“I always behave.”
She shot a stern look at him then smiled.
“Where are we going?”
“The reservation is for twelve at The Blue Window. Max’s favorite place.”
“The Blue Window? That dump? Nothing but fish. Cheap joint.”
“It’s Max’s favorite place. He requested it.”
“So? This is my lunch!”
“You might do better with him if you’re willing to eat on his turf, Gunther.”
“Yeah? And you know this how? By the many years of wisdom you’ve acquired by…how the hell old are you anyway? Twenty-five?” His eyes narrowed.
“I’m thirty. I have more life experience than you know.”
“Yeah? Were you a hooker in your other life?” Uh-oh. Over the line.
Her face reddened, and her eyes flashed. She threw down her pad and pen and stalked right up to him with her hand raised. He grabbed her wrist as she brought it down toward his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, holding her arm in the air while avoiding her angry stare.
As quickly as it came, the red seemed to drain from her complexion. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”
“I won’t. And no physical violence.” The soft scent of gardenia enticed his nose.
“I’m sorry. I lost my temper.”
“You’re probably right. Ole Max might be more open if he’s on his own turf. If I have to eat fish, I’ll eat fish.” He opened his fingers.
“Fine then.” She straightened her skirt and returned to her desk.
He took the opportunity to study her from the back. His gazed was glued to her swaying hips. Nice ass. Great legs. When she was a safe distance away, he began again, “By the way, the new clothes don’t cut it.”
“What?” He saw indignation rise in her again.
He ran his hand through his hair. “They’re too cheap.”
“They’re all I can afford.” She sat down.
“You’re pretty smart…”
“I turned that five hundred into two suits instead of just one.”
“Hey, that’s great if you’re working for some ordinary guy in some ordinary company. But not if you’re working for Gunther Quill.” Her eyes filled as he stared at her. Then, her lower lip trembled. Oh no, shit. Waterworks! No tears!
Panic seized Gunther, making him run to her. He put his hands on her upper arms. “Hey, don’t cry. It wasn’t meant as a criticism. I know I don’t pay you enough for a fancy wardrobe. It’s okay. No tears, now. Okay?” His words came out in a rush.
She took a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll call Maggie. You’re worth the investment.”
“Maggie?” She wiped her eye with her fingers.
“Magdalena Oliver. She used to be a wardrobe mistress, but started her own business designing women’s clothes. Now, she’s the best. Her stuff is sensational.”
“Weird to talk to a straight man about women’s clothes,” she said.
He grinned. “Producers have to know about everything. No more Niagara Falls, okay?”
She nodded.
“Good. I’ve gotta go. You’re way ahead of me,” he said, going into his office. He closed the door and leaned against it, sweating. Pulling out a fine cotton handkerchief, he mopped his forehead. Damn, that was close. Almost full-out hysterics. Can’t lose this one. She’s amazing. Light years ahead of Amy. He made a mental note to try and soften his words, but knew that would be difficult. Gentle language and soft tones didn’t come naturally to Gunther.
Gunther had grown up in a strict household. His father had ruled with an iron hand. His mother was the softer one, nurturing and cheerful. He had never understood how she ended up with his dad. Armand Quill was a successful real estate developer. They had lived in a mini-mansion and had the best of everything. His father was ruthless. He squashed people who got in his way, including Gunther and his younger brother, Gordon.
When he was very young, Gunther had been arrogant, proud of his father’s success. He had even bullied his little brother when his mother wasn’t looking. But when he got to high school, he began to see that his father’s success came at the expense of others. His father had no problem foreclosing on a struggling family or outmaneuvering partners so he ended up with a bigger piece of the pie. Gunther began to despise his dad and took his little brother under his wing.
Armand Quill made it clear that he wouldn’t have wimpy sons. He expected perfection from both boys. Any report cards with less than all As were treated with disdain. Armand ridiculed the boys if they cried or showed any weakness.
