She shook her head, trying to remove the enticing picture of him from her mind. She gulped the champagne in an effort to ease the lump that had formed in her throat.
“Wonderful, fantastic,” Brad said again, as he finished reading the last sheet, and while he did ask her one or two questions about the script, for the most part he seemed perfectly satisfied.
“You’ve made terrific progress. I must say I’m very impressed. In any case, I'll still be tied up with one other project, a production of Hamlet I'm acting in, for the rest of this week and next week, but after the performances at the drama festival, we can get started on the film. So if you don’t mind working at this pace, do you think you can be ready in about two weeks?” Brad asked in a very businesslike manner.
Zaira tried not to feel hurt as she replied, “Yes, I think so.” She had the feeling she was being brushed off, that he was not really interested in her after all, though it had seemed so only a few minutes before.
“Great. Now there's just one more small problem,” Brad said.
Zaira looked at him inquiringly.
“Before you say anything, just hear me out, Zaira,” Brad insisted. “My main problem has been trying to find an office convenient to here, and now I've been told by my landlord that I have to leave my apartment by the end of next week, because the man who let me have it had no right to sublet.”
Zaira knew what was coming, and was surprised, but also in a way pleased. She was feeling reckless after all the gin, wine, and champagne, and decided that she would appear reluctant, but let him talk her around.
“I was hoping that you might see thing my way, that the perfect solution would be for me to move in here,” Brad said quietly.
Zaira pretended she was going to say something by opening her mouth, but Brad continued persuasively, “You have a spare bedroom, the office is perfect, and we could work a great deal more easily together here than have three separate places to live and work.
“I’m only supposed to be in New York for one semester, so if it doesn’t work out, you’ll be getting rid of me in February anyway. But I promise, if you find me a pain, I’ll look for another place. I don’t know how much you have to pay here, but I’m paying two thousand dollars a month at the other place, so if I give you that, plus another thousand. Will that cover everything, including bills and food?”
Zaira’s eyes widened, and he misunderstood her response.
“Not that I am going to pay you at act as a housekeeper for me or anything!” Brad added hastily. “I just meant that it would be easy to share the food bills, and we could take turns cooking.”
Zaira said nothing, and he looked at her anxiously, almost pleadingly. She knew he was sincere about the business side of things, but she also knew that the cozy domesticity suggested some sort of personal involvement. She sifted through her feelings, and for a brief moment a picture of Jonathan popped up in her mind.
But it was faded and dim, and Zaira realized with a start that she was beginning to forget what her former husband looked like. It had all happened so suddenly, but it was almost as if she were being offered a second chance at happiness by the gods. She was afraid to take it, but also knew that if she didn’t she would regret it for the rest of her life.
“Well?” Brad demanded softly, looking at her face, and she could see the fear of rejection in his eyes.
“I agree with everything you said, and the points you’ve made, so as long as you don’t bring home dozens of nubile females and agree to scrub the bathtub, you can move in whenever you like.”
Brad chuckled and shook his head. “Absolutely no nubile females will cross that threshold except you, I promise, and I have no objection to scrubbing the entire place from top to bottom if it makes you happy.”
“Right, that’s settled then. Come and look at the room, and there is anything else you need, we can hunt around to get it.”
They went into the spare bedroom and turned on the light. Brad looked about and said, “A couple of lamps, a new quilt, a few pictures, that sort of thing would be about it. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Why should I? It was like this when I came. I haven’t had the money to make improvements, and the university won’t object so long as we don’t knock down the walls.”
“Fine, then. If it’s all right with you, I’ll move in this weekend, and then maybe you could come shopping with me to pick out a few things on Sunday?”
“Saturday is fine with me, and I haven’t got any plans for the rest of the weekend except to prepare my lectures and then get back to the screenplay,” Zaira assured him.
“I can’t thank you enough, for everything. I mean, all your hard work, the room, the screenplay,” Brad said, smiling, but Zaira moved away before he could kiss her.
“Don’t mention it,” she said. “You’re the one who should be thanked, for everything you’ve done for me.”
Brad gazed at her, searching her face for a moment before saying in a more casual tone, “Well, I suppose I’d better get home and start my packing, not that I brought much with me from Malibu. I’ll see you on Saturday then, about four or five, after I’ve finished rehearsing and taking care of a few business matters.”
Zaira showed him to the door, and knew she was going to be kissed whether she liked it or not, so she decided to make the first move.
“Thanks again,” she said, “and I’ll see you.” She stretched up onto her toes on manage to plant a kiss on his jaw.
Brad looked a bit surprised, but did nothing except pat her on the shoulder and disappear out the door.
Zaira shut the door and sighed. So she had been right. He was afraid of women who made the first move. But why? The lack of the thrill of the chase? Or did something else trouble him? Perhaps she had been right about her first assumption, the every first time she’d met him. He was shy and insecure, and far from having an exaggerated sense of his own importance, did not see himself as anything special.
