“Are you sure you want to do this?” A.J. felt it was only fair to give David one last chance before he committed himself.
“I’m sure.”
“It’s going to take the better part of your evening.”
“Want to get rid of me?”
“No.” She smiled but still hesitated. “Ever done anything like this before?”
He took the collar of her blouse between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed. The practical A.J. had a weakness for silk. “You’re my first.”
“Then you’ll have to do what you’re told.”
He skimmed his finger down her throat. “Don’t you trust me?”
She cocked her head and gave him a long look. “I haven’t decided. But under the circumstances, I’ll take a chance. Pull up a chair.” She indicated the table behind her. There were stacks of paper, neatly arranged. A.J. picked up a pencil, freshly sharpened, and handed it to him. “The first thing you can do is mark off the names I give you. Those are the people who’ve sent an acceptance. I’ll give you the name and the number of people under that name. I need an amount for the caterer by the end of the week.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“Just shows you’ve never dealt with a caterer,” A.J. mumbled, and took her own chair.
“What’s this?” As he reached for another pile of papers, she waved his hand away.
“People who’ve already sent gifts, and don’t mess with the system. When we finish with this, we have to deal with the guests coming in from out of town. I’m hoping to book a block of rooms tomorrow.”
He studied the tidy but extensive arrangement of papers spread between them. “I thought this was supposed to be a small, simple wedding.”
She sent him a mild look. “There’s no such thing as a small, simple wedding. I’ve spent two full mornings haggling with florists and over a week off and on struggling with caterers.”
“Learn anything?”
“Elopement is the wisest course. Now here—”
“Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Elope.”
With a laugh, A.J. picked up her first stack of papers. “If I ever lost a grip on myself and decided on marriage, I think I’d fly to Vegas, swing through one of those drive-in chapels and have it over with.”
His eyes narrowed as he listened to her, as if he were trying to see beyond the words. “Not very romantic.”
“Neither am I.”
“Aren’t you?” He put a hand over hers, surprising her. There was something proprietary in the gesture, and something completely natural.
“No.” But her fingers linked with his. “There’s not a lot of room for romance in business.”
“And otherwise?”
“Otherwise romance tends to lead you to see things that aren’t really there. I like illusions on the stage and screen, not in my life.”
“What do you want in your life, Aurora? You’ve never told me.”
Why was she nervous? It was foolish, but he was looking at her so closely. He was asking questions he’d never asked. And the answers weren’t as simple as she’d once thought. “Success,” she told him. Hadn’t it always been true?
He nodded, but his thumb moved gently up and down the side of her hand. “You run a successful agency already. What else?” He was waiting, for one word, one sign. Did she need him? For the first time in his life he wanted to be needed.
“I…” She was fumbling for words. He seemed to be the only one who could make her fumble. What did he want? What answer would satisfy him? “I suppose I want to know I’ve earned my own way.”
“Is that why you turned down Alice Van Camp as a client?”
“She told you that?” They hadn’t discussed the Van Camp interview. A.J. had purposely talked around it for days.
“She mentioned it.” She’d pulled her hand from his. David wondered why every time they talked, really talked, she seemed to draw further away from him.
“It was kind of her to come to me when I was just getting started and things were…rough.” She shrugged her shoulders, then began to slide her pencil through her fingers. “But it was out of gratitude to my mother. I couldn’t sign my first big client out of gratitude.”
“Then later you turned her down again.”
“It was too personal.” She fought the urge to stand up, walk away from the table, and from him.
“No mixing business with personal relationships.”
“Exactly. Do you want some coffee before we get started?”
“You mixed a business and personal relationship with me.”
Her fingers tightened on the pencil. He watched them. “Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
Though it cost her, she kept her eyes on his. He could strip her bare, she knew. If she told him she had fallen in love with him, had started the tumble almost from the first, she would have no defense left. He would have complete and total control. And she would have reneged on the most important agreement in her life. If she couldn’t give him the truth, she could give him the answer he’d understand. The answer that mirrored his feelings for her. “Because I wanted you,” she said, and kept her voice cool. “I was attracted to you, and wisely or not, I gave in to the attraction.”
