I must have dozed off, because suddenly we are riding into the courtyard, the horses’ hooves waking me as they clop across the cobblestones and stop just short of the fountain. I open my eyes and see Andrea standing there, her eyes wide with concern.
“What happened?” she asks. “Did Porsche get hurt? Is she all right?”
I grin at her. “I’m fine. My horse got jealous of the other two and decided to show them how fast she could run.”
Sam’s voice rumbles through my chest as he gives Andrea the more accurate picture.
“Daisy got bit by a horsefly and took off on her.”
Andrea nods, but I see a speculative look in her eye as she takes in the way I sit cradled by Sam’s arms. I sigh inwardly and begin the process of untangling myself from my warm sanctuary. The rules are different for people like me. We can’t just run off and fling ourselves into the arms of the first handsome stranger we meet without serious repercussions.
I mean, a woman of my financial stature and pedigree can’t indulge herself in physical chemistry. Don’t get me wrong. I dally occasionally, but it’s always with forethought and the appropriate knowledge born of a good private investigator on permanent retainer. All my friends use P.I.’s for background investigations. We have to; otherwise, we could become the victims of kidnappings, scams or other nasty little vignettes. It’s just easier to stick to our own kind. I’m not being snotty about it, just factual. As much as I might find myself attracted to Sam, I couldn’t really act on it, could I?
This realization is making me feel really sad, probably because I’m tired and I must be feeling sorry for myself. Still, the reality that my fantasies can never come to fruition is just altogether too, too…well, I just don’t know the word for it, but it isn’t at all a nice feeling and I so hate unpleasantness!
I hop down with Sam’s assistance and hear Jeremy chuckle as my knees buckle under me and I nearly collapse.
“A bit off our game, are we, lovey?” he calls. “Good thing we didn’t do anymore trick riding today, eh?”
I roll my eyes at Andrea, who steps forward to grab my arm, and turn back to give Jeremy a contemptuous look. Need I remind the little twit that we have been riding for a good…I glance at my watch and thump it with my forefinger. It must’ve stopped because it says we’ve only been gone for an hour. I am just sure we’ve been riding for four. Well anyway, I almost died out there!
“There’s a stone in my boot,” I say haughtily.
“Really, lovey? Let’s see?”
I toss my head and dismiss his smart-ass attitude by turning my back on him and smiling widely at Andrea. “Let’s go back to my cottage,” I say brightly. “I am just parched!”
Andrea nods and walks beside me, not obviously assisting me, but I know she’s there and ready to catch me should my shaky legs give way again. I love this woman. We walk off slowly and Andrea waits until we’re absolutely out of earshot before she says a word.
“Did Daisy really take off, or did you do that to stir Sam up?” she asks.
“No, Daisy really ran and there is nothing between me and that cowboy. I mean, honestly, you don’t really think he’s my type, do you?”
What I meant to say was, “Don’t be ridiculous! He’s not my type. He’s a cowboy, for God’s sake, and I’m an heiress!” But it comes out all wrong which is peculiar, especially as the father of psychoanalytic theory, Sigmund Freud, says there are no accidents. He would say I must have unconsciously been wishing to have Andrea tell me that the cowboy is exactly my type and therefore made the Freudian slip of asking the wrong question.
Andrea plays by Freud’s rules when she answers me. “Why not?”
Answer a question with a question. You’d make a great therapist!
“Because, Andrea, he works for Jeremy. He’s just an out-of-work high school drama teacher. What on earth would we have in common?”
We are walking into the cottage when Andrea answers. “I don’t know how to answer you, exactly, except to say that you fit. When I look at you two, you fit, like you belong together. There’s just something there.”
I laugh, but inside my stomach flips over hard. “Yeah,” I say, heading straight for the kitchen and the refrigerator. “Hormones. Our hormones fit together. It’s all chemical.”
I can’t look at her. My heart is suddenly banging around inside my chest like an irate prisoner overdue for release and I realize I’m burning up it’s so hot inside the tiny kitchen. I busy myself pulling open the freezer door and filling two glasses with ice while behind me I hear nothing at all.
I am opening a Diet Coke when I hear Andrea say, “No, I think there’s more than chemistry between you two, but it really doesn’t matter, I suppose. You two will never act on it.”
I nod and feel a dull ache start up somewhere behind my ribs. “Of course not,” I say, plopping two straws into the glasses. “He would never fit into my world and I’m sure he knows that.”
“Oh, that wasn’t what I was thinking,” she says, stepping closer to the counter where I stand with my back to her.