And of course, Zaira couldn’t blame him if the stories about his barbaric father were true. Cormac Clarke was supposed to hate his son to the point of not even wanting to be in the same room with him. But again, this could be explained as two proud men trying to find a place for themselves in a very competitive career. The aging father was bound to resent his son, but also be easily disappointed by him.
Lastly, Zaira concluded, there was his money. She remembered all too well when she and Jonathan had been living the high life, that they had been surrounded by men and women all to anxious to flatter them, even go to bed with them.
Zaira thought briefly that Jonathan, weak as he was, had probably indulged in some of these flings, more for the purpose of furthering his ambitions than any lecherousness in his behavior. Indeed, as a lover he had been only adequate, certainly never very much interested in that side of life. As he had grown more and more hard-headed and ambitious, they had grown more and more apart, and then of course she had been away in England for almost three years on and off.
She could sympathize with Brad’s caution where women were concerned, for she had learnt the same lesson herself. It was easy to be temporarily dazzled by someone, and do something both would regret. And it was easily to be taken in by money, fame, prestige, but again, if there were no real respect or love between two people, it became an empty and hollow life.
Perhaps it would be different for herself and Brad once he had moved in. Zaira reminded herself that she had not been entirely honest with him, for there was still the matter of her identity as Zoe Dominick to clear up.
Zaira decided that if he didn't figure it out on his own, that she would wait until he had moved in, and the play was over, then confess all. If the worst came to the worst, at least she would have a damned good Hamlet, Brad would have a fine screenplay, and maybe he would be prepared to forgive her for her caution in dealing with a complete stranger who had come into her life as fast as a blazing meteor, and who might prove equally destructive if he proved untrustworthy.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER EIGHT
Early Saturday morning, Zaira walked down to the supply shop in Soho to buy her theatrical make-up and hair dye. She still felt guilty about deceiving Brad, but their relationship as man and woman was too delicate, and their work as colleagues too recently established for her to risk losing him. She opted for several spray cans of black hair dye, and also found a pair of clear glass spectacles very like her own. She smiled, and was delighted at the prospect of not having to wear her ordinary glasses to university any longer. They made her nose ache, and she didn’t see very well out of them anyway. She could wear her regular lenses all the time and her violet ones as Zoe.
Zaira rushed home and put on a new pair of black palazzo pants she had bought in a sale, with a jewelled cummerbund, and pulled out her best blouse, a rather fluffy confection with very full sleeves. She went in the bathroom, and sprayed her hair over. It was rather time consuming, but the effect was fairly realistic, and a lot more airy and free-flowing than the coarse theatrical wig she had been making do with up until now.
She let the hair dye dry while she put in her lenses, and then ran her hands through to check that the powder spray wouldn’t come off easily. She prayed it wouldn’t rain, but a quick look out the window reassured her. She applied her make-up quickly, enhancing the violet eyes and her rather fine cheekbones.
Then she surveyed herself in the full length mirror, and laughed delightedly. She certainly looked the part of Zoe Dominick, successful author, actress, and director. The cummerbund cinched in her billowy blouse to emphasize her slender waist and full bosom, and her legs looked long and elegant. The black and white outfit made Zaira wonder if she should keep her hair dark permanently, she thought it was so striking.
As an after thought, she found an old pair of antique pearl earrings, the only jewellery Zaira had kept when she had been forced to sell all her things. She knew they were reasonably valuable, but it was the sentiment attached to them which had made her keep them. Her mother had given them to her, and knew they had belonged to her great-grandmother. The Victorian gold filigree setting was a bit old fashioned, but Zaira didn’t care. They suited the outfit perfectly, and she looked like a wild gypsy. She put on her only pair of high heeled black shoes, and raced out the door to the theatre.
When she arrived, Brad was already waiting outside for her, and by the look in his eyes, she knew he was drawn to her.
“What’s wrong? Has my make-up smudged or something,” she said, putting her hand up to her face.
“Not at all, it’s just your hair. It’s so wavy, and layered, not like you’ve worn it the other days.”
“I had a bit of a trim, and it depends on how I dry it,” Zaira lied smoothly. “But of course, you can tell me whatever way you’d like it. After all, you’re the boss. Unless you’ve decided that I’m not suitable as the Dark Lady. I mean, you might have some other woman in mind,” she said, as she unlocked the door and they stepped into the darkness.
“No one else will do for the part,” Brad said gruffly.
Before Zaira could switch on the lights, she felt herself being pulled into his strong embrace. Brad’s mouth swooped down to cover hers, and her senses reeled at the shock of it all. She had dressed to entice him, she knew, but that he could be so forceful both delighted and frightened her.
She surprised herself by starting to kiss him back. Zaira was just about to put her arms around his body for support when suddenly he pulled away.
Brad swore under his breath, and took several steps away from her. She turned on the lights, and saw him standing with his shoulders hunched and his arms crossed against his broad chest. He cleared his throat a few times, and Zaira waited patiently to see what she had done to offend him.
“I’m sorry, Zoe, I don’t know that came over me. I didn’t mean to do that, it just happened.”
“I see. Sorry to have disappointed you then,” Zaira said waspishly, and began to storm down the aisle towards the stage.