He felt the twinge, a need unfulfilled. “That’s enough for you?”
Hadn’t she said he could hurt her? He was hurting her now with every word. “Why shouldn’t it be?” She gave him an easy smile and waited for the ache to pass.
“Why shouldn’t it be?” he murmured, and tried to accept the answer for what it was. He pulled out a cigarette, then began carefully. “I think you should know we’re shooting a segment on the Ridehour case.” Though his eyes stayed on hers, he saw her tense. “Clarissa agreed to discuss it.”
“She told me. That should wrap the taping?”
“It should.” She was holding back. Though no more than a table separated them, it might have been a canyon. “You don’t like it.”
“No, I don’t, but I’m trying to learn that Clarissa has to make her own decisions.”
“A.J., she seems very easy about it.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then let me.”
“Before I convinced her to move, to keep her residence strictly confidential, she had closets full of letters.” She took her glasses off to rub at a tiny ache in her temple. “People asking for her to help them. Some of them involved no more than asking her to locate a ring, and others were full of problems so heartbreaking they gave you nightmares.”
“She couldn’t help everyone.”
“That’s what I kept telling her. When she moved down to Newport Beach, things eased up. Until she got the call from San Francisco.”
“The Ridehour murders.”
“Yes.” The ache grew. “There was never a question of her listening to me on that one. I don’t believe she heard one argument I made. She just packed. When I saw there was no stopping her from going, I went with her.” She kept her breathing even with great effort. Her hands were steady only because she locked them so tightly together. “It was one of the most painful experiences of her life. She saw.” A.J. closed her eyes and spoke to him what she’d never spoken to anyone. “I saw.”
When he covered her hand with his, he found it cold. He didn’t have to see her eyes to know the baffled fear would be there. Comfort, understanding. How did he show them? “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
She opened her eyes. The control was there, but teetering. “It isn’t something I like to remember. I’ve never before or since had anything come so clear, so hideously clear.”
“We’ll cut it.”
She gave him a blank, puzzled look. “What?”
“We’ll cut the segment.”
“Why?”
Slowly he drew her hands apart and into his. He wanted to explain, to tell her so that she’d understand. He wished he had the words. “Because it upsets you. That’s enough.”
She looked down at their hands. His looked so strong, so dependable, over hers. No one except her mother had ever offered to do anything for her without an angle. Yet it seemed he was. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Don’t say anything.”
“No.” She gave herself a moment. For reasons she couldn’t understand, she was relaxed again. Tension was there, hovering, but the knots in her stomach had eased. “Clarissa agreed to this segment, so she must feel as though it should be done.”
“We’re not talking about Clarissa now, but you. Aurora, I said once I never wanted to be responsible for your going through something like this. I mean it.”
“I think you do.” It made all the difference. “The fact that you’d cut the segment because of me makes me feel very special.”
“Maybe I should have told you that you are before now.”
Longings rose up. She let herself feel them for only a moment. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I realize that if you cut this part because of me I’d hate myself. It was a long time ago, David. Maybe it’s time I learned to deal with reality a little better.”
“Maybe you deal with it too well.”
“Maybe.” She smiled again. “In any case I think you should do the segment. Just do a good job of it.”
“I intend to. Do you want to sit in on it?”
“No.” She glanced down at the stacks of papers. “Alex will be there for her.”
He heard it in her voice, not doubt but resignation. “He’s crazy about her.”
“I know.” In a lightning change of mood, she picked up her pencil again. “I’m going to give them one hell of a wedding.”
He grinned at her. Resiliency was only one of the things that attracted him to her. “We’d better get started.”
They worked side by side for nearly two hours. It took half that time for the tension to begin to fade. They read off lists and compiled new ones. They analyzed and calculated how many cases of champagne would be adequate and argued over whether to serve salmon mousse or iced shrimp.
She hadn’t expected him to become personally involved with planning her mother’s wedding. Before they’d finished, she’d come to accept it to the point where she delegated him to help seat guests at the ceremony.
