Season Of Passion Part 23

"Does this mean what I think it means?" He was grinning at her from the bathroom door, and she suddenly reached over and unzipped his pants.

"It certainly does."

"Lady, I don't know what this town does to you, but I love it."

They didn't even make it to the bedroom, but made love on the richly carpeted floor of their room, as her tongue and delicate hands brought soft moans from Nick. This time it was Kate who took the lead, and Nick who lay back spent when they had both come. Kate lay on the floor, in the twilight, smiling victoriously at her life.

CHAPTER 24.

"Miss Harper?" The woman in the expensive black dress and the Cinandre-sculptured hair walked into the room and extended a hand. Kate shook it nervously, and smoothed her dress. "You'll be on in a minute." It was her first television appearance in New York, and she was terrified. But prepared. She had gone over what she would say with Nick that morning. And the dress was a new one she'd bought in Carmel. It was a warm coral linen that set off her deep tan. She wore it with some of the coral jewelry Felicia had brought her from Europe the year before, despite her protests. Now she was glad Felicia had insisted she keep it. "You never know." Kate remembered the words with a smile. Her hair was pulled back. She hoped she looked like a writer. At least she felt like one.

"I've been admiring the view." It was breathtaking. They were in the southwest corner of the thirty-something floor of the General Motors Building, with a sweeping view of Central Park if you looked uptown and an unbroken panorama of Wall Street downtown. "It must be fabulous living in this town."

The woman in the black dress laughed, shaking the well-coifed hair and flas.h.i.+ng a large emerald ring. "I'd give my right arm to live on the Coast. But Audrey does the show here, so ..." She threw up her hands. This woman was the biggest female producer in daytime television, and her job was not unlike Nick's. Now Kate better understood what it entailed.

"Ready?"

"I think so."

She held open a door and Kate walked through it. The door to the studio showed a brightly lit sign: "On the Air."

She was on for almost an hour, with three other prominent women, a representative from the United Nations, a nationally known lawyer, and a woman who had won the n.o.bel Prize in biochemistry the year before. Good G.o.d. She felt breathless as she looked at them. What was she doing there? But as they looked at her, she realized they were wondering the same thing. She was an unknown.

"How does it feel to write your first best seller?" Audrey Bradford, the host of the show, smiled at Kate, and the other women looked interested but hardly overwhelmed.

"It hasn't quite gotten there yet, but I must admit so far it feels awfully good." She laughed and Audrey smiled with her. This was the biggest high in the world. The ego trip of the century. Success. Public success. On national television. But still she could feel an undercurrent from the other guests. Envy? Suspicion?

"Our research shows that you're in your third printing and have sold fifty thousand copies in five weeks. I'd say that's a best seller, wouldn't you? In fact, it's starting to show up on the national charts." It is? It had? ... It was? Why hadn't anyone told her? Jesus. Fifty thousand copies? She almost gasped, but instead she smiled.

"In that case, I concede." After a few minutes of nervousness, Kate was surprised at how easy the show became. The other women were fascinating, and Audrey was good at what she did. She turned a potentially chilly situation into a cordial one. And Kate was still riding high when she met Nick at Lutece for lunch, and swooped down on him at his table in the little garden.

"Hi, darling. G.o.d, it was scary." And then, all in one breath, she heard herself telling him how tense she had been, how terrifyingly successful the other women had been, how impressive Audrey Bradford was, how well put together the woman producer was, how ...

"Hey, hey, wait a minute. Slow down there, lady, or you'll pop your girdle. Relax." He was amused at her excitement. She was suddenly as hyper as everyone else in New York.

She sat down with a sheepish grin and took a breath. "I don't wear a girdle, by the way."

"Thank G.o.d. Now, did you make sense on the show?"

"Didn't you watch me?" She looked stunned.

"My darling, you are about to discover what my life is like in New York. I sat down peacefully in Jasper's suite to watch you there, and all three phones started to ring at once. He's had two extra lines put into the suite for his stay. The secretary he brought with him ran in with a major crisis on her hands. Our big name for the first show here is in the hospital with a stroke, it'll be front page by tonight. The additional secretary he hired here walked in and quit. Jasper's oldest boy called from London, had run over some kid with his car and was in jail. And meanwhile, I had calls in to nine different people to try and make a subst.i.tution for tonight's show. No, my love, I did not see your show. But I'm sure you were splendid." He looked at her with a grin and she tried to hide her disappointment. Sometimes she forgot how much he had to do. "By the way, Jasper was thinking that you might like to come back on the show. Maybe at the end of the week?"

