What I Did For Love Part 31

"I'm all yours."

A wedge of golden lamplight cut across Bram's naked body from shoulder to hip blade. He fell back into the pillows, spent and struggling for breath. He was a beautiful, debauched angel, drunk on s.e.x and sin. "You're going to...fall in love with me," he said. "I know it." golden lamplight cut across Bram's naked body from shoulder to hip blade. He fell back into the pillows, spent and struggling for breath. He was a beautiful, debauched angel, drunk on s.e.x and sin. "You're going to...fall in love with me," he said. "I know it."

She shoved her hair out of her eyes and gazed down at his sweat-slicked chest. The aftershocks of her last o.r.g.a.s.m had left her soft and defenseless. She tried to pull herself back together. "You're delusional."

He gripped her thighs, which were still straddling his hips. "I know you. You'll fall in love with me and screw up everything."

She winced and pulled herself off him. "Why would I fall in love with you you?"

He ran his hand over her bottom. "Because you have c.r.a.ppy taste in men, that's why."

She collapsed next to him. "Not that c.r.a.ppy!"

"You say that now. But before long, you'll be leaving threatening messages on my voice mail and stalking my new girlfriends."

"Only to warn them about you." His side pressed warm against her skin, and the earthy scent of their bodies mingled with the crisp smell of fresh sheets. The s.e.x had been incredible as usual, and later she would blame her pleasure-fuzzed brain for what came next. Or maybe it was simply her day for burning all her bridges. "The only thing I might...might want from you is..." She threw her arm over her eyes and blurted it out. "Possibly...a baby." want from you is..." She threw her arm over her eyes and blurted it out. "Possibly...a baby."

He laughed.

"I'm serious." She lifted her arm from her eyes and made herself face him.

"I know. That's why I'm laughing."

"It isn't like it'd cost you anything." She sat up, all her lovemaking-lax muscles constricting. "No boring visitations. No child support. All you have to do is give me the goods and fade away before the main event."

"Not going to happen. Not in a trillion years."

"I wouldn't even bring it up-"

"Now that that you're good at." you're good at."

"-if you weren't so good-looking. Your faults are all character flaws, and since I wouldn't let you anywhere near my offspring except for an occasional public photo op, that's not a problem. Granted, by employing your DNA, I'm risking a few damaged chromosomes from your years of excess. But it's a risk I'm willing to take because, with that one exception, you pretty much represent the male genetic jackpot."

"I'm weirdly flattered. But...No. Never."

She dropped back into the pillows. "I knew you'd be too selfish to discuss this. It's so like you."

"It isn't as if you're asking me to lend you twenty bucks."

"A good thing, because I'd only have to pay myself back!"

He bent over her and nibbled at her bottom lip. "Would you mind using that gorgeous mouth for something other than idle chit-chat?"

"Stop making fun of my mouth. What's the big deal? Tell me."

"The big deal is, I don't want a kid."

"Exactly." She bounced back up. "You won't have one either."

"Do you really think it'd be that easy?"

No. It would be messy and unbelievably complicated, but the idea of mixing their genes had been growing more enticing by the day. His looks and-she hated to admit it-his intellect, combined with her own temperament and discipline would produce the most amazing child, a child she yearned to bear. "It'll be easier than easy," she said. "It's a no-brainer."

"No-brain is right. Fortunately, the rest of your body makes up for your empty head."

"Save your energy. I'm out of the mood."

"I'm sorrier about that than you can imagine." He rolled on top of her and wedged her legs open with his thighs.

"What are you doing?"

"Rea.s.serting my masculine supremacy." He captured her wrists and held them over her head. "Sorry, Scoot, but it has to be done."

He began to push inside her.

"I'm not using birth control!"

"Good try." He nibbled at her breast. "But futile."

She didn't press the point. First, it was a lie. Second, she'd turned into a s.e.x maniac. And third...

She forgot about the third and wrapped her legs around him.

