son told me very firmly that as his wife's friend you were strictly out of bounds.'
Katy's head shot up, her eyes widening in surprise on Claude's attractive face, and what she saw in his eyes embarrassed her. He meant it...
'Don't worry, Katy,' he chuckled, reaching out to take her hand in his. 'Alain did not need to warn me off. I knew you were not for me. I stick to the Jens of this world; they know how the game is played, and no one gets hurt. You, on the other hand, are the serious-minded intelligent type who believes in love and marriage, hearth and home. My late wife was very like you.' His slender artistic fingers tightened slightly on hers. 'And for that reason I am going to break the rule of a lifetime and offer some advice.'
'Come off it, Claude, you're always giving advice.'
'About fashion, work, yes. But this is more personal.' Katy tensed and tried to ease her hand from his. 'Katy, I have known you for a long time, as an employee but more' importantly as a friend of the family. I have watched you grow from a shy young girl to a beautiful sophisticated young woman, and I hate to see you hurting.'
'Whatever gave you that idea?' Katy tried to stop him. 'I love my new career... I'm doing well-----'
'Katy, I read the papers. You and Jake Granton made the Paris Match. You forget how very popular you are in France. The caption read something like, "The lively Lena dragging the staid banker Granton into the limelight."'
'Oh, hell,' she muttered.
'I created the Lena image and I know it isn't you. You had to be dragged into going out. The rose garden you planted around the side of the house is still thriving. You were Anna's number-one babysitter. As for Granton, he has the money, but has never been one of the jet set, so I want to know what is going on. Something is not right somewhere.'
'Your imagination is working overtime, Claude,' Katy informed him coolly, but one look at his arched brow told her she was not going to get away with such a simple denial. 'I met Jake on the charity date, as you well know.' It still rankled that Claude had set her up for the mess she was now in.
'No, I didn't know. The publicity department of the charity arranged the date. I was under the impression it was the man at the show you were going out with.'
Katy's green eyes searched his face. He was telling the truth. 'That man was Jake's agent,' she said flatly. 'Anyway, one date led to another, and now I suppose you could say we're an item.'