“Working with you’s an experience, A.J.”
“Hmm?” She counted the out-of-town guests one last time.
“If I needed an agent, you’d head the list.”
She glanced up, but was too cautious to smile. “Is that a compliment?”
“Not exactly.”
Now she smiled. When she took off her glasses, her face was abruptly vulnerable. “I didn’t think so. Well, once I give these figures to the caterer, that should be it. Everyone who attends will have me to thank that they aren’t eating Clarissa’s Swedish meatballs. And you.” She set the lists aside. “I appreciate all the help.”
“I’m fond of Clarissa.”
“I know. I appreciate that, too. Now I think you deserve a reward.” She leaned closer and caught her tongue in her teeth. “Anything in mind?”
He had plenty in mind every time he looked at her. “We can start with that coffee.”
“Coming right up.” She rose, and out of habit glanced at her watch. “Oh, God.”
He reached for a cigarette. “Problem?”
“Empire’s on.”
“A definite problem.”
“No, I have to watch it.”
As she dashed over to the television, he shook his head. “All this time, and I had no idea you were an addict. A.J., there are places you can go that can help you deal with these things.”
“Ssh.” She settled on the sofa, relieved she’d missed no more than the opening credits. “I have a client—”
“It figures.”
“She has a lot of potential,” A.J. continued. “But this is the first real break we’ve gotten. She’s only signed for four episodes, but if she does well, they could bring her back through next season.”
Resigned, he joined her on the sofa. “Aren’t these repeats, anyway?”
“Not this one. It’s a teaser for a spin-off that’s going to run through the summer.”
“A spin-off?” He propped his feet on an issue of Variety on the coffee table. “Isn’t there enough sex and misery in one hour a week?”
“Melodrama. It’s important to the average person to see that the filthy rich have their problems. See him?” Reaching over, she dug into a bowl of candied almonds. “That’s Dereck, the patriarch. He made his money in shipping—and smuggling. He’s determined that his children carry on his business, by his rules. That’s Angelica.”
“In the hot tub.”
“Yes, she’s his second wife. She married him for his money and power and enjoys every minute of them. But she hates his kids.”
“And they hate her right back.”
“That’s the idea.” Pleased with him, A.J. patted his leg. “Now the setup is that Angelica’s illegitimate daughter from a long-ago relationship is going to show up. That’s my client.”
“Like mother like daughter?”
“Oh, yes, she gets to play the perfect bitch. Her name’s Lavender.”
“Of course it is.”
“You see, Angelica never told Dereck she had a daughter, so when Lavender shows up, she’s going to cause all sorts of problems. Now Beau—that’s Dereck’s eldest son—”
“No more names.” With a sigh, he swung his arm over the back of the sofa. “I’ll just watch all the skin and diamonds.”
“Just because you’d rather watch pelicans migrate— Here she is.”
A.J. bit her lip. She tensed, agonizing with her client over each line, each move, each expression. And she would, David thought with a smile, fluff him off if he mentioned she had a personal involvement. Just business? Not by a long shot. She was pulling for her ingenue and ten percent didn’t enter into it.
“Oh, she’s good,” A.J. breathed at the commercial break. “She’s really very good. A season—maybe two—of this, and we’ll be sifting through offers for feature films.”
“Her timing’s excellent.” He might consider the show itself a glitzy waste of time, but he appreciated talent. “Where did she study?”
“She didn’t.” Smug, A.J. sat back. “She took a bus from Kansas City and ended up in my reception area with a homemade portfolio and a handful of high school plays to her credit.”
He gave in and tried the candied almonds himself. “You usually sign on clients that way?”
“I usually have Abe or one of the more maternal members of my staff give them a lecture and a pat on the head.”
“Sensible. But?”
