Susan Phillips - What I Did for Love

“I’m sure they’re flattered to be invited to stay here.”

“A special staff takes care of them. I don’t have to entertain anyone I don’t want to.” Rory uncrossed her legs and once again turned the full force of her iceberg eyes on Georgie. “If you ever feel…uncomfortable, as if you need to get away quickly, you can come over here anytime, night or day.”

Georgie didn’t know which she hated more-the idea that Rory thought Bram was a wife batterer or her belief that Georgie had so little self-regard she’d allow herself to be abused. “Those photos were deceptive, Rory. I know it looked like we were having a fight, but we weren’t. Honestly. Bram would never hurt me. Drive me crazy, yes. But physically hurt me, never.”

“Women don’t always think straight where men like Bram Shepard are concerned,” Rory said. “And after what you went through with Lance…”

“I’m touched by your concern. Truly. But it’s unnecessary.” Georgie couldn’t let this go. “You’ve…tried to look out for me before. I’m grateful, but I can’t help wondering why.”

“You don’t remember what you did for me, do you?”

“I’m hoping I loaned you a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings you’re about to return?”

Rory smiled her snow-goddess smile. “No such luck.” She picked up her champagne flute and twisted the stem. “When I worked on Skip and Scooter, you were always good to the crew.”

Georgie had never understood the logic of stars who made life miserable for the people whose job it was to make them look good. Besides, her father wouldn’t have tolerated diva behavior. Still, being courteous to the crew didn’t seem like a good enough reason for Rory to keep extending herself.

“I also like seeing decent people succeed.” Rory took another sip.

Georgie didn’t feel like much of a success right now. “You were the best production assistant the show ever had. I was sorry you only stayed one season.”

“It was a hard show to work. A lot of testosterone.”

Georgie remembered the way she’d teased Bram about having given Rory a hard time, but now it didn’t seem so amusing. “Bram hit on you, didn’t he?”

“Daily.” She tugged absentmindedly on a diamond stud earring. “But his friends were the real problem.”

“They were such losers. A bunch of parasites living off him. I’m happy to report he’s shaken them off.” He’d shaken everyone off, which seemed odd for someone who’d once kept himself surrounded.

“They’d slip pornographic pictures on my clipboard,” Rory said coolly. “Snap my bra when I walked by. Sometimes worse.”

“And Bram didn’t stop it?”

“I don’t think he knew about the worst of it. But they were his friends, and he was the one who insisted they be allowed on the set. When I tried to talk to him about it, he told me to lighten up.” She draped her wrist over her thigh. “Then one afternoon, two of them cornered me.”

Georgie sat up straight in her chair. “Now I remember. We’d finished shooting for the day, but I’d left a book or something on the set. I went back to get it and saw them pinning you against the wall. I’d forgotten that was you.”

“It was me. You started yelling at them, and you even threw a couple of punches. You might only have been a teenager, but you had a lot more power than a lowly P.A., and they backed off. Afterward you went to the producers. They were banned from the set, and Bram couldn’t do a thing about it.” She tilted her head almost imperceptibly. “I’ve never forgotten the way you went to bat for me.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done the same thing.”

“Who knows? The point is, I don’t forget my friends.”

Georgie thought about Bram. “I’m guessing you don’t forget your enemies either.”

Rory cocked an eyebrow. “Not unless my memory loss will make the studio a lot of money.”

Georgie smiled, then sobered. “If you and Bram didn’t have that old history, would it change the way you feel about Tree House?”

“A studio invests in more than a screenplay. It’s the whole package.”

“And in this case, Bram’s the centerpiece.”

“He doesn’t have any experience with a project like this.”

Bram had been around the business since he was a teenager. It was his character, not his lack of experience, that put Rory off, and she didn’t pull her punches. “He earned his bad reputation, Georgie. He’s let a lot of people down.”

“I know. But…people do change. I’ve never seen him so passionate about anything.”

Rory offered a distant Hollywood smile that meant she’d already made up her mind. With Paul as a father, Georgie had never needed to be pushy, but no one else could fight this particular battle. She desperately wanted a shot at playing Helene, and Bram’s success was her ticket. “I think passion counts for a lot when it comes to making a great film. All the experience in the world doesn’t mean anything if the filmmaker isn’t in love with the project.”

