Breathing Room (31 page)

She nuzzled his navel. "I couldn't agree more."

"You're killing me, Doc. You know that, don't you?"

"And I haven't even shown you my vicious streak."

*

Renspent the next day trying to talk Harry and Tracy out of staying at the farmhouse, but he had no luck. His only satisfaction lay in the last-minute lecture he inadvertently witnessed Isabel giving them.

"Remember," she said, just as he walked into the room at the villa that was supposed to behis office, "no sex. The two of you have a lot of work to do first. That's why I'm offering you the farmhouse. So you have time alone every evening to talk without any interruptions."

Ren backed into the hallway, but not before he sawTracygive Harry a longing glance. "I guess," he heard her say. "But you have no idea how hard this is. Don't you think—"

"No, I don't." Isabel's voice trailed after him. "Sex has allowed the two of you to mask your problems. It's easier to get it on than talk it out."

He winced."Get it on." Why did she have to put it that way? Less than two weeks ago she'd talked about sex being sacred, but she'd loosened up a lot since then. Not that he was complaining. He loved her responsiveness. He loved the way she enjoyed him, enjoyed them. At the same time, though, something about her attitude was beginning to stick in his craw.

He was being unreasonable, and he knew it. Maybe he had a guilty conscience. Not telling her about the change in theNight Kill script bothered him, and the fact that he felt guilty about it bothered him even more. Isabel had nothing to do with his career, nothing to do with him beyond the next few weeks. She was the one who'd spelled out the terms, and she'd been right, as usual. This was only about sex.

When it came right down to it, they were using each other. He was using her for companionship, for entertainment. He was using her to help him deal withTracyand to work through his guilt over Karli. And, God knew, he was using her for sex, but that didn't qualify as a sin in the Book of Isabel.

Damn it, he didn't want to hurt her, not when he already had more sins on his soul than she could imagine – the drugs, the women he'd treated so callously, all the debris of his early years that still left a slimy trail behind him wherever he went. Sometimes when she gazed at him with those innocent eyes, he wanted to remind her that he didn't know how to play the good guy, but he never said a word, because he was a selfish son of a bitch and he didn't want her to walk away. Not yet. Not until he'd gotten what he needed and was ready to let her go.

One thing was certain: As soon as she found out about the new script and Kaspar Street's twisted desire for little girls, she'd be on her way out the door, and right before she got there, Ren had a feeling all four of those Cornerstones were going to be dropped on his head.

After dinnerTracytold the kids that she and Harry would be back in time for breakfast and that Marta would take care of them if they needed anything during the night. Ren spent the rest of the evening feeling resentful. He wanted Isabel in a bedroom that didn't have half a dozen people lurking outside the door. Instead, she'd excused herself and gone off to make notes on her book.

He headed for his office and tried to work on a character study of Street, but he couldn't concentrate. He lifted some weights and played with Jeremy's GameBoy for a while.

Then he took a walk that didn't do a damn thing to work off his sexual frustration. Finally he gave up and went to bed, only to end up punching his pillow and cursing the senior Briggses, who were curled up in the farmhouse bedroom where he and Isabel should be.

Eventually he drifted off, but he hadn't been asleep for long before something warm cuddled next to him. It was about time. He loved to touch Isabel's bare skin while she slept. He smiled and drew her close— But something was very wrong. His eyes flew open, and he sat upright with a yelp.

Brittany's face puckered. "You yelled. Why'd you yell?" She lay curled on top of the covers, naked as a jaybird.

"You cannot sleep here!" he croaked.

"I heard a noise. I'm scared."

Not half as terrified as he was. He started to jump out of bed, then remembered she wasn't the only one naked. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around his waist.

"You're too wiggly," she protested. "I'm sleepy."

"Where's your nightgown? Never mind." He tucked the sheet around her so tightly she looked like a mummy, then picked her up.

"You're squishing me! Where we goin'?"

"To see the good fairy." He tripped over his blanket and almost dropped her. "Shit."

"You said—"

"I know what I said. And if you repeat it, your tongue'll fall out." Somehow he managed to maneuver her through the door, down the hall, and intoTracy's former bedroom without losing his blanket, but he made so much noise Isabel woke up.