Bram couldn't believe it. A baby! Did she really think he'd go along with that harebrained idea. He'd always known he'd never get married, let alone have kids. Men like him weren't cut out for anything involving self-sacrifice, cooperation, or high-mindedness. What small amounts of those qualities he could muster up had to go into his work. Georgie was the weirdest combination of common sense and wacko bulls.h.i.t he'd ever known, and she was starting to drive him more than a little crazy. it. A baby! Did she really think he'd go along with that harebrained idea. He'd always known he'd never get married, let alone have kids. Men like him weren't cut out for anything involving self-sacrifice, cooperation, or high-mindedness. What small amounts of those qualities he could muster up had to go into his work. Georgie was the weirdest combination of common sense and wacko bulls.h.i.t he'd ever known, and she was starting to drive him more than a little crazy.

He waited until after his meeting with Vortex the next afternoon before he called Caitlin with the news. "Brace yourself, sweetheart. Tree House Tree House has a green light at Vortex. Rory Keene took the deal." has a green light at Vortex. Rory Keene took the deal."

"I don't believe you."

"And here I thought you'd be happy for me."

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h! That option only had two weeks left."

"Fifteen days. And look at it this way. Now you can fall asleep at night knowing I won't let anybody turn your mother's book into a piece of c.r.a.p. I'm sure that'll be a huge comfort."

"Go screw yourself." She slammed down the phone.

He glanced toward the second floor. "Excellent idea."

Between a sinus headache, a demoralizing meeting with her superiors at Starlight Management, and a speeding ticket on the way to Santa Monica, Laura was having the mother of bad days. She punched the doorbell of Paul York's two-story Mediterranean town house, which was just four blocks from the Pier, although she couldn't imagine him ever going there. The deep V-neck of her new sleeveless silk print Escada dress gave her some added ventilation, but she was still hot, and ringlets had begun to form along her hair-line. She began each day looking neat and orderly, but it didn't take long before she started to unravel-a fleck of mascara under one eye, a bra strap slipping off the other shoulder. She'd scuff a shoe, tear a seam, and no matter how expensive the salon cut, her baby-fine hair always lost its shape as the day went on. headache, a demoralizing meeting with her superiors at Starlight Management, and a speeding ticket on the way to Santa Monica, Laura was having the mother of bad days. She punched the doorbell of Paul York's two-story Mediterranean town house, which was just four blocks from the Pier, although she couldn't imagine him ever going there. The deep V-neck of her new sleeveless silk print Escada dress gave her some added ventilation, but she was still hot, and ringlets had begun to form along her hair-line. She began each day looking neat and orderly, but it didn't take long before she started to unravel-a fleck of mascara under one eye, a bra strap slipping off the other shoulder. She'd scuff a shoe, tear a seam, and no matter how expensive the salon cut, her baby-fine hair always lost its shape as the day went on.

She heard Steely Dan playing inside the house, so she knew someone was home, but he wasn't answering the bell, just as he hadn't been answering his phone. She'd been trying to reach him since Georgie had fired her two weeks ago, the day the quarantine had been lifted.

She banged on the door, and when that didn't work, banged on it again. The tabloids had gone into a frenzy searching out details of the quarantine, but the disclosure of Rory's presence and the news that Vortex had taken on Tree House Tree House had cast doubt on the more hysterical accounts of screaming catfights and hedonistic orgies. had cast doubt on the more hysterical accounts of screaming catfights and hedonistic orgies.

The lock finally clicked, and there he stood, glowering at her. "What the h.e.l.l do you want?"

His normally immaculate steel gray hair had misplaced its part, he was barefoot, and he looked as though he hadn't shaved in a week. Wrinkled shorts and a faded T-shirt had replaced his normal Hugo Boss. She'd never seen him like this, and something unwelcome stirred inside her.

She pushed hard on the door. "You look like Richard Gere's corpse." He automatically stepped back, and she slipped past him into the cool interior, which was dominated by bamboo floors, high ceilings, and bright skylights. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't."

"Just a few minutes," she said.

"Since we don't have any more business together, there's no point."

