by Nora Roberts
Under the veneer of a smart aleck was the poignant tone of a lonely little boy. A fish out of water, Eve thought, and checked the urge to ruffle his hair. She knew the feeling very well. “People say you ask too many questions only when they don’t know the answers.”
He gave her another long, searching look with those direct, adult eyes. Then he smiled and became an almost ten-year-old with a missing tooth. “I know. And it makes them crazy when you just keep asking.”
This time she didn’t resist ruffling his hair. The grin had hooked her. “You’re going to go places, kid. But for now, how do you feel about a walk on the beach?”
He stared for a full thirty seconds. Eve would have bet her last dollar that Rory’s lovers never spent time with him. She’d also bet that Paul Rory Winthrop desperately wanted a friend.
“Okay.” He ran a finger down the Pepsi bottle, making designs in the condensation. “If you want.” It wouldn’t do to seem too eager.
“Good.” She felt exactly the same way, and rose casually. “Just let me find some clothes.”
“We walked for a couple of hours,” Eve said. She was smiling now, and her cigarette had burned down to the filter, untouched in the ashtray. “Even built sand castles. It was one of the most … intimate afternoons of my life. By the time we got back, Rory was awake, and I was head over heels in love with his son.”
“And Paul?” Julia asked quietly. She’d been able to picture him perfectly, a lonely little boy fixing a solitary sandwich on a Saturday afternoon.
“Oh, he was more cautious than I. I realized later that he suspected I was using him to get to his father.” With a restless movement Eve shifted and took out a fresh cigarette. “Who could blame him? Rory was a very desirable man, powerful in the industry, wealthy—in his own right and also through family.”
“You and Rory Winthrop were married before the picture you were working on was released.”
“One month after that Saturday in Malibu.” For a few moments Eve smoked in silence, looking out over the orange grove. “I admit I went after him, single-mindedly. The man didn’t have much of a chance. Romance was his weakness. I exploited it. I wanted that marriage, that ready-made family. I had my reasons.”
“Which were?”
Focusing on Julia again, Eve smiled. “For now we’ll say Paul was a large part of it. It’s true enough, and I don’t intend to lie. And at that point in my life I still believed in marriage. Rory could make me laugh, he was—is—intelligent, gentle, and just wild enough to be interesting. I needed to believe it could work. It didn’t, but of my four marriages, it’s the only one I don’t regret.”
“There were other reasons?”
“You don’t miss much,” Eve murmured. “Yes.” She tapped out her cigarette with quick, jerky motions. “But that’s another story for another day.”
“All right. Then tell me what your reasons were for hiring Nina.”
Very rarely was Eve thrown off balance. Now, to give herself a moment, she blinked and smiled blankly. “I beg your pardon?”
“I spoke with Nina last night. She told me how you’d found her in the hospital after her attempted suicide, how you’d given her not only a job, but the will to live.”
Eve picked up her glass, studied the few remaining inches of champagne and juice. “I see. Nina didn’t mention to me that you’d interviewed her.”
“We talked when she brought the photos over last night.”
“Yes. I haven’t seen her yet this morning.” Changing her mind, Eve set the glass down again without drinking. “My reasons for hiring Nina were twofold, and more intricate than I care to get into at the moment. I will tell you that I detest waste.”
“I’d wondered,” Julia persisted, more interested in watching Eve’s face than in hearing her answer, “if you’d felt it was a way to pay an old debt? Charlie Gray had committed suicide, and you couldn’t do anything to prevent it. This time, with Nina, you could. And did.”
A sadness crept into Eve’s eyes, lingered. Julia watched the green darken, deepen. “You are very perceptive, Julia. Part of what I did was to pay Charlie back. But since I gained a very efficient employee and a devoted friend, one might say it cost me nothing.”
And it was the eyes, not the answer that had Julia reaching out to lay a hand over Eve’s before she realized she’d crossed the distance. “Whatever you gained, compassion and generosity are worth more. I’ve admired you as an actress all my life. In the past few days, I’ve started to admire you as a woman.”
