What I Did For Love Part 38

"Apparently I only had something to prove to myself," Georgie's faithful companion Scooter chirped. "Who'd have expected that?"

"This is the career break you've been waiting for."

"Yes, but..." When she hesitated, he swung around to look at her. She held up her hand. "I have something to tell you. You're not going to be happy-I'm not happy. You'll call me every name you can think of, and I won't argue with you."

He rose from the couch and approached her as carefully as if she were an abandoned piece of airport luggage. "You're not staying at Trev's. I mean it, Georgie. I've honored every word of this stupid marriage agreement, and you can d.a.m.n well do the same."

"You haven't honored it out of n.o.bility. You have your own selfish reasons."

"Doesn't matter," he said. "I've stuck with my end of the bargain, and you need to stick with yours, or you're not the woman I thought you were."

"Fine in principle, but..." Time to blurt it out like the bubblehead she wasn't. "Cards on the table, Skipper." She straightened a magazine on the end table. "I can feel myself starting to fall for you again."

"The h.e.l.l you can."

He hadn't even blinked. She plunged on. "Ridiculous, isn't it. Humiliating. Embarra.s.sing. Fortunately, it hasn't gone very far, but you know me-determined to shoot myself in the foot whenever I get the chance. Not this time, though. This time, I'm nipping this sucker right in the bud."

"You are not not falling in love with me." falling in love with me."

"I can hardly believe it myself. Thank G.o.d, I'm only on the fringe." She jabbed her finger toward him. "It's your body. Your face. That hair. You're a total hunk, and, sorry to say, I'm as susceptible as the next woman."

"I get it. This is all about s.e.x. You're fundamentally an old-fashioned girl who needs to believe she's in love to enjoy s.e.x."

"G.o.d, I think you're right."

He blinked and, a few seconds too late, realized she'd cornered him. "What I mean is..."

"You're definitely right," she said emphatically. "Thank you. No more s.e.x."

"That's not what I meant!"

"The alternative is for me to move back into your house and fall completely in love with you. I'm sure we can both imagine how that would play out. Embarra.s.sing scenes with me crying and begging. You feeling like c.r.a.p. Knowing me, I'd secretly stop taking my birth control pills. Are you getting the picture?"

"I can't believe this." He shoved his hand through his hair. "You're not that stupid. This isn't love. It's s.e.x. You know me way too well to really love me."

"You'd think so."

"You, of all people, know what a selfish, self-centered womanizing jerk I am."

"I hate myself. Really."

"Georgie, don't do this."

"What can I say? Of all the crazy jams I've gotten us into, this is the worst." When he didn't respond, she licked her lips. "Awkward, isn't it."

"It's not awkward at all. It's you being you. You're too d.a.m.ned emotional. Use your head. We both know that you deserve better than me."

"Finally, we agree on something."

She'd hoped to ease the tension, but his scowl grew more p.r.o.nounced. "That stupid conversation about falling in love...You had me convinced you were worried about my feelings," he said, "but you were just feeling me out."

"Please don't bring that up. Surely you realize what it's costing me to swallow my pride like this and admit that I'm slipping back into that old trap."

"It's temporary. You were s.e.x starved, and I'm a d.a.m.n good lover."

"What if it's more than that?"

"It's not. Remember that I've been on my semibest behavior. Now I can see what a mistake that was. Pack your suitcase and forget about it. I guarantee it won't happen again."

"Sorry. I can't do it."

"Sure you can. You're making way too big a deal out of this."

"I wish. How do you think admitting something so degrading makes me feel? I'm only hanging on to my self-respect by a thread."

"That's because you're behaving like an idiot."

"And I'm determined to put a stop to it."

"We finally agree." He jammed his fingertips in his pocket. "Okay, I'll compromise. You can move into the guesthouse for a while. Until you get your brain back."

"Too awkward with Chaz and Aaron around. Moving to Malibu is a lot better."

"Chaz already knows about Vegas, and Aaron would do anything for you. The guesthouse is the perfect place for you to deal with your craziness. As for our working relationship...When you're on the set, you'll be your normal professional self, and I'll revert to being an arrogant pain in the a.s.s. It won't take you long to come to your senses."

This would be the hardest part of all, and just when she needed her help the most, Scooter disappeared to spread her perkiness somewhere else. Georgie couldn't look at him, so she made her way outside to the stone patio wall. "Bram...I'm not taking the job. I'm not going to play Helene."

"What? Of course you are."

She stared down the steep hillside at the red tile rooftops below. "No, I'm really not."

