“I didn’t know we needed an excuse,” he said, stretching lazily.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “We certainly don’t.”
“By the way,” he said, yawning. “I should mention that you look absolutely beautiful without makeup. Why do you wear all that gunk on your face?”
“Now, now, Michael,” she chided. “It’s too soon to start trying to change me.”
“Change you? Nobody could change you,” he said warmly.
“That’s true,” she said, smiling.
“C’mere,” he said, reaching for her.
She fell into his arms willingly, and soon they were making rapturous love again, slowly, leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world.
When they were finished, once more she fell asleep, wrapped safely in his arms.
They awoke to a ringing phone. Lissa stretched out, picked up and listened to a frantic Max. “Where are you?” he demanded.
“Where am I supposed to be?”
“In the Millennium Room. I have eight camera crews waiting to interview you.”
“Sorry, Max. I must’ve overslept,” she said guiltily. “Give me twenty minutes.”
“Dammit, Lissa,” Max said brusquely. “We’re on a tight schedule here.”
“Calm down, I’ll be there.” She hung up and turned to Michael. “I feel a crazy day coming on. I hope you understand.”
“Like I wouldn’t?” he said.
“And for the record, I want you to know this.”
“What?”
“No way are you Rebound Man. I was attracted to you the moment we met.”
“Isn’t that nice,” he said, grinning. “ ’Cause I walked into my office that day, took one look at you, and it was all over.”
“Really?” she said, delighted.
“Would I lie?”
“You’d better not.”
He sat up in bed. “There’s stuff I gotta tell you about, Lissa. It’s not great.”
“Hmm . . .” she murmured, feeling quite light headed. “Now what could it be? Perhaps a criminal past you’re dying to reveal to me?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then whatever it is, it’ll have to wait until later. You’ll be with me all day, won’t you?”
“By your side. Only it’s not a smart move to let people know about us.”
“Why?” she asked, quite prepared to tell the world.
“ ’Cause it’s too soon. It won’t make you look good.”
“I guess that means today you’re my bodyguard?”
“Just call me Kevin,” he said, laughing.
She stretched and smiled. “Last night was . . . special. I want to make sure you know that.”
“For me, too, sweetheart,” he said, wondering how he was going to tell her about Carol and the baby.
“Y’know, Michael,” she said softly. “It’s almost as if we were . . . destined to be together.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, we were thrown together by circumstances, weren’t we?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“If I hadn’t decided to dump that lying, cheating husband—”
“One thing you should know about me, Lissa,” he interrupted. “I will never lie to you.”
“Promise?”
“Forever,” he assured her.
“I hope so,” she said, her clear, blue eyes staring into his.
“C’mon,” he said. “Time to get up.”
“I’d better call Fabio and have him fix my hair,” she said, suddenly remembering Max sitting in a room with eight camera crews waiting to interview her. “Poor Max, I think if I don’t move fast, he’ll have a major breakdown!”
•
TO NICCI’S AMAZEMENT, Brian behaved like a perfect gentleman. After their lobster dinner at the beach, he’d driven her back to the house, dropped her off, and hadn’t even tried to kiss her good night.
She was deeply disappointed. She’d wanted to ask him in, but didn’t, because she knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. “So, I’ll see you,” she’d said, a touch forlornly.
“Yeah, you will,” he’d said.
“Probably before the wedding, I hope.”
Damn! She’d had her opportunity with Brian and blown it.
What kind of opportunity was it anyway? He wasn’t interested in her, he was treating her like she was his kid sister.
In the morning she called Evan. “I’m planning on coming to the airport to meet you,” she said.
“Not necessary,” he replied. “I’m flying in with two of the actors. The studio’s sending a car.”
“Don’t you want me to meet you?”
“It’s better that I see you at the house.”
“Your mother will be at the house.”
“So?”
“We need to talk, Evan,” she said, determined to clear some things up. “Over the last few days stuff has been getting kind of out of whack between us.”
“That’s because you’re nervous about the wedding.”
“I am so not.”
“Yes, you are. My mother said she thinks you’re overexcited.”
“I don’t give a shit what she says,” Nicci said, furious that Lynda was talking about her with him.
“Don’t speak about my mother like that.”
“Your mother is who we have to talk about. It seems you’re more interested in what she says and does than in me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not,” she said stubbornly.
“All right, we’ll discuss it when I get back tomorrow,” Evan said, cutting her off. “I’ve got to go now.”
Something about him sounded different, and she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
She had a strong urge to phone Brian. And why not? She had the whole day with nothing to do except get ready for her bachelorette night, so she picked up the phone and called him.
“Am I catching you in bed with a blonde?” she asked, only half joking.
“Hey—yesterday was a redhead, today you’ve got me with a blonde. The miserable truth is I’m by myself. Ain’t that the pits?”
“Why are you by yourself?”
“Why, she asks?” he said ruefully. “ ’Cause I was with you last night. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“No time for a date.”