"Already? He just had me on."

"That's all right. You're getting to be a hot property these days, with the book doing as well as it is, and with the daytime exposure you're getting, the women in his audience will like seeing you on our show." For a moment, he wasn't even Nick. He was a producer, a stranger, a nervous man with the nation's most important talk show to run. He hadn't even had time to watch her on her first New York show. "I'll have Stu talk to your publisher about putting you on. Jasper definitely wants you." He pulled out a little book, jotted something down, and then looked up, surprised, as the headwaiter brought him a phone.

"Call for you, Mr. Waterman." What followed were ten minutes of unintelligible conversation with someone on his production staff as Kate looked around at the other tables nearby. She was having lunch at one of the most expensive restaurants in New York, surrounded by the ill.u.s.trious and the powerful. Nick signaled to the waiter and pointed at his watch midway through the conversation. The waiter nodded and hurried back with a menu for Kate. It was another five minutes before he was off the phone.

"I'm sorry, love. Some days are just like this, I'm afraid." More than he let on to her in fact. She never realized just how busy he was. But she was getting a ringside view of it in New York. He looked at his watch again. "d.a.m.n."

"Something wrong?"

"No. Except that I'm going to have to leave you in about twenty minutes. I've got about thirty-seven things to discuss with Jasper before tonight."

"Lucky man, sounds like he's going to be seeing more of you than I am." She was almost miffed, but not quite. She didn't have a right to be too demanding; they were both here to work not just play.

"I'm sorry I missed your show, Kate. I really am. Next time I'll watch, no matter what. I promise. If I have to bolt all the doors and take the phones off the hook."

"Okay, then I forgive you." They kissed just as the Louis Roederer arrived. It was an exquisite champagne, 1955.

They had caviar on paper-thin slices of white toast, quenelles Nantua, endive salad, fresh raspberries and whipped cream, and knocked off the whole bottle of champagne in less than half an hour. The result was that Kate sat back against the banquette, looking slightly drunk.

"You know ..." She looked at Nick philosophically and he smiled as he signed for the check. Thank G.o.d for expense accounts. "You know," she started again, "sometimes it's hard to remember that all of this fun can lead to disaster."

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" He looked at her and was about to laugh, and then suddenly he remembered Tom. "Only if you let it go to your head, Kate. There are ways of having the success without the insanity."

"Are you sure?" She looked worried. She hadn't forgotten what all of this had done to Tom-and to her.

"I've seen people handle it well. You just can't lose your perspective. You can't let yourself forget what you really care about. And maybe you have to know too that it's nice while it lasts, but it's not everything. You're lucky, Kate. You have something real to go home to. You have Tygue, the house ..."

"You forgot something." She was looking very subdued.

"What did I forget?"

"You forgot that I have you to come home to, Mr. Waterman. There's that too."

"Yes, there is. And don't you forget it either, Mrs. Harper."

And she didn't. She thought about it at great length as she walked back to the hotel, still feeling the effects of the champagne. It was so easy to be intoxicated by one's own self-importance, by expensive meals in lavish restaurants, by adulation and attention and acclaim. She had to admit she was enjoying it, but it frightened her too. Suddenly, for the first time, she understood all that had tempted Tom. And especially Tom, because his life had been so simple before all that. It was impossible for him to resist all the glitter that came along. But was she much different now? Was she making more sense? She wasn't sure.

She went back to the hotel to sleep off the wine, and was awakened by the hotel operator at four. She had left a wake-up message just in case she overslept. She had to be at a radio station on the West Side at six. And this time, the taping was horrendous. The interviewer asked her all the wrong questions, and prodded interminably about how a woman knew so much about football; he was a pushy, aggressive s.e.xist, and she hated every minute of the interview, but she told herself that the exposure would be good for the book. Her publisher had also promised her a car and driver to take her back to the hotel, but they never arrived after the show, and she found herself walking down some of the more dangerous streets of Manhattan, praying for a cab. It was nine by the time she got to the studio to meet Nick. He had had a hectic evening, and problems for the next day's show had already begun to crop up. It was ten-thirty before they got out for something to eat, and then, hot and bedraggled, they wound up at La Grenouille, where even the elegant fare no longer appealed to her. She was hot and tired and she wanted to go to bed. Instead, a photographer from Women's Wear Daily snapped her photograph on the way out, and she found herself almost snarling as the flash bulb went off in her face.

