What I Did For Love Part 16

Georgie pressed her palm to her chest. "Give me a minute. I don't know which is harder for me to visualize. You as a producer or the fact that you actually read an entire screenplay start to finish."

He made his way to the kitchen. "I've matured since our Skip and Scooter Skip and Scooter days." days."

"In your opinion."

"I hardly had to look up any of the big words." She didn't expect him to say more and was surprised when he went on. "Unfortunately, I'm having a little trouble getting it financed."

She stopped. "You're actually trying to get the project made?"

"Nothing better to do."

That explained all the mysterious phone calls, but it didn't explain why Bram had kept this such a big secret. He tossed his car keys on the kitchen counter. "The bad news is that my option runs out in less than three weeks, and if I can't get a package put together by then, Caitlin will have her rights back."

"And be considerably richer."

"She doesn't give a d.a.m.n about anything except the money. She hated her mother. She'd sell Tree House Tree House to a cartoon factory if they made the best offer." to a cartoon factory if they made the best offer."

Georgie had never optioned a book or screenplay, but she knew how the process worked. The option holder-in this case Bram-had only a specific amount of time to get solid backing for his project before his option expired and the rights reverted to the original owner. Since all he'd have left when that happened would be a hole in his bank account, his suck-up att.i.tude toward Rory Keene finally made sense.

"How close are you to getting someone to green-light Tree House Tree House?" she asked, even though she already had an inkling of the answer.

He grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator. "Pretty close. Hank Peters loves the screenplay, and he's interested in directing, so that's caught a lot of attention. With the right casting, we can make the movie on a shoestring, another plus."

Peters was a great director, but Georgie couldn't imagine him being willing to work with unreliable Bram Shepard. "Is Hank interested or committed?"

"Interested in committing. And I have a leading man to play Danny Grimes. That's part of the deal."

Grimes was a fabulously multidimensional character, and it didn't surprise her that lots of actors would be interested. "Who did you get?"

He twisted off the bottle cap. "Who do you think?"

She stared at him, then groaned. "Oh, no...You're not."

"A couple of acting lessons...I'll be able to handle it."

"You can't play a part like that. Grimes is a complex character. He's conflicted, tortured...You'd be laughed out of town. No wonder you can't get financing."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He took a slug of water.

"Have you really thought this through? Successful producers need a reputation for something other than gross unreliability. And the way you're insisting on playing the lead...Not smart."

"I can do it."

His intensity unsettled her. The Bram she knew only cared about pleasure. She considered the possibility that she didn't understand him as well as she thought, and not just because of his interest in Tree House Tree House...She hadn't seen any signs of drug abuse, and he spent hours every day in his office. He'd even gotten rid of his old, disreputable friends, which was odd for a guy who'd hated being alone. Alcohol and pathological arrogance seemed to be his last vices.

"I'm going for a swim." He disappeared toward the pool.

She went to her room to change into shorts and a tank. If the screenplay was as good as he said, everyone in town had to be waiting for his option to expire so they could pounce on the project themselves. The leading role would go to the male Flavor of the Month instead of the actor best equipped to handle the part, which in any case wouldn't be Bram. He'd handled Skip Scofield brilliantly, but he didn't have the skills or the depth to tackle anything more emotionally intricate, witness the lightweight roles he'd taken on since then.

As she was slipping into her most comfortable pair of sandals, her head shot up. "b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

She charged downstairs and across the veranda to the pool, where he was swimming laps. "You jerk! There isn't any Skip and Scooter Skip and Scooter reunion movie! That was a smoke screen you threw up to hide what you were really doing." reunion movie! That was a smoke screen you threw up to hide what you were really doing."

"I told you there was no reunion movie." He dove under.

