What I Did For Love Part 2

As she reached for her cell, she grew aware of a subtle shift in the atmosphere, an invisible electric current zipping across the patio. She looked up and her blood froze. Bramwell Shepard had just walked in.

Heads ping-ponged all over the patio, bouncing from Bram to her and then back again. He was dressed like the aimless second son of an exiled European monarch: a designer blazer-probably Gucci-great jeans that emphasized all six feet two inches of his height; and a faded black T-shirt that signified he didn't give a d.a.m.n. A pair of male models ogled him enviously. Madison Merrill half rose from her chair to intercept him. But Bram was heading right toward Georgie.

Car brakes squealed as the paparazzi dashed into the traffic from across the street to get the shot of the week, maybe the entire month, since they hadn't been seen together since the show ended. Bram reached her table, ducked under the umbrella, and brushed a kiss over her lips. "Trev couldn't make it." He kept his voice low against eavesdroppers. "Unavoidable last-minute circ.u.mstances."

"I can't believe you're doing this!" She could believe it. Bram wanted something from her-maybe a public scene? She forced her frozen lips into what she hoped the cameras would register as a smile. "What did you do to him?"

"So much suspicion. Poor guy wrenched his back getting out of the shower." Bram settled into the chair across from her, keeping his voice as quiet as hers and offering up his most seductive smile.

"Then why didn't he call me and cancel?" she said.

"He didn't want to bring up bad memories. Like the way Lance the Loser canceled your marriage. Trev's thoughtful that way."

Her smile broadened, but her whisper was venomous. "You're trying to set me up. I know it."

Bram faked amused laughter. "Talk about paranoid. And ungrateful. Even though Trev was writhing in pain, he didn't want to make you sit here by yourself. You might not know this, Scoot, but everybody in town already feels sorry for you, and Trev couldn't stand embarra.s.sing you even more than you've embarra.s.sed yourself. Which is why he called me."

She rested her cheek in her hand and gazed at him with counterfeit affection. "You're lying. He knows how I feel about you better than anyone."

"You should be thankful I was willing to help you out."

"Then why did you show up half an hour late?"

"You know I've always had trouble with time."

"Bull!" She grinned for the cameras until her cheeks ached. "You wanted to make a big entrance. At my expense."

He kept smiling, too, and she tilted her head and laughed, and he reached across the table and chucked her under the chin, and it was Skip and Scooter Skip and Scooter all over again. all over again.

By the time the server appeared, the crowd of photographers on the sidewalk had spilled into the street, and her stomach was a ma.s.s of knots. Within minutes these photos would be popping up on computer screens all around the world, and the circus would pick up steam.

"Crab cakes for Scooter here," Bram said with an elegant flick of his hand. "Scotch on the rocks for me. Laphroaig. And lobster ravioli." The waiter disappeared. "G.o.d, I need a cigarette."

He picked up her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Her skin burned at his unwelcome touch. She felt a callus on the bottom of his finger and couldn't imagine how it had gotten there. Bram might have grown up in a rough neighborhood, but he'd never worked hard in his life. She came up with a merry laugh. "I hate you."

He took a drink from her iced tea gla.s.s and let the chiseled edges of his mouth curl into a smile. "The feeling's mutual."

Bram had no reason to hate her. She'd been the good soldier while he'd single-handedly ruined one of the best sitcoms in television history. During the first two years of Skip and Scooter, Skip and Scooter, he'd only occasionally misbehaved, but as the years pa.s.sed, he'd grown more uncontrollable, and by the time Skip and Scooter's on-screen relationship had begun to turn romantic, he cared about nothing but having a good time. He spent money as fast as he earned it on fancy cars, a designer wardrobe, and supporting an army of hangers-on from his childhood. The cast didn't know from one day to the next whether he'd show up on the set drunk or sober, whether he'd show up at all. He totaled cars, trashed dance clubs, and shrugged off any attempts to curb his recklessness. Nothing was safe from him, not women, reputations, or a crew member's drug stash. he'd only occasionally misbehaved, but as the years pa.s.sed, he'd grown more uncontrollable, and by the time Skip and Scooter's on-screen relationship had begun to turn romantic, he cared about nothing but having a good time. He spent money as fast as he earned it on fancy cars, a designer wardrobe, and supporting an army of hangers-on from his childhood. The cast didn't know from one day to the next whether he'd show up on the set drunk or sober, whether he'd show up at all. He totaled cars, trashed dance clubs, and shrugged off any attempts to curb his recklessness. Nothing was safe from him, not women, reputations, or a crew member's drug stash.

If he'd been playing a darker character, the show might have survived the s.e.x tape that had surfaced at the end of season eight, but Bram played b.u.t.toned-down, good guy Skip Scofield, youthful heir to the Scofield fortune, and even the most loyal fans were outraged by what they saw. Skip and Scooter Skip and Scooter was canceled a few weeks later, earning him the wrath of the public and the hatred of everyone connected with the show. was canceled a few weeks later, earning him the wrath of the public and the hatred of everyone connected with the show.

