Stormy Vows

by Iris Johansen

  “I would judge that in his usual blunt, bold fashion my redhaired friend has laid all his cards on the table. Michael has no use for subtleties.”

  Brenna blushed and lowered her eyes. “I've noticed that,” she said ruefully.

  Dominic looked down at his drink, a slight smile on his face. “I gather the gazelle is in full flight,” he said lightly. “That's an unusual circumstance for Michael. It's no wonder he's in such a temper. He's definitely not used to being frustrated.”

  “Then he'll have to grow accustomed to it,” Brenna said calmly.

  There was a glimmer of admiration in Dominic's eyes as he looked up. “You know, it wasn't entirely business that prompted me to come here tonight,” he said slowly. “After I spoke to Michael this morning, I must admit to being intrigued. In all the years I've known Michael, he's never once warned me off a woman. I felt a certain curiosity to see the woman who had him in such turmoil. Now that I've seen you, I'm beginning to understand his predicament. You could be a very unsettling influence on a man, Miss Sloan.”

  “Does that mean you're going to ignore Donovan's warning, Mr. Dominic?” she asked challengingly.

  His face was surprisingly serious as he shook his head. “Despite Michael's suspicious nature, I'm not about to set off in pursuit of you, charming though you may be,” he said coolly. “I may be a thorough scoundrel and totally without scruples where women are concerned, but I place a great value on Michael's friendship.” His eyes were half closed, as he continued almost beneath his breath, “I have no problem getting mistresses, but I doubt if I could replace Michael.”

  For a moment there was a curiously lonely and vulnerable look to his face, but it was quickly masked by cynicism. “So you see, you are in no danger where I'm concerned,” he went on lightly. “I'm such a bastard that I can't afford to throw away lightly the few friends I have.”

  Brenna found herself suddenly liking this difficult, complex man. “I think you would make a very good friend,” she said gently.

  Dominic's brows shot up in surprise. “I don't believe a woman has ever told me that before,” he said.

  “I suppose they all just want you for your body?” Brenna said solemnly, her eyes twinkling.

  “But of course,” he said mournfully. “The heartless creatures persist in ignoring my brilliant mind and tortured soul.” He pulled a face, and said melodramatically, “I'm only a sex object to them!”

  Brenna chuckled, and they exchanged a glance that was suddenly free of tension. It was no wonder that he was such a heartbreaker, she thought in amusement. He moved from mood to mood with quicksilver rapidity, leaving one constantly off guard.

  His black eyes were twinkling as he continued. “I'm really a closet virgin,” he confided outrageously. “Please be gentle with me.”

  She shook her head, a slow smile curving her lips. “You're not at all what I expected, Mr. Dominic.”

  “Jake,” he urged casually. “We're all on a first-name basis here.” He put his glass on the table, and taking off his dark blue sports jacket, dropped it carelessly on the couch. “You're not what I expected either, Brenna,” he said briskly. “Now, suppose you run along and get your script, and we'll get to work.”

  She found Dominic meant just that. For the next two hours there was no vestige of the personal in his demeanor. His manner was quick and incisive as they went over the role. With lightning verbal strokes he filled in the background she would need to fully understand the character: motivation, Mary's interaction and relationships with the other characters, and her own role as a catalyst in the story line.

  After the preliminary discussions were over, he had her read through the script, stopping her frequently to explain a point or correct her interpretation of a line. Then he had her go through it again without interruption, watching her with a quiet intensity that she found to be both soothing and stimulating.

  When she had finished, he leaned back lazily on the couch and regarded her thoughtfully through half-closed lids.

  “You have a quick, intelligent mind, Brenna,” he said quietly. “I rather think you're one of those people who never makes the same mistake twice.”

  Brenna knew a swift rush of pleasure at his obvious approval. She could see why Jake was considered so exceptional. It was incredible that in such a short time he had accomplished so much. She not only felt she understood the character in depth, but he had mysteriously instilled in her both enthusiasm and confidence.

  “Thank you, Jake,” she said sincerely. “You've made it very easy for me.”