"But you made me think there was," she said the instant he resurfaced. "This stupid fake marriage...My money was just a bonus, wasn't it? Tree House Tree House is the real reason you agreed to cooperate. You couldn't afford to be the second man in recent history to break sweet Georgie York's heart. Not when you need the honchos to believe you've turned into a solid citizen so they'll take you seriously." is the real reason you agreed to cooperate. You couldn't afford to be the second man in recent history to break sweet Georgie York's heart. Not when you need the honchos to believe you've turned into a solid citizen so they'll take you seriously."

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"I have a problem being misled," she said.

"It's me you're dealing with. What did you expect?"

She stalked across the pool deck as he swam toward the waterfall. "If people believe my respectability has rubbed off on you, you've gone a long way toward improving your chances of getting your movie made, now haven't you?"

"You shouldn't call the sacred bonds of holy matrimony 'stupid.'"

"What sacred bonds? The only reason you're finally telling me the truth is because you want to get in my panties."

"I'm a guy, so sue me."

"Don't speak to me ever again. For the rest of your life." She stalked away.

"Fine by me," he called after her. "Unless you're planning to say dirty words, I don't like a woman who talks too much in bed."

The phone he'd left by the side of the pool rang. He swam to the edge and grabbed it. She stopped to listen in.

"Scott...How's it going? Yeah, it's been crazy..." He switched to the other ear and climbed the ladder. "I don't want to say too much on the phone, but I have something I know you'll be interested in. Let's meet at the Mandarin tomorrow afternoon for a drink so we can talk about it." He frowned. "Friday morning? Okay, I'll shift a couple of things around. Hey, I need to let you go. I'm late for a meeting."

He flipped his phone shut and grabbed a towel. She tapped her toe. "Late for a meeting?"

"It's L.A. Always be first to end the call."

"I'll remember that. And you're not getting another penny from me."

Instead of returning to the house, she stomped out to his office. The idea of Bram being willing to work at anything unsettled her. But at least his disclosure about the screenplay had given her something to think about other than whatever metaphysical part she'd played in the loss of Lance's baby.

She ripped open the ma.n.u.script box that was supposed to contain the Skip and Scooter Skip and Scooter reunion script and tilted out a neat stack of p.o.r.no magazines with a blue Post-it note on top. the real thing is so much better. reunion script and tilted out a neat stack of p.o.r.no magazines with a blue Post-it note on top. the real thing is so much better.

As Bram headed up to his workout room, he wondered what stupid-a.s.s weakness had made him tell Georgie about up to his workout room, he wondered what stupid-a.s.s weakness had made him tell Georgie about Tree House. Tree House. But she'd looked so frickin' tragic when she'd heard about Lance and Jade's baby-that overdeveloped sense of responsibility popping up again-and somehow he'd let the truth slip out only to immediately regret it. Failure already hung over him like a mushroom cloud. With the odds stacked so high against him, the fewer people who knew how much But she'd looked so frickin' tragic when she'd heard about Lance and Jade's baby-that overdeveloped sense of responsibility popping up again-and somehow he'd let the truth slip out only to immediately regret it. Failure already hung over him like a mushroom cloud. With the odds stacked so high against him, the fewer people who knew how much Tree House Tree House meant to him, the better. That especially applied to Georgie, who couldn't wait for him to fail. meant to him, the better. That especially applied to Georgie, who couldn't wait for him to fail.

He didn't bother changing out of his wet trunks but went right to his workout room. A ballet barre had appeared a couple of days ago. One more invasion of his private s.p.a.ce. What would he do with his life if Tree House Tree House slipped away from him? Go back to guest roles as vapid playboys? The idea turned his stomach. slipped away from him? Go back to guest roles as vapid playboys? The idea turned his stomach.

He put on an Usher CD and eyed the elliptical machine with distaste. He wanted to be outside, free to run for miles in the hills like he used to, but thanks to his Vegas misadventure, he was trapped.

At least he had the room to himself. Watching Georgie go through her stretching routine had become torturous. She tied up her hair before she worked out, so that even the nape of her neck became an erogenous zone. Then there was the s.e.xy extension of those long legs. It said something about his life that getting down and dirty with Little Orphan Annie had gone to the top of his thrill list.