Bram’s genuine passion for Tree House forced her to confront how long it had been since she’d felt that kind of passion for herself. Playing Helene would give it back.

Rory leaned forward and gazed at Georgie with a steady intensity. “If you really want to help Bram, convince him to step aside and let me have the project.”

“Meaning he wouldn’t be the producer…or the leading man.”

“Bram’s a good actor, but this film needs a great actor. He’s too limited.”

Limited. Just as Georgie was supposed to be.

“Enough shop talk.” Rory had made her point, and she deliberately changed the subject. “I hear Jake and Fleur’s daughter is back in L.A.”

Georgie couldn’t push any more, and she let the subject drift to girlfriends.

“Good female friendships require a time investment I’ve never had,” Rory said in her cool way. “But everything has its price, and I love my work, so I’m not complaining.”

Maybe she wasn’t, but Georgie thought she heard regret in her voice. She couldn’t imagine life without the support of her friends, and just before she left, she heard herself invite Rory to tomorrow night’s dinner party.

To her surprise, Rory accepted.

Bram was waiting for her on the other side of the gate. “How did it go?”

“Fine.” Tomorrow would be soon enough to break the news that she’d invited Rory. If she told him now, he’d fly in a French chef and book an orchestra. With her money.

“How fine?”

“I said I wouldn’t sabotage you, and I didn’t.”

“You mean you meant it?”

“I told her you’d matured, and that you have real passion for the project.”

“With a straight face?”

“Yes, with a straight face. Jeez.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a long kiss, which was sexy, because he was a sexy kisser, but mainly exuberant, like a killer Doberman confronted with a juicy bone that had been unexpectedly tossed his way. Just like that, she began to melt. And why not? After everything she’d been through, she deserved as much mindless pleasure as she could get.

He curled both hands around her bottom. “Where’s Meg?”

“At a concert. You want a threesome?”

“Not tonight.” He kissed her again. And again. Before long, their hands were all over each other.

He let her go so abruptly she nearly fell. “Chaz! Aaron!” He shot toward the veranda. “Come out here!”

He had to call them twice before they appeared. Aaron had been putting in overtime redesigning her Web site, and a set of Bose headphones hung around his neck. Chaz appeared carrying a brutal-looking chef’s knife. Bram extended a pair of fifty-dollar bills he’d just pulled from his wallet. “You’re both done for the night. Here’s a little bonus for being such loyal employees. Now get out. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Aaron looked at the bills as if he’d never seen money. Chaz unlocked her semipermanent scowl. “I’m in the middle of making dinner.”

“And I know it’ll be delicious for lunch tomorrow.” He took each of them by one arm and nudged them toward the door that opened into the garage, with Chaz protesting the entire time. “At least let me turn off the frickin’ stove before you burn down the house!”

“I’ll handle it.” When Chaz and Aaron were gone, he came after Georgie. Within seconds, he’d locked them in the house. After a quick detour to turn off the stove, they reached the bedroom. His urgency thrilled her, so she frowned at him.

“Don’t you think that was a little…rash?”

“No.” He locked the bedroom door. “Take off your clothes.”

Don’t make me ask twice,” Bram said when she didn’t react quickly enough.

His air of sexy menace sent a new frenzy of desire rushing through her. This was so blissfully uncomplicated. All he cared about was getting laid, and that was all she cared about, too. Her head was finally screwed on straight enough to enjoy every illicit moment.

“You’re on.” She pulled her top over her head. “Knock yourself out.”

He gazed at her breasts cupped in pale yellow lace, and the way he looked at her filled her with pleasure. She loved feeling desired, never mind that she was merely a convenience.

He snared her wrist. “This time I want a bed. So I can see every inch of you.”

She nearly dissolved, right there in the middle of his bedroom. As she gazed into his smoky lavender eyes, she reminded herself she didn’t care enough about him to ever be hurt. Then he kissed her, and she stopped thinking at all.

This time there was no slow striptease. They threw aside their clothes and fell on each other. Until yesterday, she’d never given herself without love, but now she offered up her body with abandon. He explored every inch, opening her legs, propping one of her ankles on his shoulder. She teased and tormented him in return, not to turn him on, but because she wanted to, because this affair was about her pleasure and not about trying to hold on to a man who didn’t love her.