What I Did For Love Part 21

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 cus.h.i.+ons. 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. 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 cus.h.i.+ons. 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 gla.s.s 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 embarra.s.sed. 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-G.o.ddess smile. "No such luck." She picked up her champagne flute and twisted the stem. "When I worked on Skip and Scooter, Skip and Scooter, you were always good to the crew." 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 a.s.sistant 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 p.o.r.nographic 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 c.o.c.ked 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 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 pa.s.sionate 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 pa.s.sion 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 pa.s.sion for Tree House Tree House forced her to confront how long it had been since she'd felt that kind of pa.s.sion for herself. Playing Helene would give it back. forced her to confront how long it had been since she'd felt that kind of pa.s.sion 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 friends.h.i.+ps 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?" 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 pa.s.sion for the project."

"With a straight face?"

"Yes, with a straight face. Jeez." with a straight face. Jeez."

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a long kiss, which was s.e.xy, because he was a s.e.xy 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."

Chapter 15.

Don't make me ask twice," Bram said when she didn't react quickly enough. make me ask twice," Bram said when she didn't react quickly enough.

His air of s.e.xy menace sent a new frenzy of desire rus.h.i.+ng through her. This was so blissfully uncomplicated. All he cared about was getting laid, and that was all she cared about, too. Her head was finally screwed on straight enough to enjoy every illicit moment.

"You're on." She pulled her top over her head. "Knock yourself out."

He gazed at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s cupped in pale yellow lace, and the way he looked at her filled her with pleasure. She loved feeling desired, never mind that she was merely a convenience.

He snared her wrist. "This time I want a bed. So I can see every inch of you."

She nearly dissolved, right there in the middle of his bedroom. As she gazed into his smoky lavender eyes, she reminded herself she didn't care enough about him to ever be hurt. Then he kissed her, and she stopped thinking at all.

This time there was no slow striptease. They threw aside their clothes and fell on each other. Until yesterday, she'd never given herself without love, but now she offered up her body with abandon. He explored every inch, opening her legs, propping one of her ankles on his shoulder. She teased and tormented him in return, not to turn him on, but because she wanted to, because this affair was about her pleasure and not about trying to hold on to a man who didn't love her.

He was earthy. Thorough. Demanding. Using his fingers, his mouth, his s.e.x. She experienced a blissful, soaring freedom. The final explosion was cataclysmic.

Afterward, she lay limp beneath him, so drained she could barely muster the words. "Oh, well...I'm sure the next time will be better."

He rolled over on his back, his skin as damp as hers, his mouth curling in a lazy smile. "Let's face it, you're a lot of woman for one man to handle."

She grinned. The air-conditioning kicked on, blowing a cool breeze across their hot bodies. She felt...

She struggled to put a name to her emotions and finally came up with one.

She felt happy.

Bram was the only guy who'd ever been in Chaz's apartment, but now Aaron was sitting on her couch, his headphones still around his neck, the jack dangling by his knee. He wore farmer jeans and a wrinkled green T-s.h.i.+rt that said all your base are belong to us, which made no frickin' sense. His curly hair exploded around his round face, and his gla.s.ses were crooked. "You can't stay here," Chaz said. "You have to leave." only guy who'd ever been in Chaz's apartment, but now Aaron was sitting on her couch, his headphones still around his neck, the jack dangling by his knee. He wore farmer jeans and a wrinkled green T-s.h.i.+rt that said all your base are belong to us, which made no frickin' sense. His curly hair exploded around his round face, and his gla.s.ses were crooked. "You can't stay here," Chaz said. "You have to leave."

"I told you. My car keys are in Georgie's office."

"Take my car." Bram had bought her a s.h.i.+ny new Honda Odyssey, but she didn't like leaving the house unless she had to, so she didn't use it for much except household errands. Otherwise, she stayed mostly in her apartment. Bram had let her furnish it the way she wanted. She'd chosen modern pieces in chocolate and light brown along with a basic black shelving unit, an angular reading chair, and a couple of simple black-and-white abstract prints. No clutter. No mess. Everything neat and peaceful. Everything except Aaron.

He rubbed his chest through his T-s.h.i.+rt. "My driver's license is in my wallet, and that's in Georgie's office, too."

"So what? I drove without a license for years." She'd taught herself to drive at thirteen, figuring she posed less of a danger on the road than her drunken stepmother.

She and Aaron both had door keys, but neither of them was anxious to go back in the house right now. At least her garage apartment was on the opposite side of the house from the master bedroom. She couldn't imagine having to listen to Bram and Georgie getting it on. She hated Georgie. Hated watching Bram laugh at some stupid thing she said, hated listening to them talk about movies Chaz had never seen. Chaz wanted to be the one who came first with him. Which was stupid.

He'd better have remembered to turn off the stove.

"You're not sleeping here," she said.

"Who said I was? I'll give them some time, then go back in and get my stuff." He got up and wandered over to her bookcase, which held a TV, cookbooks, and some other books Bram had given her, including some by this important food writer named Ruth Reichl, who talked about how she got interested in food and everything. They were the best books Chaz had ever read.

"You should stop acting like such a b.i.t.c.h around Georgie." Aaron took one of the Reichl books off the shelf and flipped it over to read what was on the back. "You might as well hang a sign around your neck saying that you're in love with Bram."