When they’d made love, he’d felt a shift inside his soul, like puzzle pieces snapping into place, making a new shape, a better one that felt…right. Even now, post-sex and nearly back in his right mind, he wasn’t sorry he’d told her.
“So what’s next? After the show?” she asked, innocently enough, confident he must have a plan.
“I want to write, I think,” he said. “Maybe a novel.” He wasn’t ready to talk about his thriller. She’d offer to read it, then be too honest not to tell him it was shit if it was. He wasn’t ready to hear that. Not yet, anyway.
“I’m sure you’d be great as a writer,” she said. “If that’s what you want to do.”
“You sound like my mother—you can be anything you want to be, son.” He laughed, warmed by her automatic confidence in him.
“First I smell like your mom’s cooking, now I sound like her? I’m not sure that’s good, unless she’s brilliant and gorgeous and way young for her age.”
He chuckled. “Ma’s a great person. I see her differently than I used to. Same with my pop. Figuring that out is sort of why I decided to change my life.”
“How so?”
“Pop had a heart attack last summer, so I went home.”
“How bad was it? The attack?”
“Not too bad, as it turned out. They put in some stents. Now he has to exercise, watch his diet and take some meds. It was a wake-up call, really. For me, too, as it turned out. I hadn’t been home in a while.”
“Where’s home?”
“Los Baños—a little farming town in central California that I couldn’t get away from fast enough after high school. I visited as little as I could.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s a long story. See, we’re really from Chicago. My dad owned this great bar there. Loud and crowded, listed in the travel guides as a must-see neighborhood tavern.”
“Sounds like something you would do,” she said.
“True. Except Pop got caught up in the fame and the fun. He held too many tabs, comped too many rounds, drank too much himself and threw us into bankruptcy. Ma had a sister in Los Baños, so we were basically banished to the boondocks.”
“That must have been hard.”
“For them, yeah. I didn’t really notice, since I was only four at the time. Pop became a mechanic—he always loved cars—and Ma spent her time picking on Pop for losing their money and shaming them back home. All this bitter Irish guilt every single day. I just hated hearing it. Ma bitching and Pop hunched over like he thought he deserved the abuse.”
“As a child, that would be difficult to grasp.”
“Don’t get me wrong. They loved me and I never lacked for anything. But it seemed like all they did was make each other miserable. I just wanted out.”
“Until you went back this time, right?” He liked how eager she sounded, how interested in his story.
“Yep. I hardly recognized them. They were in the hospital, of course, and they’d had a scare, so they’d be a little different, but this was more. They seemed so close, reading each other like books, behaving like halves of a whole. Maybe I’d remembered them wrong, maybe they’d changed, but they were clearly deeply in love, not at all like I remembered.”
“You saw them as people, not parents? Could that be it?”
“Partly, no doubt.” He liked how she reached for the deeper meaning and offered a fresh take. It was exactly how she worked. “It was like you and your camera lens. They came clear for the first time. I got the real story.”
“Wow. That’s wonderful.”
He kissed her, brushed her hair from her face, more relaxed, more himself than he ever remembered being with a woman. “So, while I was there, I started thinking about what I really want in my life. I knew I was bored, but I finally admitted to myself that I was done with Doctor Nite. And that I wanted a more stable life. Hell, I was ready to grow up.”
“That was some visit home.”
“No kidding. The whole trip hit me that way. I saw my old high school buddy, Cal Taylor, too. He designs the most amazing furniture. Sitting on one of his chairs is a religious experience, I’m not kidding.”
“I’d like to try that.”
“The guy belonged in New York, right? He was doing great there, too, until his high school girlfriend called him back to Los Baños. And, being totally whipped, he went. I tried to talk him out of it, but no. He got married and, boom, she trapped him with two kids. Such a waste.”
“She trapped him? You know it takes two, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard rumors, yeah.”
“Did he keep making furniture, even trapped as he was?” She used that smart-ass tone he liked. He liked that she made him defend his attitudes.
