What I Did for Love

Chapter 14

Through the window Chaz saw Aaron’s dark blue Honda pull to a stop in the motor court. A few minutes later, the front door opened. He was such a mess. She stomped out into the hallway to meet him, but he carried only his nerdy black bag instead of the sack of doughnuts she’d expected. He didn’t look happy to see her, and he tried to get past her with only a nod, but she blocked the bottom of the stairs. “What did you have for breakfast?”

“Leave me alone, Chaz. You’re not my mother.”

She braced one arm on the wall and the other on the handrail. He’d already started to sweat, and it wasn’t even hot out. “I’ll bet she used to fix her little boy eggs and sausage every morning with a big side of pancakes.”

“I had a bowl of cereal, okay.”

“I told you I’d make you breakfast.”

“I’m not falling for that again. Last time I got two scrambled egg whites.”

“And toast and an orange. Stop being such a baby. You need to face your problems instead of trying to eat them away.”

“So now you’re a shrink.” He pulled her arm from the wall and wedged past her. “You’re only twenty years old. What the hell do you know about anything?”

He never cussed, and she liked that she’d gotten under his skin enough to make him do it. She followed him upstairs. “So did you see Becky this weekend?”

He was out of breath by the time they reached the top. “I never should have told you about her.”

Becky lived in the apartment next to his. Aaron had a crush on her, but Becky barely knew he existed, like that was some big surprise. Apparently Becky was a brain like Aaron, and she was okay-looking, but not beautiful, which meant Aaron might stand a chance with her if he lost some weight, got a good haircut, bought some decent clothes, and stopped acting like such a geek. “Did you try to talk to her like I said?”

“I have work to do.”

“Did you?” She’d told him to be friendly, but not too friendly, which meant he shouldn’t do that stupid pig snort laugh. And he couldn’t talk about video games. Ever.

“I didn’t see her, okay?”

“Yes, you did.” She followed him into Georgie’s office. “You saw her, but you didn’t have the balls to talk to her. How hard is it to say hi and ask her how things are going?”

“I think I could be a little more original than that.”

“When you try to be original, you only sound weird. Be cool for once. Just ‘Hi’ and ‘How’s it going?’ Did you bring your swim trunks like I told you?”

He dropped his black bag on the chair. “You’re not my personal trainer, either.”

“Did you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She thought she was making progress. He let her fix him lunch now, and he’d stopped bringing junk food with him because he knew she’d find it and toss it out. It had only been three weeks, but she was pretty sure his gut was starting to shrink. “Laps for half an hour before you can go home tonight. I mean it.”

“You might think about working on yourself for a while instead of other people.” He heaved himself into his chair at the computer. “Taking care of your personality disorder for one thing.”

“I like my personality disorder. It keeps the creeps away.” She smirked. “Although right now that doesn’t seem to be working too well.” Aaron wasn’t really a creep. He was a decent guy, and she secretly admired how smart he was. But he was totally clueless. And lonely. If he’d only do what she said, she thought she could fix him up enough so he could get a girl. Not anybody hot, but somebody smart like he was.

“Lunch is at twelve-thirty,” she said. “Be on time.” As she turned to go back downstairs, she saw Georgie standing in the office doorway, filming the whole thing with her video camera.

Chaz slammed her hands on her hips. “That’s illegal, you know. Filming people without their permission.”

Georgie kept her eye glued to the camera. “Get a lawyer.”

Chaz stomped into the hallway and headed for the back stairs. Georgie was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Yesterday, when Georgie got home with Bram, they’d both been acting weird. Georgie had beard-burn on her neck, and she wouldn’t look at Bram, who kept smiling at her in this kind of smart-ass way. Chaz didn’t know what was going on with them. They thought she hadn’t figured out they’d been sleeping in separate rooms-like Georgie knew how to make a bed so it looked halfway decent. So what had happened yesterday?