“Sorry.”
“Bet you’re not.”
“Uh . . . Brian?” she said impulsively. “Wanna go for breakfast?”
“Don’t you do anything but eat?”
“C’mon,” she said persuasively. “I’ve only got a couple of weeks left as a free person. May as well make the most of it.”
“How did we suddenly become friends?” he asked, sounding puzzled.
“Dunno,” she confessed. “It must’ve happened the night we were naked in bed. I think we’d better discuss how we’re never telling Evan about that night.”
“By the way,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“What?”
“You have a sensational body.”
“Oh pul-ease!” she said, almost blushing.
“And I’m an expert.”
“Expert. Sure. Save those corny lines for your parade of girlfriends.”
“Where d’you wanna go for breakfast?” he asked.
“I was thinking pancakes.”
“You really are my kinda girl.”
“I am?”
“If only you were blond and stacked.”
“Screw you!”
“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
•
“IS HE OUT of the house?” Patrick asked.
“Yes,” Belinda replied, cradling the phone. “I sent him to Barneys to pick out a birthday present.”
“Generous of you.”
“I can afford to be, can’t I?”
“If this deal flies, you sure can. I got the magazine up to a hundred an’ fifty grand from a hundred
, which, as you know, was their original offer. Since your boyfriend wants a hundred, you and I get to split the other fifty. The magazine’ll pay me, an’ I’ll cut him a check. Sound like a go?”
“Oh, yes,” Belinda said. She failed to see why she shouldn’t score off this. Gregg was not paying rent, and the two times they’d gone out to dinner, he’d said he was short of cash and she’d picked up the check. This way she could recoup her expenses and more besides.
“We’ll let him sweat a bit,” Patrick said. “Then I’ll get back to him around six, an’ tell him I made the deal.”
“And I’ll persuade him to accept it.”
“Anything for an old flame, right, Belinda?”
“Not so much with the old.”
“How old are you?”
“That’s for God to know and everyone else to speculate.”
•
SATURDAY MORNING Eric Vernon left his apartment, took a trip out to LAX, hired a storage locker, and placed his one suitcase in it. Then he drove back to town, stopping at a Denny’s to devour a hearty breakfast. Eggs over easy, bacon, toast, two cups of coffee, and a glass of orange juice. He needed his strength.
Next he went to the building to meet Arliss, where he checked everything over one final time. He’d already driven by Nicci’s boyfriend’s house a couple of times. Yesterday the woman who’d been staying there had taken a cab to the airport. This was good news; Eric had been worried about someone else being in the house. Now he had a clear shot. Or rather Big Mark and Little Joe did, because he was sending them in to snatch her. He’d wait in the car. It was safer that way. And Eric did not plan on taking any chances.
Arliss was nervous. His face kept twitching, and his bony hands were shaking uncontrollably.
“You’d better keep it together,” Eric warned him. “This’ll all go down smooth if you handle yourself right. What are you getting in a panic for?”
Arliss chewed on a strand of greasy hair and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Dunno,” he muttered.
Eric was totally at ease. As far as he was concerned, everything was right on track.
Chapter Thirty-seven
* * *
THE DESERT MILLENNIUM PRINCESS had arranged suites for all of Lissa’s guests.
“This place is over the top,” Larry said snappishly, exploring their lavish suite. “It’s too extravagant for its own good.”
“Each hotel they build has to be more outrageous than the last,” Taylor replied. “Otherwise people wouldn’t come here.”
“They come to Vegas to lose their hard-earned money, not to sit in a hotel room,” Larry said. “The poor schmucks.”
“Those poor schmucks are the same people who go see your movies, Larry. This is their other form of entertainment, their fantasy land.”
“The place is a monument to vulgarity,” he said contemptuously.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Taylor said, thinking it was time she dealt with her husband’s bad mood. “I was acting, and I have to admit that I enjoyed it. Only now that you’re helping me with my film, I’ll be in control of what I do.”
“You looked like a lesbian in that scene, Taylor,” he said accusingly.
“I was playing a lesbian, Larry,” she pointed out, wondering how someone so smart could sometimes sound so prejudiced. “And can we please drop the subject?”
“Let me ask you something,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Are you pleased I’ve hired Oliver Rock to work on your script?”
“I’m pleased you’ve hired someone,” she said, wondering what he was getting at now. “If you think he’s good, I’m sure it’ll work out.”
“Did you ever meet him before?”
“What?” she said, startled.
“Did you know Oliver before I brought him to the house?” Larry repeated.
She was silent for a moment, trying to decide what to say. Had Oliver mentioned that they knew each other before? Could he be that stupid?
“Why would you think I might’ve met Oliver before?” she asked, deciding to bluff it out.
“No reason. I’m simply asking.”
“It seems rather a strange question, Larry.”
“I suppose it does,” he said. “Think about it. Maybe you ran into him somewhere and don’t remember.”
