Three Weeks in Paris by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page B

some. And also, I think we’ve just grown apart.”
    “That can happen when there are two careers going strong. Separations, preoccupations.” He rose and walked over to the built-in bar at one end of the library. “Would you like something to drink? A Coke? Water?”
    “I’ll have a cranberry juice, please, Mark.” She laughed. “I know there’s a bottle there, I put it in the refrigerator on Saturday morning.”
    He nodded, stood for a moment pouring their drinks, wondering why Jessica had become involved with Gary Stennis in the first place. She deserved so much better. He was a nice guy, and still good-looking in a washed-out, faded sort of way. That was partially due to the booze and hard living over the years. In one sense, Gary was bordering on the edge now, almost but not quite a has-been in the business.
    It’s one helluva cruel town we live in, he thought, pouring cranberry juice into a highball glass. He knewfull well what the industry thought of Stennis, that he had only a couple of scripts left in him, and that was about it. Once he had been the greatest, in Mark’s considered opinion. But the booze and the women had taken their toll, got to him, laid him out flat at times. Life could be pretty tough on the fast track of Hollywood fame and fortune, accolades and alcohol.
    He smiled to himself. You had to have the strength, willpower, and ruthlessness of a Genghis Khan to survive here.
    As he walked across the room, he couldn’t help thinking what a good-looking woman Jessica was. She looked especially wonderful today. She wore a pale-lavender-colored suit with a shortish skirt and very high-heeled shoes; he had always admired her long, silky legs. She was a bit too thin for his taste, but striking nevertheless, and her coloring was superb.
    “Thanks, Mark,” she said as he put the drink in front of her on the glass-topped coffee table.
    His thoughts stayed with her as he went back to the bar to get his ginger ale. Jessica Pierce was one of the nicest people he knew. There was a sweetness and kindness in her nature that was most commendable, and which he admired.
    He
knew
that she
knew
that Gary was drinking heavily, and that she had avoided agreeing with him, of admitting this, in order to protect Gary in his eyes. Honorable, loyal girl. Too nice for Stennis, as it happened.
    When he returned and sat down opposite her, Mark raised his glass. “Cheers, Jessica. And thank you for making this place so beautiful. You’re just … miraculous.”
    She smiled at him, her eyes suddenly sparkling with pleasure. “Thanks, Mark, I’m glad you love your new home. Cheers.” There was a moment’s pause. “And thanksfor trusting me, giving me carte blanche to do what I wanted.”
    “I’m a bit in awe of you, you know. In awe of your knowledge, your taste, your restraint, your flair, your style. You’re just the … the … whole enchilada, Jess.”
    She laughed at his turn of phrase, took a sip of her drink, and studied him for a moment. She found herself wondering for the umpteenth time why Kelly O’Keefe had left him, had sued for divorce last year. He was such a nice man, at least he was with her, fair, reasonable, and a pleasure to work with, plus he had a good reputation in Hollywood. But she was aware he was a tough businessman, which is why he was a successful producer. Wimps didn’t make it in the movie business. At least not to the big time.
    Jessica knew Mark Sylvester was forty-five, but he didn’t look it. In fact, he seemed much younger, like a man in his mid-thirties; he was lean, tanned, somewhat athletic in appearance, with a pleasant if angular face, and very knowing, alert brown eyes. Kind eyes that could turn as hard as black pebbles if he was displeased. She’d seen that look directed at one of his associates a couple of times, and she was glad it was not she who was on the receiving end.
    “You’re staring at me, Jessica.”
    Laughing self-consciously, she admitted, “To