Chaz thought about how much money she could make if she went to the tabloids and told them about the famous newlyweds and their separate beds. Maybe she’d do it, too, if it would only hurt Georgie. But she wouldn’t hurt Bram.

Georgie trailed her down the back stairs. “Why do you give Aaron such a hard time?”

Chaz could have asked a few questions of her own, like why Georgie gave Bram such a hard time, and what had happened yesterday, and why Georgie had still slept in her own bed last night? But she’d learned to keep what she knew to herself until she had a reason to use it.

“I’ve got a better question,” Chaz said. “Why haven’t you tried to help Aaron? He’s a mess. He can hardly walk upstairs without practically having a heart attack.”

“And you like to clean up messes.”

“So what?” This whole camera thing was weird. She didn’t know why Georgie kept filming her or why Chaz didn’t just refuse to talk. But every time Georgie came after her with that camera, Chaz found herself blabbing away. It was like…like talking about herself to the camera somehow made her important. Like her life was special, and she had something worth saying.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Georgie followed her into the kitchen. “Tell me what happened after you left Barstow.”

“I told you. I came to L.A. and found a place to stay off Sunset.”

“You hardly had any money. How did you make rent?”

“I got a job. What do you think?”

“What kind of job?”

“I have to pee.” She headed toward the small bathroom off the kitchen. “Are you going to follow me in here, too?” She shut the door and locked it. Nobody would ever make her talk about what happened when she got to L.A. Nobody.

When she came out, Georgie had disappeared and Bram was finishing a phone call. She picked up a dishcloth and wiped the counter. “Tell Georgie to stop following me around with that camera,” she said as he hung up.

“It’s hard to tell Georgie anything.” He pulled the iced tea pitcher from the refrigerator.

“What’s with her anyway? Why does she keep doing it?”

“Who knows? A couple of days ago I saw her filming the women who clean the house. She was talking to them in Spanish.”

Chaz wouldn’t admit it, but she didn’t like the idea of Georgie filming anybody but her. “Good. Maybe she won’t bother me so much.”

Bram fingered his cell phone. “Have you done it yet?”

She opened the dishwasher and stuck in the glasses from breakfast. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Chaz, there’s a big world out there. You can’t hide here forever.”

“I’m not hiding! Now do you mind? People are coming to dinner tomorrow night, and I have a lot of things to do.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t think I did you a favor by giving you a job.”

He was wrong. He’d done her the biggest favor of her life, and she’d never forget it.

That afternoon, as Georgie got dressed for the paps, she kept asking herself why sex with a bad boy was so much more thrilling than getting it on with a decent guy. Even if that decent guy had left her for another woman. So why had she made herself sleep alone last night? Because yesterday had been too good. Too much fun. Too deliciously debauched. So mindless and uncomplicated she wasn’t ready to spoil it with real life. She’d also wanted Bram to understand she hadn’t turned into a pushover just because that had been the most thrilling sexual escapade of her life. But shutting him out had taken all her willpower, and she didn’t like the knowing look he’d given her when she’d said she was sleeping alone.

They left the house for a midmorning coffee run and photo op. She decided the best way to restore a sense of normalcy was to pick a fight. “Stop humming.” She scowled at him across the passenger seat. “You only think you can carry a tune.”

“What’s eating you? Not me, unfortunately.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Hey, what happened to your famous sense of humor?”

“You.”

“I guess that’d do it.” He started humming a few bars of “It’s the Hard-knock Life” just to provoke her. “You were a lot friendlier yesterday afternoon. A lot.”

“That was lust, pal. I was using you.”

“And doing a damn fine job of it.”

She didn’t like the way he refused to join her in the fight she needed to have with him. “You shouldn’t have said you remembered what happened that night in Vegas when you really didn’t.”

“Process of elimination. I guarantee that one of us passed out before the deed was done, because if we’d finished up, I’d have remembered.”

For once, she was inclined to believe him.

