“When were you going to tell me,” she demanded. “When, Chance?”
He drew his eyebrows together in confusion, searching her expression. “Tell you... what?”
“When I got back to my room, there was a message from Eva waiting for me. Congratulating me on being the launch artist for the Summer Show.” Her voice quivered. “How long have you known?”
Chance stared at her, his confusion becoming fury as he realized what she meant.
“Your indignation is perfect,” he murmured. “Just perfect. You are a better actress than your grandmother. The deceiver here is you. You used me to further your art career.”
His words took her aback.
“I found out about your little game early on, Beth. Or is it Liza?”
She felt the blood drain from her cheeks. “What do you mean, to further my art?”
Chance continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I saw through your charade at the coffeehouse, although I didn’t have my proof until that night in Liza’s studio. Remember that night? Remember our... kiss?” He saw by her expression that she did. “In the heat of the moment, I called you Beth. You didn’t notice. I knew then for sure.” He shook his head in derision. “You weren’t even a good liar, Beth.”
She stared at him, remembering all the times between that moment and this one, remembering all the things they’d said to each other. The things they had done. Everything had been a lie.
She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to ward off the pain, the feeling of absolute betrayal. He thought she’d created Liza to further her art career. She moved her gaze to the bed, still jumbled from their lovemaking. How could he think that little of her? He didn’t know her at all.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“After we got back to L.A. This afternoon.” Beth found the words lame even to her own ears, and saw by his expression that he found them so too. “It’s true. Chance.”
He laughed coldly. “I’m sure it is. You were going to tell me after you found out about the Summer Show.”
“No!” She took a step toward him. “What I did wasn’t about my... art. It was about my fears. My lack of self-confidence. It was about my—
“What?” he interrupted caustically. “Your love?”
His words cut her to the core. She lifted her chin another notch, determined never again to be the woman who had gone to such ridiculous lengths out of fear. She was done hiding. “Yes.”
“Give me a break! I haven’t been that dumb since I was thirteen.”
“It’s true.” She drew in a deep breath, desperation tightening in the pit of her stomach. “It started out as a harmless fib—a white lie. You saw my sketches that morning and I couldn’t bear for you to know they were mine. I couldn’t bear for you to reject them. So... I said they were my sister’s.”
“Your sister,” he mimicked. “Do you even have a sister?”
“No.” Heat flew to her cheeks. “Liza is the name my grandmother always called me.”
The sound he made was harsh. She continued, even though she knew he would never believe her. “Everything I told you about Liza and her art was true. I tried not to lie. As often as I could, I spoke to you from my heart.”
She let her words trail off, then stiffened her spine. He would never believe her, but she would have her say anyway. “Without meaning to, I got deeper and deeper into the lie, and I didn’t know how to get back out.”
“Without telling the truth?”
She lifted her chin. “Without losing you.” At his expression, she laughed. “You’d told me about your parents. I knew how you felt about deceit. I couldn’t face the thought of never seeing you again.”
Chance narrowed his eyes, stealing himself against the emotions raging over and through him. Her words pulled at him, at his heart. He shook his head in denial of them and her. “That was about your art. You saw me as your shot at the big time.”
“No.” She met his gaze evenly. “I didn’t want to lose you. Chance. I love you.”
He curled his fingers into fists. Just like his parents, she used love to justify her actions. “Convenient, Beth. I’m sure there’s some poor S.O.B. out there who would believe you, but not me.”
“No.” She took a step closer to him. “What I did was wrong, I regretted it from the first and hated lying. But I didn’t do it to hurt you. I did it out of fear. First of exposing myself and later of losing you.”
She took a deep breath. “You deliberately tried to hurt me, Chance. You set me up. I was a virgin. How could you... do that to me?”
The expression in her eyes tore at him, and he turned away from her. “I had set up last night to pay you back,” he said softly. “To trap you into admitting the truth. But it didn’t go that way.” He laughed, the sound harsh. “I couldn’t go through with it.”
Couldn’t go through with it? Beth clasped her hands in front of her. “Then why... what did happen last night?”
He turned and stared at her, furious with her lies and manipulations, but more furious with himself for forgetting about them even if only for a night. Furious that he’d allowed her to touch him. To hurt him.
Once he had felt nothing; now he felt everything. It scared him to death.
“What,” she repeated, a thread of hope beginning to curl through her, “happened last night?”
Chance crossed to the window. Softly yet with a leashed violence, he knocked his fist against the window frame. When he turned back to her, the expression in his eyes was as cold and unyielding as the glass behind him. “Sex, Beth. Not planned. Not part of revenge. But nothing more either.”
She felt as if he’d slapped her. Why those words, after all the others they had flung at each other, should hurt so badly, she didn’t know. But they did.
She worked to find her voice. “I think I hate you now.”
For a full ten seconds he stared at her, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Good, as a matter of fact. But our business together is far from finished, Elizabeth Waters.”
“I wouldn’t work with you now even if—”
“Your art... Liza. You signed a three-year contract with me. I’m your exclusive West Coast representative. And I’m going to launch your career with the Summer Show.”