"Now, now, take it easy, Kate. It's all in a day's work." She sighed briefly and then smiled at him.

"I don't know. I'm beginning to think that running after Tygue and Bert wasn't so bad."

"I told you so, madam."

They strolled up Fifth Avenue arm in arm, and Kate was exhausted when they fell into bed at one o'clock. She was almost as tired when she woke up the next day, and when he handed her a copy of Women's Wear her face puckered into an immediate frown. There was a photograph of them leaving the restaurant the night before, mention of who they were, mention of the book, and a catty remark about her dress.

"Christ, it was a hundred and four degrees and I'd been running my a.s.s off all night. What do they want from me anyway?"

Nick laughed and shrugged as he sipped his coffee. "This is the big time, baby. In New York, they don't pull any punches."

"Well, they can go to h.e.l.l. And I don't like being in the papers." She looked decidedly nervous as she lit a cigarette. It was a lousy way to start the day.

"How do you know? Have you ever tried it?" She only stared at him, saying nothing. "What's the matter, baby?" He sat down quietly on the bed and took her hand. "It's just a little blurb in the paper. It's no big deal."

"I just hate that kind of thing. It's none of their G.o.dd.a.m.n business."

"But they're interested in you. You're new, you're intelligent, you're beautiful. Your book is a smash. This is all part of it."

"I hate it." She looked at Nick again and her eyes filled with tears. It was all going to start again. They were going to spoil everything. She wanted to go home.

"Hey ... come on, love ... it's nothing." He folded her into his arms, and then looked down at her. "And if it bothers you that much to be in the papers, we'll be more careful. We'll go someplace quiet for lunch." He wrote down the name of a French restaurant on Fifty-third Street, where they wouldn't be noticed, gave her a last kiss, and left for a meeting with Jasper. But when they met for lunch, there was still a thread of fear woven into the tapestry of excitement. She found herself looking around warily, and Nick, watched her closely.

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Worrying about the paparazzi again?"

"Yeah. Sort of."

"Well, don't. None of them would be seen dead here. And as far as Women's Wear is concerned, anyone who eats here isn't worth mentioning."

"Good." She looked relieved and took his hand. "I just hate that stuff."

"Why?" Why wouldn't she tell him? Didn't she trust him yet? Even now?

"It's such a violation. It's like rape. They tear your clothes off, stare at your body, and take what they want." She looked mournful, and he laughed and leaned closer.

"Can I be first?"

"Oh shut up."

"Well, stop worrying about it. It's all part of the package. We all get used to it. I've been called everything from a male nymphomaniac to a f.a.ggot. So what?" She grinned up at him.

"They called you that?"

"Yup. Especially the former." But he didn't say it with pride. Anyway, that was over now. He hadn't looked at another woman since he'd met Kate. Six weeks exactly, to the day. "Hey, today is our anniversary."

"I know. Our sixth." She beamed up at him and forgot the papers. To h.e.l.l with them. This was all that mattered now.

They dined that night at "21" with Jasper and a well-known New York theatrical producer. And Kate watched them tape the show. It was nice getting to know Jasper better, and she didn't mind his knowing what was happening with Nick. He seemed to approve wholeheartedly and treated her like someone very special.

The next day they all met for lunch in his suite at the Pierre, and that afternoon she and Nick went shopping for Tygue at F.A.O. Schwarz.

"Want to try out the boat?"

"Now?" She laughed at him as they left the store. It was the only thing they had carried. The rest they had sent back to the hotel. All kinds of cowboy equipment, a fabulous little bike, and Kate had had to fight Nick not to buy him a boy-sized log cabin. Nick wanted to buy it all. But she didn't want him doing that and he knew it. She had wanted to buy something for Tom too, but didn't know how to do it without Nick knowing. Now he was looking down at her, holding tightly to the elaborate remote-controlled boat. Tygue was going to use it on the lake.