But he couldn't dismiss her as easily as she dismissed herself. She had an unconscious s.e.x appeal that trumped big t.i.ts and phony posturing. n.o.body was going to catch Georgie York flashing her goody bits in public.

Or in private...Something he was growing increasingly intent on changing. She might hate his guts, but she definitely liked the packaging they came in. Georgie didn't know it yet, but her days of wasting away over the Loser were coming to an end.

Who said he only cared about himself? Liberating Georgie York had become his civic duty.

Chapter 12.

Two more days pa.s.sed. Georgie was in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to make one of Chaz's delicious smoothies, when she heard a noise coming from the front of the house. Seconds later, Meg Koranda exploded into the room like a frisky young greyhound who'd been kicked out of obedience school so many times her owners had given up trying to train her. In this case, her owners were her adoring parents, screen legend Jake Koranda and Fleur Savagar Koranda, the Glitter Baby, a woman who'd once been America's most famous cover girl and who was now the powerful head of the country's most exclusive talent agency. more days pa.s.sed. Georgie was in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to make one of Chaz's delicious smoothies, when she heard a noise coming from the front of the house. Seconds later, Meg Koranda exploded into the room like a frisky young greyhound who'd been kicked out of obedience school so many times her owners had given up trying to train her. In this case, her owners were her adoring parents, screen legend Jake Koranda and Fleur Savagar Koranda, the Glitter Baby, a woman who'd once been America's most famous cover girl and who was now the powerful head of the country's most exclusive talent agency.

Meg hurled herself at Georgie, bringing the smell of incense with her. "OhmyG.o.d, Georgie! I only heard the news when I called home two days ago, and I took the first plane out. I was at this fabulous ashram-totally isolated from the world-I even got head lice! But it was so worth it. Mom says you've lost your mind."

As Georgie returned Meg's fierce hug, she hoped the head lice were one of her twenty-six-year-old friend's exaggerations, but Meg's dark brown crew cut didn't bode well. Still Meg's hairstyles changed with the weather, and the addition of a red bindi bindi between her eyebrows and dangling earrings that looked as though they were made from yak bone, led Georgie to suspect her friend might be going for a monastic-chic fashion statement. Meg's chunky leather sandals and a gauzy brown top confirmed the impression. Only her jeans were 100 percent L.A. between her eyebrows and dangling earrings that looked as though they were made from yak bone, led Georgie to suspect her friend might be going for a monastic-chic fashion statement. Meg's chunky leather sandals and a gauzy brown top confirmed the impression. Only her jeans were 100 percent L.A.

Meg was a tall, slender reed who'd inherited her mother's large hands and feet, but not her mother's extravagant beauty. Instead, Meg had her father's more irregular features, along with his brown hair and darker coloring. Depending on the light, Meg's eyes were either blue, green, or brown, as changeable as her personality. Meg was the little sister Georgie had always wanted, and Georgie loved her dearly, but that didn't make her blind to Meg's faults. Her friend was spoiled and impulsive, five feet ten inches of good times, good intentions, good heart, and almost total irresponsibility in her quest to outrun her famous parents' legacies.

Georgie squeezed her shoulders. "How could you disappear for so long without calling one of us? We've missed you."

"I was cut off from civilization. Time got away from me." Meg pulled back far enough to spot the blender with its messy, unprocessed pink contents. "If that has alcohol in it, I want some."

"It's ten o'clock in the morning."

"Not in Punjab. Start at the beginning and tell me everything."

Bram, who must have let her in the house, appeared in the doorway. "How's the grand reunion going?"

Meg ran to him. They'd dated a few times, over the protests of Georgie, Sasha, April, and both of Meg's parents. Meg swore they'd never had s.e.x, but Georgie didn't entirely believe her. Now Meg snaked her arm around his waist. "Sorry to ignore you when I came in." She gazed back at Georgie. "We never hooked up. I swear. Tell her, Bram."