  “My pleasure, believe me,” he said with a grin. “Though Michael doesn't usually let his personal feelings influence his judgment, I confess that I was afraid you might be the horrible exception. I had visions of trying to mold an actress out of some stagestruck ingenue.” His face darkened. “God knows, we have had enough problems with this picture.”

  “Mary Durney was supposed to be played by Tammy Silvers, wasn't she?” Brenna asked curiously. “I read that she won a Tony Award last year for Little Sins.”

  Dominic nodded, his lips thin. “She had excellent credentials, and she looked the part,” he said shortly. “But she began to believe her own press clippings.”

  Seeing Brenna's still-puzzled face, he continued briefly, “Temperament on the set, skipped wardrobe fittings, tardiness. She was a real bitch.”

  “She had a contract, didn't she?” Brenna asked. “How did you get around that?”

  He smiled with feral satisfaction. “Donovan insists on a clause in all performer's contracts that permits dismissal if the actor proves unsatisfactory at any time.”

  Brenna's eyes widened. “Isn't that rather unusual?” she asked, startled.

  “The option is very seldom exercised,” he said coolly. “Donovan may create stars, but he won't tolerate a performer behaving like one.” His mouth twisted wryly. “He has no need to. Unknowns and stars alike stand in line to be in a Donovan Ltd. film.”

  Brenna nodded slowly, knowing this was true.

  For the next twenty minutes they discussed the difference between stage and film work, Dominic outlining clearly the techniques and skills the medium would demand of her.

  When he finally rose to go, her head was whirling with information that he had fed her with computer-like efficiency. Shrugging into his jacket, he smoothed his rumpled black hair quickly, and turned back to Brenna with an easy smile. “I think we've covered everything,” he said slowly. “I'll be back late tomorrow evening, so we won't begin work until day after tomorrow. Report to makeup at 6 A.M.”

  As she rose and accompanied him to the door, his eyes took in the confusion on her face with a compassionate understanding that she would never have believed he possessed two hours ago.

  “It will all come together,” he said quietly, as he opened the door. “Trust me. I promise that you will be a great Mary Durney.” He continued teasingly, “How could you help it with such a brilliant director?”

  She smiled. “You're right, how could I help it?” she echoed valiantly. “Good night, Jake. You've been super. How can I ever thank you?”

  His dark eyes twinkled wickedly. “If I wasn't on my best behavior, I'd tell you explicitly,” he said with a wide grin. “But as I am walking the path of virtue, I can only beg you not to let it get around that I spent two hours alone with you without making a single pass. It would ruin my reputation!”

  “It'll be our secret,” Brenna assured him gravely.

  As the door closed behind him with a soft click, she leaned against it for a moment, smiling softly. The past two hours had instilled in her a buoyant confidence in her abilities that she had never known before. She was suddenly blissfully certain that everything was going to work out to her complete satisfaction.

  The panicky urge to bolt and run that had possessed her after the passionate interlude with Donovan had gradually faded as the evening progressed. Why should she give up an opportunity that could mean financial security for Randy, and a fan
tastic start in her chosen profession just because Michael Donovan had decided she was to be his next mistress? The decision was not solely his, she thought defiantly, as she flicked off the lights on the way to the bedroom. She had fended off the most intricate of passes from men who thought she was easy game. She would handle Donovan with the same cool aloofness. Hadn't he promised there would be no confrontation till the picture was finished? It should be a simple matter to see that she was safely out of his reach when the time came.

  As for his intention to wear down her resistance before then, she doubted that he would have the opportunity from what Jake Dominic had told her about her proposed schedule. It was going to be nonstop work from now until the final scene was shot. And if Donovan valued his precious timetable as much as he appeared to, he would have to leave her alone to get on with it.

  Brenna was determined that he would find her much less compliant at their next encounter. It must have been surprise, coupled with Donovan's undoubted sexual expertise, that had reduced her to such a state of almost abject desire, she thought firmly. Now that she was on guard, she would see that no break in her armor would allow him a similar advantage.

