“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
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?”
“
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.”
Chapter 15
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.
He was earthy. Thorough. Demanding. Using his fingers, his mouth, his sex. She experienced a blissful, soaring freedom. The final explosion was cataclysmic.
Afterward, she lay limp beneath him, so drained she could barely muster the words. “Oh, well…I’m sure the next time will be better.”
He rolled over on his back, his skin as damp as hers, his mouth curling in a lazy smile. “Let’s face it, you’re a lot of woman for one man to handle.”
She grinned. The air-conditioning kicked on, blowing a cool breeze across their hot bodies. She felt…
She struggled to put a name to her emotions and finally came up with one.
She felt happy.
Bram was the only guy who’d ever been in Chaz’s apartment, but now Aaron was sitting on her couch, his headphones still around his neck, the jack dangling by his knee. He wore farmer jeans and a wrinkled green T-shirt that said all your base are belong to us, which made no frickin’ sense. His curly hair exploded around his round face, and his glasses were crooked. “You can’t stay here,” Chaz said. “You have to leave.”
“I told you. My car keys are in Georgie’s office.”
“Take my car.” Bram had bought her a shiny new Honda Odyssey, but she didn’t like leaving the house unless she had to, so she didn’t use it for much except household errands. Otherwise, she stayed mostly in her apartment. Bram had let her furnish it the way she wanted. She’d chosen modern pieces in chocolate and light brown along with a basic black shelving unit, an angular reading chair, and a couple of simple black-and-white abstract prints. No clutter. No mess. Everything neat and peaceful. Everything except Aaron.
He rubbed his chest through his T-shirt. “My driver’s license is in my wallet, and that’s in Georgie’s office,