Gunther worked hard to please his dad until he graduated college. By then, he realized nothing would ever satisfy his father, so he gave up. He turned his back on Armand and sought his own fortune with his girlfriend, Laurel, in New York City. Still, the young man had developed a taste for winning, a strong desire to be the first and the best.
Not long after Gunther had landed a plum job as an assistant to a major Broadway producer, his father and brother were killed in a car accident. Gunther and his mother had been devastated. It was then that Gunther resolved to become the most successful producer in the business, to impress a demanding father that was no more. He worked night and day, saving as much as possible to move to California, where the big bucks were.
Laurel had been the one bright spot in his life beside his mother, Clare Quill. She was soft and gentle like Clare, as well as being incredibly beautiful and a talented actress. Gunther had considered himself the luckiest man alive to have her by his side.
Then one day at a barbecue on Bear Mountain, Laurel used too much lighter fluid on the grill. Her face was burned beyond repair when the flames rose up the second she lit the match. Nothing they tried could restore her beauty. Although Gunther loved her just the same, Laurel’s career came to a halt. Six months later, she killed herself.
Gunther had been devastated. She was everything to him, and he blamed himself for the accident. He was never the same. The ruthless part of his personality he had inherited from his father remained, but the soft, gentle part of Gunther, like his mother, withered away, slipped into the shadows of his heart, and was buried along with Laurel.
* * * *
Gunther maneuvered his red Ferrari into the parking lot at The Blue Window. He handed the keys to the attendant with a warning to be careful. Entering the restaurant, he ran his finger around the rim of his crisp, white shirt collar to loosen it. He gave his name to the maître d’ and was immediately shown to Max’s table.
Max stood up to shake his hand. Gunther saw doubt and wariness in the eyes of the older man. The rabbit and the fox, Max? No worries. I’m not here to eat you, buddy.
As soon as he was seated, he ordered Chivas Regal on the rocks and sat back. “Congratulations on your new show, Max. When does it open?”
Max sipped his Cosmopolitan and nodded. “Thanks. Sway is a musical. It opens in a couple of weeks.”
“Took the title from Bublé’s song?”
“Right. We’ve got the rights to the song, and Michael’s gonna sing it on opening night.”
“Sweet!”
Gunter’s scotch arrived. He raised it. “Here’s to the success of Sway.”
The men toasted.
“What’s up, Gunther? You’ve never been one to revel in someone else’s success. Why all the interest in my Broadway show?”
“To the point. No bullshit. I like that, Max. You’re right. I’ve never wasted a ton of time patting someone else on the back. Been too busy. I like your style, your shows. And I’m in love with musicals.”
“Word has it you’re still in love with Dorrie Rodgers!” Max chuckled.
Gunther started to rise out of his chair. “If this is going to be a bash Gunther fest, then I’m outta here.”
Max raised his hand. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. You’re right, Gunther. This is business. Sorry.”
Gunther sat back down. Scor
e one for me. I don’t give a shit if you want to tease me about Dorrie, Max. That’s small potatoes. Now you owe me, and you’ll listen. Good.
“I love musicals, too. My wife and I have seen them all. New York seems to favor them.”
“Hustle and Dance is doing well at the box office.”
“I’ll never know how you wangled the movie rights. We were all set to give it to Rob Marshall.”
“I made a better offer.” Gunther took a swig of his scotch.
“You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
“In business. But maybe not in love,” Gunther chuckled. “You’ve got a great eye for musicals, Max. I hear Hustle and Dance was your brainchild.”
Max blushed. “Me and a couple of other folks.” He sipped his drink.
“I heard it was mostly you.” Gunther’s gaze locked onto Max’s face.
“Well, maybe.”
“If Sway is a hit, I’d like to do the movie.”
“Isn’t this a little early?”
“Gotta get the jump on the wolves out there. I have a lot of faith in your judgment.”
“But theatergoers are fickle. I’ve had my share of flops, too.”
