by Susan Lewis
Putting his fingers under her chin, he lifted her face and looked right into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘It was a stupid thing to have done.’
‘It’s OK,’ she said shakily. ‘You’re here now.’
He carried on looking at her, moving his eyes between hers, lowering them to her mouth, then bringing them back again to her eyes and gazing at her so seriously and intently she was almost afraid of what he was thinking. Then, very gently he touched his lips to hers and kissed her so tenderly and meaningfully that she felt her heart flood with so much emotion she could hardly bear it.
Later, she barely remembered how she began, all she knew was that she told him everything, from the way her father wouldn’t speak to her to how afraid she was of leaving ATI; about the photographs Ted Forgon was blackmailing her with, the way Clay had tried to rape her the day before and the dread she had that he, Michael, hadn’t called because she had slept with him so easily.
Only the last part made him smile, until, realizing how serious she was, he touched a finger to her lips and said, ‘It wasn’t easy, it was inevitable. You know that.’
Hearing that, Ellen felt her heart rise to her throat and as his hand tightened on hers her desire began to burn. His hand slid into her hair and she raised her mouth to his again, moaning softly as he kissed her.
‘What are you doing for the next five days?’ he asked, his mouth still very close to hers.
Ellen’s eyes reflected her surprise and seeing the way he was looking at her she said, ‘Why?’
‘Because I want to spend some time with you and I can clear my schedule if you can clear yours.’
She looked away, looked back, then shaking her head she started to smile. ‘OK,’ she said.
He brought her mouth to his and a long time later he said softly, ‘We’ll get this sorted with Forgon, OK?’
She stared at him, not knowing what to say.
He kissed her nose. ‘Does Ingall still have any more of those polaroids?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I thought I’d destroyed them all, but … I don’t know.’
‘It’s OK, there are ways of finding out.’
Ellen laughed. ‘How do you do that?’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Make everything seem so simple.’
He shrugged. ‘I guess because everything generally is,’ he answered. ‘It’s only complicated when you want it to be.’
Ellen frowned as she thought about that. ‘I wouldn’t say I want it to be complicated between us,’ she said, ‘but I feel that it is.’
He smiled and said nothing as his mouth closed over hers again. And this time, as he kissed her, he pulled the top of her robe aside and unbuttoned her pyjamas until one breast was completely exposed to his touch. As he stroked her, her breath started to deepen, but they sat that way for a long time, watching the dark masculinity of his hand move over her skin, while occasionally looking at each other and kissing some more.
Finally he got to his feet and pulling her up into his arms he said, ‘If you’ve got a problem with us making love …’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t have a problem.’
His smile was so ironic she laughed and walking with him into the bedroom she said, ‘I’m glad you came.’
‘Me too,’ he murmured and pulling her in front of him he began to undress her.
The next five days were the happiest and most romantic Ellen had ever known. She’d had no idea it was possible to laugh so much, nor to make love in so many different ways, nor to feel so alive and beautiful and mischievous and cared for, no matter what she did. She could see how enthralled he was by her and loved the way he teased her for how brazen and reckless and insatiable she was. In turn, she let him know how special he was too, though she was careful not to mention anything about him moving to LA, for the last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was trying to trap him, either for Forgon, or for herself.
They were rarely out of each other’s sight as they roamed the canyons, relaxed in her apartment and drove along the coast to Big Sur. They talked endlessly about everything from existentialism to expressionism, from crime to passion and from the marvellous to the mundane. He watched her and listened as she spoke on the phone to her mother and was persuaded to say ‘hi’ himself. Then it was her turn to speak to his family, all three of the children, his sister and Clodagh. He confided how bad he felt about a girl from his office, Sandy, whom he had fired because of her crush on him, and confessed how he had slept with her the night he had so badly wanted to sleep with Ellen. Ellen’s heart went out to the girl wherever she was now, for feeling the way she did about Michael herself it was all too easy for her to imagine how terrible Sandy must be feeling.
