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goddess very seriously.
    ‘She wants to be known as an “actress” too,’ Ella had informed her friend. ‘That’s probably why she’s here. The Americans think that the best serious films are made in England. Incidentally,’ Ella had added, ‘Ms Farmer just happens to be married to the hottest director in the States at the moment, and I mean hot. He’s the new Oliver Stone and incredibly handsome. I saw him once on a clip of film showing them together and one glimpse made my knees go weak!’
    ‘I don’t suppose I’ll see much of him,’ Harriet had responded, and then thought very little more about it.
    Now though, as Rowena motioned for a waiting maid to take Harriet’s suitcases and then led her through to the drawing-room she remembered Ella’s words, because Rowena was talking about her husband.
    ‘You must meet Lewis before I show you your rooms,’ she said gaily. ‘He’s usually locked away in his study working on the script or talking on the telephone, but I’ve told him that when you’renot busy with my work he can borrow you – I didn’t think you’d mind – so he’s taken time out to meet you.’
    Harriet had the feeling that Rowena felt this was a great honour, but she found it hard to feel overwhelmed. It was after all only courtesy to say hello to someone who was going to type your letters and probably be a general dogsbody.
    She followed Rowena into the room and immediately the man sitting in the chair opposite the door rose to his feet. He was tall, an inch or so over six feet, Harriet thought, and his hair was thick and jet black, swept off his face, accentuating the unusually strong bone structure with its high cheekbones and straight nose. Beneath dark and heavy brows his eyes were a deep brown, thickly lashed and intelligent-looking while his mouth was wide with a full lower lip. He held out a hand in greeting, and the leather strap of his watch stood out against his golden brown skin. Harriet remembered Ella mentioning mixed parentage – a Portuguese mother or something similar. It showed in his colouring, but although Harriet didn’t know it his height and breadth came from a Texan father. The combination was, as Ella had said, quite breathtaking.
    ‘Nice to meet you, Harriet,’ he said warmly, and his fingers closed around hers for a moment in a gesture that was almost a caress. Startled she raised her eyes to his and saw that he was watching her closely. She quickly withdrew her hand and without realising it took a step away from him. Lewis’s mouth curved in a smile.
    ‘Rowena and I hope you’ll be happy here,’ he continued smoothly. ‘I’m afraid life can be a bitchaotic, but she tells me you’re tired of routine work so that shouldn’t worry you.’
    ‘It will certainly be different,’ responded Harriet, wishing that she wasn’t quite so aware of his physical presence. She was busy admiring the breadth of his shoulders compared to his slim hips, and that wasn’t the way she usually responded to men. What made it worse was that he seemed to know because he hardly took his gaze off her.
    ‘Is Chris around, darling?’ asked Lewis, draping an arm casually around Rowena’s shoulders.
    Rowena smiled up at him. ‘I think I saw him coming back from the pool.’
    ‘Give him a call, then Harriet will know the three most important people in the house!’ He laughed, but softly, as though at some private joke.
    Rowena left the room for a moment and Harriet decided that she wasn’t going to stand around feeling like an awkward schoolgirl, so she sat down on the low sofa and immediately watched her hemline rise to her thighs again.
    Lewis glanced briefly at her legs and then away. Harriet wondered if he was simply so used to seeing women’s legs that they no longer interested him, or if Rowena’s were far better than hers. For some ridiculous reason she hoped it wasn’t the latter. She’d always thought her legs were one of her best points.
    ‘I hope you and