As Eve stared down at their joined hands, tangles of emotion passed across her face. She fought a brief and gritty war to control them before she spoke. “You’ll have plenty of time to develop other opinions of me—as a woman—before we’re finished. Not all of them will be anything remotely resembling admiration. Meanwhile, I have business to see to.” She rose and waved her hand at the recorder. Reluctantly, Julia turned it off. “There’s a charity dinner dance tonight. I have a ticket for you.”
“Tonight?” Julia shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked up. “I really don’t think I can attend.”
“If you’re going to write this book, you can’t do it all from this house. I’m a public figure, Julia,” Eve reminded her. “I want you with me, in public. You’ll need to be ready by seven-thirty. CeeCee will sit with Brandon.”
Julia rose as well. She preferred handling the unexpected on her feet. “I’ll go of course. But you may as well know, I don’t mingle well.” Irony spiking her words, she added, “I never outgrew that habit of driving people crazy by asking too many questions.”
Eve chuckled and, satisfied, strolled toward the house. It was, she was certain, going to be an interesting evening.
If there was one thing Julia hated more than being given orders, it was having no choice but to obey them. It wasn’t that she couldn’t enjoy an evening out, particularly at a glitzy event. If it threatened to make her feel too hedonistic, she could justify it as research. It was being told on the morning of the event that she was expected to attend. Not asked, not invited. Commanded. And she’d been human enough to spend a large chunk of time that afternoon fretting over what to wear. Time, she thought now, that should have been spent working. Just as her annoyance with Eve had reached its peak, Nina had knocked on the door, carrying a trio of dresses. Dresses, Julia was told, that Eve had selected personally from her own wardrobe, on the off chance that Julia hadn’t packed anything appropriate for a formal party.
Dictatorial, perhaps, but still considerate. And it had been tempting, very tempting, to chose one of the shimmery, glittery gowns. At one point, Julia had spread them out over her bed, thousands of dollars worth of silk and spangles. She’d even weakened enough to try one on, a strapless slither of coral-colored silk. It was only marginally too big in the bust and hips so that she imagined it slicked down Eve’s body like rainwater.
In that moment when she stood studying herself in the star’s gown, her own skin somehow softer, creamier against the vivid material, she felt enchanted, touched by magic.
If her life had not taken that single turn, would she have made her home in Beverly Hills? Would she have had a closet full of exquisite clothes? Would her face, her name, have drawn gasps from millions of fans as her image flickered across a movie screen?
Maybe, maybe not, she’d thought, and had indulged herself in a few twists and turns in front of the mirror. But her life had taken that other direction, and had given her something much more important, much more lasting than fame.
In the end her practicality had won out. She’d decided it was better to refuse the gowns than to go through the evening pretending she was something she wasn’t.
She wore the only evening gown she had brought with her, a simple column of midnight blue with a snug bolero jacket studded with bugle beads. In the two years since she’d bought it, on sale at Saks, she had worn it only once. As she fastened on rhinestone drop earrings, she listened to her son’s giggles float up the stai
rs. He and CeeCee, already fast friends, were deeply involved in a game of Crazy Eights.
Julia took a last inventory of her purse, slipped into pretty and miserably uncomfortable evening shoes, then started down the stairs.
“Hey, Mom.” Brandon watched her come down. She looked so nice, so different. It always made him feel proud, and a little funny in the stomach, to realize how beautiful his mother was. “You look really good.”
“You look terrific,” CeeCee corrected the boy. She shifted from her stomach, where she and Brandon were sprawled on the rug, to her knees. “That’s not one of Miss B.’s.”
“No.” Self-conscious, Julia smoothed her skirt. “I didn’t feel right. I’d hoped this would do.”
“It does,” CeeCee told her with a nod. “Classic elegance. And with your hair swept up like that, you add sex appeal. What more could you ask for?”