He told her about the deal he was trying to pull together with the Australian, Mark Bergin, and what it could do for the face of international co-production. She could sense how excited he was by it and understood why, for the project, if it came off, was bigger and more prestigious than any she’d ever heard of. Apparently Bergin had already upped his stake to six million sterling, while Michael’s associate in New York was prepared to put up a further two million and Michael was committing McCann Walsh to an investment of three million, with a possible further three once he had spoken to the banks. They had yet to come up with a name in LA that all three trusted sufficiently to bring in on the deal, for the way Hollywood generally played was buy out, not buy in. Ellen desperately wanted to suggest herself as a partner, for she was certain she could raise the money – provided she got things sorted out with Forgon first – but the suggestion had to come from Michael and despite how close they seemed and how freely they discussed everything else, there was an unnerving silence regarding their relationship and where it might be headed.
She waited until their last night to bring up the subject, when they were having dinner at La Bohème, the Parisian music-hall-style restaurant on Santa Monica. It saddened her, and slightly panicked her too, that he went through the entire meal without once wondering when they might see each other again, or even mentioning how they felt about each other. In her heart she just knew that the past five days had meant as much to him as they had to her, but whether she could get him to admit it was another matter altogether, and even if she could, it still wasn’t going to answer the question of where they went from here.
She watched as the waiter put two coffees down between them and asked if they would like a nightcap. Michael looked at her and she shook her head.
‘Just the check,’ he said and as the waiter walked away he picked up his coffee and looked into her eyes. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
Ellen nodded and picked up her coffee too.
‘You seem quiet tonight,’ he remarked.
She kept her eyes lowered, then, putting her cup down she looked up into his dark, candlelit face. ‘I guess I’m just sad that you’re going tomorrow,’ she said.
Immediately he looked away and her heart ached with the need to hear him say that he would miss her too.
‘Did you have a good time?’ she asked.
‘Sure,’ he answered.
She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite come off. She was right on the verge of saying what she wanted, but for some reason she couldn’t make it come. ‘Are you going to offer Sandy back her job?’ she said.
He frowned.
‘The girl you fired,’ she reminded him. ‘Will you take her back?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I’ll give her a good reference, so she shouldn’t have much trouble finding another job.’
‘What about the escort thing? Is that going to remain a problem for her? I mean, will anyone else want to take her on once they know what her background is?’
‘People are pretty broad-minded these days,’ he replied.
‘But not you?’
‘I told you, it was an excuse to get rid of her,’ he said bluntly, ‘not a reason. It’s why I feel so bad
about it.’ He sighed. ‘But it’s done now and I don’t see there’s anything to be gained in going back.’
Ellen fell silent again and wondered how many other things she was going to ask about before she got round to what she really wanted to say.
‘Have you considered what you’re going to do about ATI?’ he asked.
Her mouth turned dry as her heart contracted hard. Was he going to ask her to go to London after all? Or was he just making idle chat?
‘If you decide you want to leave,’ he went on, ‘then give Forgon a reminder from me that I know plenty of things about him he won’t want made public, so if he doesn’t get off your case I’ll be on his.’
Ellen smiled and looked down at her coffee. ‘My hero,’ she murmured. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful, or that she wanted to go to London even, she just wanted to know that this wasn’t the end.
‘I was wondering,’ she said, looking up at him, ‘if we’re going to see each other again after tomorrow.’
His eyes remained on hers until reaching for her hand, he held it between his and watched the slow entwining of their fingers.
Her heart was thudding painfully hard, for his silence was giving her the reply she dreaded and she just didn’t know if she could bear to hear what he was going to say.
‘Are you still in love with Michelle?’ she asked, knowing instinctively that this was where her adversary lay.
She felt his sudden tension, though he didn’t pull his hand away, instead he looked down to where it was joined with hers. ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ he answered. Then, raising his eyes, ‘If things were different … If I didn’t have …’ He stopped as the check arrived and reaching into his jacket for his wallet he dropped four twenty-dollar bills on the table. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ he said, starting to get up.