  With this firm resolution in mind, she quickly unpacked her bags, and put away her clothes. They filled only one bureau drawer and not even a quarter of the closet space. It was obvious that the residents of these luxurious cottages were expected to possess a far more extensive wardrobe than she did, she thought ruefully. She shrugged philosophically. She had not come here to model clothes but to act, and after Jake Dominic's encouragement this evening, she had every confidence that she could perform that function with a large degree of success.

  After brushing her teeth, setting her alarm, and donning her very utilitarian cotton pajamas, she slipped between the cream satin sheets, feeling very much the plain brown wren in this lush Sybarite nest. Weary as she was, it was still a long time before her adrenaline-charged mind gave in to the demands of her exhausted body. Her thoughts were a wildly confused kaleidoscope that whirled in erratic circles over the feverish events of the last two days. It seemed impossible that a person's life could change with such speed. Not only her physical surroundings, but the inhabitants of her new world were strange and exotic, and she felt suddenly very unsure and alone.

  But she wasn't alone, she assured herself steadily. She still had Randy, even though he wasn't in her immediate vicinity. She had not given up her determination to change that status as soon as possible. She would find a way to circumvent Donovan's ridiculous orders at the first opportunity. In the meantime, she would focus her thoughts on Randy, the only dear, familiar object in this frightening world. Gradually, as she did this, she was filled with the accustomed warm serenity, and she became drowsy and relaxed.

  Yet it wasn't Randy's golden hair and puckish smile that was her last vision before she dropped off to sleep, but the blunt, rugged features and dark red hair of Michael Donovan.

  Even though the following day was jam-packed with activity, Brenna was to look on it later as being positively leisurely. The morning was spent memorizing her lines, with special emphasis on the scenes Dominic had indicated he wanted her to concentrate on for the following day. She blessed the fact that she was the quick study that Wilkes had bragged about. By noon she had the scenes learned to her satisfaction, though she knew she would have to refresh her memory each day before going to the set. One of the advantages of work in films was obviously going to be the convenience of focusing one's efforts on one or two scenes a day and not to have to worry about the production as a whole. Whether this would prove an asset in the long run was debatable, she thought skeptically. She knew she was one of those performers who could lose herself in the role when involved in the continuity of an actual play. Whether this magic could occur when she was faced with doing one isolated scene after another in disjointed sequence, she had no way of knowing.

  At lunchtime she hurried to Doris Charles' apartment to check on Randy. Donovan had not exaggerated, she discovered when she let herself in at Doris Charles' shouted invitation. Randy had every possible necessity and amusement to keep the most pampered child in ecstasy. He greeted her with his usual cheerful ebullience and then ignored her and went back to painstakingly linking a caboose to the cars of a brightly painted wooden train.

  Doris, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him. She looked up with a wide grin as Brenna entered.

  “Hi,” she said cheerfully. “This young man of yours is on his way to becoming a railroad tycoon. Before we're done, we may stretch from coast to coast. Care to join us?”

  Brenna shook her head, her gaze lingering on the chubby romper-clad figure. “I only have a minute,” she said wistfully. “I just stopped to make sure that he was all right. Did he sleep well?”

  “Like a top,” the nurse said serenely. “And he ate a breakfast this morning that would do justice to a lumberjack. I haven't been able to pry him away from all these toys, but as soon as he loses interest, I'll take him down to the pool to get some sun.

  “He'll love that,” Brenna said smiling. “He's a real water baby.”

  “I noticed that last night when I gave him his bath,” Doris said wryly. “He nearly drowned me!”

  Brenna chuckled understandingly. “I've often been tempted to change into a bikini before tackling that particular job,” she admitted.

  “Hey! I may just try that,” the nurse said, eyes twinkling. “Provided I survive our dip in the pool this afternoon.” Her gray eyes were kind as she went on gently. “It's always difficult when a mother is separated from her child for the first time. I want you to know that I'm taking the very best care of Randy, and he's adjusting very well.”

  There was a suspicious moisture in Brenna's eyes and she blinked rapidly. “I'm sure he's doing a good deal better than I am,” she said huskily. “He's had considerable experience.”