The paps surrounded them when they emerged from The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. Georgie thought about the zillions of photos she’d seen of celebs carrying either coffee cups or water bottles. Since when had dehydration become an occupational hazard of fame?

“Right here! Look here!”

“Any plans for the weekend?”

“Are you guys still solid?”

“Like a rock.” Bram tightened his arm around her waist and whispered, “If you were really as tough as you pretend to be, you wouldn’t have run off to your nice safe bed last night.”

She beamed up at him. “I told you. I got my period.”

He beamed down at her. “And I told you I didn’t give a damn.”

Lance had given a damn. He’d been nice about it, but sex with a menstruating woman wasn’t his thing. Not that she’d really gotten her period.

“Obviously I haven’t made myself clear,” she whispered, playing the role of the female sexual predator as shutters clicked around them. “You passed your audition yesterday at Provocative. From now on, your only function is to service me. When and where I want it. And I don’t want it right now.”

Liar. She wanted it all right, and she wanted it with him. Yesterday’s experience had been so incredible specifically because she’d been with gorgeous, useless, depraved Bram Shepard. Sex didn’t mean anything more to him than a handshake, and knowing that gave her an exciting new freedom. Her fake-and possibly alcoholic-husband could never have the hold over her Lance had possessed. With Bram, she wouldn’t stew over whether a negligee was alluring enough to attract him or feel as if she needed to read the latest sex manual to keep him interested. Who cared? She might not even shave her legs.

He kissed the top of her ear. “Just so we’re straight, Scoot. You didn’t get your period. You chickened out because you’re afraid you can’t handle me.”

“Not true.”

He gave a final wave to the photographers and began steering her toward the street, still speaking so only she could hear. “The thing about these restrictions you keep trying to set up…” He brushed his knuckles down her spine. “I’m not going to pay attention to any of them.”

Bram loved messing with Georgie-mentally and physically. She’d shocked the hell out of him yesterday. In his mind, Georgie and Scooter had always been pretty much the same person, but no way in hell would Scooter have put on a show like that. What had happened at Provocative proved the Loser hadn’t managed to whip all the self-confidence out of her, something that had become increasingly evident in the past few weeks. The fact that Lance had traded Georgie in for a cold fish like Jade gave Bram a lot more pleasure than it should.

As they returned from their coffee run, he toyed with the idea of getting her naked right away-it wouldn’t take much effort-but Aaron ruined his plans by meeting them at the door.

“Rory Keene’s secretary called. You’re invited to her house for a glass of wine at five.”

Bram did a mental high jump. He’d been hoping Rory’s affection for Georgie would translate into an opportunity for a face-to-face meeting so he could state his case personally, instead of through her people. He grinned and jiggled his car keys. “Call her back and tell her we’ll be there.”

Aaron pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “She didn’t mention anything about you, Bram. Just Georgie.”

Bram tightened his hand around his keys. “She meant both of us.”

“I don’t think so. She said to tell Georgie not to get dressed up because it would be just the two of them.” Aaron beat a hasty retreat.

Bram let loose with a string of obscenities. Rory was still stone-walling him. She loved the Tree House script, but according to her V.P. in development, she wouldn’t consider backing the film unless he stepped aside as producer and lead actor, which would defeat the goal of restarting his career. Sometimes he thought he should buy an ad in Variety and announce to the world that he wasn’t the same feral kid who didn’t have enough character to survive his success. Or maybe a simpler message…How about a fucking second chance?

If only Rory would meet with him personally, but the closest he’d been able to get was during the nighttime incident in her backyard. He’d even slipped through the rear gate with a bottle of Cristal a few days later as an apology for having woken her up, but one of her lackeys had taken the champagne from him and shut the door.

He glared down at Georgie. Thanks to Chaz’s cooking, she’d gained enough weight so those big green eyes peeping at him through a fringe of bangs had lost their sunken appearance, and her shiny brown hair curved around fuller cheeks. “I want you in my office in ten minutes.”