“She was different. When she wouldn’t budge out of the office for the second day running, I decided to see her myself. As soon as I saw her I knew. Not that way,” she answered, understanding his unspoken question. “I make it a policy not to sign a client no matter what feelings might come through. She had looks and a wonderful voice. But more, she had the drive. I don’t know how many auditions I sent her on in the first few weeks. But I figured if she survived that, we were going to roll.” She watched the next glittery set of Empire appear on the screen. “And we’re rolling.”
“It took guts to camp out in one of the top agencies in Hollywood.”
“If you don’t have guts in this town, you’ll be flattened in six months.”
“Is that what keeps you on top, A.J.?”
“It’s part of it.” She found the curve of his shoulder an easy place to rest her head. “You can’t tell me you think you’re where you are today because you got lucky.”
“No. You start off thinking hard work’s enough, then you realize you have to take risks and shed a little blood. Then just when everything comes together and a project’s finished and successful, you have to start another and prove yourself all over again.”
“It’s a lousy business.” A.J. cuddled against him.
“Yep.”
“Why do you do it?” Forgetting the series, forgetting her client, A.J. turned her head to look at him.
“Masochism.”
“No, really.”
“Because every time I watch something I did on that little screen, it’s like Christmas. And I get every present I ever wanted.”
“I know.” Nothing he could have said could have hit more directly home. “I attended the Oscars a couple of years ago and two of my clients won. Two of them.” She let her eyes close as she leaned against him. “I sat in the audience watching, and it was the biggest thrill of my life. I know some people would say you’re not asking for enough when you get your thrills vicariously, but it’s enough, more than enough, to know you’ve had a part in something like that. Maybe your name isn’t a household word, but you were the catalyst.”
“Not everyone wants his name to be a household word.”
“Yours could be.” She shifted again to look at him. “I’m not just saying that because—” Because I love you. The phrase was nearly out before she checked it. When he lifted his brow at her sudden silence, she continued quickly. “Because of our relationship. With the right material, the right crew, you could be one of the top ten producers in the business.”
“I appreciate that.” Her eyes were so earnest, so intense. He wished he knew why. “I don’t think you throw around compliments without thinking about them first.”
“No, I don’t. I’ve seen your work, and I’ve seen the way you work. And I’ve been around long enough to know.”
“I don’t have any desire, not at this point, anyway, to tie myself up with any of the major studios. The big screen’s for fantasies.” He touched her cheek. It was real; it was soft. “I prefer dealing in reality.”
“So produce something real.” It was a challenge—she knew it. By the look in his eyes, he knew it, as well.
“Such as?”
“I have a script.”
“A.J.—”
“No, hear me out. David.” She said his name in frustration when he rolled her under him on the sofa. “Just listen a minute.”
“I’d rather bite your ear.”
“Bite it all you want. After you listen.”
“Negotiations again?” He drew himself up just to look down at her. Her eyes were lit with enthusiasm, her cheeks flushed with anticipation of excitement to come. “What script?” he asked, and watched her lips curve.
“I’ve done some business with George Steiger. You know him?”
“We’ve met. He’s an excellent writer.”
“He’s written a screenplay. His first. It just happened to come across my desk.”
“Just happened?”
She’d done him a few favors. He was asking for another. Doing favors without personal gain at the end didn’t fit the image she’d worked hard on developing. “We don’t need to get into that. It’s wonderful, David, really wonderful. It deals with the Cherokees and what they called the Trail of Tears, when they were driven from Georgia to reservations in Oklahoma. Most of the point of view is through a small child. You sense the bewilderment, the betrayal, but there’s this strong thread of hope. It’s not your ‘ride off into the sunset’ Western, and it’s not a pretty story. It’s real. You could make it important.”
She was selling, and doing a damn good job of it. It occurred to him she’d probably never pitched a deal while curled up on the sofa before. “A.J., what makes you think that if I were interested, Steiger would be interested in me?”
“I happened to mention that I knew you.”
“Happened to again?”
“Yes.” She smiled and ran her hands down to his hips. “He’s seen your work and knows your reputation. David, he needs a producer, the right producer.”
“And so?”
As if disinterested, she skimmed her fingertips up his back. “He asked if I’d mention it to you, all very informally.”
