death.
His heels kicked up the sand as he closed the distance between them. “You’re an idiot.”
“Just covering my bases.”
He grabbed her hand, more like a prison warden’s than a lover’s. “For your information, there was no camera. I just wanted to get my kicks.”
“And for your information…I knew there wasn’t a camera, and I wanted a few kicks myself.” She hadn’t known, but she should have suspected.
The breeze sighed, the waves lapped. She wasn’t done antagonizing him, and she leaned against his arm. “Skip and Scooter, together in the moonlight. How romantic.”
He retaliated by whistling “Tomorrow” from
Chapter 9
Georgie waited until the next morning when she heard Bram go into the workout room. She headed for the dining room, grabbed the key she’d seen him toss into a brass dish on the bookshelves, and made her way out to his office in the guesthouse. She still couldn’t get used to Bram having an office instead of conducting his business from a bar stool.
As she moved along the gravel path, she thought about how different Bram’s sexual aggression was from what she’d experienced with Lance. Her ex-husband had wanted her to be the seductress, and that’s exactly what she’d tried to do. She’d read a dozen sex manuals and bought the most erotic lingerie she could find, no matter how much it pinched. She’d performed stripteases that left her feeling stupid, whispered male fantasies in his ear that turned her off, and tried to find inventive lovemaking locales to keep things fresh. He’d seemed appreciative and always said he was satisfied, but obviously she’d come up short or he wouldn’t have left her for Jade Gentry.
She’d worked too hard to have failed so miserably. Sex might be easy for some women, but it was complicated for her, and just thinking about the quandary she found herself in with Bram made her queasy. Bram wasn’t going to give up sex. He’d either have it with her or with someone else. Maybe both.
She’d promised herself she’d face her problems head-on, but they’d only been married five days, and she needed some time to figure this one out.
She unlocked his office and turned on his computer. As she waited for it to boot up, she began searching his bookshelves. She had to know right now whether the reunion show was a figment of Bram’s imagination or something more tangible.
She found a diverse book collection and an eclectic pile of scripts, but none of them for a
She was stunned. She’d hoped Bram had made this up to needle her. He knew doing a reunion movie would be a huge career setback for her, so why did he think he could convince her to go along with it?
She didn’t like the only answer she could come up with. Blackmail. He might threaten to walk out on their marriage if she didn’t go along with the project. But dumping her would put a stop to the money train, as well as making him look like an ass, although he might not care about that. Still…She remembered the way he’d behaved around Rory Keene. Maybe he cared more about his image than he’d led her to believe.
“What are you doing in here?”
Her head shot up, and she saw Chaz standing in the doorway looking like the love child of Martha Stewart and Joey Ramone. Her housekeeper’s uniform for the day consisted of holey jeans, olive tank top, and black flip-flops. Georgie pushed the drawer closed with her foot. Since she couldn’t conjure up a reasonable explanation, she decided to turn the tables. “Better question-what are you doing?”
Chaz’s dark-rimmed eyes narrowed with hostility. “Bram doesn’t like strangers in his office. You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not a stranger. I’m his wife.” Words she’d never expected to hear coming out of her mouth.
“He doesn’t even let the cleaning people in here.” Chaz lifted her chin. “I’m the only one.”
“You’re very loyal. What’s that about, anyway?”
She pulled a broom from a small closet. “It’s my job.”
Georgie couldn’t snoop through his computer files now, so she began to leave, but as she got up, she spotted a video camera sitting on the corner of the desk. Chaz began to sweep the floor. Georgie examined the camera long enough to discover that Bram had erased whatever tawdry sexual encounter he’d last filmed.
Chaz stopped sweeping. “Don’t mess with that.”
Georgie impulsively turned the camera on Chaz and hit the record button. “Why do you care so much?”
Chaz pulled the broom handle to her chest. “What are you doing?”
“I’m curious about your loyalty.”
“Turn that off.”
Georgie brought her into sharper focus. Beneath the piercings and scowl, Chaz had delicate, almost fragile, features. She’d pulled one side of her chopped hair away from her eyes with a small silver barrette, and the other side stood out in a spiky tuft above her ear. Chaz’s hostile independence fascinated Georgie. She couldn’t imagine having that kind of freedom from caring what other people thought. “I guess you’re the only person in L.A. who doesn’t love a camera,” Georgie said. “No ambitions to be an actress? That’s why most girls come here.”
“Me? No. And how do you know I haven’t always lived here?”
“Just a feeling.” Through the viewer, Georgie could see tension tightening the corners of Chaz’s small mouth. “Most twenty-year-olds would be bored with a job like yours.”
Chaz gripped the broom tighter, almost as if it were a weapon. “I like my job. You probably think housework isn’t important.”
Georgie quoted her father. “I think a job is what a person makes of it.”
The camera had subtly altered the relationship between them, and for the first time since they’d met, Chaz looked uncertain. “People should do what they’re good at,” she finally said. “I’m good at this.” She tried to return to sweeping, but the camera was clearly bothering her. “Turn that thing off.”
“How did it happen?” Georgie edged around the corner of the desk to keep her in the frame. “How did you learn to run a house at such a young age?”
Chaz jabbed at a corner. “Just something I did.” Georgie waited, and to her surprise, Chaz went on. “My stepmom worked at a motel outside Barstow. Twelve units with a diner. Are you going to turn that off?”
“In a minute.” The camera made some people clam up and others talk. Apparently Chaz was one of the latter. Georgie took another step to the side. “You worked there?”
“Sometimes. She liked to party, and she didn’t always get home in time to go to work the next day. When that happened, I skipped school and went in for her.”
Georgie zoomed in on the girl’s face, taking advantage of having the upper hand. “How old were you?”
“I don’t know. Eleven or something.” She went over the same place she’d just swept. “The guy who owned the place didn’t care how old I was as long as the work got done, and I did a better job than her.”
The camera recorded facts. It didn’t offer an opinion about an eleven-year-old doing manual labor. “How did you feel about missing school?” The low-battery light came on.
Chaz shrugged. “We needed the money.”
“The work must have been hard.”
“There were good parts.”
“Like what?”
Chaz continued poking at the same spot on the floor. “I don’t know.” She leaned the broom against the wall and picked up a dust rag.
Georgie gave her a gentle prod. “I can’t imagine there were too many good parts.”
Chaz slid the rag over a bookshelf. “Sometimes a family checked into a room with a couple of kids. Maybe
