by Lynn Patrick
And surprisingly he was offended by the thought of an outsider’s criticism. His differences with his father were one thing—he had good reason, after all.
“This discussion is going nowhere.” Gabby stood up abruptly. “I’m leaving.”
“That might be the best idea.” Kit held himself in check so that he wouldn’t say something he would regret later. “Some of us have work to do.”
“You’re impossible.”
Getting more irritated by the moment, he grunted, “Ditto,” before picking up the telephone.
“Thanks so much for your patience and understanding!” Gabby yelled as she left the office in a dramatic huff.
Kit let the receiver fall back into the cradle. He regretted not trying to make peace before the door slammed shut. He’d been enjoying Gabby’s bubbly, friendly company more and more every day. He was quite fond of her. More than fond, if he was honest with himself.
But Gabby had seemed so put out—would they be able to transcend this rift? More immediately, how on earth were they going to get through the intensive rehearsal they had planned for the afternoon?
UNFORTUNATELY GABBY’S state of mind hadn’t improved a whole lot by the time she met Kit at the club to practice their routines. She had tried to calm down by taking a long walk and doing a little meditation on a park bench, but she couldn’t get over her disappointment that he hadn’t been willing to help her deal with the problematic situation Price was causing. Furthermore, Kit hadn’t seemed in the least touched when she’d told him his father regretted their estrangement.
Both Garfields obviously deserved each other.
“All right, let’s try the first part again,” Kit said for the umpteenth time as they worked on “Tango Olé.” His eyes as hard as jade, he gazed intently at Gabby. “Whip the shawl around a little more before you throw it to the side.”
“Fine.”
She wondered if Kit even noticed she’d been quieter than usual. After their disagreement, she was hurt as well as angry. She’d thought they’d gotten to a certain level of camaraderie and understanding, but it seemed as if he was as expert as his father at keeping uncomfortable situations at bay.
“I think modern audiences will respond well to a more intense version of the original number,” Kit went on. “We can borrow generously from real Argentinian tango.”
“Uh-huh.”
He glanced at her suspiciously. His voice was stiff when he said, “Take your place.”
“Certainly, Mr. Tyrant,” she muttered softly, drawing the long print shawl around her. For the actual performance the shawl would be glittery black.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing important.”
Kit turned the music on again and approached with a brooding expression. Dressed in a black shirt and pants, his appearance was perfect for a darkly sensual dance.
Too bad Gabby wasn’t able to be more appreciative.
“Turn right,” Kit told her as he sidled up beside her to grasp her arm.
As if she didn’t know the steps.
But she complied gracefully, gliding out of his grip, then turning to face him. As he approached a second time, she showed her character’s disdain by raising her chin and turning her back. She tossed the edge of the shawl over one shoulder. He encircled her waist with his hands and lowered his mouth to her neck. She angled her head to the side, steeling herself against his warm breath.
“No. No!”
Sounding disgusted, Kit stopped and stepped back. Gabby straightened and stared at him.
“Now what’s the matter?”
“We’re going to have to start over…again.” He turned off the music. “Your emotional intensity is just not coming across, Gabby.”
“Really?” Not in the mood for his perfectionism—not to mention his further criticism—she placed her hands on her hips. “I’m feeling pretty intense right now, believe me.”
“Well, the intensity isn’t sensual.”
“That’s right on the mark.”
Kit ignored her salvo. “Your movements can’t be forced,” he explained as if she were some kind of amateur. “They should be languid.”
Gabby thought she was being quite reasonable when she told him, “It’s a little difficult to act languid and sensual when you have to do the same thing over and over.” With someone you would rather not have touch you at the moment, she added silently. “We’ve done this number so many times today that I’m not in the mood.”
“When will you be in the mood?” he asked, his eyes flickering with emotion.
“Maybe never.”
She would never become involved with a man who was so arrogant and demanding and cold, she assured herself. She should have known to keep her distance after what had happened to her mother.
Kit scowled. “Is that why you didn’t make it on Broadway? Because you weren’t professional enough to put yourself in the right mood when necessary?”
Speechless, Gabby felt her mouth drop open at the insult.
“A performer has to forget his own petty troubles,” Kit intoned.
“You’re pretty petty all right,” she snapped, regaining the use of her tongue.
“So I’m the problem?” he asked.
“I’d certainly say so.”
Kit was absolutely wrong about her professionalism. Gabby had never had any problems with that on the Broadway stage or in any other performance. But then she’d never before become so personally involved with a partner.
Involved? As the implications sank in, Gabby realized why she’d been so uptight lately, even when dealing with her mother.
She should never have let herself be so open.
She should never have left New York.
What was she going to do? She was in love with Price Garfield’s son.
CHAPTER NINE
DESPITE THE PRESSURE of the upcoming performance, Kit had refused to relax his business responsibilities and had been spending time at the office most mornings. On Thursday, however, he only managed to squeeze in a few hours between afternoon rehearsal and dress rehearsal that evening. Susan, his efficient secretary, brought him up-to-date as quickly as possible.
