He felt his stomach muscles knotting, his jaw tightening. Deliberately he relaxed both. “She’s been working very hard on the kitchen.”

Monique’s lips curved. He gives away nothing, this one, she thought with approval. “Yes, well I may see her again for a short time. I must ask you a favor, Blake. You were so kind during my visit.”

“Whatever I can do.”

“The suite where I stayed, I found it so restful, so agréable. I wonder if you could reserve it for me again, in two days’ time.”

“Two days?” His brow creased, but he automatically reached for a pen to jot it down. “You’re coming back east?”

“I’m so foolish, so—what is it?—absent-minded, oui? I have business to take care of there, and with Summer’s accident, it all went out of my head. I must come back and tie up the ends that are loose. And the suite?”

“Of course, I’ll see to it.”

“Merci. And perhaps, I could ask one more thing of you. I will have a small party on Saturday evening—just a few old friends and some wine. I’d be very grateful if you could stop by for a few minutes. Around eight?”

There was nothing he wanted less at the moment than a party. But manners, upbringing and business left him only one answer. Again, he automatically noted down the date and time. “I’d be happy to.”

“Marvelous. Till Saturday then, au revoir.”

After hanging up the phone, Monique gave a tinkle of laughter. True, she was an actress, not a screenwriter, but she thought her little scenario was brilliant. Yes, absolutely brilliant.

Picking up the phone, she prepared to send a cablegram. To Rome.

Chapter Twelve

Chérie. Must return to Philadelphia for some unfinished business before filming begins. Will be at Cocharan House in my suite over the weekend. Having a little soirée Saturday evening. Do come. 8:30. A bientôt. Mother.

And just what was she up to? Summer glanced over the cable again as she cruised above the Atlantic. Unfinished business? Summer could think of no business Monique would have in Philadelphia, unless it involved husband number two. But that was ancient history, and Monique always had someone else handle her business dealings. She’d always claimed a good actress was a child at heart and had no head for business. It was another one of her diabolically helpless ways that made it possible for her to do only exactly as she wanted. What Summer couldn’t figure out was why Monique would want to come back east.

With a shrug, Summer slipped the cable back into her bag.

She didn’t feel like hassling with people and cocktail talk in just over five hours. The day before, she’d outdone herself with the creation of a birthday cake shaped like Enrico’s palatial home outside Rome, and filled with a wickedly wonderful combination of chocolate and cream. It had taken her twelve hours. And for once, at the host’s insistence, she’d remained and joined the party for champagne and dessert.