“I don’t care about the show. And I don’t want it. You can take your show and—”
“You’re it anyway.” He hardened his jaw. “Congratulations.”
Her breath caught on a sob. “Why are you doing this? You obviously despise me.” She thought of the night before and what they’d shared, and her eyes filled with tears. “Why would you want to represent me? Why try to make me a... star?”
“It’s business,” he said without inflection. “You’ve got star talent. A lot of nice people wouldn’t make me a cent. But you”—he raked his gaze over her—”you’ll make me a fortune.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, her tears brimming, then spilling over. How could he be so cold? And how could she still love him after what he’d done.
“I hope you’re happy, Elizabeth Waters. You got what you wanted.”
Chapter 10
Beth knocked on her grandmother’s door. She’d called the older woman repeatedly over the last day and a half, with no reply. It wasn’t like Eva not to return phone messages, and Beth worried that something had happened to her.
Beth pounded again, thinking of the weeks since that last awful scene between her and Chance. Each day had crept by agonizingly, and each day she had told herself that time would heal her, that eventually the pain would be gone and she would be able to breathe evenly again.
But so far the hurt had only worsened, and some days she had wondered how she would survive to face the next.
Thank goodness she’d had her exhibition to concentrate on. Plans for it had catapulted forward, and her days had been filled with getting works framed, then shipped; she’d been in constant touch with the San Francisco gallery and Chance’s new assi
stant at Art One.
Funny how some dreams come true... and some didn’t.
Beth’s eyes filled with tears, and muttering an oath, she blinked them away. If only she could hate him. If only she could forget him.
But the truth was, she loved him too much to ever forget him.
Beth pounded on Eva’s door again, then pressed her ear to the wood. Fear snaked through her. What would she do if she lost her grandmother too? She didn’t think she would be able to go on.
“Eva,” she called, this time hammering with her fist on the door. “It’s me, Beth. If you’re in there, please open up.”
A moment later she heard a shuffling sound from inside the apartment, then the click of the lock turning. Beth almost cried out in relief as the door swung open. “Eva, thank God! Where have you been? I was terrified...”
Beth’s words trailed off. Her grandmother’s face was devoid of cosmetics, her eyes red and swollen, her mouth etched as if with years of bitter disappointments. She looked old and beaten.
Stunned, Beth brought a hand to her own mouth. She’d never seen her grandmother this way. Eva had always been ageless, full of life and laughter, full of spirit. But now...
Beth caught her grandmother’s hands. “My God, Eva! What’s happened? Are you ill?”
“My agent called,” her grandmother said. “I didn’t get the part. They gave it to the younger actress.”
“Oh, Eva...” Beth squeezed her hands. “I’m so sorry. I know how badly you wanted that part.”
Her grandmother’s eyes teared, and she slipped her hands from Beth’s. Without another word, she turned and walked slowly to the living room.
Beth followed her, watching as her grandmother sank onto the couch and pulled an afghan around her, huddling into it. It hurt to see her so unhappy, and Beth drew in a shaky breath, wanting to ease the other woman’s pain. “There will be other parts, Eva.”
She shook her head. “No.”
Beth crossed to her, and kneeled down in front of her. “What do you mean, no?” Beth smiled, trying to reassure. “Of course there will be. There’s always another part, that’s what you’ve always said.”
“That was before I got old.” Eva clutched the afghan to her. “Writers create stories about the young. And for the few parts available to someone older, directors hire young talent and have them made up to look old.” She shook her head. “No, it’s too late for me.”
“Don’t say that! It’s not too late. Didn’t you always tell me that a person is only as young—or as old—as she wants to be?” She gripped the other woman’s hands. “You came so close this time—you almost had your dream! Next time—”
“No.” Eva shook her head again. “Don’t you see? I was better than that other actress, but they hired her because she was younger. It’s not about talent anymore, it’s about something that I can’t control or change.” She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “The time comes when you have to face the facts. And the facts are—I’m never going to be more than a two-bit, fourth-rate actress. I’m never going to make it.”
“That’s not true, Eva! It’s not.” Tears filled Beth’s eyes. “You’re a wonderful actress. You’ve wanted other parts. You’ve never given up when you didn’t get them.”
“This part was my last chance. It’s over, Beth.” A solitary tear rolled down Eva’s cheek. “I’ve wasted my life. To the exclusion of all else, I chased my impossible dream. I ruined your mother’s childhood, and now I’ve screwed up your life. If I hadn’t pushed you into this Liza thing, if I hadn’t cornered you—”
“I wouldn’t have a one-person show opening this weekend,” Beth interrupted, fear and desperation racing through her. If her grandmother gave up her dream she would wither, then die. If she gave up her dream, she would have nothing to live for. “If you hadn’t pushed, I’d still be painting pictures no one would ever see.”
“You would have Chance,” her grandmother finished sadly. “It’s my fault you’re so unhappy. Everything’s my fault.”