"If we never hooked up," Bram said in his huskiest, s.e.xiest drawl, "how do I know you have a dragon tattooed on your a.s.s?"

"Because I told you. Don't believe him, Georgie. Really. You know I only went out with him because my parents gave me such a hard time about it." She looked up at Bram, which, with her considerable height, only required lifting her eyes a few inches. "I have oppositional disorder. The minute somebody tells me not to do something, I'm all over it. It's a character flaw."

He ran his hand up her spine and dropped his voice to a s.e.xy purr. "If I'd known about that when we went out, I'd have demanded you keep your clothes on."

Meg's eyes flashed from sea green to a stormy blue. "Are you hitting on me?"

"Make sure you tell Georgie."

Meg pointed her finger. "She's standing right there."

"How do you know she's paying attention? If you're her friend, you won't let her ignore what's going on right under her nose."

Georgie lifted an eyebrow at him, then drowned them both out by switching on the blender. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten to tighten the lid.

"Watch it!"

"Jeez, Georgie..."

She lunged for the blender controls, but the b.u.t.tons were slippery, and the machine spewed its contents everywhere. Strawberries, banana, flaxseed, wheatgra.s.s, and carrot juice flew across the pristine counter, down the cabinets, spattered the floor and Georgie's exorbitantly expensive wheat-colored tunic top. Bram pushed her aside and found the right b.u.t.ton, but not before he decorated himself and his white T-shirt with colorful glop. "Chaz is going to kill you," he said, the s.e.xy drawl forgotten. "Seriously."

Meg had been far enough away to escape unscathed, except for a bit of banana that she licked from her arm. "Who's Chaz?"

Georgie s.n.a.t.c.hed up a dish towel and started dabbing at her tunic. "Do you remember Mrs. Danvers, the scary housekeeper in Rebecca Rebecca?"

Meg's yak bone earrings bobbed. "I read the book in college."

"Imagine her as a surly, twenty-year-old punk rocker who runs the place like Nurse Ratched in Cuckoo's Nest, Cuckoo's Nest, and you have Bram's charming housekeeper, Chaz." and you have Bram's charming housekeeper, Chaz."

Meg watched Bram pull his T-shirt over his head. "I'm not picking up a real strong love vibe between you two."

Bram grabbed a dishcloth. "Then I guess you're not as perceptive as you think. Why else would we have gotten married?"

"Because Georgie's not accountable for her actions these days, and you're after her money. Mom says you're the kind of guy who never grows up."

Georgie couldn't hold back a smirk. "That might explain why Mommy Fleur refused to represent you."

Bram's expression of displeasure would have been more effective if his cheek hadn't been smeared with gooey flaxseeds. "She wouldn't represent you, either."

"Only because I'm so close to Meg. It would have been a conflict of interest."

"Not really," Meg pointed out. "Mom loves you as a person, Georgie, but she wouldn't be caught dead having to deal with your father. Do you guys mind if I crash here for a couple of days?"

"Yes!" Bram said.

"No, of course not." Georgie regarded her with concern. "What's up?"

"I want to spend some time with you, that's all."

Georgie didn't entirely believe her, but who knew exactly what Meg was thinking? "You can stay in the guesthouse."

Bram bristled. "No, she can't. My office is in the guesthouse."

"Only in half of it. You never go into the bedroom."

Bram turned on Meg. "We haven't even been married for three weeks. What kind of loser barges in on people who are practically on their honeymoon?"

Scatterbrained Meg Koranda disappeared, and in her place stood Jake Koranda's daughter, her expression as steely as her father's when he played the gunslinger Bird Dog Caliber. "The kind of loser who wants to make sure her friend's best interests are being protected when she suspects that same friend might not be looking out for herself."

"I'm fine," Georgie said quickly. "Bram and I are pa.s.sionately in love. We just have a weird way of showing it."

Bram abandoned his clean-up efforts. "Have you told your parents you want to stay here? Because I swear to G.o.d, Meg, I don't need Jake on my a.s.s right now. Or your mother."