“Oh?”
“No, Sam’s the kind of man who would fit into any situation. Any situation of his choosing, that is. No, I was really thinking you wouldn’t fit into his world.”
I spin around without thinking and find myself face-to-face with a softly smiling Andrea. It is too late to stop myself from taking the bait, even though I now see the trap.
“I couldn’t fit into his world?”
Andrea shrugs and reaches over to take one of the glasses of soda.
“I don’t mean the cowboy part,” she says. “I’m sure you could eventually learn to do a little of that. I mean, you’d have to get into shape, but…”
“Get into shape?” This is too unbelievable for words! “I’m in great shape!”
Andrea’s smile grows. “For the red carpet, yes, but for ranch life? No way!”
I walk past her out onto the patio, where I take my time settling into a chaise lounge.
“So if my physical conditioning isn’t the reason I wouldn’t fit into Sam’s little world, what is?”
Andrea takes a sip and frowns. “You know, I’m out of line here,” she says. “I spoke without thinking. Let’s talk about tomorrow night.”
The woman is maddening. Now she’s patronizing me!
“No, I insist,” I say. “I want to know why you think I wouldn’t fit into Sam’s world. Really. You won’t offend me. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
Andrea sighs. “Well, Porsche, now, you are very young and Sam is a little bit older.”
Relief washes over me. So that’s it! He’s older. I can live with that one!
“It’s not just the age thing, Porsche,” she is saying. “Sam’s only in his mid-thirties. It’s a matter of maturity and life experience.”
She’s saying I’m immature and inexperienced? “Andrea, I may be twenty-four but I haven’t exactly led a sheltered life, you know. I’ve lived all over the world.”
Andrea nods. “I know, but I’m talking about what’s important as you mature. Sam isn’t dazzled by money and status. He’s more…” She hesitates. “Well, given the losses he’s experienced and the way he’s lived his life—he’s just more…well…grounded. You’re not mad at me for saying that, are you?”
I am, but saying so would brand me everything she’s just accused me of being, so I smile and murmur, “Oh, honey, of course not!”
The phone on the kitchen counter rings, startling us both and breaking the moment that was about to build into uncomfortable silence or worse, an argument. I mean, how could the woman think that I am not grounded? I know what I want, don’t I?
I pick up the receiver gratefully and say, “Hello?”
The cowboy’s voice answers me. “You’ve got a guest at the front gate. Says her name’s Emma Bosworth. Is she for real, or should I have her sent away?”
Emma! I thought Renee was going to call me before she arrived! I frown at the phone suspici
ously.
“What does she look like?”
The cowboy chuckles. “I love this celebrity paranoia,” he says. “Well, from the looks of her, she’s a pretty young thing, couldn’t be much more than twenty-two.”
In the background I hear the little minx giggle. Damn that cowboy, he’s got Emma suckered already!
“She smells right nice, too,” he adds. “Let’s see here…beautiful green eyes, blond hair and a real lovely figure. Good dresser, too—real sharp, sophisticated tastes. We don’t see a whole lot of her type around these parts, no sirree, Bob!”
I hold the phone away from my body, stare at it as if it has been suddenly inhabited by aliens and wonder who in the world has taken over Sam’s body. He has never laid it on this thick before.
“Great!” I say. “I guess I forgot to tell anyone that she was coming. She’s working on a project with me and will be staying for a day or two. I trust that won’t be a problem, will it?”
“No, ma’am,” he says. He is changing his tone now, sounding more formal and reserved. “We live to accommodate,” he adds, but I don’t take Sam for a fool. I know he’ll run a background check on her just as soon as he can.
“Whatever. Can you show her to the cottage?”
What bee flew up his nose, I wonder as I hang up the phone.
“What’s up?” Andrea asks.
I shrug. “Oh, my best friend’s here. Renee thought it might be best if we had a little backup, only I wasn’t expecting her to arrive so quickly. Do you think you can help me concoct something to tell Jeremy? Something to explain why I’m suddenly inviting a guest to come stay when I’m a guest myself.”
Andrea takes a thoughtful sip of her soda and nods her head. “Sure. We’ll think of something by dinnertime.”
“Dinner?” I’d forgotten all about dinner.
Andrea finishes her drink and puts her glass down on the kitchen table. “It’s at eight. Jeremy’s got quite a few of the principals staying over to work on tomorrow’s scenes, and of course, Mark and I will be there. I’ll figure out something to tell him by the time you two get up to the house.”