She heard the angry thud of his footsteps coming up behind her. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say. This is the chance you've been waiting for. All your talk about reinventing your career...Was it bulls.h.i.t?"

"Not at the time, but-"

"d.a.m.n it, I'm calling your father!" He loomed at her side. "You're a pro. You don't throw away the opportunity of a lifetime over something this stupid."

"You do when the opportunity of a lifetime could possibly screw you up for years."

"You're not serious."

"I can't risk working with you every day, not the way I'm feeling right now."

He dug in then. He paced the patio, delivering one argument after another. As he moved in and out of the shade, she saw him as he was, a creature of light and shadow, revealing only as much as he wanted. When he paused for breath, she shook her head. "I hear what you're saying, but I'm not changing my mind."

He finally understood she meant it. She watched him retreat into himself, like a sea creature disappearing into a chambered sh.e.l.l. "I'm sorry to hear that." Cold. Withdrawn. "At least Jade will be happy."

"Jade?"

"She's wanted that part ever since the reading at the house. Haven't you figured that out yet? We were ready to make her an offer when I saw your tape."

"You can't give Jade that part!"

"It's going to stir up a hornets' nest all right," he said without a flicker of emotion. "But that means publicity for the picture, and I'm not going to turn down free press."

A roar echoed through her head. She couldn't move, could barely speak. "I think you'd better go now."

"Good idea." He pulled the sungla.s.ses from his shirt pocket with cold, businesslike detachment. "It's Tuesday. You have until the end of the week to change your mind or Jade gets the part. Think about that when you're lying in bed tonight." He slipped the sungla.s.ses back on. "And while you're at it, think about whether you really want to fall in love with a guy who's getting ready to feed you to the wolves."

Two days after Bram got back from Mexico, he returned home from the studio to find Rory Keene standing barefoot in his kitchen, squeezing pink icing blobs onto waxed paper under the supervision of a scowling Chaz. He'd barely slept since he'd returned. He had a sore throat, a nagging headache, and a perpetual upset stomach. All he wanted to do was bury himself in work. Bram got back from Mexico, he returned home from the studio to find Rory Keene standing barefoot in his kitchen, squeezing pink icing blobs onto waxed paper under the supervision of a scowling Chaz. He'd barely slept since he'd returned. He had a sore throat, a nagging headache, and a perpetual upset stomach. All he wanted to do was bury himself in work.

"They're supposed to be roses," Chaz complained. "Did you pay attention to anything I told you?"

He winced as Rory slapped down the icing tube. "If you'd go a little slower when you demonstrate, I might be able to do it right."

When would Chaz figure out she was supposed to suck up to important people? He made himself care. "You'll have to excuse my housekeeper. She was raised by wolves." He dragged himself closer to study the pink blobs. "Looks delicious."

Rory and Chaz both practically sneered at him. "That's not the point. They're ornamental," Rory said, as if he should have known. "I've always wanted to learn cake decorating, and Chaz is teaching me the basics."

"A special-ed cla.s.s," Chaz muttered.

"I'm an executive," Rory retorted, "not a pastry chef."

"That's for sure."

"Beat it, Chaz." Being with Rory always put him on edge, and he didn't trust himself to deal with both of them now.

"We're right in the middle of-"

"Go!" He nudged her out the door.

Rory picked up the icing tube and pressed the tip to the waxed paper. They hadn't spoken since their initial meeting in her lavish suite of offices on the Vortex lot, but the icy blonde in the gray silk suit sitting at a burled wooden desk beneath an enormous Richard Diebenkorn abstract painting didn't bear much resemblance to this woman in blue jeans with bare feet, a ponytail, and pink smudges on her fingers. He rubbed his back and headed for the refrigerator. "Sorry about Chaz. You basically have to ignore her."

Rory concentrated on squeezing out a C-shaped squiggle. "What's going on with Georgie?"

"Georgie? Nothing." He took his time reaching for the iced tea pitcher.

She deposited another squiggle next to the first one. "I hear from Chaz she's disappeared."

"Chaz only thinks she knows everything." He wished he still smoked. It was easier to look cool with a cigarette than a tumbler of iced tea. "We've decided to spend the summer at Trev's beach house. His new one. He sold his old house last month. It'll be weekends only for me while I'm working, but she's there now." At least she was according to Aaron's latest insider tip to the entertainment press, which had also included a description of Bram and Georgie's nonexistent reunion, along with a mention of their plans to spend romantic summer weekends at the beach house. Aaron was getting good at lying.

