by Nora Roberts
“No, and at this point of my life I’m glad of it. Brandon’s mine.”
“A pity,” he said mildly. “It would be so satisfying to kill him for you.”
“My hero,” she said, and slipped her arms around him. “But not for me, Paul. That was yesterday. I think I have all I need today.”
He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the line of her jaw. “Let’s make sure of it,” he murmured, and kissed her.
It was so good to be home that Eve even looked forward to a session with Fritz. The fact was she’d missed the doses of sweat and strain more than she would ever admit to her trainer. She’d missed Travers’s grousing, Nina’s obsessive organization. Julia’s company. It struck Eve, not altogether pleasantly, that she must at last be getting old if she had come to hoard in her heart like a miser the everyday things she’d once ignored.
The location shoot had gone well. Certainly better than she’d anticipated. She could credit Peter for much of that—not only for the bouts of good, solid sex, but for his patience and enthusiasm on the set, his sense of humor even when things were at their worst. Years before she might have made the mistake of stringing their affair out, of pretending, at least to herself, that she was in love with him.
Or, she certainly would have used whatever means at her disposal to tip him over into love with her. Good sense had prevailed, and they had agreed to leave the lovers in Georgia and come back to the West Coast as friends and colleagues.
Now, lowering thought, maturity offered perspective. She realized Peter reminded her of Victor, of the vital, charming, and talented man she had fallen so helplessly in love with. Of the man she still loved. Oh, God, she missed him. Of all her fears, the greatest was that they would waste what time they had left together.
Julia entered five minutes later. She was out of breath because she had hurried, had felt the need to hurry. The moment she saw Eve, bent low in a hamstring stretch, her tall, lush body unbelievably stunning in a snug sapphire leotard, she understood why. She had missed her, Julia thought. Missed Eve’s acid comments, her stingingly honest memories, the outsize ego, the arrogance. All of it. She laughed to herself as she watched Eve switch her weight.
At that moment, Eve glanced up, caught Julia’s smile, and returned it. Fritz looked over, his eyes moving from one woman to the other. His brows raised speculatively, but he said nothing. Something passed between them in the silence, unexpected by both. As Eve straightened, Julia felt an urge to walk to her and embrace, knowing she would be embraced in turn. Though she did cross the room, she only held out both hands, her fingers linking with Eve’s in a quick, welcoming grip.
“So, how was the swamp?”
“Hot.” Eve searched her face, pleased with what she saw there. Relaxation, a quiet contentment. “How was London?”
“Cold.” Still smiling, Julia set her gym bag aside. “Rory sends his regards.”
“Hmm. You know what I really want is an opinion on his new wife.”
“I think she’s perfect for him. She reminds me a bit of you.” She swallowed a chuckle as incredulity shot into Eve’s eyes.
“Darling, really. There’s no one like me.”
“You’re right.” The hell with it, she thought, and went with instinct, wrapping her arms around Eve in a tight, affectionate hug. “I missed you.”
Now it was tears that glittered in Eve’s eyes, quick, unexpected, and difficult to control. “I would have liked you with me. Your cool observations would have livened up the hours of boredom between takes. But I have a feeling you enjoyed the company in London.”
Julia stepped back. “You knew Paul was with me.”
“I know everything.” Eve flicked a finger down Julia’s jaw line. “You’re happy.”
“Yes. Nervous, dazzled, but happy too.”
“Tell me everything.”
“Work,” Fritz interrupted. “Talk while you work. You can’t just exercise your tongues.”
“You can’t talk and do crunchies,” Julia complained. “You can’t even breathe and do crunchies.” He only grinned.
By the time he put her on the weights, she was sheened with sweat, but she had her wind. Over his grunted instructions she told Eve about London, about Paul, about all the feelings that were bubbling inside. It was so easy she hardly thought about it. Years before, it had been impossible to talk to her mother about Lincoln. Now there was no shame, no fear.
There were a dozen times when she could have angled the conversation to Delrickio, but Julia felt it wasn’t the time. And with Fritz in attendance, it wasn’t the place. Instead, she tried what she thought would be a less sensitive area.
“I have an appointment with Nina’s predecessor, Kenneth Stokley, this afternoon.”
“Really? Is he in town?”
“No, he’s still in Sausalito. I’m flying down for a few hours. Is there anything you’d like to tell me about him?”
“About Kenneth?” Eve pursed her lips as she finished her leg curls. “You might find him a difficult interview. Terribly polite, but not very expansive. I was very fond of him, and sorry when he decided to retire.”
“I thought you’d had a disagreement.”
“We did, but he was a top-notch assistant for me.” She took a towel from Fritz and blotted her face. “He didn’t have a very high opinion of my husband. Husband number four to be exact. And, I found it difficult to forgive Kenneth for being so right.” She shrugged and tossed the towel aside. “We decided it would be best to sever our professional relationship, and, a frugal soul, he had more than enough to retire in style. Are you going alone?”
“Yes, I should be back by five. CeeCee’s going to watch Brandon after school. There’s a commuter flight that leaves at noon.”