“He has a shop in a barn. Does mail order, has some decent accounts, but nothing like he’d be doing in New York.”
“So he sacrificed for his family.”
“Except you’d never know it by how he acts. I figured he was making the best of a bad deal, putting a smile on his disappointment. But this trip I realized he was truly, honestly happy.”
He paused, remembering the visit, the homemade lasagna, the happy confusion and baby-soap smell of bedtime at the Taylor house. “He adores his kids, and when he looks at his wife, it’s obvious he can’t wait to get her in bed again.”
“That’s nice,” she said with a little sigh.
“I mean, he’s not rolling in it and he has to drive to Fresno for mediocre sushi, but he’s got what he needs—good work, a wife who loves him, great kids. The man’s content.”
“And you want that, too? To be content?”
He looked into her green eyes, so deep he could drown. And not be sorry to go. “I’m not moving back to Los Baños for an old girlfriend, of course. But I want a place that feels like home. And a woman to match. Someone who’s a friend, you know? And smart.”
“Someone who makes you laugh, whose smile lights your world?” She was repeating his speech, but with reverence, not ridicule. He loved that about her. How she really listened.
“Exactly,” he said.
“And you’ll put a ring on her finger and an SUV in her garage?” She sounded just a tad skeptical.
No wonder. He laughed. “Not very Doctor Nite of me, huh? But people can change, can’t they?”
“It would be pretty hopeless if they couldn’t.” But she hesitated, as though she didn’t believe that, only wished that were true. Maybe he didn’t, either, deep down.
“And what about you?” he asked. “You after the ring and the SUV?”
“I want to make a life with someone, sure. Down the road. Right now my work is the most important thing to me.”
“Have you ever been serious with a guy?”
“I’ve had boyfriends. The longest was for a year. When he headed to Australia to work on a film, we ended it.”
“You didn’t want to wait for him?”
“It didn’t make sense.”
“Obviously, you weren’t in love with the guy.”
“Sure I was. I missed him, but I got over it.”
He shook his head. “No way. If you didn’t feel like your insides had been shredded, if all the color hadn’t drained from the sky, if a piped-in love song in the grocery store didn’t bend you over with sobs, you weren’t in love.”
“And what makes you such an expert, Mr. Marriage is Death?” she asked, joking, but he could see she was troubled by what he’d said. “You’ve been in love? Felt all that?”
“Not yet, but I want to. Not the crying over sappy love songs or the shredded insides, but I want to be in love. I guess I want what my parents have—without the years of bitching at each other.”
“Maybe years of bitching is part of the package. Maybe that’s how it works. It can’t be all picnics in the park.”
“What about your parents? What are they like?”
“My parents should never have married.” She sighed. “My dad cheated on my mom. I mean a lot. She just put u
p with it. What could she do? She loved him. That was her excuse.”
“You knew about it as a kid?”
“Oh, yeah. I used to tell her to kick him out, but she never did. They finally divorced a couple years ago. I’m not sure whether she told him to go or he just left. I didn’t ask. I doubt my mother would want to admit I was right.”
“Are you two close?”
“Not really. Holiday visits, calls on birthdays. Too much stuff hangs in the air between us. Same with my dad, except I don’t visit him.”
He could tell this caused her some pain. “Is that how you want it to be?”
“Not really, no. But I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Maybe start thinking of them as people, not parents? Like you said happened with me?”
She gave him a thoughtful look. “I guess I push the pain away, try not to think about it.” She smiled at him. “Maybe I ought to try to see things through their eyes a little. Good tip, Doctor.” She paused. “You know, it’s funny. If your show had been on when my dad was young, maybe it would have given him permission to stay single, saved all that heartbreak….”
“What are you saying?”
“Listen closely—I’ve found one good thing about your show. If you keep players in the field instead of faking it as faithful husbands, that’s positive.”
“You mean Doctor Nite is a public service?”
