The Spellbinder: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Iris Johansen

  “I hope so. I don’t think I could bear—” She stopped abruptly. “I’m not going back to the hotel. I’m staying here with Brody.”

  “Sacha, you can’t help—”

  “I’m staying,” she interrupted. “I want to be with him. Can you arrange for them to let me stay in his room, or shall I spend the night here in the waiting room?”

  “There’ll be reporters all over the place. They’ll eat you alive if they find you out here.”

  “Then you’d do well to make sure I’m stowed away safely in Brody’s room, now, wouldn’t you?”

  Cass sighed. “I guess I’d better. Wait here, I’ll go sign those papers and see what I can do.”

  Dawn streaked the sky with mauve and palest gold. Through the open blinds at the window the warm colors of sunrise poured into the room, bathing Brody’s body. His face, even though gray and drawn because of the gunshot wound, was still mesmerizing, Sacha thought tiredly. Spellbinder.

  It seemed like such a long time since that night she had sat in the audience and tried to pinpoint Brody’s appeal. He was no longer only the spellbinder; he was real to her. He was a man who could laugh at himself and the world around him, a man who could be gently and caring, a man who belonged to her.

  But he didn’t belong to her. It was hard to remember that Brody was not her brother when she still felt so close to him. If she walked out that door right now, she knew she would still remember the sound of his laughter—and the way his eyes could soften from hardness to tenderness in the space of a heartbeat—for the rest of her life. How could he not belong to her when she still felt like this?

  Brody’s lids quivered and then slowly opened, his gaze focusing on her face. “Sacha?”

  Sacha’s hands closed tightly on the arms of the visitor’s chair. She had been expecting, waiting, for this moment all night, but it still came as a shock. “Good morning. May I get you anything? Shall I call the nurse?”

  “No.” He gazed at her drowsily. “What are you doing here?”

  She shrugged. “I thought you might want company. Hospitals are not warm, wonderful places.”

  “I remember you saying you didn’t like them. Have you been sitting in that chair all night?”

  “Why not? It was better than sitting in the hotel and worrying. I wouldn’t have slept anyway.”

  “There was no need to worry. The doctor says I’m going to be fine.”

  “Yes.” She moistened her lips. “They didn’t catch the man who shot you. Cass said to tell you that Randal is still working on it. The police are going to want to see you too. He says he’ll try to stall them until you leave the hospital.”

  “Ah, yes, the police.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “What am I going to tell them, Sacha?”

  “What you like.” She looked at the tranquil blue and green of the seascape on the wall across the room. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “They’ll want to talk to you too,” he said softly. “And they’ll know by now that the shot was meant for you, and I just got in the way.”

  “You saved my life.” Her voice was muffled. “You could have died.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, I received a worse wound than this doing one of my own stunts in my last film,” he said. “What did you expect me to do? Sit there and let them take potshots at you?”

  “No, you wouldn’t do that.” She paused. “And, if it happened again, you would probably do the same thing. That’s why I have to leave. I only stayed to say good-bye.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense. If you thought you were in danger before, you can be sure you are now. It would be damn stupid to run away from the protection my security men can offer.”

  Her lips twisted. “Would it be better to put myself in a position where you might have to throw yourself in front of me again? No, thank you, Brody. I owe you too much already.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. I thought we agreed that there weren’t any debts where—”

  “Stop it!” Her tone vibrated with pain. “No more lies. I’m nothing to you.”

  He went still. “Cass told you.”

  “It was necessary. The hospital admittance …” Her gaze left the picture to fasten on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me think I had someone of my own?”

  “I tried, dammit.” Brody’s expression was troubled. “One thing seemed to lead to another and every time I tried, I ran into a wall.”

  “Oh, I know.” She made a jerky motion with one hand. “You felt sorry for me. You wanted to help me. You should not have done it. It … hurts, Brody.”

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  She was silent for a moment, struggling for control. “It was not your fault. I’m wrong to blame you.” She stood up. “Thank you for being so kind to me. Please forgive me for all the trouble I’ve brought you.”

  “Sit back down,” Brody growled. “You’re not going anywhere. I don’t see why you’re so upset. So you’re not my sister. We’re still related, and that should give me some right to take care of you.”

  “A sixth cousin?” She slowly shook her head. “That’s no relation at all.”

  He smiled suddenly with the wheedling charm that had dazzled audiences for the last decade. “How can you say that? You have my eyes.”

  She started to laugh, and her voice suddenly broke. “Oh, Brody.”

  “Come with me,” he said coaxingly. “Let me send you to Malibu, where you’ll be safe. I’ll have Randal surround the place with an army of guards so thick, you’ll stumble over them every time you go out on the deck. I have one last performance tonight, and then I’ll join you.” His voice lowered to a velvet murmur. “We’ll sit on the beach, and you can help me decide whether I’m going to do that science-fiction film or try a new play on Broadway.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” she said wistfully. “But I can’t let you do it. You’ve been too kind already.”