“This is definitely informal,” he murmured as he fit his body against hers. “Are you playing agent, A.J.?”
“No.” Her eyes were abruptly serious as she took his face in her hands. “I’m being your friend.”
She touched him, more deeply, more sweetly, than any of their loving, any of their passion. For a moment he could find nothing to say. “Every time I think I’ve got a track on you, you switch lanes.”
“Will you read it?”
He kissed one cheek, then the other, in a gesture he’d seen her use with her mother. It meant affection, devotion. He wondered if she understood. “I guess that means you can get me a copy.”
“I just happened to have brought one home with me.” With a laugh, she threw her arms around him. “David, you’re going to love it.”
“I’d rather love you.”
She stiffened, but only for a heartbeat. Their loving was physical, she reminded herself. Deeply satisfying but only physical. When he spoke of love, it didn’t mean the emotions, but the body. It was all she could expect from him, and all he wanted from her.
“Then love me now,” she murmured, and found his mouth with hers. “Love me now.”
She drew him to her, tempting him to take everything at once, quickly, heatedly. But he learned that pleasure taken slowly, given gently, could be so much more gratifying. Because it was still so new, she responded to tenderness with hesitation. Her stomach fluttered when he skimmed her lips with his, offering, promising. She heard her own sigh escape, a soft, giving sound that whispered across his lips. Then he murmured her name, quietly, as if it were the only sound he needed to hear.
No rush. His needs seemed to meld with her own. No hurry. Content, she let herself enjoy easy kisses that aroused the soul before they tempted the body. Relaxed, she allowed herself to thrill to the light caresses that made her strong enough to accept being weak.
She wanted to feel him against her without boundaries. With a murmur of approval, she pulled his shirt over his head, then took her hands on a long stroke down his back. There was the strength she’d understood from the beginning. A strength she respected, perhaps even more now that his hands were gentle.
When had she looked for gentleness? Her mind was already too clouded to know if she ever had. But now that she’d found it, she never wanted to lose it. Or him.
“I want you, David.” She whispered the words along his cheek as she drew him closer.
Hearing her say it made his heart pound. He’d heard the words before, but rarely from her and never with such quiet acceptance. He lifted his head to look down at her. “Tell me again.” As he took her chin in his hand, his voice was low and husky with emotion. “Tell me again, when I’m looking at you.”
“I want you.”
His mouth crushed down on hers, smothering any more words, any more thoughts. He seemed to need more; she thought she could feel it, though she didn’t know what to give. She offered her mouth, that his might hungrily meet it. She offered her body, that his could greedily take it. But she held back her heart, afraid he would take that, as well, and damage it.
Clothes were peeled off as patience grew thin. He wanted to feel her against him, all the long length of her. He trembled when he touched her, but he was nearly used to trembling for her now. He ached, as he always ached. Light and subtle along her skin was the path of scent. He could follow it from her throat, to the hollow of her breasts, to the pulse at the inside of her elbows.
She shuddered against him. Her body seemed to pulse, then sigh, with each touch, each stroke. He knew where the brush of a fingertip would arouse, or the nip of his teeth would inflame. And she knew his body just as intimately. Her lips would find each point of pleasure; her palms would stroke each flame higher.
He grew to need. Each time he loved her, he came to need not only what she would give, but what she could. Each time he was more desperate to draw more from her, knowing that if he didn’t find the key, he’d beg. She could, simply because she asked for nothing, bring him to his knees.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded as she clung to him.
“You. I want you.”
She was hovering above the clouds that shook with lightning and thunder. The air was thick and heavy, the heat swirling. Her body was his; she gave it willingly. But the heart she struggled so hard to defend lost itself to him.
“David.” All the love, all the emotion she felt, shimmered in his name as she pressed herself against him. “Don’t let me go.”
They dozed, still wrapped together, still drowsily content. Though most of his weight was on her, she felt light, free. Each time they made love, the sense of her own freedom came stronger. She was bound to him, but more liberated than she had ever been in her life. So she lay quietly as his heart beat slowly and steadily against hers.
