Annette seemed to pop up like an evil Jack-in-the-box. 'What an odd thing to do. I knew she'd had too much to drink. How embarrassing.'
'Oh, she does plenty of odd things,' Kip said with an air of someone who knew her every move.
'I'll take her back,' Ray said furiously, glaring at Annette, but Kip shook his head grimly.
'My duty, I believe. Perhaps you could drop Annette off on your way back, Ray?'
'A pleasure,' Ray said bravely, adding in a low voice, 'right over the dam.' He knew perfectly well who had pushed Natalie. He had seen those hideously blue eyes right behind her just as she was about to walk off. There
was no way he could prove it and he took a great deal of satisfaction in watching Annette's angry face as Kip took Natalie firmly in hand and got her out of the club.
In the car Kip said nothing at all and it upset her terribly. Another time when he had been obliged to rescue her. It was written right across his face.
'Ray could have brought me. There was no need to leave Annette,' she said miserably, and he rounded on her with flashing eyes as if he was about to beat her.
'Shut up!' His voice was quiet savagery. 'I know damned well how you came to be in that pool.'
'I'm a disaster area,' she murmured. 'A problem waiting to happen.'
'Not with somebody's hand in the small of your back, giving a hefty push,' he gritted.
'You saw it?'
'My God, no! There's nothing wrong with my mental computer, though.' He turned on the heating. 'I'll have you back at the hotel as quickly as possible. You'd be more comfortable with me but I know better than to suggest it.'
She didn't answer that because suddenly she wanted to be with Kip, on any terms. 'I never got my sandal.'
'I'll get it to you tomorrow,' he snapped. 'It's not important.'
'They're Italian. Fifty-nine pounds.'
He shot her a look of astonishment and then drove grimly on, scowling at passing cars. 'One day you'll drive me completely insane,' he growled. 'Sometimes I could choke you.'
'Because I worry about wasting so much money? Italian shoes are expensive.'
'Be quiet, Natalie, or I'll shake the life out of you,' he threatened, and she knew when to stop. In this mood he might just do it and a shaking was more than she could handle right now.
At the hotel he took her right to her room, robbing the incident of her appearance, of all embarrassment, explaining to several members of the hotel staff that she had been in an accident. Of course he carried it off with his usual self-assurance and as they arrived at her door there was a maid on hand offering to wash her 'beautiful clothes' at once.
'Right. That lets me out,' Kip said grimly as she stood rather pitifully out in the corridor. 'Get to bed, Natalie. This hasn't been your day.'
'Tomorrow I'll be right as rain,' she assured him defiantly. She wanted to cling to him but nothing in the world would have made her do it.
'We'll see,' he muttered. He turned and walked away, tall and aloof, and she went quickly into her room before she surrendered to the urge to race after him or beg him to stay.
In the morning it was all too clear that Neil had a bad head. He was all ill-tempered producer, a white sun-hat pulled almost over his eyes and dark sunglasses on his nose.
'Let's move!' he ordered as they finished breakfast.
Throughout the meal there had been none of the normal joking and chatter that was part of their working relationship. Paula was looking pale and miserable and Ray was still darkly brooding. As to Neil's bad head, it served him right. If he hadn't thought up the small dinner party none of the previous night's events would have happened.
It looked too as if he was about to 'come the heavy'— as Ray put it, something that none of them did. Apparently he imagined he was back in his old job and meant to behave like a producer in a studio. It promised trouble because neither Natalie nor Ray would swallow that. Their set-up was totally different and they all knew it.
Neil looked askance at the vehicle Natalie had managed to get. Her original idea of a pick-up had met with such opposition from Kip that she had abandoned that idea. It was no use defying him. If she was working in the back of a pick-up he would refuse an interview and she knew it perfectly well. She had hired an open Land Rover, uncomfortable but practical. It would do for all of them and the camera could be propped against the back hoops, so could the sound boom. At least she would look safer there.