Brad took two long strides and pulled her round to face him. She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks, he was so close. She looked up into his eyes, hoping he would kiss her again. He did, but this time it was gentle, exploring, searching with his tongue, and he nuzzled her cheek with his before stepping away.
“God, you're so tempting, so fiery, I just couldn’t help myself. But I have to. Don’t you see? We have been thrown together by business, by this play, but you’re a glamorous novelist, and you must have dozens of men lining up for you.”
Zaira felt like laughing at his feeling he couldn't compete for her attentions, but she could see he was completely serious.
“Look, I'm not the kind of man who has flings, whatever they say about me in the press. So while I'm really attracted to you, that’s all it would have to be. I think, well, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with someone else. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt for anything in the world. You deserve better than that,” Brad said with a sigh.
Zaira felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. All this time he had spent with her, and now she had discovered he was already in a relationship? Then why was he wasting so much time with Zaira Darcy? She had been right all along. It was just a game for him, nothing more. He was jus another player, and she had been played. Thank God she hadn't trusted him…
“Zoe, look at me, and tell me your not angry. I’m a very confused man, but we have to do this play, and do it well. I don’t want you resenting me because of this. I'm trying to be as honest as I can be. Please tell me you forgive me,” he pleaded, taking her hand.
Zaira let out her breath, and smiled through her pain. “Brad, don’t be silly, there's nothing to forgive. You've been honest, and that’s more than a lot of other guys would have the guts to do. Forget about that kiss. Chalk it up to an ice-breaker so we're not so stiff with sexual tension once we get on stage, okay?"
He looked doubtful, so she swallowed and tried again. With a sisterly pat on his shoulder she said in her brightest tone, "Come on, the others are here, and we don’t want to start any gossip or make them feel awkward, now do we.”
She breezed the rest of the way down the aisle, and threw herself into her directorial duties as though they were the only thing in the world on her mind. Fortunately, she didn't have to do much. The rehearsal went smoothly, and she watched herself appraisingly as she put on the performance of her life, determined no one would ever guess how crushed and bruised she felt at Brad's rejection of her.
As she worked, wondered over and over again who he could possibly be in love with. Someone he had left behind in California, no doubt. Someone beautiful and glamorous, and the right kind of person for the life he lived out in Hollywood. All of this was just one minor diversion to him, the dilettante playing at teaching and acting until his real life beckoned him once more. Brad was just occupying his time in New York with a frumpy academic who posed no threat to his relationship, and a novelist he was sweet-talking just so he could get the rights to her book.
Well, she’d see if she couldn’t do something about that. Zaira Darcy was not one to give in easily, in work or in love. She might not be part of his Hollywood world, but she was determined to leave a lasting impression on him, one he would never, ever forget.
For the last hour of the rehearsal, Zaira and a few of the other cast members watched in admiration as Brad and Adam, the young man playing Laertes, practiced their sword-fighting scene. Brad moved with an easy grace, and the sword was like an extension of his arm, as he parried and thrust, and the coach shouted encouragement or criticism.
The men made admiring remarks, and the girl playing the part of Queen Gertrude made several lewd comments which grated on Zaira’s nerves. She realized she was furiously jealous, and didn’t care, so great was her longing for this incredible man.
Zaira watched in fascination as the muscles in his thighs rippled under his black trousers, which outlined his manliness unmistakably and filled her with an incredible longing to see if the reality matched her imaginat
ion. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, it was because the musky male scent of him thrilled her to the very fibre of her being. She saw him lean over her and smile boyishly.
“How was it?”
“Wonderful,” Zaira managed say as she smiled back at him glowingly. “It will be super on the night. Have you done fencing before?”
“A bit in my university days, but my main sport was football.”
“You haven’t forgotten how, that’s for sure. Well done! You must be thirsty, so if you don’t mind, let’s go for that drink.”
Zaira saw Brad hesitate as he wiped his face with a towel and then looked at his watch. “All right, but I’m moving today, so we’ll make it a quick run through of a couple of points, and have a more formal meeting next week, if that’s all right?"
After Zaira had locked up the theatre, they went down to the university bar at the bottom of the student centre, which was very quiet on Saturdays. Brad ordered beer for himself, and Zaira suggested they share a pitcher, and a plate of nachos. As they crunched their way through the corn chips smothered in cheese, Zaira outlined the work she had done in her role a consultant.
“I’m beginning to wonder if we really need to go to England and do all the on-location stuff. I mean, it will certainly up the cost, and the point is that maybe we should make it more like a stage play, with intimate staging and lighting, rather than lots of indoor and outdoor shots.”
“What did you have in mind, then?” Brad asked as he chewed a nacho slowly.
“Well, a sort of theatre in the round. The theatres are pretty empty these days, and we could take one over for a fraction of what it would cost to film at Stratford or any stately homes in England. With realistic set designs, which we can reconstruct from photos of New Place and other houses associated with Shakespeare, we could have all the action on one or two sets, and concentrate on the human relationships, instead of a huge Hollywood biopic which will cost a fortune,” Zaira suggested.
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