Dying to Have Her (17 page)

“Eddie Wok gives great parties.”

“I wish you’d been there. Kyle Amesbury was acting like an ass.”

“Kyle Amesbury
is
an ass. What was he saying?”

“Oh, talking about pulling out.”

“Let him.”

“That’s what I told him.” Joe grinned. “There was a picture of Serena with Liam in the paper. He didn’t like that, either.”

‘The fans love to see us in the newspapers—Serena was
with
Liam?”

“Andy, quit acting like a jealous fool.”

“I’m not. I just thought—I thought she really disliked him. I thought the … I thought that the affair thing between them was really over.” Andy was tense. He had never quite gotten over his divorce from Serena. He’d never accepted the fact that any woman would willingly divorce him.

“I think the picture was taken when they were at dinner, Andy. They weren’t caught at the dollar-an-hour motel or anything.”

“Still, I didn’t think that she’d sit down and
eat
with him.”

“Dinner is not a commitment, Andy.”

“We shouldn’t have hired him.”

“The cops said we should. Besides, her picture in the paper is nothing. She’s done dozens of photos with near strangers because we’ve asked her. We do have another worry on our hands.”

“What?”

“Serena screen-tested for a part in the new Eddie Wok movie.”

“What!”

That made Andy as tense as a bowstring. “She—she’s under contract!”

“For how long?” Joe reminded him glumly. “She’s only got another few months on this contract. And she’s friends with Eddie Wok—she met him years ago when he first came to Hollywood. She brought him to some parties … he likes her … he’s grateful to her.”

Andy pondered that, shaking his head. “She wouldn’t just … leave.”

“No, I don’t believe she would. But I thought you should know.” He sighed, feeling very old again.

“Serena,” Andy said very softly, “stabbing us in the back.”

“She won’t.”

“Really? Well, she’s cut me to the quick once. What’s to say she won’t do it again?”

Joe was surprised at the sound of anger in Andy’s voice. Their divorce was long, long over.

“I’ve talked to her,” Joe said. “If she accepted the role, she would take a leave of absence. She wouldn’t just leave the show.”

Andy turned and walked away. “I’ll be talking to her,” he said.

Even when Serena finally got to sleep, she slept badly. The alarm sounded like an air raid warning, brutally loud and cruel. She pounded it, and it turned off. She lay there several minutes, wondering if she had completely lost her sanity, or what. She had let Liam into the house. Well, that had been Joe’s fault.

Joe didn’t matter. His learning about the screen test didn’t matter either. It had been due to come out sooner or later, and she hadn’t done anything wrong. What had happened after … mattered.

Like an idiot, she was still in love with him. She’d known that. Staying away from him had been sane. Last night had been … insane.

She could have dropped the towel and left. But she had stood there, watching him through the steam, and all she had remembered was what it had been like to be with him.

Great. She had refreshed her memory.

She forced herself to crawl out of bed. In the kitchen, she found fresh coffee already made. And a note. Liam was waiting outside. Liam, who was making her crazy. She crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket.

She inhaled the first cup and poured another, wishing she could just drink a gallon of wine and find a hole somewhere to crawl into. She couldn’t do that. She stepped into the shower instead and stood under the pouring water without moving. It was going to be a hell of a day; she could tell already.

Out of the shower, she slipped into her robe, went back to the kitchen for still more coffee, and walked into her bedroom to dress. But when she set her coffee down, she found she was just staring at her closet. Liam. Last night had made her forget everything he had been saying.

She turned around, went to her bedside phone, and dialed her sister’s number, suddenly worried and hoping to talk to her.

When Jeff answered the phone, she was silent for a moment, not exactly sure what she was going to say. “Jeff, it’s me, Serena.”

“Oh, hey. Melinda just left—”

“Oh,” Serena said, disappointed.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he said.

“I—I’ve been worried about you two,” she stammered.

“Really?” His tone was cool.

She had gone this far. “Jeff, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. What’s going on?” He sounded breezy, casual. No—he was
trying
to sound breezy and casual. There was tenseness in his voice. He had taken a beat to think out his reply.