“It’s something anyway.” She sounded as if she had to scrape the barrel of decency to find a way to make his show acceptable. He felt a spike of irritation, but pushed it away. He was too happy, too content to argue at the moment.
All he wanted was to keep smelling her hair, holding her body, making love to her all night long. The rest of it, the fallout? Well, it could just wait.
WHEN SHE OPENED HER EYES, Jillian found herself facing Brody across the pillow. As if he’d heard her lids flip up, his eyes opened, too, and a slow smile filled his face, lifting his pillow-creased cheeks. He leaned in to kiss her, morning breath be damned, and she melted into the bliss for a few precious seconds before she had to face reality.
“Now what do we do, Brody?” she asked quietly.
“We make love. The flight’s not until two. Back in my room, there’s a brand-new, whizbang vibrator to play with….”
“I mean about us.”
As if on cue, both their cell phones went off—Barry White growled from the floor, muffled by Brody’s pants, and Jillian’s no-nonsense chime sounded from across the room in her purse. Brody leaned off the bed and fumbled in his pocket. He sat up to speak. “Yes?” he said, sounding suddenly alert and serious. It must be an important call.
Jillian fished her phone from her purse and was startled to see We Women Network in the readout. Here she stood, stark naked near an equally bare Brody, with a crucial career call waiting to be taken.
She ducked into the bathroom for privacy, pulled a towel around her body to feel more normal and answered the phone, her heart pounding. “This is Jillian James,” she said as calmly as she could, pulling her towel tight, hoping her lack of attire wouldn’t show in her voice.
“Jillian, May Lee, We Women Network. How are you?”
Jillian opened her mouth to respond, but May Lee kept talking, “We are so excited about your project. Marketing went wild about the Doctor Nite exclusive. That will really give us a sales hook.”
“That’s so good to hear!” Jillian’s heart soared. She did have two exclusive interviews at least. The newest had his dating tips—well, not the last one about finding a special woman, of course, but—
“You’ve got the dirt, right? The skinny? How Doctor Nite is really a lonely guy with an empty life? It’ll be ‘The Misery Behind the Magic.’ See, I’m writing promo copy already.”
Jillian’s excitement faded. She had the dirt, all right, and the skinny. But she couldn’t use a word of it. “I have two interviews and hope to get more.”
“Overnight us a screener,” May Lee said, then rattled off the courier number.
“I haven’t placed the interview footage yet, though, so—”
“Slam it in, girl. Get it here. Marketing locks promo on the series ASAP. You’re in or you’re out. By Monday, ’kay?”
“Sure. I can do that. By Monday.” She could slide Brody’s interviews in with a narrative voice-over easily enough. She had time before their flight and in San Diego before they started the night’s shoot. She’d planned to visit her friend Callie, who was still at the San Diego news station where they’d worked together, but she had time.
She just didn’t have what they wanted. Not unless Brody would go on camera with the truth? Would he? Now that he was quitting? It seemed too soon. He’d barely admitted it to himself and she was the only person he’d confessed the whole story to.
It was too soon. May Lee made enthusiastic small talk while Jillian’s heart sank and sank. Her dream was within her grasp and she had to let it float away.
She emerged from the bathroom just as Brody was finishing his call. “That was Ryan Jeffers from the Attorney General’s office,” he said. “He needs me to look at photos to ID Madden and ask me about what happened, so we’re meeting in San Diego.”
“Sounds pretty serious if they’re coming to meet you.”
“Evidently.” Then he really looked at her “You okay? You look sick.” He moved closer.
“No. I’m fine. Just…tired.”
“Who was on the phone?”
“Follow-up on my movie.” She wasn’t ready to tell him about We Women. She had to think about the right approach. Maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as it felt.
Brody’s phone rang again. He looked at the readout, then rolled his eyes before he answered. “Yeah?…What am I up to?” He glanced at Jillian, then winked. “No good, as usual. And you?…Sounds good. We’ll see you there. Sure…We’re fine. We won’t forget.” He rolled his eyes, then hung up.
