by Alison Tyler
He had to smile. But the episode with the bellhop brought home the reality that, as a psychiatrist, he had to uphold a certain image. Cat had no such restraints.
"Unfortunately, I'm not free to let loose and do something zany in public. I've bumped into patients in all kinds of places. It's always a little awkward. None as awkward as this time—even if you had left me that sheet." His lips curved into a slight smile.
Cat cursed herself for spoiling the romantic mood. Sometimes she was too impulsive for her own good.
"Go ahead and eat your ice cream." he said, his hand covering his mouth as he yawned.
"I'm not hungry anymore," she said, getting up. "Let's get back into bed."
She got up, pulling the sheet with her and spreading it back on the bed. She slipped underneath. Luke walked over to the table, opened the bottle, and poured them both some champagne. Cat took a glass from his outstretched hand. He joined her under the sheet, glass in hand.
"What do we toast to?" Cat asked softly.
"To our moonlit night filled with fantasy and excitement at the Ambassador Hotel."
They clinked glasses and drank the champagne down.
Luke pressed Cat's head to his chest and put his arms around her. Within minutes, her breathing was deep and even, and when he shut his eyes this time, he, too, fell asleep.
They were rudely awakened in the late morning by the shrill ring of the phone. Cat groaned, still warmly nestled in Luke's light embrace.
"Who is it?"
Luke stretched. "I think you have to pick up the receiver to find out."
"Oh." She reached out, her eyes still closed, fumbling around on the table until her hand closed around the phone. As she lifted the receiver, the bottom half of the phone fell with a thud to the floor. She turned away from Luke and bent over to retrieve it.
Luke's hand stroked her back as she leaned half off the bed. Then, grinning, he pinched her bottom, sending her tumbling off the bed. She let out a little shriek as she fell.
"Hello." She climbed back onto the bed, phone in hand, scowling at Luke.
"Everything okay, Cat?"
"Oh, Dodger. Sure. Yeah. Fine." The words, stilted and staccato, made their way out of her mouth.
"Do you want to go over tomorrows crash? I have a few ideas I think might add a new angle or two."
"Today?"
"Of course today. When else? You didn't mention any plans. And you know I like to make sure you are razor-sharp about the procedure."
"Dodger, give me a break, will you? I know the game plan like the back of my hand. If you have a couple of changes we can go over them tomorrow morning. I'm not scheduled till three in the afternoon."
"Do me a favor and don't show off tomorrow."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Watch your language, little girl." His Mississippi drawl, still with him from childhood despite all his years in Hollywood, came back full force. It always did when he scolded her. "You took that leap too wide yesterday. And you were too tense. That's why you nearly broke your wrist."
"It was barely a sprain," she argued, her own inflection growing more southern. "I took the dumb bandage off right after you walked away yesterday."
"That's just what I mean—showing off." "Dodger." She grimaced at the receiver and then across to Luke, shaking her head.
"You are stubborn as the day is long, Cat. But you always were, so I don't know why I still let myself get all riled up about it. I'll speak to you later."
"Have a nice day, Dodger," she said sweetly, and hung up.
"Gave you a tough time, huh?"
"Always does, always will," she said, stepping out of bed. "But then, he's the boss."
"Is he the one that dishes out the rewards, too?" The phone call had produced a decidedly sour taste in Luke's mouth, and a definite dose of reality to his mind.
"What are you talking about?" She gave him a puzzled look.
"I'm talking about a six-foot-plus man in his early fifties with a magnificent athlete's body and a craggy face that has probably crushed dozens of hearts across the continent."
Cat laughed. "Dodger would love that description. You're right on target, Doc."
"Your heart's still intact, though," he observed.
"Dodger and I go way back. We're—we're a family." Her eyes, a crisp, clear blue in the day-light sun, sparkled mischievously. "We're always hugging and kissing—when we aren't fighting."
"How Hollywood."
"Luke, you are funny."
"There's nothing funny about loose morals."