“TV’s still on,” David murmured.
“Uh-huh.” The late-night movie whisked by, sirens blaring, guns blasting. She didn’t care.
She linked her hands behind his waist. “Doesn’t matter.”
“A few more minutes like this and we’ll end up sleeping here tonight.”
“That doesn’t matter, either.”
With a laugh, he turned his face to kiss her neck where the skin was still heated from excitement. Reluctantly he shifted his weight. “You know, with a few minor changes, we could be a great deal more comfortable.”
“In the bed,” she murmured in agreement, but merely snuggled into him.
“For a start. I’m thinking more of the long term.”
It was difficult to think at all when he was warm and firm against her. “Which long term?”
“Both of us tend to do a lot of running around and overnight packing in order to spend the evening together.”
“Mmmm. I don’t mind.”
He did. The more content he became with her, the more discontent he became with their arrangement. I love you. The words seemed so simple. But he’d never spoken them to a woman before. If he said them to her, how quickly would she pull away and disappear from his life? Some risks he wasn’t ready to take. Cautious, he approached in the practical manner he thought she’d understand.
“Still, I think we could come up with a more logical arrangement.”
She opened her eyes and shifted a bit. He could see there was already a line between her brows. “What sort of arrangement?”
He wasn’t approaching this exactly as he’d planned. But then he’d learned that his usual meticulous plotting didn’t work when he was dealing with A.J. “Your apartment’s convenient to the city, where we both happen to be working at the moment.”
“Yes.” Her eyes had lost that dreamy softness they always had after loving. He wasn’t certain whether to curse himself or her.
“We only work five days a week. My house, on the other hand, is convenient for getting away and relaxing. It seems a logical arrangement might be for us to live here during the week and spend weekends at my place.”
She was silent for five seconds, then ten, while dozens of thoughts and twice as many warnings rushed through her mind. “A logical arrangement,” he called it. Not a commitment, an “arrangement.” Or more accurately, an amendment to the arrangement they’d already agreed on. “You want to live together.”
He’d expected more from her, anything more. A flicker of pleasure, a gleam of emotion. But her voice was cool and cautious. “We’re essentially doing that now, aren’t we?”
“No.” She wanted to distance herself, but his body kept hers trapped. “We’re sleeping together.”
And that was all she wanted. His hands itched to shake her, to shake her until she looked, really looked, at him and saw what he felt and what he needed. Instead he sat up and, in the unselfconscious way she always admired, began to dress. Feeling naked and defenseless, she reached for her blouse.
“You’re angry.”
“Let’s just say I didn’t think we’d have to go to the negotiating table with this.”
“David, you haven’t even given me five minutes to think it through.”
He turned to her then, and the heat in his eyes had her bracing. “If you need to,” he said with perfect calm, “maybe we should just drop it.”
“You’re not being fair.”
“No, I’m not.” He rose then, knowing he had to get out, get away from her, before he said too much. “Maybe I’m tired of being fair with you.”
“Damn it, David.” Half-dressed, she sprang up to face him. “You casually suggest that we should combine our living arrangements, then blow up because I need a few minutes to sort it through. You’re being ridiculous.”
“It’s a habit I picked up when I starting seeing you.” He should have left. He knew he should have already walked out the door. Because he hadn’t, he grabbed her arms and pulled her closer. “I want more than sex and breakfast. I want more than a quick roll in the sheets when our schedules make it convenient.”
Furious, she swung away from him. “You make me sound like a—”
“No. I make us both sound like it.” He didn’t reach for her again. He wouldn’t crawl. “I make us both sound like precisely what we are. And I don’t care for it.”
She’d known it would end. She’d told herself she’d be prepared when it did. But she wanted to shout and scream. Clinging to what pride she had left, she stood straight. “I don’t know what you want.”
He stared at her until she nearly lost the battle with the tears that threatened. “No,” he said quietly. “You don’t. That’s the biggest problem, isn’t it?”
He left her because he wanted to beg. She let him go because she was ready to.