"Stop being such a big baby."

He stared at her, and she realized that even in his faded T-shirt and rumpled shorts he looked more together than she did in her Escada dress and strappy red Taryn Rose pumps. Again that inconvenient stirring...She gave him a grim smile. "I don't have to kiss your a.s.s anymore. It's the only bright side of having my career ruined."

"Yeah, well, sorry about that." He walked away from her into his living room, a pleasantly decorated s.p.a.ce, but without much personality. Comfortable furniture, beige carpet, and white plantation shutters. Apparently he hadn't let any of the sophisticates he'd dated over the years put her mark on the place.

She located his sound system and turned off the music. "I'll bet you haven't talked to her once since this all fell apart."

"You don't know that."

"Really? I've been watching you operate for years. If Georgie doesn't do what Daddy wants, Daddy punishes her by freezing her out."

"I've never done that. You do love to paint me as the villain, don't you."

"It doesn't take much paint."

"Go away, Laura. We can take care of leftover business by e-mail. We don't have anything more to say to each other."

"That's not quite true." She dipped in her tote and shoved a script into his hands. "I want you to audition for Howie. You won't get it, but we need to start somewhere."

"Audition? What are you talking about?"

"I've decided to represent you. You're a coldhearted p.r.i.c.k in your personal life, but you're also a talented actor, and it's long past time you got out of Georgie's hair and focused on a career of your own."

"Forget it. I did that once, and it didn't go anywhere."

"You're a different person now. I know you're a little rusty, so I've scheduled a couple of sessions with Leah Caldwell, Georgie's old acting coach."

"You're crazy."

"Your first cla.s.s is at ten tomorrow. Leah's going to put you through your paces, so get a good night's sleep." She withdrew a set of papers from her tote. "This is my standard agency contract. Look it over while I make some phone calls." She pulled out her cell. "Oh, and let's be clear from the start. Your job is to act. My job is to manage your career. You do your work, I'll do mine, and we'll see what happens."

He tossed the script on the coffee table. "I'm not auditioning for anything."

"Too busy counting up all those Kodak moments with your daughter?"

"You go to h.e.l.l." Strong words, but delivered without much emphasis. He dropped into a muted plaid easy chair. "Do you really think I'm a coldhearted p.r.i.c.k?"

"I can only judge by what I've observed. If you're not, you're a d.a.m.n good actor."

That stopped her. He was a good actor. She'd been knocked out by his reading of the father in Tree House Tree House. She couldn't remember the last time a performance had excited her so much. And wasn't it one of life's great jokes that this performance had come from Paul York?

He'd always seemed so invincible, and watching him with his defenses down threw her off balance. "What's up with you anyway?"

He stared off at nothing. "It's funny how life never turns out like you expect."

"What exactly did you expect?"

He extended the contract toward her. "I'll read the script and think about it. Then we'll talk about a contract."

"No deal. Without a contract, the script and I are leaving together."

"You think I'm going to sign just like that?"

"Yes. And you know why? Because I'm the only one who's interested in you."

"Who says I care?" He slapped the contract on top of the script. "If I wanted to go back into acting, I'd represent myself."

"The actor who represents himself has a fool for a client."

"I think that's 'lawyer.'"

"The sentiment's the same. No actor can effectively sing his own praises without looking like an a.s.s."

She was right, and he knew it, but he wasn't quite ready to concede. "You've got an answer for everything."

"That's because good agents know what they're doing, and I intend to be a much better agent for you than I ever was for Georgie."

He rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. "You should have spoken up."

"I did-more than once-but then you'd frown at me and-presto, chango!-I'd remember my mortgage, and there went my courage."

"People should fight for what they believe in."

"You're absolutely right." She jabbed her finger toward the contract. "So what's it going to be, Paul? Are you going to sit around feeling sorry for yourself, or do you have the guts to jump into a brand-new game?"

"I haven't acted in nearly thirty years. I haven't even thought about it."

"Hollywood loves talented fresh faces."