"Oh, so that's what Hollywood people are like. Wanton women, heartbreaking men, orgies, drugs…"
"Is that so off the track?"
"Not for some, I guess. But I don't particularly care for that brand of fulfillment. Dodger and I are—"
"That's all right," he stopped her abruptly. "It isn't any of my business. What you and Dodger do—what you and any man do in your life—does not require explanations."
"Well, thank you, Dr. Eliot." She said tersely. Then she lay back on the pillow. "This is no way to wake up to the man you've just spent the best night of your life with."
Luke grabbed a hold of Cat's hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed the tip of each finger.
She stuck one of her fingers into his mouth, then rolled over toward him, transferring the same finger to her own mouth for a moment.
Luke grinned. "You are sinfully, deliciously wanton, tiger." He slid his hand under her hip, firmly grabbing her to draw her more tightly to him.
She nuzzled her lips into the crook of his neck, then whispered in his ear, "With you I'm very Hollywood. Let's have another private orgy. What do you say?"
"I say it's the best idea you've had all morning." He kissed her hard on the lips for emphasis.
They made love again. But it wasn't the same as last night. The passion was there; the hunger, the ecstasy was recreated. And yet, there was a sense of urgency, of time running out that they both silently felt, fought against acknowledging and, in the end, secretly admitted.
The night had cast an aura of timelessness around them, nestling them in a safe cocoon while they learned about each other and made love basking in the soft glow of the moon. But now the sun cast a harsher, stronger light. Reality had entered Cat's room at the Ambassador Hotel, and they both knew it. Still, they held on to the moment a little while longer.
Cat buried her head in his chest, tracing circles around his biceps. She had thought him strikingly sensual when he tried to talk her off' the ledge and then again as he hugged his robe around his torso while she forced her brew on him in his apartment. But last night and today she had discovered the true depths of his sensuality. Luke Eliot could easily become an addiction. And she did still have another eight days in town…
Luke ran his fingers through her wild, thick, tangled hair, lifting it away from her face. His touch was tender, loving. He hugged her tightly for a minute, then relaxed his grip.
She found herself thinking about Teri Caulfield—Dr. Caulfield, as the cool, sophisticated blond had so pointedly corrected. Doctor and doctor. Now that was a match made in heaven. Any producer would buy that romance. Even the contrasts—her fairness against his dark good looks; her slight, small, willowy frame beside his tall, broad torso—were not antithetical. The differences between them were just enough to add a spark of interest.
Cat and Luke were a great physical match, but they were diametrically opposed in spirit, personality, style… She vetoed the eight days she might be able to wangle with Luke. What was the point? Why would she want to torment herself by getting even more deeply involved with a man when the ending was so obvious? No one would bother to see their film—if someone was fool enough to make it.
She lifted her head up and gazed at Luke. He traced the contours of her face with his index finger. When it passed her lips, she bit his finger lightly and smiled. Just as she bent to kiss him the phone rang again.
She was brief an
d a little surly as she told the caller that she was still sleeping and to call back later.
Luke watched her hang up the phone.
"Dodger again?"
"No."
"Another member of the family?"
"You mean like a kissin' cousin?" Cat teased.
"Do you know that before I met you, I would have sworn on a stack of bibles that I did not have a jealous bone in my body."
"Come on, Doc. You trying to tell me the beautiful Dr. Caulfield never caused those bones to poke out?" She bit her lip, angry with herself. She had been determined not to bring up Teri Caulfield. Luke was right. What went on in their real lives had no bearing on their private fantasy.
"Teri?" There was questioning surprise in his tone. Then, slapping his palm against his forehead, just like they always do in movies when the light dawns, he sprang out of bed, gaped at his watch and exclaimed, "Teri!"
Now it was Cat's turn to look surprised. "What is it?"