She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, but he was ready for her. “Unless you aren’t interested in seeing the script for Tree House…”

He knew he had her, and he walked away without looking back.

She kept him waiting ten minutes longer than he expected. She hadn’t used the time to change her clothes, and she still wore the outfit from their paparazzi coffee run: a bright lemon knit top with a modestly curved round neck, a tiny cropped cardigan as insubstantial as a spiderweb, and wide-cut green-and-cream mattress-ticking slacks only someone so slender could carry off. The outfit concealed far more than it revealed, which made it sexy as hell.

She made the first move in this new game they were playing by tilting her head toward the poster of Jake Koranda playing Bird Dog Caliber. “Now there’s a real man.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.” He squeezed a rubber exercise ball in his fist, channeling Humphrey Bogart in The Caine Mutiny. “I need a little cooperation for a change.”

She looked wounded. “What do you mean, ‘for a change.’ I’m always cooperative.” She plopped down on his couch. “Okay, mainly cooperative with other people, but still…”

“Stop screwing around and listen.” He curled the ball in his palm and pointed his index finger at her nose. “Don’t sabotage me with Rory Keene.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t you? Rory loves everything about the Tree House project except…”

“You?” She widened those gum ball green eyes. “It’s because you have a bad reputation.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” He set the ball on his desk. “I have to make this film, Georgie. Me and nobody else. You need to convince her I’ve turned into Husband of the Year.”

“You haven’t.”

“Pretend.”

“You’re asking me for help?” Again the big-eyed Orphan Annie thing, but Georgie had always been a team player, and he figured she’d help him…after she gave him a hard time.

She put a finger to her cheek. “If I suck up to Rory for you, what do I get in return?”

“Hot sex and my undying gratitude.”

She pretended to think it over. “Nope. Not good enough.”

“I’ll let Meg stay in the guesthouse.”

“Meg’s already staying in the guesthouse.”

“Let me put it another way. I won’t hit on her while she’s staying in the guesthouse.”

“You won’t hit on her anyway. You treat her like she’s twelve.” She finally got down to business. “I want to read the script before I meet Rory this afternoon. Hand it over.”

“I told you I’d let you see it.”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me you’d let me read it.”

“You noticed that.”

She held out her hand.

He hesitated. “You don’t exactly have the best judgment when it comes to scripts. You’re the one who made Summer in the City.”

“Pretty People, too, another stinker. And Cake Walk, which you haven’t seen yet, and which I recommend you don’t.” She wiggled her hand at him. “That’s all in the past. You’re looking at a whole new Georgie York. Give it up.”

She was no longer the pushover she’d once been, so he didn’t have much choice. He pulled the bound script from his middle desk drawer, the one she’d searched three weeks ago only to find a broken telephone. She snatched it from him before he could change his mind, gave him a cheery wave, and left.

He hated asking anybody for help, especially Georgie, and he slumped in his chair to brood. When that got him nowhere, he turned back to his computer. As good as the script had been, it still needed work, and he’d been tinkering with one scene or another from the beginning. He could imagine what Georgie would say if she learned that a high school dropout was monkeying around with Sarah Carter’s words. Or…even worse, how she’d laugh if she discovered he’d finished a script of his own.

Except she wouldn’t laugh. Unlike him, she didn’t have a cruel bone in her body, and he could even imagine her mustering up a few well-intentioned words of encouragement.

The idea stuck in his craw. He didn’t need phony encouragement from anybody, especially Georgie. He’d raised himself, screwed up his life by himself, and now he was digging out the same way. By himself.

Georgie couldn’t read fast enough, and she finished the script in two hours. It was just as amazing as the book. An incredible opportunity…and not only for Bram.