She tried to smile. “So that was Eve? Wonder what she’ll think about all this,” she said to make conversation.
“Yeah. That.” He cleared his throat. “I’m thinking we should keep it between us for now. Eve would just give us grief.”
“That makes sense. And the last thing we need is grief.” She wasn’t even thinking about what she was saying.
“I believe we were discussing vibrators…” He moved in to take her in his arms, but she pulled back, still preoccupied by the phone call. She’d like to look at what she had, start embedding the interviews at least, see if she had something May Lee might like.
“Actually, I should put in some time on my movie,” she said. “There’s time before our flight.”
“Okay, sure.” Confusion flickered in his eyes.
“Not that I’m not interested, Brody. I just think—”
“You have work to do, sure. Makes sense. Yeah. I mean, we have plenty of time to be together.” Was he hurt, relieved? She couldn’t tell. He seemed troubled and tense.
What was that about hiding it from Eve? Was he backing out? Freaking out? She didn’t know how to broach the topic.
They’d been so intimate the night before, discussing hopes and dreams, even their childhoods, and now they didn’t know what to say to each other. She had new feelings for Brody, but her plans had been turned upside down and her documentary was in limbo. Everything had happened too fast. She had no idea what to do about any of it.
JILLIAN WAS WAY TOO QUIET on the plane, Brody thought. She’d used work as an excuse to avoid him before the flight, and now her smiles seemed forced, she barely spoke and she acted preoccupied and distant. Maybe she was hurt because he’d suggested not telling Eve about them. But how could he? It was too new and raw to have Eve picking at them like a bird after a juicy worm. He felt peculiar, too. He’d blurted his secrets and now he felt…buck naked in the cold.
Should he ask Jillian what was wrong? Did he want to know? He’d never been nervous with a woman before. But then he’d never felt this way about one, either.
This was probably the usual deal in a relationship. God, he was already thinking the R word. It’s not all picnics in the park, she’d told him. Lord. He hoped it wasn’t a walk across egg shells or hot coals, either.
He glanced over to where Jillian was reading. The sight of her made everything in him go tight. He wanted her so much. Just the way she moved her head or trailed a finger down the page made him want to nail her in the cramped plane lavatory.
He’d get used to this, he hoped. They both would.
The hotel where they were staying was close and a half hour after they’d landed, Brody guided Jillian into the spacious lobby of the refurbished nineteenth-century building, where they were instantly mobbed by fans. As often happened, somebody had figured out where they were staying and posted it on the blog.
He used to love these moments, but lately he just wanted peace and quiet. “Hang on, I’ll move us through,” he said to Jillian, who looked stunned by the crowd.
Soon he was being tugged at, shouted at and had papers and notepads shoved at him to sign. Cameras flashed again and again. He kept smiling and moving, being as gracious as he could, as he made his way to Eve, who held out room-key envelopes. “Everything go all right?” she asked him.
“You know it did. You called us three times.”
“With all your advance work, it went like clockwork,” Jillian said, her cheeks bright pink. A clue, if Eve were paying attention, but she didn’t seem to be.
“We’ve got a couple changes to go over,” she said. “The nude synchronized swimming is out. It’s a logistical nightmare. Blurring the nipples and pubes will wreck the effect. Sorry. I know you were hot for that.”
Jillian arched an eyebrow at him.
“It’s art,” he said. “An athletic challenge. Requires tremendous muscle control.”
“It’s naked women in water,” Eve said. “Who are you kidding? But no matter, since I nabbed a twofer instead. The bar where we’re holding the whipped-cream bikini contest will do your frou-frou drink-off, too.”
“Frou-frou drink-off?” JJ asked.
“Yeah,” Eve said. “To see which cocktail scores a tit flash the fastest. It’s Brody’s idea. Isn’t it great?”
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