  “Kind? Stop saying that!” His smile had vanished. “I wasn’t kind at all. Do you know why I had Cass investigate your claim? I wanted to make sure you weren’t my sister before I seduced you. I had a yen, and I wanted to satisfy it, like I’ve satisfied every desire I’ve ever known. I was a selfish bastard who was acting entirely in his own interests.”

  Her eyes widened. “You wanted to go to bed with me?”

  His lips twisted. “If you know me as well as you claim, that shouldn’t surprise you.”

  “I thought it was just a momentary whim.” She gazed at him with childlike gravity. “Do you still want to go to bed with me?”

  He started to shake his head and then stopped. “Yes. I won’t lie to you. I probably want you more than any woman I’ve ever wanted in my life.” He paused. “But don’t let it worry you. I promise, if you come to Malibu, I won’t lay a hand on you. For once in my life I’m trying to think of someone else first.” His lips curved in a crooked smile. “Who knows? Maybe playing noble King Arthur for the past three months has given me some kind of subliminal conditioning. I always did try to live my roles.”

  “Don’t joke,” she whispered. “You’re doing it again. Giving to me. Piling up the debt so high, it’s going to smother me.”

  “Look, what can I say to you?” Brody’s voice was suddenly harsh. “You barge into my life, torment me, worry the hell out of me, and then you decide to run away and drive me crazy thinking you’re dodging bullets all over the state of California. If you owe me anything, it’s peace of mind. You’re being selfish as the devil, you know.”

  “I am?” She frowned uncertainly. “Would you really worry that much, Brody?”

  “You’re damn right I would.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” Her index finger reached up to rub behind her left ear. “I’m so confused. I thought I knew what I should do and everything was clear, but now …”

  “It is clear. You owe me. Cass takes you to Malibu this morning.”

  Sacha’s gaze searched Brody’s face a long moment. She suddenly sat down in the vi
sitor’s chair. “Very well.”

  Brody released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Now you’re being reasonable.”

  “I’m not sure about that, but the decision is made.” She paused. “There are a few conditions. You must make sure this Malibu place is safe for you. I won’t endanger you again. You must let me help you however I can. I won’t be a burden.” She met his gaze. “And you must never lie to me again, not even by omission. We must be honest with each other. Agreed?”

  He nodded. “Agreed.” He leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time, and she thought he had gone back to sleep. Then he suddenly began to chuckle.

  “Something is funny?”

  He didn’t open his eyes, and his voice was faintly slurred. “I was just thinking, if Guenevere had made it this difficult to be rescued by Lancelot, she would have burned to a crisp before he managed to whisk her from the stake.” He tried to smother a yawn. “You’ve got to learn to be … more accommodating.…” The words trailed off, and she knew he was asleep again.

  Sacha slowly leaned back against the cushioned blue plastic of the chair, her gaze on Brody’s face. “I’m going to try,” Brody,” she said softly. “Lord knows, I intend to try.”

  Six

  “Come in, Brody. Why do you knock? After all, it’s your house.” Sacha hurried forward, smiling. “Did you bring the groceries?”

  “Would I dare disobey your orders?” Brody asked lightly. “Harris is getting them out of the trunk of the car right this minute. The clerk at the all-night supermarket thought I was stocking a fall-out shelter. I think I got everything on the list, but we have enough food to feed a small army. Do you mind telling me why we need five cans of coffee?”

  “For the security men,” Sacha answered. “It is a small army. Do you realize there are seven men outside? Naturally we have to keep them in refreshments.”

  “There’s no ‘naturally’ about it.” Brody’s lips tightened grimly. “Let’s hope they’re more efficient than they were that night outside the theater.” He stepped aside to let Harris through the doorway. The chauffeur, burdened by three shopping bags, was followed into the house by Barry Levine and another security man similarly encumbered. The three men disappeared down the corridor in the direction of the kitchen. “You don’t have to cook for Randal’s men. They certainly won’t expect it.”

  “I’ll enjoy it,” Sacha said. “It will give me something to do. Besides, I like to cook.” She smiled at Harris and the other men as they came back to the foyer. “Thank you all very much. Remember, Barry, send a man to the kitchen for coffee at seven and ten tomorrow morning. We’ll work out the rest of the schedule once I get organized.”

  “Right.” Barry Levine nodded. “Whatever you say, Miss Lorion.”

  The door closed behind them.

  Sacha’s smile faded. “Now we can get down to what’s important. How is your arm?”

  “Fine. It’s only a little stiff.”

  “You should have come here with me this morning and told them you couldn’t do the show. Surely they wouldn’t have expected you to go on when they knew you had just come out of the hospital.”

  “The house was sold out.” He closed the front door and leaned back against it. “It was no problem. Actually it was more exhausting trying to explain the shooting to the police, but I think I’ve kept them off your trail for the next day or so at least.” He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “Ham that I am, I kind of enjoyed all the fuss being made of me at the theater. It’s not often an actor gets a chance to play such a juicy martyr role. Besides, I got terrific press. ‘The show must go on’ and all that rot.”

  “But it’s not rot to you,” she said softly. “You’re not nearly as cynical as you pretend to be, Brody. You’re actually a very dedicated man.”

  “Are you looking into your crystal ball again? I told you that you didn’t know everything about me.”