Invisibility, Julia thought, but only smiled. “I shouldn’t be late. I’m hoping to slip away right after dinner.”
“Why? This is a totally big event.” CeeCee sat back on her heels. “Everybody’s going to be there. And it’s for a good cause and all too. You know, the Actors’ Fund. You should just enjoy yourself. I’ll crash in the spare room if I get tired.”
“Can we make popcorn?” Brandon wanted to know.
“Okay. Make sure you—” At the knock, she glanced over to see Paul standing at the door.
“Put plenty of butter on it,” he finished, and winked at Brandon as he stepped inside.
CeeCee immediately fluffed her hair. “Hi, Mr. Winthrop.”
“Hi, CeeCee, how’s it going?”
“Fine, thanks.” Her twenty-year-old heart went into overdrive. He wore a tux with the casual grace that transmitted instantly into sex. CeeCee wondered if there was a woman alive who wouldn’t fantasize about loosening that tidy black tie.
“Eve said you’d be prompt,” Paul said to Julia. She looked flustered. He’d already decided that was the way he liked her best.
“I hadn’t realized you’d be going. I’d thought I’d be riding with Eve.”
“She went with Drake. They had some business.” He gave her a slow smile. “It’s just you and me, Jules.”
“I see.” The simple phrase had her tensing all over. “Brandon, bed at nine.” She crouched to kiss his cheek. “Remember, CeeCee’s word is law.”
He grinned, thinking that gave him an opening to talk CeeCee into a nine-thirty bedtime. “You can stay out as long as you want. We don’t mind.”
“Thank you very much.” She straightened. “Don’t let him lull you into complacency, CeeCee. He’s tricky.”
“I’ve got his number. Have fun.” She gave a little sigh as they walked out the door.
Things were not working out according to plan, Julia thought as she crossed to the narrow, graveled drive where Paul’s Studebaker was parked. First thing this morning she’d decided to spend a quiet evening working. Then she adjusted to the idea of going out, but actually to do a couple of hours of on-the-spot research, while keeping herself unobtrusively in some corner. Now she had an escort who would probably feel obliged to entertain her.
“I’m sorry Eve imposed on you this way,” she began as he opened the car door for her.
“What way?”
“You might have had other plans for the evening.”
He leaned on the open door, enjoying the way she slid into the car—one slim knee hooking out through the slit in the dress, shapely calves lifting, an unadored hand tucking the hem of the skirt inside. Very smooth.
“Actually, I had planned to drink too much coffee, smoke too many cigarettes, and wrestle with chapter eighteen. But …”
She glanced up, her eyes very serious in the lowering light. “I hate having my work time interrupted. You must feel the same way.”
“Yes, I do.” Though, oddly enough, he wasn’t feeling that way tonight. “Then again, at times like this I have to remind myself it isn’t brain surgery. The patient will rest comfortably until tomorrow.” After closing the door, he rounded the hood to settle into the driver’s seat. “And Eve asks me for very little.”
Julia let out a quick breath as the engine sprang to life. As Eve’s dress had, this car made her feel like someone else. This time a pampered, mink-wrapped debutante rushing down white marble steps to dash off with her favorite beau for a fast ride. That’ll be the day, Julia thought, then said, “I appreciate this. But it wasn’t really necessary. I don’t need an escort.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t.” He steered the car down the drive that veered off from the main house. “You strike me as the kind of woman who goes very competently single file. Has anyone told you it’s intimidating?”
“No.” She ordered herself to relax. “Do people find your competence intimidating?”
“Probably.” Idly, he switched the radio on low, more for the mood than the music. She was wearing that same scent—old-fashioned romance. The air whipping through the windows offered it to him like a gift. “But then, I enjoy keeping people off balance.” He shifted his head just long enough to flick her a glance. “Don’t you?”
“I haven’t thought about it.” Imagining herself having that kind of power made her smile. A good six months out of every twelve she spent virtually alone with Brandon, divorced from people. “This affair tonight,” she continued. “Do you go to many of them?”