Their meal dragged on until Georgie couldn't bear it. She set down her fork next to her dismantled, uneaten crab cake, studied her watch, and tried to look as if Christmas Day had unfortunately come to an end. "Aw...Too bad. I have to go."

Bram speared the final bite of his ravioli and thrust his fork in her mouth. "Not so fast. You can't leave Ivy without having dessert."

"Don't you dare prolong this farce."

"Careful. You're losing your happy face."

She choked down the ravioli and pasted her smile back on. "You're broke, aren't you? My father invested my money, but you squandered yours. That's why you're doing this. No one will give you a job because you're unreliable, and you need publicity to get back on your feet." Although Bram still worked, he only got minor parts these days, playing morally weak characters-a cheating husband, a lecherous drunk-not even meaty villains. "You're so desperate you have to piggyback off my press coverage."

"You've got to admit it's working. Skip and Scooter Skip and Scooter together again." He lifted his hand for their server, who hurried over. "We'll have the pecan shortcake with hot fudge sauce. Two spoons." together again." He lifted his hand for their server, who hurried over. "We'll have the pecan shortcake with hot fudge sauce. Two spoons."

When the server was gone, she leaned forward and dropped her voice even lower. "How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways. I hate thee for making my childhood miserable..."

"You were fifteen when the series started. Not exactly a kid."

"But Scooter was only fourteen, and I was naive."

"I'll say."

"I hate you for embarra.s.sing me in front of the cast, the crew, the press, in front of everybody everybody-with your stupid practical jokes."

"Who knew you'd keep falling for them?"

"I hate you for all the hours I spent sitting around the set waiting for you."

"Unprofessional, I'll admit. But you kept your nose buried in books, so you should thank me for your superior education."

"And for your sleazeball behavior that got us canceled and cost me millions."

"You? What about the millions I cost myself?"

"At least I can feel good about that."

"Okay, my turn..." His smile had a silky edge. "You were a stuck-up little prude, sweetheart, and a big-time tattletale. Whenever you had the tiniest gripe, you made sure Daddy Paul ran to the producers and raised a stink. His little princess had to have everything her way."

Her mouth remained curled, but her eyes flashed outrage. "That is so not true."

"And you were a selfish actor. You always had to stick to the script, no room for improvisation. It was suffocating." He chucked her under the chin again.

She kicked him hard on the inside of his calf where no one could see. He winced, and she patted his hand. "You only wanted to improvise because you didn't have your lines memorized."

"Whenever I tried to push the show out of its comfort zone, you sabotaged me."

"Disagreement isn't sabotage."

"You trashed me in the press."

"Only after after your s.e.x tape!" your s.e.x tape!"

"Some s.e.x tape. I had my clothes on."

"She didn't!" Georgie reinforced her own slipping smile. "Say what you really mean. You hated that I made more money than you and that I had more star power."

"Oh, yes. How could I forget your memorable turn on Broadway as Annie Annie?"

"While you were ditching school and hanging out on street corners." She propped her chin on the back of her hand. "Did you ever get that high school diploma?"

"Well, well...Isn't this interesting?"

They'd been so absorbed in their argument, they hadn't noticed the tall, cool blonde approaching their table. Rory Keene, with her cla.s.sic French twist and long, patrician features, looked more like an East Coast socialite than a powerful studio executive, but even during her single season as a lowly production a.s.sistant on Skip and Scooter, Skip and Scooter, she'd been a little intimidating. she'd been a little intimidating.

Bram shot to his feet and planted a cool kiss on her cheek. "Rory, it's great to see you. You look beautiful, as always. Did you enjoy your lunch?"

"Very much. I can't believe the two of you are sitting at the same table without a loaded weapon."

"Mine's in my purse," Georgie said with a Scooter grin.

Bram curled his hand around Georgie's shoulder. "Water under the bridge. We made peace a long time ago."

"Really?" Rory slipped her purse higher on her arm and gave Bram a long, hard stare. "Take care of Georgie. This town has a limited supply of nice people, and we can't afford to lose one of them." With a nod, she turned away and headed across the patio.

Bram's smooth smile faded. He glared down at Georgie. "When did you and Rory get to be such good buddies?"

"We're not."

Without excusing himself, he headed across the patio after Rory.

Being with Bram was as draining as ever, and Georgie welcomed having a few minutes to recharge. The dessert arrived. Her stomach rebelled. She averted her eyes and thought about the day her father had given her the pilot script for Skip and Scooter Skip and Scooter. She'd had no idea her life was about to change forever.

The show's silly premise had been perfect sitcom fare. Scooter Brown was a s.p.u.n.ky fourteen-year-old orphan who showed up at the luxurious Scofield mansion on Chicago's posh North Sh.o.r.e. Scooter was trying to stay out of foster care by locating a stepsister who'd once worked there, but the stepsister had long since disappeared. With no place to go, Scooter had hidden out at the mansion only to be discovered by stuffy, fifteen-year-old Skip, the heir to the Scofield fortune. He, along with the servants, became unwillingly involved in a plot to hide her from the Scofield adults.

No one had expected the show to last more than a season, but the cast had exceptional chemistry, and the show's writing staff had come up with inventive plots. More important, they'd managed to deepen the core characters beyond their initial stereotypes.