"What...?"

"She's scared, she's naked, and she's all yours." He droppedBrittanynext to her.

"Who's that?" Steffie popped up from Isabel's other side. "Brit'ny?"

"I want Daddy!"Brittanywailed.

"It's all right, sweetheart." Isabel looked warm and tousle-haired. He'd never known a woman like her, one who was so unconscious of her sexual allure, although most men didn't seem to be as aware of it as he was. Vittorio's brother, the oily Dr. Andrea, saw it, though. He hadn't fooled Ren one bit today when he'd shown up with that phony excuse about telling Isabel that they'd rounded up the metal detectors.Punk .

Her nightgown dropped low on one shoulder, revealing the rounded top of a breast that should, at that exact moment, have been in his hand. She nodded toward his blanket.

"Nice skirt."

He mustered his dignity. "We'll discuss this in the morning."

As he headed back to his room, he reminded himself that he'd come toItalyto get away from everything. Instead, he was throwing a frigging house party and adding another black mark to his soul.

Right before dawn it got worse. He pried open his eyelids and saw a foot stuck in his mouth. Not his.

A tiny toenail dug into his bottom lip. He winced and tried to move, only to have the other foot punch him in the chin. Then he felt the damp spot by his hip. And how could life get any better than this?

Diaper Boy cuddled closer. So much for Marta's taking over during the night. Ren weighed his options. Waking the kid meant a hassle, something Ren had no intention of dealing with at – he checked the clock – four in the morning. Resigned, he moved to dryer territory and willed himself back to sleep.

A few hours later he got a poke in the chest. "Want my daddy!"

The light filtering through his eyelids told him it was morning, but just barely. Where the hell was Marta? "Go back to sleep," he mumbled.

"Want my mommy now!"

Ren gave in to the inevitable, opened his eyes, and finally understood the reason parents went through this. Diaper Boy looked cute as hell. His dark curls stuck up all over the place, and his cheeks were rosy from sleep. A quick check of the mattress showed no new wet spots. Which meant...

Ren jumped out of bed, whipped on a pair of shorts, and grabbed him. Connor gave a startled yowl. Ren hauled him like a potato sack to the bathroom.

"Want Jer'my!"

"No more BS, kid." He gingerly pulled off the diaper, stared at it for a moment, then threw open the shutters and tossed it out the window. "Belly-up-to-the-bar time." He pointed down at the toilet. "That's the bar."

Connor thrust his lower lip and scowled, looking exactly like his mother during most of her marriage to Ren. "Potty bad."

"Tell somebody who cares."

Connor screwed up his face. "I want my mommy!"

He flipped up the toilet seat. "Do your business, and then we'll talk."

Connor stared at him.

Ren offered his most heartless sneer.

Connor walked backward to the tub and climbed in.

Ren crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

Connor poked the faucet.

Ren scratched his chest.

Connor picked up the soap.

Ren inspected his fingernails. "You might as well cut out the BS, tough guy, because I've got all day."

Connor gazed at the soap for a moment, then set it down and started to pee in the tub.

"No way." Ren grabbed him under the arms and stood him in front of the toilet. "Right here. Right now."

Connor craned his neck to look up at him.

"You heard me. Are you a man or a girl?"

Connor took his time thinking it over. He stuffed his finger up his nose, inspected his belly button. Then he peed in the toilet.

Ren grinned. "Way to go, dude."

Connor grinned back, then started to run for the door, only to stop in his tracks. "Poopy!"

"Aww, man...you sure?"

"Poopy!"

"I could do without this, you know." Ren picked him up, flipped the seat back down, and plunked him on top.

"Poopy!"

Sure enough...

When the kid was done, Ren held him under the tub faucet for a while, then headed for the bedroom, where he located a big safety pin and his smallest pair of stretch bikini briefs – a pair he seemed to remember Isabel admiring. He fastened them on the kid as best he could, then gave him the hairy eyeball. "These are mine, and if you get 'em wet, you're going to regret it. Understand?"

Connor stuck his thumb in his mouth, bent his head to inspect, then gave a deep, satisfied chortle.

