What I Did for Love by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Georgie turned off the camera and buried her face in her hands.
Georgie had been gone almost two weeks, and Aaron was Bram’s only source of information. Georgie’s P.A. had taken it upon himself to leak a series of fictitious stories to the tabs. He’d detailed Georgie’s decision to take a vacation while Bram worked and also served up long descriptions of romantic phone calls between the newlyweds. Aaron’s fabrications kept the press at bay, so Bram didn’t correct them.
Tree House continued to move forward without any major snarls, even though they still hadn’t finished casting. He should have been on top of the world, but he mainly wanted to look up his old drug dealer. He buried himself in work instead, to keep the devils at bay.
Chaz was waiting for him on Monday night when he got home from the studio, a new supply of cookbooks spread out on the kitchen table instead of the GED workbooks she still hadn’t opened. She jumped up as he appeared. “I’ll make a sandwich for you. A good one, with whole grain bread, turkey, and guacamole. I’ll bet all you’ve eaten today is junk.”
“I don’t want anything, and I told you not to wait up for me.”
She bustled over to the refrigerator. “It isn’t even midnight.”
Long experience had taught him the futility of arguing with Chaz about food, so even though all he wanted to do was sleep, he hung around and pretended to sift through some mail on the counter while she pulled containers from the refrigerator and filled him in on her life. “Aaron’s being a pain. He and Becky split up—they haven’t even been together three weeks. He said they’re too much alike. But that should be a good thing, right?”
“Not always.” Bram gazed blindly at a party invitation, then tossed it in the trash. He and Georgie were more alike than they were different, although it had taken him a while to figure that out.
Chaz slapped a container on the counter so hard the lip popped off. “Aaron knows where Georgie is.”
“Yeah, I know he does. So does her father.”
“You should make them tell you.”
“Why? I’m not running after her.” Besides, Bram already knew she’d gone to Cabo, thanks to a phone conversation with Trev, who was in Australia shooting his new film. Bram had thought about flying to Mexico and dragging her back, but she’d stung his pride. Bottom line—she was the one who’d left, and it was up to her to come back and make things right.
Chaz put a loaf of bread on the cutting board and began slicing it, her knife coming down with hard thwacks. “I know why you guys got married.”
He looked up.
She flipped the lid on a container of guacamole. “You should have been honest about what happened in Vegas and gotten the stupid marriage annulled or whatever. Like Britney Spears did that first time she got married.”
“How do you know what happened?”
“I overheard you and Georgie talking about it.”
“You overheard with your ear smashed against a keyhole. If you ever say anything to anybody…”
She slammed the cupboard door shut. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m some big asshole blabbermouth?”
Now he had two pissed-off females in his life, but getting back in Chaz’s good graces was relatively easy. “No, I don’t think that. Sorry.”
She chewed over his apology but eventually decided to accept it, as he’d known she would. He sat down in front of the food she’d put out. He didn’t want to end his phony marriage yet. It held too many advantages—starting with sex, which was so great he couldn’t imagine giving it up yet. Thanks to Georgie, he was back in the game, and he intended to stay there. He wanted Tree House to be the first in a string of great films, and somehow she’d become an intricate part of making that happen.
Chaz set his sandwich in front of him. “I still can’t believe she didn’t audition. She goes to all that work and then blows it off. You wouldn’t believe the way she made Aaron run around to get her a special outfit. Then she kept making me check out different hairstyles and makeup. She even made me tape her stupid audition. Then she turns chicken and runs away.”
He set down his sandwich. “You taped her audition?”
“You know how she is. She tapes everything. I probably shouldn’t say this, but if she ever made any sex tapes of you, I seriously think you should—”
“Is the tape still around?”
“I don’t know. I guess. Probably in her office.”
He started to get up, then sat back in his chair. Screw it. He knew exactly what he’d see.
But before he went to bed that night, his curiosity got the best of him, and he searched her office until he found what he was looking for.
They had their first tussle over the check. “Give it to me,” Laura said, genuinely surprised to see Paul grab the check before she could reach for it. They’d dined together more times than she could count, and she always picked up the check. “This is a business dinner. The client never pays.”
“It was a business dinner for the first hour,” Paul said. “After that, I’m not so sure.”
She fumbled for her napkin. It was true that tonight had been different. They’d never talked about their high school embarrassments before, or their mutual love of music and baseball. And he’d certainly never insisted on picking her up at her new condo. All evening, she’d been doing her best to keep things professional, but he kept sabotaging her. Something had happened. Something she needed to make un-happen as quickly as possible.
She held out her hand for the bill. “Paul, I insist. This is a well-deserved celebration. You’ve only been my client for six weeks, and you’ve landed a great part.” He’d been cast in a quirky new HBO series about a group of Vietnam, Gulf, and Iraqi War veterans who spent their weekends as Civil War reenactors.
He set his palm over the leather folder that contained the check. “I’ll give this to you. But only if next weekend’s on me.”
Had he just asked her out? She was too old for games. “Did you just ask me out?”
