Chapter Twenty: Mixed Emotions

"Ow." Catherine winced as she lifted her arm above her head.

"That's better!" The voice was brisk and coaxing, friendly but firm. Helga was a very good physical therapist. "Now, a bit farther."

"Ow!"

"And a bit farther?"

"OW!" Catherine dropped her arm just as Anne of Cleves Cosmetics came strolling into the bedroom.

"Good morning, dearest! You're looking lovely as always. Helga, how is she coming along?" Anne's cheery voice and warm smile couldn't quite conceal the concern in her piercing, jet-black eyes.

"She's tired of being twisted into knots!" An exhausted Catherine was busy pulling her frilly white lace bedgown back into place. Mrs. Holliday helped her while Helga packed up her medical bag.

"Don't you want to get better, darling?" Anne watched with worried eyes as the long-legged model collapsed onto the rumpled bed. Maybe they were all pushing her too hard, but Catherine's career was at stake. If the girl didn't get back into shape quickly . . .

"She worked hard all morning," Helga confirmed, in her husky voice, picking up her heavy bag. "Now she must eat, and rest."

"Quite right!" Anne thanked Helga, rewarded her generously for the morning's work, and then kicked off her Manolo Blahnik high heels and sat down on the edge of Catherine's bed.

"Well, I'm glad to see your appetite's back," she said, watching Catherine devour the contents of her tray. "Slim is good, but you won't last long on the runway if you're weak from hunger!"

"When can I come back to work?" Catherine was getting used to eating with her arm in a sling. Mrs. Holliday had served tiny crab and cucumber sandwiches that were crisp and crunchy and spicy.

"Whenever you like, darling. But it's better to start off slowly, don't you think?" Anne took one of the miniature sandwiches for herself, dispatching it in two quick bites. "Actually, there's a television program coming up in a week or so that needs an extra guest, and I think you'd be perfect."

"Something about fashion?" Catherine pictured herself wearing the smartest clothes and laughing her head off at the other models, while chatting up some of the really important designers.

"No, no, something really important." Anne patted Catherine on the knee. "It's about the drug trade in South America, and the popular tourist spots like Puerto Tranquillo."

"Why would anyone want to hear my opinions on that?" Catherine waved away the blue pain pills Mrs. Holliday was holding out to her. With a shrug, the housekeeper placed them on her tray.

"Why do you think?" Anne pointed to the sling on the girl's arm. "You paid the price to break up that drug ring. But it's not just that. Someone we know is in the position to help us take on Henry Tudor, and he'll be on the panel as well. If you could chat with him and make him look good on television, it would be a real plus for Cleves Cosmetics."

"Who is he? Does he really want to take on Henry Tudor?" Catherine was sipping fruit juice and thinking about what she would wear on television. She suspected her fellow panel member would be one of those old-fashioned business types. But maybe he would be warm and funny and kind, like old Don Jose. Catherine's blue eyes misted over. She really missed him!

"That's the fun part," Anne said brightly. "It's Thomas Culpepper! You ran into him down in Puerto Tranquilo, remember?"

"Yes, I remember." Catherine nearly choked on her freshly squeezed orange juice. It was horribly embarrassing to remember how she'd left the dance club clinging to Thomas, and then made love to him in the back seat of that fancy limousine. And all the time Don Jose had been a prisoner of the cruel cartel, and his nephew Antonio had been doing battle with the evil drug lords!

"Such a handsome young man," Anne commented. "Anyway, young Thomas has been telling the press all about how it was really his clever planning that toppled the drug cartel. And now that you're back in London, you can confirm his story and generate all kinds of favorable publicity for him . . . and for us!"

"But we didn't . . . I don't . . . I never want to see him again!" Catherine was so agitated that she gulped down her pills at once, forgetting how they always knocked her out and sent her to sleep.

"Catherine!" Anne's ebony eyes went wide with astonishment. "There's nothing between you and Thomas Culpepper, is there?"

"Of course there's nothing between us!" Catherine rubbed her sore and aching shoulder, overwhelmed by mixed emotions. She wanted to help her good friend Anne. And she wanted to expose that . . . that hateful Culpepper. But she couldn't do both at once!