“Stop it!” Beth jumped up and faced her grandmother. “First of all, I made my choices, not you. Any mess I’m in, I created.” She placed her fists on her hips. “And secondly, how can you say you wasted your life? You’ve had a wonderful life. One full of adventure. And romance. You haven’t allowed yourself to be ruled by fears or by what others expected of you. You’ve believed in yourself, Eva.
“How many people can say that of their lives? How many people can say that they’ve lived their lives as they wanted?” Beth lowered her voice. “You’re my hero. You showed me how to live, you encouraged me to be confident and courageous. And you always... you always believed in me. When no one else did, not even me.”
Her eyes brimming with tears, Beth knelt back down in front of her grandmother. “If not for you, I would still be trapped in the fear that was suffocating me. I’m not afraid anymore, Eva. I don’t care what anybody thinks about me... except me.”
As she said the words, Beth realized she meant them. Her whole life she had allowed fears to rule her and others to control her. She’d changed. She was no longer Beth Waters, afraid of her own shadow. She’d become a new woman—a combination of the woman she’d created from her own fantasies and the person she’d been all along.
Beth stared at her stunned grandmother, then laughed with delight. “Eva, you say I’m unhappy—how could I be? For the first time in my life I know what it is to be free and whole.” She laughed again and drew the older woman to her feet. “For the first time in my life I’m completely myself! If you hadn’t bullied me, it wouldn’t have happened.”
Beth hugged her, ecstatic with hope, dizzy with her own power. “I’ll make Chance love me, Eva. I know I can... because he’s half in love with me already.”
At first Beth thought her grandmother was crying, then she realized she was chuckling. Beth loosened her hold on the other woman, tipping her head back to meet her gaze. As she did, relief rushed over her—the sparkle had returned to her grandmother’s eyes. Eva was back and, Beth could tell, already plotting.
“And how do you propose to do that?” Eva asked, arching an eyebrow.
Beth paused, then shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’m going to do whatever it takes. For the first time in my life I’m going to put it all—my heart and everything else I am and have—on the line.”
“Well, I’m done interfering,” her grandmother said regally. “But I suggest something grand.”
Beth bit back a smile. “Theatrical even.”
“Yes.” The older woman began to pace. “Your opening is this weekend. He’ll be there?”
“Without a doubt.”
“It will be the perfect opportunity.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“We’ll have to find you just the right dress.”
“I’m sure you have something.” Eva stopped pacing and faced her granddaughter. “If all else fails, I’ll lock you up together in the storage closet.”
Beth grinned. “And I’ll seduce him.”
“An excellent plan.”
“Eva?” Beth smiled as the older woman met her eyes. “Welcome back.”
* * *
What had he done?
Chance stared down at the publicity photos of Beth on his desk in front of him, the ones they’d used for the Summer Show’s press releases. Her image smiled shyly back at him, taunting him for his stupidity. His insides twisted.
He loved her.
There, he’d admitted it. Even if only to himself. He’d fallen in love with Beth... and he’d driven her away. How could he have been such a fool?
He lightly caressed the photo’s glossy surface, his senses remembering the softness of her skin. He smiled a little, wonder and tenderness warming him. She’d reached beyond the barrier of fear he’d erected around himself and touched him. Deeply and without trying. He would never be the same again.
Still holding her photo, he swiveled his chair around to face the window. It rarely rained in
southern California, yet here it was... raining. The water sluiced over his picture window, running in rivulets down to drench and nourish the dry and thirsty earth.
As Beth had nourished him. He’d been dying and he hadn’t even known it.
Chance looked back down at the photo. She’d sneaked up on him. Her sense of warmth and humor, her intelligence and wit, her sweetness and vulnerability. Her honesty.
Honesty. He thought of that night in her studio, of the expression on her face, of the fear he’d felt emanating from her in almost palpable waves. He remembered her insecurity that day at the coffeehouse, remembered the way she had lifted her chin as if readying herself for a blow.
What she’d told him of her reasons for creating Liza had been the truth. She hadn’t meant to hurt him; she hadn’t even meant to lie. She’d been terrified of revealing her art and being rejected.
Beth had been emotionally honest all along. It was he who had lied. To her. To himself.
Chance shook his head and gazed out at the gray sky. He’d accused her of playing games, yet his entire life had been a game. The game of hiding from his feelings, of making sure no one got too close. Making sure no one ever had the power to hurt him the way his parents had.
Beth had ended that. She’d gotten so close so fast, it had scared the hell out of him. So he’d played more games, and finally he’d driven her away.
Now he faced the prospect of life without her. Of never holding her again, of never laughing together, never sharing moments of the day-to-day grind. Never making love with her. Pain seared him, and he grimaced. How could he fear being hurt when he already hurt so badly, he thought he would never be whole again?
Love hadn’t ruined his parents’ marriage and his childhood. His parents had.
The realization stunned him. He had wanted someone, something to blame. He hadn’t wanted to point the finger at his parents, because he loved them, they’d been his world.
So the child in him had blamed love.
The time had come to let go of childish notions. The time had come to stop letting the past color his present, to stop letting his fears rule him.
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