He tilted his head, a vaguely amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Did I?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I’m not thin.”
“Ahh.”
“Or blond, or elegant, or divorced from a former high-ranking studio executive. I have no time for a personal trainer, I don’t wear clothes well, and getting my hair done bores the hell out of me.” She crossed her legs. “But most of all, I’m your agent, and I’m planning to make a lot of money off your career.”
“So will you go out with me next weekend anyway?”
“No!”
“Too bad.” The waiter appeared, and Paul passed over his credit card. A director they both knew stopped at their table to chat, and by the time the valet had delivered Paul’s car, Laura assumed the subject was behind them. Paul quickly proved her wrong.
“The L.A. Chamber Orchestra is playing at Royce Hall next weekend,” he said as they drove off from the restaurant. “I think we should go. Unless you’d rather take in a Dodgers game.”
Two of her favorite activities. “I don’t get this. You’re the consummate professional. You know I can’t date a client, especially such an important client.”
“I like that ‘important’ part.”
“I mean it. You’re going to have a great career, and I want to negotiate every phase of it.”
He turned north onto Beverly Glen Boulevard. “If you weren’t my agent, would you date me?”
In a New York minute. “Probably not. We’re too different.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because you’re cool and logical. You like order. How long has it been since you’ve forgotten to pay your cable bill or splashed wine on your clothes?” She pointed toward the small red splotch on the skirt of her silk shift. At the same time she covered up a recent snag. She wanted to make her point without looking like a total slob.
“That’s one of the things I like about yo
And so was he. The intent way he’d locked in on her tonight made her feel like the most fascinating woman on earth. “I don’t get this,” she said. “Why the sudden interest?”
“Not all that sudden. You were my date for the wedding party, remember?”
“That was business.”
“Was it?”
“I thought it was.”
“You thought wrong,” he said. “That day you cornered me, you shook me loose from my moorings. You made me open my eyes about Georgie, and nothing’s been the same since.” The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m fairly tightly wound. You’re a very relaxing woman, Laura Moody. You unwind me. Oh, and I also like your body.”
Laura burst out laughing. Where had all this charm come from? Wasn’t it enough that he was intelligent, great-looking, and much nicer than she’d ever imagined? “You’re so full of it.”
He grinned and turned onto a narrow side street that ran above the Stone Canyon Reservoir. “You gave me my daughter back. You gave me a new career. I’m almost afraid to say it, but for the first time in longer than I can remember, I’m happy.”
The interior of his Lexus was suddenly too small. It grew even more intimate as he swung onto a dark, unpaved road, pulled the car into the scrub, and lowered the windows. She sat up straighter as he killed the engine. “Any reason you’re stopping here?”
“I’m hoping we can make out.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Look at it from my viewpoint. I’ve been wanting to touch you all evening. I’d definitely prefer the comfort of a nice couch, but I can hardly expect you to invite me in if you won’t even agree to a date. So I’m improvising.”
“Paul, I’m your agent! Call me crazy, but I have a policy of not making out with my clients.”
“I understand. If I were you, I’d have the same policy. Let’s do it anyway. Just to see what happens.”
She knew what would happen. Oh, God, did she ever. His sexual magnetism had become more difficult to ignore every time they were together, but she had no intention of screwing up her already screwed-up career. “Let’s not.”
The automatic headlights, which had been illuminating a swath of chaparral and scrub oak, switched off, cocooning them in the soft, warm darkness. “Here’s the thing.” He unsnapped his seat belt. “I’ve let logic rule my life for years, and frankly, it hasn’t worked out that well. But I’m an actor now, which officially makes me a maniac, so I’m going to start doing what I want. And what I want”—he leaned into her and pressed his lips over hers—“what I want is this…”
All she had to do was turn away. Instead, she let herself enjoy his taste…his scent…The heady, intoxicating rush. She wanted more.
But her days of sacrificing her best interests for a quick thrill were long over. She sank her hands into his hair, kissed him deeply, thoroughly, then pulled away. “That was fun. Don’t do it again.”
Paul hadn’t really expected anything else. But he’d hoped. He stroked her cheek with his knuckle. She wouldn’t believe him if he told her he was falling in love with her, so he didn’t intend to. He could hardly believe it himself. At the age of fifty-two, he was finally falling in love again, and with a woman he’d known for years. But even in the days she’d let him bully her, he’d been physically attracted.
He’d always liked women with rounded corners and soft edges. With fluffy hair and eyes the color of Armagnac. Smart, independent women who knew how to make their own way in the world, who enjoyed food, and were more interested in talking to the person in front of them than checking their cells. The fact that he hadn’t let himself get close to anyone with those qualities only proved how determined he’d been to keep himself safe from all the messy emotions that had nearly destroyed him.
But even though he’d been physically attracted to Laura, he hadn’t respected her, not until the day she’d stood up to him. As he’d witnessed her integrity, her caring, she’d gotten under his skin, and she’d sealed the deal when she’d finally made him remember he was an actor. She’d known what he needed before he knew it himself.