“So, if this one dies quickly, I’m not out anything.” Gunther shrugged.
“I wouldn’t give you the rights without something up front.”
“I’d like to see the show as soon as possible.”
“I can arrange that.”
“If it flies and we do the movie…maybe you’d think about a closer collaboration?”
Max narrowed his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
“You develop the Broadway show, and I produce the musical as a movie.”
“Could work.”
“We form a company—East West Productions.” Gunther tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. He’s interested. Please, God, let him say yes.
“Go into business with you?” Max lifted his eyebrows.
“It’s the cheapest, easiest way to make this work. Then we don’t have to negotiate a new deal for each show. We get the Broadway and movie rights at the same time. If the play flops, we can sell the movie rights or simply not make the movie. If we make the movie first, you get the rights to put it on Broadway.”
Max sat quietly. At the lull in the conversation, the waiter brought two menus. Gunther picked his up, suppressing a groan. Fish, twenty different ways. The décor of the restaurant included fishing nets, boats, and seagulls. The sea motif made his taste buds yearn for a juicy steak.
His gaze ambled down the printed page. Sole Meuniere, Grilled salmon, Coquilles St. Jacques. No meat. Then he saw it. Broiled lobster. His taste buds jumped to life. His favorite food next to steak was lobster. The price was fifty dollars, the most expensive thing listed.
“What do you recommend, Max?”
“I love the grilled salmon. At my age, it’s the best thing for me, and they do it well here. Right to your taste.”
“Youth is mental. Oh, there it is. My favorite. Broiled lobster.”
Max licked his lips. “I love lobster, but haven’t had it in years. All that butter.”
“Have it with me.” Gunther raised his eyes.
Max hesitated before shaking his head.
“Aw, come on, Max. Live a little. I’m paying.”
Max met Gunther’s gaze. “Well, if you’re putting it that way. How can I refuse to keep you company?” Max chuckled like an eight-year-old boy conspiring mischief with a friend.
Gunther grinned and motioned for the waiter. Lobster. Who’d a thought? His stomach growled in anticipation. Max smiled at him and ordered the same dish plus another Cosmo. Gunther sat back in his seat. It’s working. I’m winning him over.
“Tell me more about East West Productions, Gunther. Oh, before we firm up any plans to start this company, you have to make amends with Grace Brewster. She’s not only a close friend, but the writer I’ve hired to do the script for Sway.”
Gunther gulped. “I’ll do whatever I have to, Max, to convince you I’m sincere. Including apologizing to Grace.”
Max nodded. “Continue, then.”
* * * *
Gunther arrived back at his office at three thirty. Wearing a grin that stretched from ear to ear, his arms loaded down with packages, he whistled a tune as he entered the office. Erica glanced up from the papers on her desk, did a double take, and cocked her head. He presented her with a bouquet of flowers and a big box of Godiva chocolates.
“For me?” She lifted her brows. “How much did you have to drink at lunch?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Never said you were. Maybe a little happy?”
He shot her a quick frown. “You were right about Max. Meeting on his turf. He was comfortable, off guard. It was like taking candy from a baby. He loved my plan. And I had lobster. It was great.” Gunther leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. A faint pink stained her cheeks, making her more attractive. Why doesn’t she wear makeup? She’d be great looking.
His gaze rested on her cleavage for a moment too long. When he looked up, she was staring at him. Now he sensed heat seeping into his cheeks.
“My face is up here,” she said, motioning.
“Sorry. I’m a guy. Can’t help it.” He shrugged.
“I can’t take credit for your success with Max. You pitched him.”
“I know, but everything was right. He was in a good mood. He even had lobster with me and smiled when I picked up the check.”
“And what did he agree to?”
“Giving me movie rights for Sway. He said he’d look over a contract for East West Productions, too. Get Grant Hollings on the phone. I need those contracts yesterday.”
“Fantastic. Congratulations.” Her smile seemed real.
