Fire in the Blood

'Hi, Nadine!'

'Jamie, what on earth are you doing here!'

They hugged, kissed each other on the cheek. 'I'm on the show tonight,' he told her. 'I've got a car waiting—you'll love it, bright pink, like bubblegum, and several blocks long!'

'You're on the show?' That startled her; she stared at him, open-mouthed, and he grinned at her.

'Greg Erroll didn't tell you? Yes, the TV people here wanted us both. It made a good show because they have Cara Marquez, too... remember her? I discovered her working in a McDonald's in London when she was a student, and after I'd done some work with her she became a top model in the States. She's a Florida girl, born here in Miami, so the TV people want to link the three of us in this show.'

'It makes sense,' she agreed. She had met Cara several times and liked her. A dark, dramatic girl with Latin colouring and a fabulous figure, Cara was still only twenty-two; she would be earning top money for quite a while yet.

'We'd better hurry, I'll take you to the hotel to book in and leave your luggage, and then the TV people want time to talk to you before the show,' Jamie said, steering her towards the exit.

He was attracting attention from a party of girls who had just flown in to Miami for a beach holiday. They were staring at Jamie, whispering and giggling, but it was unlikely any of them had recognised him as a famous photographer. Jamie was just so sexy: a live-wire of a man, electrically magnetic with his black eyes and hair, and that terrific energy. He was dressed with tremendous style too— his thin, graceful body sheathed in black and white; a black shirt and white tie, white jeans, black trainers. It was hard to believe his real age; you had to look very close to see the faint lines in his heavily tanned face.

Greg had booked them both into the Grand Bay hotel in Miami's Coconut Grove, an expensive, fashionable area of the city.

'I must have time to freshen up,' insisted Nadine, and went up to her room at once to shower and change out of the clothes she had worn during her flight. Jamie headed, meanwhile, for the bar lounge. Before going down to join him Nadine stood at her window and gazed out, entranced, over the panoramic views across the bay. Biscayne Bay was a busy place: white-sailed yachts skimmed like dragonflies across the blue water, speedboats buzzed between landing stages, and across the bay she could see the homes of millionaires, mock-Tudor residences, or Spanish gabled houses, set in immaculate gardens running down to the water's edge; mostly with luxury yachts tied up at their private landing stages. Around the hotel stood an intriguing mix of expensive boutiques, high-rise apartment blocks, and much older houses built, Jamie had told her, of coral rock, a local material she had never seen before.

The phone jangled, making her start. She ran to answer it. It was Jamie.

'Nadine, can we get on our way? I promised to get you to the TV studios half an hour ago!'

'I'm coming,' she promised.

&nbs

p; Cara Marquez was already there with the production team, drinking black coffee out of paper cups. She kissed Nadine on each cheek.

'Hi, you guys!' It was always a surprise to realise she didn't have a Spanish accent, she looked so Spanish—and was, of course, a hundred per cent Spanish by blood but second-generation American, Miami-born. Nadine often envied her—Cara had it all: beauty, charm, and brains. She had not only made a fortune with modelling since she met Jamie in London three years ago, she had actually managed to get a degree in English and French literature at the same time!

The producer's researcher led Nadine off into a little office to ask her a string of questions scribbled down on a clipboard. Outside she could see Cara and Jamie dancing together while the show's little band rehearsed their music.

The presenter arrived and was introduced, stared at Nadine, took the clipboard from the researcher and skimmed down the answers Nadine had given.

'You were married to Sean Carmichael?' Her eyes lifted, narrowed.

Nadine nodded, her face tightening in anticipation of questions about Sean. He was the last thing she wanted to talk about.

The presenter looked at the researcher. 'We should have got him too, he's in the news at the moment. His film company just bombed.'

'It has done nothing of the kind! Where did you hear that?' Nadine flared, a dark red colour coming into her face.

The presenter shrugged. 'A friend works for the company in London and she's scared for her job, she told me the other day.'

'Well, she needn't be. His company is just fine, I ought to know, I'm about to invest a very large sum of money in it. I wouldn't do that if there was any risk attached.'

'All the same, we might talk about that on the show,' said the presenter to the researcher.

'No!' Nadine said shortly.

The other two ignored her. She bit her lip and from then on was haunted by the fear that they would bring up the subject of Sean and his company on the air without warning. It could cause him terrible damage if his financial problems were talked about on American television, and although Nadine had run away from him she couldn't help feeling protective towards him. It hurt her to see Sean failing, losing face. She knew how his ego would get dented and Sean's ego was a vital part of him.

In the event, Sean was barely mentioned on the show, except in passing, when the presenter introduced her, saying that she had once been married to Sean Carmichael, the film producer. Nadine wasn't the main focus of the show at all, as it turned out. Cara was: she was the local girl and she was a very big name in Florida. Nadine's name was nowhere near as well known, so the interview with her was cut short in order to make more time for Cara and Jamie.

'I don't really know why they had me on the show at all! It was a waste of money for Gieg to get me over here in an air taxi!' she said to Jamie next day at an early breakfast in the hotel.

He was eating waffles with maple syrup. Nadine was eating a bowl of fresh fruit muesli and looked at him in disbelief as, having finished his waffles, he ordered wholegrain toast and when it arrived spread it with golden butter and honey.