Tree House told the story of Danny Grimes, a man who’d been falsely imprisoned for sexually abusing a child. Released on a technicality, he’s forced by his father’s terminal illness to return home and face both the town and the ruthless female prosecutor, now a state senator, who hid DNA evidence to ensure his conviction. Danny’s self-imposed isolation is threatened by his suspicions that the child next door is being abused by her father. The script was powerful and heart wrenching, filled with fascinating and complex characters, none of whom were exactly what they seemed to be.

She found Bram swimming laps in the pool. She stood on the edge near the waterfall and shifted impatiently from one leg to the other, waiting for him to stop. He saw her, but he continued cutting through the water. She picked up the leaf skimmer and whapped him on the head.

“Hey!” Water flew as he spun around.

She took a deep breath. “I want to play Helene.”

“Good luck with that.” He dove under and swam for the ladder on the opposite side of the pool.

She dropped the leaf skimmer, her heart thumping with excitement. By the time she’d finished the first scene, she’d known she had to play the coldly ambitious prosecutor. This was exactly the opportunity she’d been waiting for. Playing Helene would cut through years of typecasting and give her the challenge she so desperately wanted. She strode toward the ladder. “The script is brilliant. Bone chilling, intricate, thoughtful. Everything you said it was. I have to play Helene. I mean it.”

Water sluiced down his body as he climbed out of the pool. “In case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m having a small problem getting the movie financed, so casting Helene is the last thing on my mind.”

She grabbed his towel and handed it over. “But if you do get a green light…The only reason no one ever thinks of me as a dramatic actress is because I’ve never gotten a chance to show what I can do. And don’t tell me audiences wouldn’t be able to get past the two of us in Skip and Scooter. The love story is between Danny and the home nurse, not with Helene. I know exactly how to do that part. And I’ll work for scale.”

“Bottom line, Georgie, if I can get this film made, you still won’t be playing Helene.” He rubbed the towel over his head, then draped it around his neck. “Considering my own recent lackluster career, this film needs an actress with a proven record at the box office, and let’s face it, your face sells a lot more tabloids than movie tickets.”

She refused to concede his point. “Think of the publicity value of the two of us doing a film together. Audiences will line up to see if we can pull it off.”

“We can’t.” He dropped the towel on the chair. “Georgie, this whole discussion is beyond premature.”

“You think I can’t play a complicated character? You can do it, but I can’t? You’re so wrong. I have the discipline and focus to pull it off.”

“Meaning you think I don’t.”

She didn’t want to flat out insult him, but truth was truth. “You can’t rely on tricks to play Danny. He’s bitter and tortured. He’s endured something no one should ever have to go through.”

“I’ve lived with this material for over a year,” he shot back. “I know exactly what makes him tick. Now instead of arguing, why don’t you use your brain to figure out how you’re going to convince Rory Keene that I’m a solid Hollywood citizen and that she needs to meet with me?”

Georgie used the rear gate. Rory’s white brick French Normandy mansion was grander than Bram’s home, but not nearly as welcoming. From the back, sweeping terraces overlooked the pool and formal gardens. Rory sat in the shade of the side terrace on a black wrought-iron couch covered with bright tangerine cushions. With her long blond hair pulled into a ponytail and her legs curled beneath her, Rory should have looked like a soccer mom, but she didn’t. Even in such an informal setting she projected the cool, intimidating confidence of a formidable studio executive.

She pushed aside the script she’d been reading and offered Georgie a glass of champagne. Now that Bram wasn’t the only person with something at stake, Georgie fought to keep her nervousness under control as she accepted the drink and settled into an adjacent chair. They discussed last weekend’s box-office receipts and the success of a new Jack Black film. Finally, Rory got down to the reason for her invitation.

“Georgie, this is a bit awkward…” Her steady gaze indicated awkwardness didn’t bother her much. “Ever since those awful photos came out, I’ve been telling myself to mind my own business, but I can’t do it. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

Georgie hadn’t expected this, and she was embarrassed. The worst of the tabloid gossip might be fading, but obviously Rory wasn’t so easily convinced. “Don’t give it another thought. Really. Everything’s fine. Now tell me about the house. I was surprised to hear you’re leasing.”