Gunther stopped and retraced his steps. Haven’t had anyone, outside of Ma, genuinely happy for me in forever. Not since Laurel. “Thanks. There’ll be a bonus in it for you, too. Once the contracts are signed. Almost forgot, this is for you, too.” He plopped a bottle of Dom Perignon on her desk.
Erica blushed deeper and picked up the phone. Gunther retreated to his office, closing the door. He danced a few steps while humming Sway. He opened all the curtains and looked out over the city. This will be a first. I’ll be locking up most of the top musicals on Broadway. Dorrie will choreograph for me. We’re on the way.
Excitement bubbled up in his veins. He played the tune on his computer and danced around the room. Always a good dancer, he really got into it. Celebrate. Gotta celebrate tonight. Then, he stopped cold. Elsa. Gotta celebrate with her. She’s not a musical movie star. Only sexy stuff, comedies with nudity. This means nothing to her. He remembered she was in Spain shooting a foreign film anyway.
He collapsed into his big chair like a deflated balloon. Having no one to celebrate with depressed him. Maybe I do have someone…let’s see.
Marshaling all his charm, he popped his head out the door and called to Erica. “You doing anything tonight?”
She swiveled in her chair to face him. “Just reading treatments. Why?”
“Go to Maggie’s shop and get the hottest dress you can. Tell her to charge it to me. I’ll pick you up at eight. We’re celebrating. Dinner, then clubs. Wear spikes.” Before she could answer, Gunther slipped back into his office, like a jack-in-the-box.
He flipped the music back on and turned down the sound before picking up his private line and hitting speed dial. “Maggie? Yeah. I’ve got a makeover for you. My assistant, Erica Wheeler. I need everything—clothes, makeup, hair. For tonight. She’s on her way. Thanks.”
He peeked out and spied Erica still working at her desk. “Chop chop, lady!”
She jumped, startled.
“The big boss gave you an order. Off you go to Maggie’s. Now.”
A strange sensation, the feeling he’d rather celebrate with Erica than Elsa, entered his heart. He shook it off. Of course it’s better to take Erica, she helped bring this deal together. Elsa could care less as th
ere won’t be anything in it for her.
Once back in his office, he played “Sway” over and over as he looked out over Los Angeles. Leaning back in his chair, he brought the fingertips of both hands together and grinned. What do you think of this deal, Dad? Ten times bigger than any you ever made. A small portion of the emptiness in his heart filled up. He propped his feet up and closed his eyes. We’ll be the biggest thing on both coasts.
The clock on the wall chimed five times, and he leapt up. As he hummed, he selected his clothes for the evening and hit the shower.
* * * *
Erica turned the key in her old car. It refused to turn over on the first three tries. Fear that the vehicle would drop dead long before she could afford to replace it made her hands sweat. She followed the directions from MapQuest to The Stylish Lady Salon. When she arrived, she parked in the back and went in.
Bells on the door brought out a beautifully dressed, older woman. She was short and slender. Wearing teal silk pants and a matching tunic, she wound a long, lavender print, chiffon scarf loosely around her neck. Chin-length brown hair matched keen brown eyes. A warm smile put Erica at ease.
The woman looked her over. “You must be Erica.”
“It’s public knowledge how badly I dress?”
The woman chuckled. “No, my dear. Gunther called. He’s a dear man. Always been very good to me.”
Erica raised her eyebrows. Never heard that before.
“Come, here, in the back. Let’s select some dresses for you. This is a big night for Gunther, eh? Too bad he doesn’t have his significant other to celebrate with.”
I’m Elsa’s stand-in? Hey, a nice dinner and some dancing is fine with me. Doesn’t have to be real. She took a deep breath to slow her pulse. Dancing with Gunther. A small tremor shot up her spine at the idea of his strong arms leading her around the dance floor. Would she get close enough to be pressed against his chest? Would his hot breath tickle her ear? Anticipation sent heat to her belly.
Lovers & Liars Page 3