French Silk(90)

Not everyone would look as spectacular as Yasmine did in the pajamas, but the fantasy of doing so would sell them by the thousands. Claire would no doubt be applauding Yasmine's inspiration like the rest of the crew were it not for Cassidy, who was gaping at Yasmine like a star-struck, sex-crazed adolescent.

Claire was hot, angry, nervous, distracted, and jealous, and it was all his fault. He was responsible for this unwelcome, juvenile resentment churning inside her.

She should order him to leave the set. But he would demand to know why, and if she said that he was bothering everybody, all the others would deny it, and that would be tantamount to admitting that his presence was aggravating only to her.

Yasmine was undeniably gorgeous, but Claire had never been jealous of her before. Yasmine cultivated her image of savage sexiness, which Claire had always found amusing if she thought of it at all. It certainly had never sparked envy. Yasmine was merely being Yasmine as she stretched and postured for the camera. She was in her element. She wasn't deliberately trying to entice Cassidy.

"You like it, Claire?" Yasmine called over her shoulder.

"Yes," she said dispassionately. "It's very nice."

Yasmine lowered her arms and turned around. She didn't bother to cover her bare breasts. "'Nice'? It's not supposed to be nice."

"What's it supposed to be?"

"Well for damn sure not nice. It's supposed to be attention-getting and arousing. It's supposed to sell these goddamn pajamas, which, frankly, I think are the most lackluster design you've ever come up with. They've got no style, no class, no nothing. I'm trying to put some zing into an item that otherwise would be a major flop."

Yasmine's speech was delivered with such antipathy that it silenced even Leon. A strained hush fell over the set. Even Rue, who collected sarcastic gems to toss out at the most inopportune times, smoked in silence while everyone else found something other than Claire and Yasmine to focus on. They'd heard them clash before, but never to this degree.

Claire's chest felt close to cracking from internal pressure, but she turned to Leon and asked calmly, "Have you got all the shots you need?"

"I think so. Unless you think we need more." He was being uncharacteristically obsequious and soft-spoken, as though afraid he might detonate an explosion.

"I trust your judgment, Leon."

"Then I'm finished."

"Okay. Thanks, everybody. That's it for today. See you at dinner."

Claire turned her back on them and headed for the house. She walked at a fast clip, wanting only to reach the cool, dim privacy of her room, where she could nurse her jealousy in solitude.

She had almost reached the veranda when Cassidy intercepted her. "Why did you do that?" Sweat had made the hair around his face damp. He looked as hot and short-tempered as she.

"I'm in no mood for one of your inquisitions, Cassidy."

"Answer me. Why did you let Yasmine get away with embarrassing you in front of everyone?"

"Yasmine embarrassed only herself. Now, get out of my way." She managed to get around him and made it up several steps before he blocked her path again.

"You didn't approve of erect nipples yesterday, but today Yasmine couldn't have looked more naked if she'd been naked. I don't get it."

"You're not supposed to."

"Why did one set of poses bother you and not the other?"

"Because there's a fine distinction between sensuality and overt titillation. I'm looking for shots that will excite without being offensive."

"You know from experience that it's purely subjective."

"Invariably. But I'm the first judge, and I've got excellent taste," she stated boastfully but confidently. "I trust my judgment on what's quality and what's questionable."

"Did you like Yasmine's poses?"

"I said I did, didn't I?"

"But you didn't sound as though you meant it, and everybody heard that, especially Yasmine."

"My job isn't to stroke Yasmine's ego."

"No, your job is to sell merchandise, and that shot will sell pajamas."

She blew a strand of hair off her forehead. "Is there a point to this, Cassidy?"

"You were suddenly uncomfortable with Yasmine's sensuality. Why?"

"Did you think she was sensual? I don't know why I'm even asking, when it was so apparent that you did. You were riveted." He gave her a strange and quizzical look, which only made her madder. "Well, weren't you?"

"I wasn't particularly mindful of my reaction," he said softly. "But obviously you were."

Claire, realizing that she was dangerously close to revealing too much, averted her head. "Is that all, Cassidy?"

"Not quite. What kind of relationship do you have with Yasmine that allows her to insult you like that? Anyone else would have come back with both barrels loaded."

"Yasmine attacks other people only when she's upset with herself. I understand that."

"She attacked you yesterday with that crack about Wilde. What gives? What reason does she have to be upset with herself?"

"None of your damn business." Executing a hasty sidestep, he parried her attempt to go around him. Seething, Claire glared up at him. "All right, I'll tell you this much. Yasmine is taking the van to New Orleans tonight to see her lover. She plans to return early tomorrow morning."