“Nonsense. You’ll take my plane. Nina will arrange it.” She waved a hand before Julia could speak. “It’s just sitting there. This way you can come and go as suits you. That should appeal to that streak of practicality.”
“Actually it does. Thank you. I’d also like to talk to you about Gloria DuBarry. She’s been dodging my phone calls.”
Eve bent down to rub at her calf, so her expression was veiled. But the hesitation, though brief, was obvious. “I wondered if you’d mention your little … altercation with her.”
Julia lifted a brow. “It doesn’t seem necessary. As you said, you know everything.”
“Yes.” She was smiling as she straightened, but Julia thought she detected a trace of strain. “We’ll talk later, about Gloria and other things. I imagine if you try her again, she’ll be more cooperative.”
“All right. Then there’s Drake—”
“Don’t worry about Drake right now,” Eve interrupted. “Who else have you interviewed?”
“Your agent, though we had to cut it short. I’m, going to be talking with her again. I managed a brief phoner with Michael Torrent. He called you the last of the goddesses.”
“He would,” Eve muttered, and wished almost violently for a cigarette.
Julia grunted as her muscles trembled. “Anthony Kincade refuses, flatly, to speak to me, but Damien Priest was excessively polite and evasive.” She rattled off a list of names, impressive enough to have Eve’s brows rising.
“You don’t let the grass grow under your feet, do you, darling?”
“I still have a ways to go. I’d hoped you’d help clear the path for me to Delrickio.”
“No, that I won’t do. And I’ll ask you to give him a wide berth. At least for the time being. Fritz, don’t wear the girl out.”
“I don’t wear out,” he told Eve. “I build up.”
Eve went off to shower while Julia suffered through power squats. By the time she was finished, Nina appeared.
“You’re all set.” Nina flipped open a notebook, then reached around to pluck a pencil from her hair. “The studio’s sending a car for Miss B., so Lyle’s at your disposal. The plane will be ready to go when you are, and a driver will be waiting on the other end to take you
to your appointment.”
“I appreciate it, but it isn’t necessary to go to the trouble.”
“No trouble.” Nina checked off her list, then smiled. “Really, it’s so much easier all around to have it all set up. Your flight might have been delayed, you could have trouble getting a cab and … oh, yes, your driver in Sausalito is from Top Flight Transportation. It’s about a twenty-minute drive from the airport to the marina. Of course he’ll be available to pick you up again at whatever time you decide.”
“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” Eve commented as she breezed back in. “I’d be lost without her.”
“Only because you pretend you can’t cope with details.” Nina stuck the pencil back in her hair. “Your car should be out front. Shall I tell them to wait?”
“No, I’m coming. Fritz, my own true love, I’m so glad you haven’t lost your touch.” Eve gave him a long kiss that had him flushing down to his pecs.
“I’ll walk out with you,” Julia said, beating Nina to the punch by an instant. Nina hesitated, then gave way.
“I’ll go get started on the half million phone calls I have to return. We’ll expect you about seven, Miss B.?”
“If the gods are willing.”
“I’m sorry,” Julia began as they went out through the central courtyard. “I know that wasn’t very subtle, but I wanted another minute.”
“Nina’s not easily offended. What is it you wanted to say that you wouldn’t say in front of her, or Fritz?” She paused to admire the flame-colored peonies that were just about to bloom.
“Too much for a short trip to the car, but to begin with I think you should know. This was delivered to the desk of my hotel in London.”
Eve studied the slip of paper Eve pulled out of her bag. She didn’t have to open it to know, didn’t have to read it. “Christ.”
“It seems to me someone went to a lot of trouble to get it there. Paul was with me, Eve.” She waited until Eve looked back at her. “He knows about the other notes as well.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry if you feel I should’ve kept quiet about it, but—”
“No, no.” She interrupted with a wave of her hand before her fingers moved unconsciously to rub at her temple. “No, maybe it’s best this way. I still don’t believe they’re anything more than a nuisance.”
Julia replaced the paper. The moment was probably all wrong, but she wanted to give Eve time to consider before she spoke again. “I know about Delrickio, and Damien Priest, and Hank Freemont.”
Eve’s hand fluttered to her side. The only sign of tension was the quick, instinctive clutching and releasing of her fist. “Well, that saves me from repeating the whole mess.”
“I’d like to hear it from your view.”
“Then you will. But we have other things to discuss first.” She started walking again, past the fountain, the early roses, the thick islands of azaleas. “I’d like you to have dinner with me tonight. Eight o’clock.” She turned inside to pass through the core of the main house. “I hope you’ll come with an open mind, and an open heart, Julia.”
“Of course.”
She hesitated at the front door, then opened it and stepped into the sunlight again. “I’ve made mistakes and regret very few of them. I’ve lived with lies very comfortably.”
Julia waited a moment, then chose her words carefully. “In the past few weeks I’ve come to wish that I’d accepted my own mistakes, and my own lies as well. It’s never been my function to judge you, Eve. Now that I know you, I couldn’t.”