The briefs stayed dry.

*

The next few days fell into a routine. Harry and Tracy appeared around breakfast time to attend to the children. Ren and Isabel spent part of the morning at the farmhouse, where they helped the others begin the laborious task of sweeping the area with metal detectors.

Afterward Isabel headed off with her notebook, and Ren went to meet Massimo in the vineyard.

Massimo had been growing grapes all his life, and he didn't need any supervision, but Ren found something satisfying about strolling through the shady rows and feeling the hard clay soil of his ancestors beneath the soles of his shoes. Besides, he needed to get away from Isabel. He liked being with her too much for his own good.

Massimo gave him a grape to crush. "Are your fingers sticking together?"

"Not yet."

"Still not enough sugar. Maybe two more weeks, and then we will be ready for thevendemmia ."

In the late afternoon, when Ren got back to the villa, he'd invariably find Jeremy hanging around waiting for him. The kid never said anything, but it hadn't taken Ren long to figure out that he wanted to practice his martial-arts moves. The boy was smart and well coordinated, and Ren didn't mind. Harry and Tracy were usually sealed away with Isabel for their daily counseling, but if the session ended in time, Harry liked to join them. Ren got a kick out of watching Jeremy teach his father what he'd learned.

Sometimes Ren found himself wondering how he'd have turned out if he'd had a father like Harry Briggs. Even Ren's success hadn't won his father's approval. Being an actor, especially a successful one, was too public, too vulgar – this from the man who'd been married toRen's playgirl, pothead mother.

Fortunately, Ren had stopped caring about his father's opinion a long time ago. There was nothing useful about having the approval of a man he'd never respect.

Anna began pestering him about holding afesta after the harvest was in. "This was done for many years when I was a girl. Everyone who helped with thevendemmia would come to the villa on the first Sunday after the grapes were picked. There would be much food and laughter. But your Aunt Philomena decided it was too much trouble, and the tradition ended. Now that you are living here, we can begin again, yes?"

"I'm only living here temporarily." He'd been inItalynearly three weeks. He had to go toRomenext week to meet with Jenks for a few days, and filming would start a couple of weeks after that. He hadn't discussed any of this with Isabel – not the meeting inRomenor how much longer he'd be staying at the villa – and she hadn't asked. But then, why should she? They both knew that this was short-term.

Maybe he'd invite her to come with him. Seeing familiar sights through her eyes gave him a whole new view. Except he couldn't invite her. All the disguises in the world wouldn't keep some sharp-eyed paparazzo from spotting them, and being seen with him would finish off what little was left of her good-girl reputation. There was also the inescapable fact that she'd refuse to go along once she discovered whatNight Kill was really about.

His resentment resurfaced. She'd never understand what this role meant to him, just as she refused to understand that it wasn't some distorted image of himself he carried around that made him want to play bad guys. He simply couldn't identify with heroes, and that didn't have afreakin ' thing to do with his demented childhood. Well, not much anyway.

And since when did someone who hired crooked accountants and got engaged to an asshole have the right to sit in judgment?

It was a wonder their affair hadn't already fizzled out, although it was hard to picture anything simply fizzling where Isabel was concerned. No, when this affair ended, it would go out with a bang. The idea was so depressing that it took him a moment to realize Anna was still talking to him.

"...but this is your home now – your family's home – and you will keep coming back. So we will hold thefesta this year to begin a new tradition, yes?"

He couldn't imagine coming back, not when Isabel wasn't here, but he told Anna to go ahead with her plans.

*

"You're not one of those people who thinks pregnant women don't need sex, are you?"Tracyregarded Isabel accusingly. "Because if you are, take a good look at this man and tell me how any woman, pregnant or not, could resist him?"

Harry managed to appear both embarrassed and happy. "I don't know about that... But really, Isabel, it's not necessary any longer.Definitely not necessary. We've had more than enough time to talk, and the lists you've asked us to make have been very helpful. I hadn't quite realized... I just didn't know..." A smile melted his face. "I never imagined all the ways she loves me."

"And I had no idea he admired so many things about me.Me! "Tracygave a shiver of delight. "I thought I knew everything about him, but I'd only scratched the surface."