“Stanton Dowling returned your call,” she told him. “He’s interested in discussing a merger and making you a partner in his film production company.”
Always attracted to show business despite his denials, Kit had found himself considering adding such a company to the Garfield Corporation. Being the head of a production company wouldn’t be the same as actually acting in the movies, he assured himself.
“Did you set a meeting date?” Kit asked.
Susan nodded. “He was eager to get going, but I told him we had to delay it for a short while. He agreed to do lunch a week from Monday.” She sorted through the stack of papers in her hand and placed several invoices before him on the desk. “Oh, yes, and we’ve received some rather unusual bills.”
His brow furrowed as he registered the name of the company. “Glitter Baby?” The store was an expensive boutique on Rodeo Drive.
“Perhaps this explains everything.” Susan pointed to the name printed above the corporation address. “It says Mr. Price Garfield. Your father must have purchased some clothing and had his bills sent here.”
“Must be a mistake. He’s never done that before.” Kit picked up an invoice to examine it more closely. “Blue-sequined gown…silver-and-black beaded gown. Silver-and-jet necklace and earrings.” His brows shot up at the price of those items. And the list went on. “Why would he purchase women’s glitzy evening wear?”
Appearing uncomfortable, Susan adjusted her glasses. “Does he have a girlfriend perhaps?”
Anita Brooks Lacroix—the name sprang instantly to mind. Gabby had said her mother and his father had been seeing each other. She hadn’t added that Price had been furnishing Anita with a new wardrobe from one of the most exclusive stores on the Drive.
“Would you like me to call the elder Mr. Garfield and ask him
about this?” Susan inquired.
“That sounds like a good idea.” But before Susan left his office Kit had second thoughts. “Wait a minute. Why don’t you call the boutique instead? Talk to the manager and ask her about the bills. See if you can learn the name of the woman who bought these items.”
There was no use embarrassing Price. Kit’s father had always been a bit touchy, but if he’d bought Gabby’s mother some dresses, Kit wanted to know about it.
Thinking about the younger Brooks while Susan took care of the phone call, Kit leaned back in his chair and stared out the sixteenth-floor window at the sunny day. The rim of mountains bordering the city were a hazy violet, making the setting appear tranquil. In reality, sprawling, busy L.A. was anything but.
As was he.
Kit was still brooding about the disagreement he’d had with Gabby the morning before. If he didn’t like her so much, he would have laughed in her face when she’d insisted he “make” his father leave Anita alone. What did she expect him to do—threaten Price?
Unfortunately the spat with Gabby had gone on to disrupt their afternoon rehearsal. Already edgy, Kit had gotten fed up and said things he hadn’t meant. At first Gabby had sniped right back at him, but then she’d surprised him by agreeing that she’d been acting less than professional. And after that she’d behaved differently.
Kit had tried to temper his criticism accordingly, but the close rapport they’d built from daily rehearsals seemed to have changed subtly. He only wished he could put his finger on exactly how or why, so he could do something about it.
At least the glitches in “Tango Olé” had been ironed out and they’d been right on the mark during rehearsals. Barring an unforeseen catastrophe, their performance at the opening tomorrow night should be nothing short of spectacular.
He only wished he weren’t bothered by the undercurrent he sensed in Gabby. His gut told him something important had been left unsaid between them….
A tap on the door interrupted his musings.
“Susan?”
The secretary entered. “The manager at Glitter Baby says an elderly lady named Lucille Talbot charged the dresses. And he apologized for his bookkeeper sending the bills to the wrong place. They were supposed to go to Mr. Price Garfield in Beverly Hills or to his office at Cheek to Cheek.”
Kit couldn’t hide his amazement. “My father has an office at the club?”
Susan shrugged. “Shall I send this stuff on over there?”
His suspicions growing, Kit reached for the invoices. “No, you can leave them with me.”
Why had he allowed Lucille to appease him so easily when he’d questioned her about the “investment group” that owned the nostalgia club? He should have kept after her until she had given him the truth.
Now she didn’t have to.
Already knowing the answers, Kit decided he would confront his father with a few uncomfortable questions, anyway.
A HALF HOUR LATER Kit set out for Hollywood. Having phoned the Garfield mansion to check on Price’s whereabouts, he’d been informed that his father had gone to the nightclub. To inspect the place the day before it opened?
Hoping to catch Price red-handed, Kit left the Garfield Corporation immediately.
He wasn’t in the least surprised to locate Price in the business suite on the club’s second floor. Perhaps Gabby would be pleased if she knew he and his father were finally going to talk.
“Which office is yours?” Kit asked Price, gesturing toward the private rooms that opened off the central reception area.
A couple of people were busily working at the desks, taking phone reservations and making arrangements for the opening.
Price seemed surprised by his son’s directness. “I don’t have an office here.”
“Try again.” Kit handed Price the bills from Glitter Baby. “The manager of the boutique said these were supposed to be sent to you at home or at your office at the club. You own this place, don’t you? You’ve been footing all the bills. You even loaned Lucille your chauffeur and limo.” Though he hadn’t recognized the driver, Kit had wondered how his godmother had suddenly gotten hold of enough cash to hire an attentive servant and a posh car for her jaunts around town.