"Listen, there is the most fabulous model-boat pond here in Central Park. All these old guys hang around there with models of windjammers and schooners. We'll be outcla.s.sed. But it's terrific."

And it was. They spent two hours there, chatting with old men, watching the boats, smiling at the nannies pa.s.sing by with large lace-laden English prams. New York gave one the impression that everyone was either terribly rich or terribly poor, and the people in between were banished somewhere else. To New Jersey perhaps. Or the Bronx.

They walked slowly out of the park past the zoo, and Kate stopped for a moment at the pony rides. "I wish Tygue were here. He'd love it."

"Maybe next time." He pulled her hand more tightly through his arm and thought of the boy, and then looked down at Kate again. "Want a pony ride, Cinderella?"

"Are you kidding?" She burst into laughter. "I'd break the cart. Or kill the horse." It was designed for very small children.

"Answer the question."

"Just what do you have in mind?"

"You'll see." He strolled her out of the park and right to the hansom cabs lined up at Fifty-ninth Street. There, he paused for a moment, spoke to one of the top-hatted drivers, and then turned to hand her inside. "This is a little more our speed." It was still blazingly hot, but she was almost used to the temperature now. And it was five o'clock as they strolled lazily through the park in the musty old carriage. People looked up and smiled, children waved. It was like living a fairy tale. Nick bought them both ice creams at a red light farther into the park. It was an hour later when he had the driver deposit them at the hotel.

"I smell like the horse." She whispered it to him with a giggle as they walked sedately past the marble desk.

"I love it." He grinned at the smudge of ice cream on her chin. "You're a mess." But he could hardly wait to close the door behind them. They spent an hour in bed, and then they both had to run. He had to do Jasper's show, and she was scheduled on a rival talk show on another network.

It went very well, as did one of the two radio shows she did the next day. The second one was a bomb where no one seemed to know who she was or why she was there. And there had been nothing more in the papers. She was enjoying the trip, despite the frantic pace, and she was amazed at how quickly one adjusted to the interviews and the cameras. She was much less nervous this time when she did Jasper's show. And she let Nick help her pick out a dress, a clinging pearl-gray Halston. It was the s.e.xiest dress she had ever seen, yet it was ladylike too. It was perfect for her. Even Jasper was a little startled when she appeared. She was a very striking-looking girl. And her appearance on the show was the climax of her trip.

"So, Mr. Waterman, what's on the agenda for today?"

"I don't know. Want to go to the beach? It might be nice to see some sand again." It was Sat.u.r.day.

"Is there any around here? I thought they didn't approve of that sort of thing."

"Southhampton." He lay on his side and looked at the woman he loved, just as the phone rang. "You get it. This is your room. Remember?" He thought of everything.

"h.e.l.lo?" She expected it to be Licia, or maybe Jasper for Nick. Who else would call? But it wasn't. It was Tillie. "He is? He did? What ... oh my G.o.d. Is he all right?" She sat up very straight, and Nick's face puckered into a worried frown. "Now? Why did they keep him there? Can't he come home?" The one-sided conversation was driving Nick nuts and he started asking questions, but she waved him back to silence. "This afternoon? All right. I'll see what I can do." She hung up with a frown, looked at Nick, and then at her lap with a sigh. "d.a.m.n."

"What happened, for chrissake?"

"Tygue fell off the gate at the Adams ranch and broke his arm. Tillie said he was just swinging on it with Joey, but he fell over backward. They thought he might have a concussion, so they kept him in the hospital overnight. She said she tried to call us last night, but we weren't home, and she was afraid to leave a message and scare me half to death. G.o.d.a.m.nit." She got off the bed and stalked across the room.

"Poor little thing. Are they sure there's no concussion? And what kind of a hospital did Tillie take him to?" Nick looked suddenly very worried and Kate smiled.

"He's in Santa Barbara and he's fine. He can go home this afternoon. All he has is a cast on his arm."

Nick looked at his watch. "If I put you on a plane in an hour, you could be there at noon California time, catch a plane to Santa Barbara ... h.e.l.l, Kate, you could be there by two." He smiled helpfully and she sank into a chair.

"Yeah. I know."

"What's with you?" Nick stared at her in confusion. "You're going back, aren't you?"

"I don't suppose I have much choice." But she looked as if she wanted one.