Georgie gave Bram a vicious smile. "Finished sucking up to Rory?"

"I went out to buy cigarettes."

"Sure you did."

"To buy cigarettes and suck up. I like to mult.i.task. Is our lunch from h.e.l.l finally over?"

"Before it even began."

Bram insisted on waiting inside with her until the valet brought her car. She braced herself, and, sure enough, as soon as they hit the sidewalk, the jackals surrounded them. Bram slipped a supposedly protective arm around her shoulders-she wanted to bite it off-held up his hand, and gave the cameras his dazzling smile. "Just a couple of old friends getting together for lunch," he said over their shouts. "Don't make anything more out of it."

"You guys are supposed to hate each other."

"Have you buried the hatchet?"

"Are you dating?"

"Georgie, have you talked to Lance? Does he know you're seeing Bram?"

Bram a.s.sumed an unhappy expression she knew was totally phony. "Give us a break, guys. It's only lunch. And don't pay any attention to those rumors about a Skip and Scooter Skip and Scooter reunion show. It's not going to happen." reunion show. It's not going to happen."

Reunion show?

The paps went nuts.

"Is there a script?"

"Has the rest of the cast signed on?"

"When are you going to shoot?"

Bram muscled her through the crowd to her car. She tried to slam his fingers in the door, but he was too quick. As she pulled away, she made herself smile and wave to the cameras, but the moment she was out of sight, she let out a scream.

There was no reunion show, rumored or otherwise. Bram had made it up to punish her.

Chapter 3.

On Sat.u.r.day morning Georgie parked her car just off Temescal Canyon Road, sliding in behind a dusty blue Bentley and a red Benz Roadster. With the paparazzi still asleep from last night's club action, she didn't have any unwelcome escorts. "You're late!" Sasha said as Georgie got out. "Too busy smooching it up with Bramwell Shepard?" Sat.u.r.day morning Georgie parked her car just off Temescal Canyon Road, sliding in behind a dusty blue Bentley and a red Benz Roadster. With the paparazzi still asleep from last night's club action, she didn't have any unwelcome escorts. "You're late!" Sasha said as Georgie got out. "Too busy smooching it up with Bramwell Shepard?"

"Yeah, that's what I was doing, all right." Georgie slammed the car door.

Sasha laughed. She looked incredible as always, tall and willowy in a white L.A.M.B. hoodie and gray pants. She'd pulled her straight brunette hair into a ponytail and shaded her face with a pink visor.

"Ignore Sasha." April, the oldest and only truly sane member of her inner friendship circle, wore a black T-shirt from her husband's last tour. "She just drove up thirty seconds ago."

"I overslept," Sasha said. "Young people do that." people do that."

April was in her early fifties, with beautiful bold features, a dramatic square-jawed face, and a glow that spoke of well-earned contentment. She'd been Georgie's stylist for years, but even more important, she was a dear friend. April tossed her streaky blond hair and gave Sasha a sweet smile. "I slept like a dream. But then I I had hot s.e.x last night." had hot s.e.x last night."

Sasha frowned. "Yeah, well, I'd have had hot s.e.x, too, if I was married to Jack Patriot."

"But you're not, now are you?" April said smugly.

Three decades earlier, April had been a famous rock-and-roll groupie, but her notorious days were long behind her. She was now the wife of legendary rocker Jack Patriot as well as the mother of a famous NFL quarterback and a recent grandmother. She no longer worked as a stylist, except as a favor to Georgie.

Georgie tucked her hair behind her ears and slipped on a ball cap. She pulled a backpack heavy with water bottles from her car. She was the only one of them who didn't mind wearing a pack, so she carried all the water, a calorie-burner they'd been trying to talk her out of since she'd gotten so thin, but she refused to cave.

Sometimes she wondered how women who didn't have girlfriends coped with life. In her own life, these were the friends who never let her down, even though they were so frequently separated by geography, making these Sat.u.r.day-morning hikes a rarity. Sasha lived in Chicago. April lived in L.A. but spent as much time as she could at the family farm in Tennessee. Meg Koranda, the baby of the group, was off on another of her journeys. None of them were exactly sure where.

Sasha led them toward the trailhead. She held back from her normal killer pace so Georgie, who used to be their leader, could keep up. "Tell us exactly what happened with Bram," she said.

"Honestly, Georgie, what were you thinking?" April frowned.

"It was an accident." Georgie yanked on her backpack. "On my part anyway. Totally premeditated on his." She told them about her plan to start serial dating, then explained what had happened at The Ivy. She avoided mentioning her marriage proposal to Trevor, not because she didn't trust them-unlike Lance, these women would never betray her-but because she didn't want her closest friends to know she was even more pathetic than they realized. By the time they reached the open ridge above the canyon, she was gasping for breath.

The last of the morning chill had burned off, and they could see the coastline from Santa Monica Bay to Malibu. They stopped for a moment to take off their jackets and tie the sleeves around their waists. Sasha pulled out two candy bars and offered one to Georgie, trying to be casual about it, but Georgie declined. "I ate this morning. Honest."