"I don't believe it. It's ten minutes after twelve. I was supposed to be there by now." He was dashing around the room, retrieving the clothes that he had so casually tossed aside last night. He hopped up and down on one foot as he slipped on his sock, then switched feet to put on the other. He continued hopping into his underwear and trousers, then wriggled into his loafers. "I'm not even going to have time to stop back at my apartment to shower and change. I'll have to grab a cab and—no, wait, maybe she hasn't left her apartment yet. Jeez. Matheson went on at noon. I'm going to miss most of his presentation."
Cat got out of bed, walked over to her closet, and put on a robe. "When you take your next breath, would you fill me in?"
He stopped dead in his tracks, shirt half-buttoned.
"I'm supposed to meet Teri at the Drake for a very important medical conference. Matheson—he's the speaker I'm missing now—is one of the key contributors to my book. If nothing else, it does not look very good for me to be absent at his presentation. I also happen to be extremely interested in hearing it. At least I'll get there before he finishes—if I hurry."
"By all means, hurry up." She turned away, angry at the catch in her throat. A moment later she felt his hands on her shoulders.
"Not a great ending. Turn around."
"You'll miss Matheson."
"Sometimes my priorities get a little out of whack." He turned her around. "You want to hear a piece of self-analysis?"
"What?"
"I think I was starting to feel like it would be too hard to say good-bye—too painful. So I was going to fly out of here to avoid the feeling. It wouldn't have worked. The pain would follow me out the door. In fact, I have a feeling it's going to follow me around for quite a while."
"Mind if we share that analysis?" She blinked a tear away and draped her arms around his neck. They kissed good-bye.
Luke walked out her door, Cat climbed back into bed, moving over to his still-warm side. That kiss was meant to be good-bye. It was the smartest, most rational thing to do. They had grabbed the moment and now had to set it free. So why did she feel like that kiss hadn't tasted of farewell?
Luke rode down in the elevator, rubbing a finger against his lips. He had a funny feeling that had not been the last farewell kiss he and Cat would share. He argued with himself all the way to The Drake that his feeling was ridiculous. He and Cat both knew there was no point in seeing each other again. This good-bye had been hard enough.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ben called Cat back half an hour after Luke left. In that half an hour she had showered, dressed, and sulked. When she picked up the phone on its fourth ring, her voice was lower, huskier than usual.
"Still asleep?"
"No."
"Have any plans for today?"
"No."
"Are you feeling okay?"
"No."
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"Do you want to talk about it? Skip it. I can guess the answer."
"What are you doing today?" Cat asked impulsively, throwing Ben off kilter. He was sure she had been about to hang up on him.
"I'm open to anything—if you'll come along."
"I don't think I'm going to be a lot of fun."
"I'll take my chances. It's the first sunny day we've had since we hit this town. That alone should perk up your spirits, no matter what I come up with."
"I don't know, Ben. Dodger called before. He wanted me to go over some new angles on the crash tomorrow."
"Forget Dodger. I just saw him leave the hotel with Joanie."
"Joanie Weston? Oh, he probably wants to check on some effects."
"I'm sure he does." Ben chuckled.
"Ben, don't be disgusting."
"Come on, Cat. Dodger is a man as well as your father. A mighty good-looking guy at that. Joanie isn't all that bad, either."
"She's almost half his age." She paused. "Isn't she?"
"Since when does age have anything to do with love?"
"The only thing Dodger loves is a well-executed stunt—besides me."
"Hey, you really are bugged by the idea of Dodger and Joanie getting it—"
"Drop it, Ben. I'm not bugged. It just feels a little weird, that's all. Dodger's certainly had plenty of women in his life, but he usually keeps his private life separate from work. It's just a little awkward. Joanie and I have become real friendly on this picture."
"So, what's the problem? Shell make a great stepmom."
"Oh, stop it, Ben. Are you pulling my leg about all this? How do you know they didn't go off' to do some work?"
"Okay, okay. If it will make you feel any better, that's probably what they did. I must have misread the signals."
"What signals?" she asked, then decided not to pursue it. "Forget it. I'll meet you down in the lobby in ten minutes. Put your mind to work on our plans for the day, instead of Dodger's."