“I’m sure I didn’t,” she said vaguely, thinking that she’d better call Oliver pronto and find out if he’d said anything. “Claude wants us all to get together for lunch at Spago in Caesars,” she added, briskly changing the subject. “He’s sending a car at one o’clock. Lissa is meeting us there.”
“And what are we supposed to do for the rest of the afternoon?”
“I thought I might visit the hotel spa. Why don’t you come with me?” she suggested. “You’ll love all that pampering.”
“I’ll pass,” he said, shaking his head. “I have work to do. I’ll stay in the suite.”
“No gambling? We could play roulette, blackjack, craps.”
“No, thank you, Taylor,” he said stiffly. “I prefer to stay here. Gambling is for idiots.”
•
LISSA SAILED THROUGH her TV interviews with a serene smile on her face. Max had already instructed the journalists that they could not mention Gregg Lynch. All but one of them obeyed the rule. Lissa didn’t mind. “I don’t wish to discuss my personal life,” she’d said politely. “So, if you’ll excuse me . . .” And she’d gotten up and left the journalist sitting there.
“You handled that very well,” Max informed her.
“I’m glad you’re pleased.”
“I’m always pleased with you, Lissa,” he said fondly. “You’re my favorite client. Oh yes—here’s a copy of the L.A. Times,” he said, handing her the newspaper. “Your interview came out well.”
She took the paper, then glanced around for Michael. He was standing close by, looking incredibly handsome. She wanted to blow him a kiss—anything to let him know she was thinking of him. But she controlled herself because she knew he was right; it was best not to let people know about them. Not yet anyway.
Once she was finished with the interviews, Michael escorted her to the hotel’s impressive large theater, where she was due to do a final sound check.
“I thought about you all morning,” she whispered on their way over.
“You too.”
“I can’t wait for later, Michael.”
“No more slots?”
“No more anything except us together.”
“That suits me.”
Danny was waiting at the theater. “I won last night!” he announced proudly. “Can you imagine?”
“That’s great, Danny,” Lissa said. “How much did you win?”
“Five hundred dollars,” he said excitedly, then remembering his place, he switched into assistant mode. “Everyone’s here. They all arrived safely and are settled in their respective suites. Mr. Fallow said they are expecting you for lunch at Spago. I told him you wouldn’t have much time to spend with them.”
“Thanks, Danny,” she said. “Tell James I’ll get there around one-fifteen. And please double-check on everyone’s seats for tonight. Oh yes, and add the name of Nicci’s future mother-in-law, Mrs. Richter, and Mr. and Mrs. Antonio Stone to the party guest list.”
“Yes, Miz Roman,” he said, wondering how soon he could get back to the casino.
She couldn’t decide what to do about Michael and lunch. If she introduced him to the group, they’d all know—especially James. It was best if he didn’t sit with them.
“Michael,” she said. “Do you mind being at another table with Chuck during lunch?”
“Why would I mind?”
She shrugged. “I’m following your rules. You said we shouldn’t tell people about us, and if my friends see us together, believe me, they’ll know.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m happy to stay in the background as long as you’re safe. That’s all that matters to me.”
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“Later,” she promised. “After the show and the party, we’ll be together.”
“I’m not sure I can wait that long.”
“Try,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“Watch it,” he warned. “Someone might see.”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters, Lissa. You gotta remember your public image. Your husband is busy mouthing off about you everywhere he goes. You don’t want people thinking you’ve jumped into bed with the first man who comes your way.”
“Oh—are you the first man who came my way?” she said teasingly. “I might inform you that every bachelor in Hollywood has been calling me for weeks.”
“Now they can lose your number, right?”
She smiled. “Oh, yes, Michael. Definitely.”
•
GREGG GAVE HIS CAR to valet parking and strolled into Barneys, where he requested Deidra.
It didn’t take long for her to appear.
“So,” he said, checking her out. “You’re a personal shopper now. Is that an upgrade?”
“Yes, it is,” she said crisply. “And I see you’ve upgraded to Belinda Barrow. Or should I say downgraded?”
“Now, now, don’t be bitchy.”
“I’m not being bitchy, merely truthful,” she said, hating the sight of him. “It beats me how you can go from a superstar to a hack television reporter who’s been around a hundred years.”
“Belinda’s a nice lady.”
“I hardly think the word lady applies. She acts like a stuck-up bitch when she comes in here.”
He hadn’t come to Barneys to listen to Deidra complain about his current girlfriend.
“What am I buying today?” he asked.
“How much does she want to spend?” Deidra retorted, her lip curling.
“I was thinking an Armani suit, a couple of silk ties, and maybe two or three Brioni shirts,” he said. It was about time Belinda spent some real money on him.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Deidra said. “And I’ll get you set up.”
She soon had him settled in a fitting room, and a sales assistant brought him several suits to try on.
Once the suits were hanging in the room, Deidra dismissed the assistant. “I’ll call if I need you, Jeff,” she said, pulling the curtain closed.
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