“I hope you still feel that way after tonight.” She laid a hand on Julia’s cheek. “You’re exactly, exactly what I needed.”
She turned, walking quickly to the car. Turmoil whirled around her. She barely acknowledged the chauffeur as he opened the door. Then everything fell quietly into place.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Victor said from the backseat. “I missed the hell out of you, Eve.”
She slipped inside and into his arms.
Julia had developed an image of Kenneth Stokley as a rather spare, graying man on the prim side. He would certainly have to be an organized individual to have worked for Eve. Conservative, she thought, to the point of being futsy. His voice had been cultured, smooth, and scrupulously polite.
Her first indication that she might be wrong about the image she’d conjured was the houseboat.
It was charming, romantic, a trim square of softly faded blue with gleaming white shutters. Blood red geraniums spilled lushly from snowy windowboxes. At the apex of a fanciful peaked roof was a wide sheet of stained glass. After a stare and a blink, Julia identified the portrait of a naked mermaid smiling seductively.
Her amusement at that faded a little when she took stock of the narrow swaying bridge that linked the boat to the dock and took off her shoes. At the midway point, she heard the passionate strains of Carmen soaring out of the open windows ahead. She was humming, doing her best to keep her rhythm harmonic with the sway of the bridge when the door opened.
He could have doubled for Cary Grant, circa 1970. Trim, silver-haired, tanned to a bronze sheen, and charmingly sexy in baggy white pants and a loose pullover of sky blue, Kenneth Stokley was the kind of man who had the saliva pooling in the mouth of any female with a heartbeat.
Julia nearly lost her balance, and her shoes, when he came out to help her.
“I should have warned you about my entranceway.” He took the briefcase from her, then gracefully walked backward with her hand caught in his. “Inconvenient, I know, but it does discourage all but the most avid of vacuum cleaner salesmen.”
“It’s charming.” She let out a little breath when her feet hit the more substantial wood of the deck. “I’ve never been on a houseboat.”
“It’s quite sturdy,” he assured her while he made his own assessment. “And there’s that possibility of being able to sail off into the sunset if the whim strikes. Do come in, my dear.”
She stepped inside. Instead of the nautical decor of anchors and fishnetting she might have expected, she entered a sleek, elegant living area of low-slung sofas in vibrant tones of peach and mint. There was the warmth of teak and cherrywood and what was surely a gloriously faded Aubusson carpet. An entire wall was taken over by shelves of varying widths that were overflowing with books. Circular stairs wound tightly upward and bisected an overhanging balcony. The sun played through the mermaid and danced in rainbow colors on the pale walls.
“It’s lovely,” Julia said, and the astonishment as well as the appreciation in her voice made Kenneth smile.
“Thank you. One prefers to be comfortable after all. Please, sit down, Miss Summers. I was just making some iced tea.”
“That would be nice, thanks.” She hadn’t expected to feel so at ease, but sitting on the cushy sofa, surrounded by books and Carmen, it was impossible to be otherwise. It wasn’t until Kenneth had moved into the adjoining kitchen that she realized she had yet to put her shoes on again.
“I was sorry to miss Eve’s little extravaganza recently,” he told her, raising his voice to be heard over the music. I’d taken a little trip down to Cozumél for some scuba diving.” He came back in carrying an enameled tray with two green-hued glasses and a fat pitcher. Lemon slices and ice swam in the golden tea. “Eve always throws an unusual party.”
Not Miss Benedict or even Miss B., Julia noted. “Are you still in touch with Eve?”
He settled the tray, handing her a glass before taking a seat across from her. “What you’re asking, quite politely, is if Eve and I still speak. After all, in the strictest sense of the word, she did fire me.”
“I was under the impression there was a disagreement.”
His smile radiated good heath and good humor. “With Eve life was filled with disagreements. In actual fact, it’s much simpler to be associated with her now that I’m not in her employ.”
“Do you mind if I record this?”
“No, not at all.” He watched as she took out her
tape recorder and set it on the table between them. “I was surprised to hear that Eve had instigated this book. Over the years the handful of unauthorized biographies annoyed her.”
“That may be your answer. A woman like Eve would want to have the major part in the telling of her own story.”
Kenneth lifted a silver eyebrow. “And the control of the telling.”
“Yes,” Julia said. “Tell me how you came to work for her.”
“Eve’s offer came at a time when I was considering changing jobs. She hired me away from Miss Miller and their competition forced Eve to offer me more money—a tidy bit more. There was the added incentive of having my own quarters. I must say I doubted Eve would be tedious, but I also knew her reputation with men. So I hesitated. It was vulgar, I suppose, to bring the fact up to her, and to state my requirements for a purely nonphysical relationship.” He smiled again, fondly, a man cherishing memories. “She laughed, that big, lusty laugh of hers. She had a glass in her hand, I recall, a champagne flute. We were standing in the kitchen of Miss Miller’s home where Eve had sought me out during a party. She picked another glass off the table, handed it to me, and then