‘No,’ she answered, staying where she was.
He looked at her curiously.
‘I can’t do this, Michael,’ she said, struggling to keep the emotion from her voice.
He sat down again.
‘I can’t go home with you tonight,’ she continued, ‘and know that you’re going to leave tomorrow and I might never see you again. If it’s going to be that way then we have to say goodbye here. I can put your things in a taxi and send them to the Four Seasons …’
‘Listen,’ he said, reaching for her hand again, ‘if you’re thinking that these past five days haven’t meant as much to me as they have to you, then you’re wrong. I had a wonderful time, we both did, and if there were any way we could continue with this then believe me there would be no one happier than me. But you’re here in LA and I’m in London, and no matter how much we might want to kid ourselves otherwise, that isn’t going to change. So ask yourself, do you really want a relationship that only happens on the phone or during snatched vacations in one city or the other? Sure we could meet up for the weekend in New York from time to time, but whichever way you look at it, Ellen, in the long run it just can’t work.’
‘You told me once there would always be a job for me in London,’ she reminded him, her eyes flashing with anger at her lost pride.
‘But you don’t want it.’
‘You didn’t ask.’
‘OK. Do you want the job?’
She looked away.
‘You see,’ he said gently, ‘you’re as much a part of the States as I am of England …’
‘This isn’t about geography,’ she snapped, ‘it’s about two people who care for each other and want to spend more time together. At least this person does. What about you?’
He nodded.
‘So what’s wrong with trying it for vacations and weekends in New York?’ she demanded. ‘Do we have to throw everything away because it seems impossible now? No one ever knows what’s going to happen in the future, how things might change, so unless you tell me that you’re still in love with Michelle, because that’s the real crux of things here, then I’m prepared to give it a go any way that might have a chance.’
‘If I’m in love with anyone right now,’ he said, ‘it’s with you.’
Ellen was already starting to speak when her breath was suddenly lost in an onrush of disbelief and elation. ‘Do you mean that?’ she whispered, trying to assimilate the shock.
‘You know I do,’ he answered. ‘You’ve been there the whole time it’s been happening so you’ve got to know.’
She stared at him, then, swallowing hard she said, ‘Does that mean you know I’m in love with you too? I mean, you’ve been there the whole time for me.’
He grinned. ‘I’d say you’re pretty crazy about me,’ he replied. ‘We’ll know you’re in love when you decide to come to London.’
Ellen’s heart skipped a beat. ‘I could throw that one back at you,’ she reminded him, ‘and say we’ll know when you come to LA.’
His eyebrows went up, but he made no comment as he got to his feet and stood to one side for her to lead them out of the restaurant.
‘Could we do something now?’ Ellen asked as he drove her newly repaired Pontiac back towards Beverly Hills.
He glanced at her in surprise. ‘What do you have in mind?’ he asked cautiously.
‘Could we fly to Vegas and get married?’
‘Jesus Christ!’ he swore, swerving to avoid an oncoming car. ‘Are you serious?’ he asked a couple of minutes later.
‘No,’ she said happily, ‘it was just a joke.’
He continued to drive, eyes riveted to the road ahead. ‘You were serious,’ he stated, when finally they turned into her apartment complex.
‘No I wasn’t,’ she replied. ‘You sounded so suspicious when I asked if we could do something that I didn’t want to disappoint you.’ She turned to look at him. ‘What I wanted to do was make an arrangement for when we’re next going to meet. Now, I know you might see that as still trying to tie you down, but you have to admit it’s not as drastic as Vegas.’
Laughing as he circled the car into her parking spot he said, ‘I’m going to miss you, Ellen Shelby.’
‘You don’t know how happy that makes me,’ she responded.
Turning off the engine, they got out of the car and walked hand in hand to the apartment. ‘What about New York, the weekend after next?’ he said when they reached the door.