“A few each year—usually at Eve’s instigation.”
“Not because you enjoy them?”
“Oh, they’re entertaining enough.”
“But you’d go because she asked in any case?”
Paul paused briefly, waiting for the gates of the estate to open. “Yes, I’d go for her.”
Julia shifted to study his profile, seeing his father, seeing the little boy Eve had described. Seeing someone altogether different. “This morning Eve told me about the first time you met.”
He grinned as he drove down the quiet, palm-lined street. “At the beach house in Malibu, over p.b. and j.’s.”
“Will you share your first impressions of her?”
His grin faded as he drew a cigar out of his pocket. “Still on the clock?”
“Always. You should understand.”
He punched in the lighter, then shrugged. He did understand. “All right, then. I knew a woman had spent the night. There were a few telltale items of clothing strewn around the living room.” He caught her look, arched a brow. “Shocked, Jules?”
“No.”
“Just disapproving.”
“I’m simply imagining Brandon under the same circumstances. I wouldn’t want him to think that I …”
“Had sex?”
The amusement made her stiffen. “That I was indiscriminate or careless.”
“My father was—is—both. By the time I was Brandon’s age, I was quite used to it. No lasting scars.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. “And when you met Eve?”
“I was prepared to dismiss her out of hand. I was quite the little cynic.” Comfortable, he blew out smoke. “I recognized her when she walked into the kitchen, but I was surprised. Most of the women my father bedded looked, well, let’s say worse for wear the morning after. Eve was beautiful. Of course that was just a physical thing, but it impressed me. And there was a sadness in her eyes.” He caught himself and grimaced. “She won’t like that. More important to me at that stage of my life was the fact that she didn’t find it necessary to coo all over me as so many of them did.”
Understanding perfectly, she laughed. “Brandon hates it when people pat his head and tell him what a cute little boy he is.”
“It’s revolting.”
He said it with such feeling, she laughed again. “And you said no scars.”
“I considered it more of a curse—until I hit puberty. In any case, Eve and I had a conversation. She was interested. No one can spot false interest quicker than a child, and there was nothing false about Eve. We walked on the beach, and I was able to talk
to her in a way I’d never been able to talk to anyone before. The things I liked, didn’t like. What I wanted, didn’t want. She was amazingly good to me from that first day on, and I developed a monumental crush on her.”
“Do you—”
“Hold it. We’re nearly there and you’ve been asking all the questions.” He took a lazy last drag, then tapped out his cigar. “Why celebrity bios?”
With an effort, she changed gears. “Because I don’t have enough imagination for fiction.”
Paul stopped at a light, drumming his fingers on the wheel in time with the music. “That answer was much too smooth to be true. Try again.”
“All right. I admire people who not only tolerate but court the spotlight. Since I’ve always functioned better on the sidelines, I’m interested in the kind of people who thrive on center stage.”
“Still smooth, Julia, and only partially true.” He let the car drift forward as the light changed. “If it were really true, how do you explain the fact that you once considered a career in acting?”
“How do you know that?” Her voice was sharper than intended and pleased him. It was about time he pierced that slick outer layer.
“I made it my business to know that, and a great deal more.” He shot her a look. “I do my research.”
“You mean you checked up on me?” Her hands curled into fists in her lap as she struggled with temper. “My background is none of your business. My agreement is with Eve, only Eve, and I resent you poking into my private life.”
“You can resent anything you want. And you can also be grateful. If I’d found anything that didn’t jive, you’d be out on your sweet ass.”
That snapped it. Her head whirled around. “You arrogant son of a bitch.”
“Yeah.” After pulling up at the Beverly Wilshire, he turned to face her. “Remember, on the drive back, I get to ask the questions.” He laid a hand on her arm before she could wrench the door open. “You tear out of here and slam the door, people are going to ask questions.” He watched as she strained, fighting for control, and won. “I knew you could do it. By God, you’re good.”