"Good. Let's both put everyone else out of our minds and concentrate on each other today."
He hung up before Cat could question his last remark. Did he know that Luke had spent the night in her room? No, she decided, how could he know?
When Ben hung up the phone in the lobby, he went to the Ambassador book stand. As he thumbed through a San Francisco tour guide, quickly scanning it for ideas, he thought about Cat. He'd been to the city plenty of times, but today he wanted to find something special, something that would make Cat forget that doctor who had just spent the night with her. He'd seen Luke Eliot racing through the lobby about thirty minutes ago. The doctor looked like a man who needed a shave and a change of clothes.
Luke rubbed the side of his cheek. He really did need to shave before he showed up at that conference. And brush his teeth. Passing a mirror at the Drake, he was shocked at the grubby state of his appearance and ended up buying a disposable razor from the gift shop. In the men's room, he did his best to work up a later with the liquid soap from the metal dispenser and scrape off the surface of his stubble. Then he gargled with some tap water, combed his hair with his fingertips, and went to face his colleagues. He felt decidedly disoriented.
Todd Archer had taken Luke's seat beside Teri. She hadn't even held another one for him. When Luke caught her eye, she gave him an icy nod of greeting and turned to Archer, whispering something in his ear.
Luke found a seat next to Max Hart just as Tom Matheson was accepting questions from the distinguished audience.
"How did it go?" Luke asked in a low voice.
"According to Matheson, don't swallow a handful of tranquilizers if you're trying to make time with your lady love."
Luke smiled uncomfortably, feeling even more disoriented as Max took in his appearance and grinned broadly.
"Where did you just come from? A night on a park bench?"
"Do I look that awful?" Luke asked.
Max chuckled. "For anyone else, no. For you—a man who has always dared wrinkles and smudges to even try to touch him—you look terrible."
Luke ran his fingers through his hair.
Max
patted Luke's knee. "Don't worry about it. The world is not going to collapse because Luke Eliot didn't change his suit today."
"I'm not thinking about the world." A large balding man with a beard sitting behind Luke asked him to be quiet. Luke apologized and tried to pay attention to the rest of the questions.
He spotted Teri looking over her shoulder at him.
This time her glance was less frigid. Luke smiled, beginning to feel like things were returning to some semblance of normality.
The lobby of the Ambassador was bustling with activity. A large busload of people had just arrived for a three-day dental technicians' convention. Ben was standing near the check-in counter, doing some careful checking of his own. Some of the dental technicians were very young and very attractive. More than a couple of them noticed the same was true of Ben Seaton.
As Cat walked over, Ben dropped his survey and gave her all his attention, but not before he took a quick glance in a nearby mirror to make sure he was looking good.
Cat noticed his action, a flash of annoyance at Bens vanity surfacing. Even his casual pose looked artificial and contrived.
She reminded herself of her vow to keep her spirits up. By the time she stood beside Ben, she managed a warm, friendly smile. "Did you come up with any ideas?"
Ben grinned seductively, but Cat's scowl quickly sobered him. "How about lunch aboard one of the tour boats?"
"No." She hadn't meant to sound so angry. Smiling apologetically, she added, more softly, "I tend to get seasick."
"Oh." Ben thought fast for an alternative idea. Cat was wearing an expression he correctly interpreted as rapidly losing interest in any plan.
He took her hand. "Let me surprise you. I promise no boat rides."
"And I don't want chocolate from Ghirardelli Square, either," she had to tell him. If she was going to spend this day getting Luke Eliot off her mind, then she couldn't have Ben unwittingly replay the fantasy. She shot him a sideways glance. Besides, she admitted wistfully, Ben wasn't the right star for the role.
They had a pleasant lunch in Chinatown. Cat tried to maintain her interest as Ben did the talking—mostly about himself. Whenever the stunning Eurasian waitress passed their table, he flashed her his most winning smile. Cat had no doubt that if she excused herself to go to the ladies' room, Ben would surely have made a date with the waitress by the time she returned.