Rory took a sip of champagne, then set her flute on the table next to her. “The studio leases it. It’s our version of the White House. I have my private quarters, but we keep a separate wing for special guests-corporate VIPs, directors, producers, whomever we want to court. Right now we’re hosting some incredibly talented international filmmakers-part of a project I’m spearheading.”

“I’m sure they’re flattered to be invited to stay here.”

“A special staff takes care of them. I don’t have to entertain anyone I don’t want to.” Rory uncrossed her legs and once again turned the full force of her iceberg eyes on Georgie. “If you ever feel…uncomfortable, as if you need to get away quickly, you can come over here anytime, night or day.”

Georgie didn’t know which she hated more-the idea that Rory thought Bram was a wife batterer or her belief that Georgie had so little self-regard she’d allow herself to be abused. “Those photos were deceptive, Rory. I know it looked like we were having a fight, but we weren’t. Honestly. Bram would never hurt me. Drive me crazy, yes. But physically hurt me, never.”

“Women don’t always think straight where men like Bram Shepard are concerned,” Rory said. “And after what you went through with Lance…”

“I’m touched by your concern. Truly. But it’s unnecessary.” Georgie couldn’t let this go. “You’ve…tried to look out for me before. I’m grateful, but I can’t help wondering why.”

“You don’t remember what you did for me, do you?”

“I’m hoping I loaned you a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings you’re about to return?”

Rory smiled her snow-goddess smile. “No such luck.” She picked up her champagne flute and twisted the stem. “When I worked on Skip and Scooter, you were always good to the crew.”

Georgie had never understood the logic of stars who made life miserable for the people whose job it was to make them look good. Besides, her father wouldn’t have tolerated diva behavior. Still, being courteous to the crew didn’t seem like a good enough reason for Rory to keep extending herself.

“I also like seeing decent people succeed.” Rory took another sip.

Georgie didn’t feel like much of a success right now. “You were the best production assistant the show ever had. I was sorry you only stayed one season.”

“It was a hard show to work. A lot of testosterone.”

Georgie remembered the way she’d teased Bram about having given Rory a hard time, but now it didn’t seem so amusing. “Bram hit on you, didn’t he?”

“Daily.” She tugged absentmindedly on a diamond stud earring. “But his friends were the real problem.”

“They were such losers. A bunch of parasites living off him. I’m happy to report he’s shaken them off.” He’d shaken everyone off, which seemed odd for someone who’d once kept himself surrounded.

“They’d slip pornographic pictures on my clipboard,” Rory said coolly. “Snap my bra when I walked by. Sometimes worse.”

“And Bram didn’t stop it?”

“I don’t think he knew about the worst of it. But they were his friends, and he was the one who insisted they be allowed on the set. When I tried to talk to him about it, he told me to lighten up.” She draped her wrist over her thigh. “Then one afternoon, two of them cornered me.”

Georgie sat up straight in her chair. “Now I remember. We’d finished shooting for the day, but I’d left a book or something on the set. I went back to get it and saw them pinning you against the wall. I’d forgotten that was you.”

“It was me. You started yelling at them, and you even threw a couple of punches. You might only have been a teenager, but you had a lot more power than a lowly P.A., and they backed off. Afterward you went to the producers. They were banned from the set, and Bram couldn’t do a thing about it.” She tilted her head almost imperceptibly. “I’ve never forgotten the way you went to bat for me.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done the same thing.”

“Who knows? The point is, I don’t forget my friends.”

Georgie thought about Bram. “I’m guessing you don’t forget your enemies either.”

Rory cocked an eyebrow. “Not unless my memory loss will make the studio a lot of money.”

Georgie smiled, then sobered. “If you and Bram didn’t have that old history, would it change the way you feel about Tree House?”