These past weeks he felt reborn, sometimes as wobbly legged as a newborn colt, other times filled with a sense of rightness. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to stay lost for so long. Only his concern for Georgie shadowed his perfect contentment. That and the nagging worry he wouldn’t be able to get past the very sensible barriers Laura would insist on maintaining between them.
But he had a game plan, and tonight he’d made his first move by letting her know that more than business lay between them. He intended to take it slow from here so she had plenty of time to adjust to the idea that they belonged together. There’d be no sudden moves. No baring of the soul. Just a patient, deliberate pursuit.
Then her purse slipped from her lap, and as she bent over to retrieve it, she bumped her forehead against the glove compartment, and his plan dissolved. “Laura, I’m falling in love with you.”
He was so stunned to hear himself say it aloud that her burst of laughter barely registered. “I know it’s crazy,” he said, “and I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s the truth.”
Her laughter grew brighter. “I never knew you were such a player. You don’t really think I’m going to fall for a line like that.” Still laughing, she rubbed her forehead and gazed into his eyes. She took her time, paying attention as she always did. Tilting her head. Taking him in. Gradually her laughter faded, and her lips parted ever so slightly. Then she did something that truly shocked him. She read his mind. “My God,” she said. “You’re serious.”
He nodded, unable to speak. Long seconds ticked by. He gave her the time she needed. Her bra strap slipped off her shoulder. She blinked.
“I’m not in love with you,” she said. “How could I be? I’m only getting to know you.” She pinned him with those brandy eyes. “But ohmygod, am I ever in lust, and I swear to God, if this doesn’t work out, and you even think about firing me”—she unsnapped her seat belt—“I will blackball you with every casting agent in town. Is that understood?”
“Understood,” he said, just before she attacked.
It was glorious. She cupped his jaw in both her hands and let their mouths play. As she offered him the sweet tip of her tongue, a wash of tenderness made his arousal all the more powerful. He slid far enough out from beneath the steering wheel for her to slip a knee over his thigh. Her flyaway hair brushed his cheek. Their kiss grew more urgent. He had to touch her, feel her. He curled his palms around her sides. Beneath the thin silk of her dress, her flesh was a poem of sensuality.
“I love you,” he whispered, no longer caring about his game plan.
“You’re a lunatic.”
“And you’re a delight.”
He hadn’t done anything like this in a car since he was seventeen, and it was no more comfortable. He fumbled for her zipper and managed not to make a muddle of lowering it. His hands slid inside her dress. He touched her bra.
“This is insane.” She groaned against his mouth as he peeled her bra down far enough to suckle her. Her fingers plowed through his hair, and her head fell back.
The car had become their enemy. She pulled at his shirt, scratching him with her ring. Somehow he lifted her far enough so he could slide beneath her into the passenger seat, but not before he caught an elbow in the jaw and her knee jabbed his side. Finally, she straddled him. With their mouths still joined, he reached under her skirt…
Their caresses grew hotter. Her hand, bawdy and wise…Clothes in the way. Another lush kiss, and then he was inside her. Loving her. Filling her. Pleasuring her. Claiming her as his own. The sounds of their groans, their breath, their melding bodies, rushed in his ears. She clutched him. Went rigid. They hung…suspended…flying…dissolving.
Afterw
“That,” she said matter-of-factly, “was crazy-ridiculous. Let’s pretend it never happened.”
He gazed up at the stars. “Perfect. Then we can look forward to our first time.”
Her toughness slipped away, leaving concern behind. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Yep.” He put his arm around her. “And I’m just as shocked as you.”
“Amazing. You’re an amazing man, Paul York. I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.”
He turned his lips into her soft hair. “Is it still only lust for you?”
She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Give me a couple of months to get back to you on that.”
Georgie couldn’t find her moorings. She lay on a teak chaise as the late-afternoon sun slanted over the white stone patio. It was Tuesday afternoon, exactly sixteen days since she’d arrived in Mexico. She would force herself to go back to L.A. before the end of the week instead of staying here forever as she wanted to. Stay here until she figured out what new form her life should take. Unless she was in front of the computer she’d bought a few days ago, she couldn’t concentrate on anything. She hurt too much.
A pair of geckos scurried into the shade. Boats bobbed in the distance, their windshields flashing like strobes in the sun. It was too hot for her to lie out any longer, but she didn’t move. Last night she’d dreamed she was a bride. She’d stood by a window in her gown, wisps of white ribbon in her hair, and watched Bram approach through a gossamer lace curtain.
The gate creaked on its hinges. She looked up, and there he was, sauntering onto her patio as if she’d conjured him, but the romantic bridegroom of her dream now wore gunmetal gray aviators and a surly expression. She hated the way her stomach dipped. He was lean, tall, and healthy, the years of dissipation long behind him. Her self-absorbed, self-destructive bad boy had stopped being a bad boy years ago, only no one had noticed. The constriction in her throat made words impossible.