Joe rose with a graceful twist of his lean figure as the waiter drew two chairs up to the table. Quincy got up, too, and sat down with the waiter bowing behind her chair. He flicked out one of the starched damask napkins and laid it over her lap.
'Bon appetit,' he murmured, and she gave him a weak smile.
When he had gone Joe picked up a glass of the red wine he had ordered and drank some, his eyes lowered. The room seemed to Quincy to be heavy with brooding hostility. She concentrated on her steak, although she had lost all appetite. Joe ate, too, in silence. Quincy was bitterly regretting her stupid outburst, but she could not bring herself to apologise. How could she explain to him that her anger had been born out of a miserable sense of her own very ordinary self, her lack of beauty and glamour, compared to the sort of girls he must meet every day? Her pride had wanted to deny that she found him violently attractive—she would rather have him think he left her cold than have him realise she could hardly take her eyes off him when he was in the same room.
He might have been flirting lightly with her, but it had meant nothing, Quincy realised that. Either he had been amusing himself with her—which stung her pride—or he had been going through the motions, acting to keep her happy, making her feel terrific. He was a public performer, after all, he was used to make-believe. It wouldn't be hard for him to use every ounce of that undoubted sex appeal to make her head spin. When he sang he turned it full on like some high-voltage spotlight, his male sensuality throbbing in every husky note. It didn't mean a thing to him, but Quincy was determined not to let herself fall for it. She would only get hurt. She was a small town girl and she took life seriously—she did not need to have a diagram drawn for her to understand that if she took Joe Aldonez seriously she would be in danger of losing her heart.
They had just finished their meal when Carmen Lister and Billy Griffith arrived. Carmen threw a comprehensive glance over the table, lifted her perfectly arched brows in amusement.
'Has Joe been wining and dining you?' she asked Quincy with a smile that stripped Quincy's pride bare, as she read the cynicism, the mockery, in the other woman's face. Perhaps Carmen Lister had had the dazzling spotlight of Joe's charm turned on her some time? Carmen was more able to protect herself than Quincy, though. Her head was unlikely to be turned by one of his intimate smiles. Carmen Lister's head was screwed on very firmly, Quincy suspected.
Billy Griffith shook hands vigorously. 'Great to see you,' he told her. 'Wonderful—er…'
'Quincy,' Joe supplied as the man paused, obviously at a loss to remember her name.
'Sure,' said Billy. 'Quincy—cute name, I like it.' He gave her a nod and turned to Joe. 'Rehearsal three o'clock, Joe, and we get the plane to Liverpool tomorrow at eight-thirty. We're going straight to rehearse at the hall, everything's set up.'
Joe nodded. 'Fine. By the way, Quincy would prefer to stay with her sister while she's in London. Could someone drive her there?'
Carmen frowned. 'Where does your sister live?' she asked Quincy, who told her flatly, 'Chelsea.'
Carmen looked at Billy Griffith. 'I don't think that's a good idea, we ought to have her where we can see her,' she said.
'If that's what she wants, she must do it,' Joe interrupted in a curt voice.
'But, Joe…'
'No argument,' he said. 'It will put her at her ease, and it will look better for her to be staying with one of her family rather than with you.'
'That's true,' Billy agreed, and Carmen shrugged.
'Okay,' she said with an irritated frown. 'Just as you say, Joe. Come on, Quincy, I'll drive you there—I ought to meet your sister.'
Billy had wandered away towards the window, but he turned now. 'Is your sister married?' he asked. 'Got any kids?'
'No,' said Quincy, and he turned away, losing interest.
'Pity, good human interest there.'
Quincy looked at him with acute dislike. He wasn't a man, he was a money-making machine who cared for nothing but profit and made every single thing in life seem pointless unless it could be useful. She did not envy Joe his life, surrounded by men like that, men for whom everything had to have a commercial motive.
'You'd better ring to check your sister's home,' Joe told her in a quiet voice, and she turned to pick up the phone. This time the ringing was answered and Lilli's voice said: 'Hallo?'
'Lilli, this is Quincy.' Conscious of the others listening to her, Quincy sounded unlike herself, her voice low and breathless.
'Quincy! Where are you? When will you be in London? I can't wait to see you—I'm just so excited, I can't believe this has happened to you, of all people!'
Quincy laughed lightly, glad no one else could hear what Lilli was saying and indignant at the last frank comment. What did Lilli mean? Her of all people? Why shouldn't it have happened to her? The fact that her own reaction had been as incredulous was beside the point, she felt.
'I'm in London,' she said. 'Can I come over now? I've been trying to get in touch with you, but you weren't answering your phone.'
'I was shopp
ing,' Lilli explained. 'Of course you can come now—I'm dying to see you, are you at the station?'
Quincy decided not to tell her she was in Joe Aldonez's suite at a swish London hotel. 'I'll be there in a quarter of an hour,' she said. 'See you soon.'
Joe moved to pick up her coat. Quincy stiffened as he held it, sliding it up her arms. Having him anywhere near her did something drastic to her heartbeat, and that made her angry with herself. What sort of idiot was she?