Chapter 1

The drawing room of Carla's hotel suite had a full-length mirror set into one wall and I paused before it, drink in hand, and took a close look at myself. I nodded with satisfaction at what I saw. "You're looking good there, Phil, old boy," I muttered to my reflection.

Maybe it was the natural-born ham in me, or maybe it was just the fact that I'd had five quick drinks in a row, but the thought flashed through my mind that not many men could honestly be pleased with how they looked in a full-length mirror-especially when wearing nothing but a pair of polka-dot shorts.

I grinned at myself in the mirror, raised my glass in salute, and finished my drink. "Don't go away," I said to my reflection. "I'll be right back."

I padded barefoot across the thick carpet and put my empty glass on a table, then went back to the mirror.

"Devlin, you're a devil," I said in a low voice, and I chuckled at myself in the glass. I gave myself an evil leer and chuckled again.

It wasn't egotism, although I've got my full share of that. It was the drinks that were making me do this. I have this crazy habit of talking to myself in mirrors whenever I have a little too much to drink. I wasn't drunk now, not by any means, but I did have a very pleasant glow spreading through me. For this night, at least, I could forget my troubles.

I struck a muscle-man pose in front of the mirror and flexed my biceps. I sucked in my stomach and expanded my chest and studied my reflection carefully. Not bad, I thought. Not bad at all. I let myself relax and stood naturally. Still not too bad, I decided, looking myself over critically. I'm six-two, have a decent pair of shoulders, a fairly muscular torso, not too hairy, and no trace of fat on my belly. The face that looked back at me from the mirror was the same face I saw in the mirror every morning when I scraped the stubble from my jaw-good head of dark hair, straight nose, brown eyes, and a cleft chin. It could have been worse.

I grinned at myself again and decided it did a man good to feel smug every now and then.

Besides, I had every right to feel smug.

It wasn't every man that could walk around in his shorts in the New York hotel suite of Car la Russell, Hollywood's own "Queen of Sex." She was in the bedroom now, getting suitably dressed-or rather, undressed-for the occasion. Which meant that when she finally came out she'd be wearing just as little as I was.

I winked knowingly at myself in the mirror, went and got my empty glass and filled it again from the bottle on the coffee table. I sat down on the couch and sipped slowly at my drink and wished impatiently that Carla would hurry it up.

How long did it take a woman to undress, anyhow?

I scratched at my chest contentedly. It was a cold January night outside, windy and with a threat of snow, but I was warm and comfortable in Carla's suite. Every time Carla came east to New York, I was a regular nighttime visitor. It would have shocked the gossip columnists if they'd found out about it, but Carla and I were very careful. I never took Carla out too any night spots, and I was never seen in public with her. On those nights that I spent at her hotel suite, her maid was given the night off and told to come back the next afternoon. This wasn't Carla's idea. It was mine.

After all, I did have my pride.

Carla and I had been pretty warm for each other for a few years now, ever since both of us had bit parts in a summer stock show up in Maine. Carla had gone on from there, getting a big break in Hollywood that same year, and then shooting up to full stardom in a few months. It happens like that sometimes.

Me? I stayed at about the same level. For a while, I continued with the bit parts when I could get them, just barely making a living. And when the bit parts didn't come through regularly enough, I scrounged around and did odd jobs just to keep me in food and cigarettes and give me enough to pay the rent on my furnished room.

Right now, I had just about decided to give up the acting bit. Not only was it not paying off for me, but I was up to my ears in debt. I had a fancy MG sports car on which I still owed fifteen hundred, I was three weeks behind in my rent, and I had just withdrawn the last fifty bucks from my savings account. The way I had it figured, I'd be completely flat in about one week.

Of course, I could float a loan from Carla. I knew that without even asking. But that was one thing I wasn't going to do. In all the time we had known each other, I had never once taken anything from her-except what she offered me in bed. It was strictly a matter of pride with me. I wasn't going to be a kept man, and I wasn't going to take advantage of Carla's feelings for me. She was a success, and I wasn't. It boiled down to that. That was why I never took her out in public. I didn't have the money. And that was also why I insisted on keeping our relationship quiet. I wasn't going to have the gossip columnists tear into Carla for going around with an impoverished bit player.

As I said, I had my pride.

Which was just about all I had left.

I shook my head savagely and gulped down the rest of my drink. I had thought I could forget my troubles this night, but this was the kind of troubles you never can forget completely. They stayed with you, popping up when you least expected them. I shook my head again and closed my eyes and forced myself to think of Carla, to picture her face in my mind, even though she was right there in the bedroom. It was the only way I could think of to drive my troubles from my mind. I'd replace them with Carla's face.

I kept my eyes shut tightly and started from the top, visualizing her long black hair, jet black and shining with softness. Next, I concentrated on her eyes-light blue, fringed with long, sweeping lashes. And then there was her nose, her beautiful tip-tilted nose that was set above a mouth that would tempt any man. Her lips were full and curving, the lower lip holding just the trace of a pout. And all this was set in a pale oval face that appeared regularly on the covers of magazines, in newspapers, on billboards, in glossy photos pinned up on barracks walls and teen-agers' bedrooms, and just about any other place where beauty such as hers could be displayed.

I let out a long sigh and opened my eyes. There was more to Carla than just her famous face, of course. The rest of her was equally famous and equally as well known to the general public. But I was in no mood to visualize the rest of her. I'd see all of it soon enough in the flesh.

That was one thing which I had over the general public.

I bad seen more of Carla than the public was ever allowed to see.

I looked at my empty glass and was just about to get up from the couch and refill it when I heard the bedroom door open. I placed my glass carefully on the table in front of me and leaned back on the couch and waited for Carla to come into the drawing room.

My troubles were forgotten now They would stay forgotten for a long while-for the rest of the night, I hoped.

Carla would see to that