“A studio invests in more than a screenplay. It’s the whole package.”

“And in this case, Bram’s the centerpiece.”

“He doesn’t have any experience with a project like this.”

Bram had been around the business since he was a teenager. It was his character, not his lack of experience, that put Rory off, and she didn’t pull her punches. “He earned his bad reputation, Georgie. He’s let a lot of people down.”

“I know. But…people do change. I’ve never seen him so passionate about anything.”

Rory offered a distant Hollywood smile that meant she’d already made up her mind. With Paul as a father, Georgie had never needed to be pushy, but no one else could fight this particular battle. She desperately wanted a shot at playing Helene, and Bram’s success was her ticket. “I think passion counts for a lot when it comes to making a great film. All the experience in the world doesn’t mean anything if the filmmaker isn’t in love with the project.”

Bram’s genuine passion for Tree House forced her to confront how long it had been since she’d felt that kind of passion for herself. Playing Helene would give it back.

Rory leaned forward and gazed at Georgie with a steady intensity. “If you really want to help Bram, convince him to step aside and let me have the project.”

“Meaning he wouldn’t be the producer…or the leading man.”

“Bram’s a good actor, but this film needs a great actor. He’s too limited.”

Limited. Just as Georgie was supposed to be.

“Enough shop talk.” Rory had made her point, and she deliberately changed the subject. “I hear Jake and Fleur’s daughter is back in L.A.”

Georgie couldn’t push any more, and she let the subject drift to girlfriends.

“Good female friendships require a time investment I’ve never had,” Rory said in her cool way. “But everything has its price, and I love my work, so I’m not complaining.”

Maybe she wasn’t, but Georgie thought she heard regret in her voice. She couldn’t imagine life without the support of her friends, and just before she left, she heard herself invite Rory to tomorrow night’s dinner party.

To her surprise, Rory accepted.

Bram was waiting for her on the other side of the gate. “How did it go?”

“Fine.” Tomorrow would be soon enough to break the news that she’d invited Rory. If she told him now, he’d fly in a French chef and book an orchestra. With her money.

“How fine?”

“I said I wouldn’t sabotage you, and I didn’t.”

“You mean you meant it?”

“I told her you’d matured, and that you have real passion for the project.”

“With a straight face?”

“Yes, with a straight face. Jeez.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a long kiss, which was sexy, because he was a sexy kisser, but mainly exuberant, like a killer Doberman confronted with a juicy bone that had been unexpectedly tossed his way. Just like that, she began to melt. And why not? After everything she’d been through, she deserved as much mindless pleasure as she could get.

He curled both hands around her bottom. “Where’s Meg?”

“At a concert. You want a threesome?”

“Not tonight.” He kissed her again. And again. Before long, their hands were all over each other.

He let her go so abruptly she nearly fell. “Chaz! Aaron!” He shot toward the veranda. “Come out here!”

He had to call them twice before they appeared. Aaron had been putting in overtime redesigning her Web site, and a set of Bose headphones hung around his neck. Chaz appeared carrying a brutal-looking chef’s knife. Bram extended a pair of fifty-dollar bills he’d just pulled from his wallet. “You’re both done for the night. Here’s a little bonus for being such loyal employees. Now get out. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Aaron looked at the bills as if he’d never seen money. Chaz unlocked her semipermanent scowl. “I’m in the middle of making dinner.”

“And I know it’ll be delicious for lunch tomorrow.” He took each of them by one arm and nudged them toward the door that opened into the garage, with Chaz protesting the entire time. “At least let me turn off the frickin’ stove before you burn down the house!”

“I’ll handle it.” When Chaz and Aaron were gone, he came after Georgie. Within seconds, he’d locked them in the house. After a quick detour to turn off the stove, they reached the bedroom. His urgency thrilled her, so she frowned at him.

“Don’t you think that was a little…rash?”

“No.” He locked the bedroom door. “Take off your clothes.”