Out of Control

He crashed backwards and hit the desk, and while Liza had him off balance she ran—unashamedly ran. The door slammed behind her and she felt heads lift, eyes stare, but nobody stopped her as she pelted for the lift.

CHAPTER SIX

Liza rang Bruno from her office, but there was no reply, either at his flat or in his own office. She persevered and finally got hold of his secretary, who sounded flustered and busy.

'I'm sorry, I'm afraid Mr Morris isn't here, he isn't at work today. He has been transferred to New York and is busy making all his arrangements.'

Liza hadn't identified herself other than to say that she was one of the Gifford clients, in case Keir had given Bruno's secretary instructions not to pass on any information to her.

Casually, she murmured, 'He's at his mother's, is he?' and the woman admitted it.

'I'm afraid I must go, so much to do, such short notice. Sorry.' The secretary rang off and Liza slowly hung up, biting her lower lip. She didn't quite dare risk ringing Mrs Morris's number, and if Bruno had been ordered not to see her by his uncle he might well be too worried to disobey. She didn't want to cause any more trouble for Bruno. How would he feel about a transfer to New York? Would he feel exiled or be delighted? She wasn't sure. Bruno liked America and had often visited it, but would he want to live there for two years?

The console on her desk buzzed and she jumped, completely taken by surprise. It was half a minute before she groped for the switch and said, 'Yes, Maddie?'

'Nicky Wallis is here,' Maddie said, her voice cool and expressionless. Liza could imagine the face that went with that tone. Maddie did not like Nicky Wallis and had a hard time hiding the fact. He was a very successful photographer and a very good-looking man; the agency couldn't afford to offend him because he had marvellous contacts, a great reputation and a book full of highly paid jobs. The agency models were always ready to work for him because he paid them well, but Nicky Wallis was a dedicated philanderer and more than one of their girls had got badly hurt from falling for him. Maddie icily disapproved of him and had often said that she wished Liza would strike him off their list and refuse the work he offered their girls.

Wryly, Liza said, 'Send him in, Maddie.'

There was an irritated click and then Liza's door opened. She swung in her chair, her hands on her desk, smiling politely.

'Hello, Nicky. What are you bringing us today?'

He came sauntering over, lithe as a mountain cat in striped black and yellow cotton jeans with a sleeveless black vest top. He was forty if he was a day, but he dressed like a teenager; even his footwear was adoles­cent, striking black and yellow sports trainers on which he bounced lightly to curl up on the side of her desk, his knees bent upward and his arms clasping them, his chin tucked over them and his dark eyes gazing soulfully at Liza across the desk.

'You look cool and sexy as usual!'

'I wonder if your mother was frightened by Peter Pan before you were born?' Liza grinned as she spoke, but it wasn't entirely a joke.

Nicky liked the idea; his face gleamed. 'I may quote you.'

Liza leaned back to avoid the hand sneaking over the desk towards hers.

'Coffee?'

'Black, no sugar.' Nicky put his hands up, thumbs together, framing her, peering through the square he had made at her.

'Coffee, Maddie—black,' Liza said crisply and her secretary's voice glumly promised to make some.

'You know, you were crazy to retire so soon—you could have been working all these years, they would have been your prime,' Nicky said.

'It was no job for an adult.'

'And playing desk jockey—is that an adult job?' Briefly, Nicky's dark eyes were contemptuous.

'It beats standing about in ridiculous poses for hours on end, anyway.'

Maddie came in with the coffee, eyeing Nicky Wallis coldly. 'Are you going to drink it sitting there like a monkey on a stick?' she enquired and he took the cup and blew her a kiss.

'Nasty old witch,' he said as Maddie closed the door, and Liza looked down at her own coffee, frowning. She was very fond of Maddie. She didn't say anything, though, because Maddie knew better than to snap at a client. Right or wrong, Nicky Wallis brought the agency jobs they needed, and Maddie ought to guard her tongue.

'I could use you for this job, actually,' Nick thought aloud, one eye on Liza.

'What job?' Liza asked, as he had intended, aware of what he was up to—he always insisted on playing one of these delaying games each time he asked them for a model. He enjoyed the sense of power he got from being able to bring them work, partly because he was the sort of man who loved playing games and partly because he had a personal reason for needling Liza.

Nicky had been one of the first photographers Liza ever worked with. She had been very young and green, and he had made a pass at her. It had got him nowhere; Liza was already immunised, and the last thing she wanted was to have a man touch her. Funnily enough, her success in modelling sprang from her icy distaste about men—she hardly remembered anything of those first months in the job. She had been one of the walking wounded; so numb with despair and cauterised by pain that she just went through the motions without really knowing what happened around her. She had obeyed like an automaton; photographers had loved it. Her body was graceful and supple, they could move her like a bendy doll and she would stay where they'd put her. Yet her green eyes had been remote and distant; as if a fine gauze curtain fell over them. Her face had been haunted and haunting; fragile bones and drifting nets of golden hair, a tremulous, hurt mouth, a pale and translucent skin.

Nicky had been very excited by her, he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Liza had permitted the touching if she felt that it was professionally necessary, but when he started enjoying himself she slapped his hands away and said that if he touched her like that again she was leaving and she wouldn't be back.