Rory jabbed the icing tip toward her misshapen blob. "d.a.m.n it. This is a lot harder than it seems." She finally looked up. "You can either tell me the rest now or we can talk in my office, along with Lou Jansen and Jane Clemati from Siracca."

A meeting he wanted to avoid at all costs. "About?"

She focused on creating a new set of rose petals. She wasn't going anywhere, and he finally gave in. "You must have heard about the audition tape."

"I've seen it. She's brilliant, and you need her."

He went for Johnny Depp cool, but the best he could do without a cigarette was to lean against the counter with his iced tea gla.s.s and cross his ankles. "My wife has a mild case of cold feet, that's all. I'm dealing with it."

"And what brought on this sudden case of cold feet?"

The head of Vortex shouldn't be involved with casting decisions on a small-time Siracca film, and he was more than a little sick of Rory's self-appointed role as Georgie's protector. "Georgie's been through a lot these last few years. She doesn't feel like taking any more risks right now." He fought to control his temper. "I intend to change her mind, and I'd appreciate it if everybody would get off my back while I do that."

"Really?" The lift of her eyebrow showed she didn't believe a word. "Here's what I think happened. I think you screwed up. Again."

Depp wouldn't flinch, and neither did he. "I didn't."

"According to everyone I've talked to, including Chaz, Georgie wanted to do this picture right up to the day before the audition." She tossed down the icing bag. "Georgie's a pro, and I've never heard of her getting cold feet. That leads me to believe she bowed out because, for some reason, she doesn't want to work with you."

He unclenched his jaw muscles. "You're the one who doesn't like working with me, not Georgie."

"I went to bat for you, Bram. Not just because I love the script, and not just because you gave a great reading. I went to bat for you because Georgie believes in you. Or at least she used to." She s.n.a.t.c.hed the dish towel from the countertop and wiped her hands. "Don't kid yourself. A lot of people expect you to screw up, and this is exactly the scenario they've been waiting for. If you don't want to end your career hosting game shows, I strongly suggest you sort out your problems with your wife and get her in front of the cameras where she belongs."

"Is that all?"

"Tell Chaz I'll be expecting another lesson soon."

She strode past him out the back door.

Bram shut his eyes and cupped the cold gla.s.s in his palms. Rory's unwelcome visit fed the guilt he'd been living with every day, even though the lie he'd told Georgie had been for her own good. Because of her, his dream was going to come true, and as soon as she worked through this drama she'd created, she'd be grateful he hadn't let her throw away her own golden opportunity.

But a lie was a lie, and he couldn't back away from his dishonesty regardless of how much he wanted to.

The next morning, he pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and headed for Malibu. This time, only two black SUVs followed. Despite a stormy forecast, the Friday-morning traffic was brutal, so he had more time than he wanted to think. As he pulled up at Trev's house, he waved at the paps before they peeled off to search for parking, something they'd have a hard time finding today.

Georgie didn't answer the door, so he used the key Trev had given him. The house was quiet, but the open doors to the deck revealed an abandoned yoga mat. Trev lived on one of Malibu's most exclusive beaches, but today the impending storm had thinned out the sun worshippers. He got rid of his shoes and walked out onto the sand. The star of a TV cop drama lounged next to his third wife while his kids dug a ditch. A container ship chugged against the horizon, and a flock of gulls cried overhead.

Georgie stood alone near the water's edge, the wind whipping her dark hair. The same purple bikini bottom she'd worn in Mexico clung to her bottom, and her skimpy white T-shirt ended well above her waist. When had she grown so beautiful? He wanted to drag her into the house, pull off that little purple bikini bottom, and bury himself inside her.

She spotted him, but she didn't exactly throw her arms around him as he came up next to her. He missed her oversize enthusiasm more than he could ever have imagined. "Is your heart leaping at the sight of me," he said, "or have you wised up?"

"Some mild skittering. Nothing I can't handle."

"Glad to hear it." But he wasn't glad. He wanted her to laugh and kiss him. "Let's go for a walk." He grabbed her hand before she could protest.

Famous faces were a dime a dozen on this stretch of sand, and no one did more than nod as they pa.s.sed. One of the best parts of his relationship with Georgie was never feeling as if he needed to make conversation, but today that ease had disappeared. "Guess who's taking cake-decorating lessons?"

"No idea."

He told her about Chaz and Rory but didn't mention the real reason for Rory's visit. He stalled a little longer by going after a Frisbee that had gotten away from a couple of kids. When he returned, Georgie was sitting in the sand, her arms clasped around her knees.

He sank next to her and watched the whitecapped waves boom toward the sh.o.r.e. "It's going to storm. Let's head over to the Chart House for lunch."