Ellen’s eyes rounded with amazement. ‘That soon?’ she said.
‘I have a meeting there on the twenty-fifth,’ he answered, ‘to do with the global tie-up.’
‘Is that so?’ she murmured, sliding her arms around his neck as he leaned back against the wall.
‘Mmmmm,’ he responded as she kissed him.
‘Then I guess I’ll just have to make sure I can be there too,’ she said, and feeling pretty certain that somehow this international link-up was going to provide some kind of answer for them she led him into the apartment and poured him a nightcap.
‘Tell me something,’ she said, a while later as they were sitting quietly in the moonlight on the veranda, ‘would you really have gone back to England tomorrow with no plans for us to see each other again?’
She was sitting on the floor in front of him and turned to rest her chin on his knee as she waited for him to answer. His eyes narrowed teasingly as looking down at her he contemplated the question. ‘I guess,’ he said finally, ‘we’ll never know now, will we?’
Chapter 20
NESTA WAS ON the phone as Sandy walked into their Chelsea flat, shrugged off her raincoat and went through to the kitchen to drop her umbrella in the sink.
‘If you can raise it to six we could be in business,’ Nesta was saying. ‘Yes, thousand. You surely didn’t think I meant hundred.’
Hearing that, Sandy hurried into the sitting-room, kettle in hand, and looked over to where Nesta was sitting at one of the twin desks they’d rigged up in front of the window. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked.
Nesta, looking very girlish in a high pony tail and pristine red bow, put a hand over the receiver. ‘Vanessa Kerry,’ she mo
uthed.
Sandy’s eyes widened eagerly. ‘Anything doing?’ she asked.
Nesta held up a hand. ‘Anything less than six and I’m afraid …’ She paused, grinned across at Sandy, then sticking a thumb in the air said, ‘OK, that’s great. Sandy’s just walked in so I’ll put it to her and get back to you before the end of the day.’
Sandy descended into the opposite chair and leaned on the kettle. ‘Well?’ she said, as Nesta hung up.
‘You know, I’m really getting to like this agenting lark,’ Nesta responded, studying her fingernails. ‘In fact, I reckon I’m developing quite a knack for it.’
‘What did she say?’ Sandy pressed. ‘Are they offering Georgia the part?’
‘Yep,’ Nesta answered, ‘for five grand. I’m trying to up it to six.’
‘It’s a real low-budget film,’ Sandy cautioned.
Nesta shrugged. ‘She said she was going to discuss some kind of deferred payment with the producer,’ she said. ‘If he agrees, and you agree too, then it looks like we might get six.’
Sandy’s eyes were shining with joy. ‘You’re a genius,’ she declared. ‘Georgia Sands is going to be over the moon.’
‘Shall I call and tell her?’ Nesta offered, squinting as a rogue ray of sunlight suddenly splashed across the desk.
Sandy shook her head and started to get up. ‘Let’s wait until we’ve got it all firmed up, then you can tell her. Did anything else happen while I was out?’
‘Just a couple of calls,’ Nesta answered, looking at her pad. ‘Someone from The Bill wanting to check on Miriam Flander’s address and the source of all our non-existent misery, Slim Sutton.’
By now Sandy was dropping a couple of tea-bags into the pot, but at the mention of Slim Sutton’s name she came back to the doorway. ‘What did he say?’ she asked.
‘That he’ll be in London the week after next and he’ll be happy to meet up with you,’ Nesta informed her with a triumphant smile. ‘If you ask me, we’ve got him in the bag.’
Sandy threw her a look and as the phone started to ring again she returned to the kitchen, keeping an ear out for who was on the line. From Nesta’s reception she guessed it was a friend, so she carried on with the tea and scanned the mail that Nesta had left in a pile on the dresser. There were two contracts ready to be signed for two of Janey’s clients, a script for one of Diana’s clients to read, a telephone bill and a letter from an independent producer she’d met at a party a week ago.