  “He's a perfect angel,” Doris said enthusiastically. “I'm going to miss him like crazy when this job is finished.” She cocked a sandy eyebrow quizzically. “You wouldn't need a permanent nanny by any chance?”

  Brenna shook her head. “I'm afraid I couldn't afford you. I'm only just getting started. It will be some time before I can think about employing someone with your qualifications.”

  The nurse shrugged. “You never can tell,” she said easily. “Keep me in mind, if your ship comes in.”

  Brenna nodded. “I'll do that,” she replied lightly. She kissed Randy quickly, and then said reluctantly, “I have to leave now. Someone is waiting for me. I'll try to get back this evening in time for his dinner.”

  “Fine,” Doris said cheerfully. “Whenever you have a little extra time, just call, and I'll bring Randy down to the cottage. I'll always advise reception where we are, if we leave the apartment.”

  Brenna felt a little pang at the nurse's attitude, as if it were the most common thing in the world for a mother to make an appointment to see her own son. She smothered the illogical feeling at once. It didn't make sense to harbor such envy against Doris. She was a warm, competent person, and evidently got along famously with Randy. She was making the situation as easy as possible under the circumstances.

  This didn't prevent Brenna from feeling a trifle dejected as she went to the cafeteria. She joined Monty, who poured her a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. He watched silently as she absently took a sip, grimaced, and then reached for the cream.

  “Something wrong?” he asked with a frown.

  Brenna shook her head. “Not really. I'm just suffering withdrawal pains,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “Randy is having himself a ball.”

  There was frank relief in Walters' face, as he said heartily, “That's great! Mr. Donovan told me this morning before he left that I was to make sure you weren't worrying about the kid.”

  “Mr. Donovan has gone?” Brenna asked slowly, wondering why the news didn't bring the expected relief. After keying herself up in anticipation o
f an encounter with the man, she felt a real letdown when she realized her efforts had been totally unnecessary.

  “He flew to London this morning,” Walters said casually. “There's some special effects genius he wants to recruit for the science fiction picture he's planning for next spring.”

  “When will he be back?” Brenna asked, looking down at her coffee, her lashes veiling the interest in her eyes.

  Walters shrugged. “Who knows? He has interests all over the world besides Donovan Ltd.” He glanced at his watch hurriedly. “I hate to rush you, Brenna, but you have an appointment with Simon Burke, Donovan's attorney, to sign your contract in fifteen minutes.”

  Brenna pushed her cup away, and rose to her feet. “Then let's go,” she said cheerfully.

  The rest of the day passed with the flickering acceleration of an old silent movie. After the contract was signed, Monty escorted her to wardrobe, where she was fitted for the outfits she was to wear in the scenes the following day. From there she was whirled to publicity where she gave a brief synopsis of her background, and was assigned an appointment to have still photographs taken for the publicity releases.

  “I'll keep in touch,” Monty promised, as he let Brenna out at her cottage that evening. “Let me know if there's anything you need,” he said cheerfully. “And don't let Dominic work you too hard. He has the reputation of being something of a slave driver.”

  In the weeks to come she was to look back with grim amusement at that warning from Walters. She soon discovered that she had as much chance of following that advice as to change the path of a hurricane. Jake Dominic trampled over obstacles as if they did not exist. In his ruthless drive for perfection, he spared neither himself, his crew, nor the cast. Brenna found herself on an exhausting merry-go-round from six in the morning till eight in the evening, and sometimes even later.

  Then she would hurry home and spend a few precious moments with Randy, before settling down to work on her lines and blocking for the next day's shooting. If the pace had not been so killing, she would have enjoyed the filming itself. All the members of the cast and the crew had a friendly professionalism that made them a pleasure to work with. And if Dominic was demanding, he was also both stimulating and inspirational. There was no limit to the help and time he was willing to extend to get the results he wanted. Her admiration for his ingenuity and directorial genius grew with every passing day, as the pressure mounted and Dominic labored to bring the film in on schedule.