  “No, but I’m learning more all the time.” She turned and started down the foyer toward the kitchen. “Come along, I’ve already made your dinner. It’s only a stew, but you’re lucky to get anything at all. There was nothing in the refrigerator, and I had to send that nice Barry Levine to pick up the ingredients. That’s why I called the theater and gave my grocery list to Cass. It’s enough to have to worry about being shot without starving to death too.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Why do I feel that you prefer the bullets?”

  “Well, it’s true that I don’t like to be hungry. Things always look brighter when your stomach is full.” She gestured to the breakfast nook across the kitchen, where a place had been set and a steaming bowl of stew smelled mouth-wateringly delicious. “I dished it up when I heard the car outside. Sit down and eat while I put away the groceries.”

  “Aren’t you going to have anything?”

  “I ate earlier.” She began to unpack one of the sacks on the counter. “But I’ll stay and talk to you while you taste my wonderful stew. I know I never like to eat alone. It’s much nicer to have someone to chat with.” She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “Not that I give you much chance to talk. Tell me to be quiet when you get bored with my chatter.”

  Brody raised his gaze from the contents of the bowl in front of him. “You never bore me.” He smiled slowly with a warmth that made her catch her breath. “I like to hear you chatter. I find it very … companionable.”

  Sacha could feel the hot color surge to her cheeks. The reaction startled her, and she found herself gazing at Brody with a strange, breathless shyness. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like her to react with this lack of composure once she’d reached a decision. Yet there was no question that she was distraught. Even her hands were trembling as she finished unpacking the groceries. She turned around and tried to keep her tone light. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “A little. Do you mind?”

  “Why should I? I hope I don’t take myself so seriously that I can’t laugh at my own foibles.” She opened the door of the refrigerator and began storing the milk and other perishables. “This is a fine house, very luxurious and expensive. Do you like it?”

  “It’s fine, I suppose. I bought it last year fully furnished, and I never thought much about it. It was just a place to come to when I needed privacy to work. I guess I liked the private beach more than any other feature.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good, then you won’t mind if I don’t like your house. I was afraid if I was honest I might hurt your feelings.” She opened the cabinet door and began shelving the canned goods. “It’s really a dreadful place. So cold. It has no personality and that’s the most terrible thing a person can say about a house. But don’t worry. I’ll find a way to make it livable.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “Do you like your stew?”

  “It’s magnificent.”

  “I knew you would love it. Wait until I cook my beef Stroganoff for you. How did the performance go tonight?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “You sound tired.” She glanced over her shoulder with quick concern. He looked as weary as he sounded, she noticed with a rush of maternal tenderness. “Finish eating quickly and go to bed.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  She turned around and studied him thoughtfully. “You’re not only tired, you’re very tense,” she said slowly. “Why? The tour is over. I would think you’d be able to relax now.”

  “Would you?” He took another bite of stew. “It would be nice if all our reactions could fall into nice little reasonable patterns.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic with me. I want to help you.”

  “Then for God’s sake, let—” He broke off as his gaze rose to her face. He drew a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe it would be better if you left me alone. I’m a moody bastard, and I can be pretty savage at times.”

  “But you don’t like yourself when you’re this way. I don’t know why you want to be
alone. It’s always easier to bear a burden if you have someone else to share it.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Brody …” She gazed at him helplessly. The tension radiating from him was nearly painful in intensity, yet his expression held a stubbornness that filled her with exasperation as well as despair. She suddenly couldn’t stand it any longer. She slammed the refrigerator door shut. “Dammit, Brody, this is stupid.” She marched across the room toward him. “And I hate stupidity more than almost anything in the world. Particularly when it’s hurting someone I care about. This has got to stop.” She dropped to her knees beside him. “Now, talk to me.”

  His lips were twitching as he tried to smother a smile. “Do you have a violent aversion to chairs? You seem to be constantly on your knees in front of me.”

  She made a face. “Which should be very good for your ego.” Her smile faded. “You’re not going to distract me, you know. Now, tell me why you are like this. It has something to do with your work. Right?”

  “Very perceptive of you.”

  “Not really. Your work is the only thing that’s really important to you. I would be very stupid if I didn’t connect the two.”

  “You make me sound completely one-dimensional.”

  “Oh no.” Her eyes were glowing softly as she gazed up at him. “You have so many facets. You’re like a wonderful kaleidoscope, changing with every movement to form new patterns, yet always returning to what you truly are. Right now something is blocking you, but we can fix that.”

  “Can we?” He looked down at her in bemusement.

  She nodded. “Talk to me. That’s all you have to do. We’ll take care of it together.”

  “It’s not that simple, Sacha.”

  “Yes, it is.” She scooted a few inches closer and rested her arms on his knees. “Something went wrong tonight?”

  “No more than usual.”

  “How many curtain calls?”

  “Nine.”

  “Then you were a great success. What’s the problem?”

  “I wasn’t a success,” he burst out with barely leashed violence. “I’m terrible in this role. I can’t sing and I ham up every soliloquy. All I have is presence, and a decent pair of legs in tights.”