“Jeff, something is going on. You and Melinda are whispering all the time.”

“We’re thinking about a trip to New York,” he said.

“Jeff, I’ve had people comment on …”

“On what?” he demanded.

“On your whispering. Look, I’m just concerned, and I don’t mean to intrude, but—”

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t intrude, Serena. Worry about your own life. Mine is in better shape.”

To her astonishment, the line clicked. He had hung up on her.

She stared at it. “Well,” she murmured aloud, “that surely didn’t make me feel any better.”

She went to get her coffee. Was she being a busybody? No, she was just worried.

The phone rang. She jumped. She walked across the room and answered it. “Hey, kid, I was way out of line. I’m really sorry.” It was Jeff.

“It’s all right. Your life is none of my business. And it probably is in much better shape than my own.”

“I’m going to make it up to you. I promise. I’m going to send you a great gift.”

“Look, I don’t need a gift, Jeff. You don’t have to—”

“No, I’ve been meaning to do this anyway. Forgive me?”

She was silent for a moment.
“Is
everything all right?”

“Yeah. We’re like all married couples. Hills and valleys. But we’re on the right track. We’re okay. I love your sister. And I love you too, okay, kid?”

“Sure, Jeff. I love you both.”

“Well, get to work. Go knock ‘em dead. Oh, sorry, I guess that’s a bad expression these days.”

“It’s all right.”

“Want me to tell Melinda you called?”

“Sure.”

They rang off again. As she thoughtfully set the receiver down, the doorbell rang. Still thinking about Jeff, she wandered to it. She gazed out the peephole.

Liam was standing there impatiently. His hair was sleek, ebony, combed back from his forehead. Somehow, he managed to be both casual and all pulled together in his sports jacket.

Here she was, with a worn robe, towel around wet hair, no makeup. The hell with it. She opened the door.

He looked her up and down. “Running late, are we?”

“One of us is. You’ll have to excuse me. I had a rough night. Would you like some coffee?”

“No. I’ll be waiting. I just wanted to make sure you were awake.”

“Great.”

He turned.

She should have let him go.

“You are allowed to wait indoors, and the coffee in the pot is fresh. Of course, you know that. You made it.”

Liam turned back, arching a dark brow. “You’re not going to throw it at me or anything, are you?”

“Not at the moment.”

She left the door open and strode off to her bedroom. She slipped into a knit sweater and jeans, and halfheartedly dried her hair. She could finish at the studio. She really was running late.

She was still brushing her hair when she walked back into the living room. Liam was standing at the pine counter between the kitchen and living room, so deeply engrossed in the paper he was reading that he didn’t even look up. But he knew she was there.

“Well, you were right,” he said softly.

“What?” Her stupidity of the previous evening, and then being worried about her sister and brother-in-law, had consumed her thoughts that morning.

He turned the paper toward her. The photograph was in a gossip column, rife with speculation about danger to be found on the set of
Valentine Valley.
The photographer had gotten her leaning toward Liam. It didn’t look like she was arguing with him. It looked as if she was getting as close as she possibly could.

She swore.

“Hey, you said it would happen.”

“Yes, but …”

“I can see where this sort of thing gets very annoying.”

She opened her mouth, about to tell him that she wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, it wasn’t really going to hurt her, but what about his blond bombshell? She didn’t say that. She didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t dating.

“Sorry,” she said simply.

“Yeah.”

“What is what’s-her-name going to think?”

“Sharon?” he inquired.

“What’s she going to think?”

“Nothing,” he said. “She knew I was taking this job.”

“Hard job, isn’t it?” she inquired bitterly. “And that’s what it is—a job.”

“You know, I tried to talk to you last night—”

“I don’t want to talk. If Sharon isn’t going to be upset, hey, great. Are you ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

She preceded him out the door, but turned back to lock it when they were out. When they reached his car, he had the passenger door open for her. She slid in. They started driving.

“Sharon is all right with all this?” she asked after several minutes of silence. She didn’t want to talk, she reminded herself. She didn’t seem able to help herself.

“Sharon isn’t your concern.”

