Page 11 of His Last Gamble

It was true that he’d only lingered on her shots for five minutes or so, whereas the others had had at least twenty minutes.

Payne shrugged. ‘If you want to put yourself down all the time . . .’ he let his voice trail off suggestively.

Charmaine bit her lip. ‘Look, you, I don’t care—’

‘Mind the lipstick,’ Payne interrupted chidingly, and then laughed as her fists closed in temper. No doubt she’d have liked to kick his shins again, but he already had a bruise there, and wasn’t about to give her the chance to give him any more, thank you very much.

‘You know, you look like an outraged kitten when you scowl like that. What’s the matter, did someone take away your bowl of cream?’

‘Oh, go to hell,’ Charmaine muttered, turning her back on him.

Suddenly, she felt two warm lips on the top of her right shoulder, the contact shooting down through her bones like liquid lightning, grounding her to the floor. She staggered forward, spinning in outrage, aware that, under the concealing terry-cloth of the towel, her nipples had tightened into hard, tingling buds.

‘How d-dare you,’ she gulped.

He was looking utterly innocent. ‘How dare I what?’

She blinked. Had she imaged that feather-light kiss? She gulped. Even worse, had she secretly been craving such a caress, such public acknowledgement of his desire for her, that she’d imagined it?

‘Didn’t you just . . . touch my shoulder?’ she asked breathlessly.

Payne smiled. ‘Oh yes,’ he said softly, with such evident self-satisfaction she gaped. ‘And very lovely it was too. Just a taste of sea salt, warm, smooth, as creamy as that bathing suit you’re still wearing.’

His eyes, his grey, fathomless eyes, seemed to draw her in, in and down, drowning her in the desire to feel those lips again. On the side of her neck. Nibbling her earlobe. On the cusp of her breasts, sucking on her now painful nipples, running down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel . . .

She drew in a long, shuddering breath. ‘I think you’re despicable,’ she finally managed. ‘Just because we’re models, it doesn’t mean we’re there for you men just to . . . just to . . .’ but she couldn’t actually get the words out. She’d watched his eyebrow rise higher and higher in amusement at her outburst and now she was so angry she was incoherent.

‘Oh, but I don’t want to “just to, just to” with any other girl but you,’ he mocked. ‘Doesn’t that make a difference?’

And, before she could angrily deny that it made any difference at all, he stepped closer, straining against the flimsy bed-sheet cordon and threatening to knock it over, his hand reaching over the top to cup her chin in his palm. ‘Doesn’t that make a difference, Charmaine?’ he demanded huskily, his eyes on her trembling lips.

Charmaine gulped. Her skin felt on fire where his finger and thumb held her in a firm grip. His eyes once more threatened to sink her, and it was all she could do to step back, tearing herself from his grip.

‘N-no,’ she managed to rasp, although her voice would have carried much more authority if it hadn’t been so weak and tremulous. ‘No, it makes no difference. You can’t just go around kissing girls on the shoulders when they’re not looking.’

‘How about when they are?’ he purred, and she gave a yelp.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned, at the same time as Jo-Jo called over, ‘Charmaine, you’re up again.’

He noticed Payne and moved across to them, holding the next garment in his hands. ‘Payne, good to see you again,’ he said, his eyes moving speculatively from Charmaine and back to the casino owner. He could have sliced the atmosphere with a machete. Well, well! His eyes gleamed with interest. Was his shy partner finally coming out of her shell at last?

Payne, Charmaine noticed angrily, was now stood back from the changing area, and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt.

‘Hello. I just thought I’d come down and see if you wanted any extras for your fashion shoot at the Palace. You know, croupiers, waitresses. Real staff, real people. Or if you want the place deserted. As you know, I can only close the gambling rooms off for an hour,’ he said, all friendly and business-like.

Liar, liar, pants on fire, Charmaine thought childishly. He’d only come down so he could ogle the girls, just like the rest of the entire beach’s male population.

‘Oh I don’t know. I’ll ask Phil. My immediate thoughts are that we won’t want anybody close up, but maybe as a wide room shot — perhaps with all five girls at a gaming table each. Hmm, food for thought. Oh, babe, here,’ he added, handing Charmaine what seemed to be a handkerchief.

It was, in fact, a pair of shimmering gold bikini briefs. ‘Where’s the bikini top. You know, the brassiere part?’ she asked. This wasn’t one of her designs, but one of Jo-Jo’s.

‘There isn’t one for this shot,’ Jo-Jo said, then abruptly realised his mistake. He’d picked up the wrong outfit. This one had never been meant for her at all.

Charmaine looked ready to faint.

She felt ready to faint.

Go topless? In front of all these people. In front of Payne? She knew Phil would photograph her tastefully, with nothing explicit appearing in the final images, but that didn’t help her in this moment. She shot stricken, help-me eyes at Jo-Jo. At the same time, Jinx, having spotted Payne, was all but running up the beach behind her, her eyes riveted to the gold scrap of material.

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