Sighing, Price motioned Kit away from the phones and into one of the private offices. He closed the door and glanced at the invoices, though he didn’t seem overly disturbed by his son’s disclosure. But then he had always been a master of the cool facade.
“I don’t own Cheek to Cheek completely.” Price tucked the bills into his suit jacket pocket before he sat down behind a desk. A placard with his engraved name rested on its surface. “Lucille and a few other people also have percentages.”
Kit perched on the edge of the opposite chair. “Very small percentages, I bet. You’ve duped all of us.”
“Duped? That’s rather strong language.” Price’s tone remained reasonable. “You have no reason to feel tricked or cheated. I used personal funds for this venture, not corporate monies.”
“Then why weren’t you honest about ownership in the first place?”
“I thought you might not agree to dance if you knew I was involved.”
“You’re right about that!” Kit practically exploded off the chair as he launched himself in front of his father. Fists on the desk, he said, “And I was right. This was all some kind of a grand scheme.”
Price adjusted his expression before Kit could discern the emotion that crossed his face. “You didn’t have to agree to perform,” the older man pointed out.
“True.” Kit straightened. “But I would have felt like a creep if I’d turned down Lucille.”
“The club is going to help her get back on her feet financially, son. You should concentrate on what you’re doing for her rather than worrying about my involvement.”
“Lucille will really be able to make enough money to fix up her home?”
“The first couple of weeks are already fully booked. If that’s any indication, I have no doubts.”
Kit felt his anger deflate. Price and Lucille had been friends for years. He should have realized how much his father cared about the elderly woman.
“Don’t get your back up now, Kit,” Price continued. “Everyone will be depending on you tomorrow. If we can start the club out with a bang, its future will be rosy.”
As always, the thought made Kit uneasy. “And what makes you think my dancing is good enough to accomplish that?” To his knowledge his father had never observed him on a dance floor.
Price avoided looking at him directly. “Anita told me you and Gabby make excellent partners.”
“Oh, right, Anita.” Kit was tempted to tell Price about Gabby’s complaints concerning her mother, then decided to keep that information to himself. “How come you two are together all the time, anyway? I thought she was the woman who ruined your life.”
Price actually looked startled. “Where did you hear that?”
“I’m not sure exactly. But I remember Mom talking about you and Anita when I was a kid.”
And at that time Kit had even wondered if Anita were the underlying reason for his parents’ divorce. She’d been the object of his resentment, if not hatred, for years.
“Both Anita and I made some stupid mistakes when we were young,” Price said with more emotion than Kit had previously heard in his voice.
“Does that mean you no longer think she’s a little chippy who used you as a stepladder for her career?” Kit asked, quoting his mother.
“For years I was so angry with her that I’m not sure what I might have said.” Price gazed at his son, meeting his eyes. “I wanted to marry her. I loved…love her.”
Kit was openly shocked. He sat back in his chair. “You’re in love with the woman who left you all those years ago?” Why could Price show such feeling for a woman who had chosen to leave him when he couldn’t do the same for his own son?
Price simply nodded. “I’ve always loved Anita. I thought this situation with the club
might give me one last chance with her.”
“That’s why you backed the venture?”
“Added to my desire to help Lucille…and myself. For a long time I’ve felt like I had nothing left to live for.” He took a deep breath, suddenly appearing worn and gray. “I have my reasons for keeping my personal investment a secret. If Anita had known, she would never have come to California…wouldn’t remain here now,” he added worriedly. His gaze flicked about the office, then came back to Kit. “I hope I can trust you to keep what you found out to yourself.”
His father was actually asking him to keep a personal confidence. A first.
“I don’t tell tales out of school,” Kit said, trying to remain divorced from his own feelings about the situation.
“I really blew it back then,” Price continued. “My life would have been different if I hadn’t been so stupid and proud in dealing with Anita.”
Kit overlooked his once-arrogant father’s acknowledgment of guilt and focused on the marriage that might have been. “Yeah, life sure would have been different if you’d tied the knot with her. I would never have been born.”
Price gazed at him directly. “That’s the only thing I would have regretted.”
Uncomfortable, Kit didn’t know what to say. His father had missed out on a lot, anyway. He returned to a safer subject. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you’re backing the club.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“And I won’t mention the rest of this conversation to Lucille.”
“I think that would be best. Personal relationships should always take second place when a show’s in the making.”
Kit fully agreed. Then he thought of Gabby. How could he ignore the charged atmosphere every time they entered the same room? He could understand how Price felt about Anita, since he himself seemed to be falling for the woman’s daughter—yet another complication in the Brooks/Garfield saga.
After Kit had gone, Price sat in the office for a while, then went downstairs to take one more look at the newly completed interior of the club.
The white moldings that bordered the Romanesque arch of the stage and the smaller arch of the orchestra’s alcove were trimmed in silver, making them stand out in relief against the pale gray expanse of the walls. The three tiers of tables and built-in booths for the audience were delineated by shiny tubular railings.