Great, involved answers,
she thought.

“Is she the free-spirit type?” she asked, then answered herself, “No, I guess not. You wouldn’t like that.”

He glanced her way at last. “Why? Do you consider yourself a free spirit?”

“Actually, no. And come to think of it, you didn’t consider me a free spirit, either. I think it was something much worse.”

“Not worse. Just something I couldn’t handle,” he said flatly.

“Something …” she murmured.

“Very, very busy. Always,” he said.

“There’s an implication there,” she said lightly. “But let’s see … here we are all this time later, and you’re the one involved already.”

He arched a brow in the mirror, his lip curling slightly. There she went again. Provoking him, saying things she didn’t mean to say, giving away too much of her own life.

“Ah. I’m involved. And you’re just flirting with handsome ‘Hispanic types’ and ‘rock star’ types, or the newest, ‘Latin lover’ types?”

“Hey, I just carry on friendly conversations.”

“Yeah. And you don’t notice the tongues lying on the floor that you trip over on your way out.”

“I’m always very polite,” she told him. “So … I hear that Sharon likes to dig holes in the ground.”

“She does.”

“That must make you very happy. You’re so fond of … nature.”

“She can survive a weekend without room service bringing coffee, yes.”

Serena fell silent. She should have just kept her mouth shut. It hurt to hear that they went off on weekends. She wasn’t taunting him anyway; she was merely torturing herself.

“Great. I’m glad you found what you were looking for. Even if she is a little young for you.”

He looked at her, then back at the road. “She’s not that young. Twenty-eight.”

“Still young.”

“How old do you think I am?” he asked her.

She was startled, realizing that she’d never asked him just how old he was.

They hadn’t made it to a birthday for either one of them. Somehow, the subject of age had never come up.

“Forty?” she suggested. He could have been anywhere from thirty to forty.

“Thirty-six. Eight years. So she’s eight years younger . than me. That’s not exactly an eon.”

“Well, I guess it isn’t exactly child seduction, then. Well, listen, please, don’t take last night to mean anything—”

“What does mean anything to you, Serena?” he queried. She didn’t like the harshness of his tone, or the ice in his dark eyes as they met hers.

“Last night you—”

“Wait a minute! Last night?”

“Yes,
you—
”

“Hey, I was in the guest room, minding my own business.”

“You didn’t have to hop out of the shower.”

“You didn’t have to bring the towel and stand there staring at me.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You were! I merely thought I’d give you a better view.”

“A view? That was a view?”

“Serena, I’m not sure what it was. And you won’t talk seriously—”

“I can’t. Here we are, tha—” She broke off before she could complete
“Thank God!”
She had put herself into this misery; she would be glad to be out of it. “I’m sure you could drop me in the front,” she amended coolly.

“No, I have a place in the garage, right by the elevator.”

“That’s Joe’s place.”

“He insisted I take it.”

He parked. She didn’t wait for him to come around. The second the car stopped, she hopped out. She slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried past him. “I think I’m late,” she murmured.

She knew he was close behind her, though. Into the elevator, out of the elevator. Well, hell. She was his job. He was good at his job. They had almost reached her dressing room when she turned to him. “Don’t you think that this is overkill?” She winced at her choice of words.

“Don’t worry, I’m not following you into the dressing room.”

She shook her head and went on in, allowing the door to close behind her. A second later she heard a tap, and Thorne came in quickly. “You’re late.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Sit still.”

He started quickly in with base and a sponge.

“See the paper?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“You two back together?”

“No. Emphatically, no!”

“Looked like it.”

“Thank you, Thorne.”

“You’re tense. Stop wrinkling up your forehead.”

Serena sat still while he worked on her face. “I didn’t even look at the schedule; nothing changed, did it?”

“No. You’re due on your Egyptian set in … three minutes,” he told her, running a brush over her lips. “Blot, blot!” He held a tissue to her mouth. She blotted obediently. He stepped back. “You look great. Oh, honey, you are a truly beautiful evil woman. Even when you don’t sleep. You’ve got a few bags under those eyes. In fact, like a whole day’s shopping worth of bags.”