That is a huge relief! Andrea and I walk to the door and when I open it, I see Sam and Emma riding across the turf-like lawn in a golf cart, laughing hysterically, as Emma stands up, gestures wildly with her right hand, and belts out in her high, clear soprano voice “Amaz-ing Grace, how sweet the sound!”
Oh, dear God, someone please tell me this is not happening! Emma is not—could not, would not under pain of death, but surely is—telling the cowboy about the night we ran away from boarding school and got arrested for under-aged drinking in the city’s outdoor amphitheater! When the police responded to the call, they surrounded the granite benches, switched on a powerful spotlight and found me, alone on stage, leading an imaginary choir in a rousting chorus of…yes, “Amazing Grace.” Dear Mother in Heaven, will I ever be allowed to forget that night and move on?
One look at Sam’s face tells me the answer to that question. Not a chance.
How have these two managed to become this familiar in such a short time? How has dear, innocent-faced little Emma managed to coax the surliest man alive into eating out of her hand? It just blows my mind!
“Well,” Sam says, pulling right up in front of us. “Here we are!”
“Oh, Sam, you are such a delight!” Emma coos. “Thank you so very much!”
I swear I’m going to vomit.
“My pleasure, little lady!” he answers. “I can’t believe you’ve never met a cowboy. You just seem like you’re right at home out here.”
Emma laughs her golden, wind-chime chuckle and tosses her hair back carelessly. “Oh, Sam, you sweet-talker you! How could any girl not feel at home around you! I just can’t believe it! All my life I’ve wanted to meet a cowboy and there you were, just waiting by the gate!”
She makes it look so easy. Even the unflappable Andrea is smiling at her, utterly charmed.
“You headin’ up to the house, cowboy?” she asks, falling right into Sam and Emma’s act.
Sam is tipping his hat to her and gesturing to Emma’s recently vacated seat. “Why, sure, little lady! Just take a seat and my trusty steed and I will be glad to chauffer you up the hill.”
I am going to gag. And Andrea thinks I am not mature enough for Sam?
When I have Emma safely inside, I close the door and study her more closely. There are huge, dark circles under her eyes and her clothes practically hang on her normally curvy figure. The Chanel suit jacket is a soft peach tweed and I notice a tiny tear on the top part of her left sleeve, something my normally fastidious friend would never abide, let alone allow to be seen in public.
“All right,” I say, tugging her into the kitchen and pushing her gently into a chair. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Emma sighs. “Oh, it was such a long flight,” she says. “I’m just absolutely worn to a nub!”
I pour her a soda, turn to hand it to her and Emma, my sweet, dear, best friend, flinches! It is a tiny move, but unmistakable.
“Emma, dear God, what happened to you?”
She avoids looking at me, takes the drink and practically chokes on the first large swallow.
“I can’t tell you,” she says quietly. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you know, I can’t say.”
Now this is new. I thought we were a team, we Roses. I thought if you were in the Inner Circle, you were In, not Out!
“Emma,” I coax. “Come on, I’m one of you now!”
At least, I think I am. Maybe they’re not so sure! Maybe I have to pass the test first.
“Really, Buggie, I can’t. We don’t…”
“All right. Okay.” She is obviously close to becoming overwrought. I won’t push her for details now. You don’t push when the patient is traumatized. Dr. Porter told us this in abnormal psych class. It retraumatizes the victim. So I settle for, “Are you in danger?”
I am not expecting the reply.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
What happened to plain old, “No, I’m fine now”? I feel a shiver of anxiety run down my spine. She’s obviously run to me thinking to kill two birds with one stone. She’ll protect Jeremy and hide from whomever or whatever, only, what about the after-Oscar party? That’s a high-profile event. The media will be all over us. It’s been publicized absolutely everywhere. What then? How do I protect Emma if I can’t even get her to tell me who’s after her?
“What can I do to help?” I ask, knowing exactly what she’ll say. I practically say the words with her.
“Nothing. I’ll be fine.”
Right. Sure you will. And I’ll be the next Queen of England.
Marlena has had enough of our dramatics. She squeals, stands on her hind legs inside her crate and falls over backward, landing neatly in her hammock.
“What’s wrong with her?” Emma asks, more worried about my ferret than about herself.
“She’s saying she’s lonely and her Aunt Em is ignoring her,” I answer, letting the little fur-ball out of her cage.
“Oh, baby!” Emma coos, and wins my temperamental pet over as easily as she stole the cowboy’s sour mood.
I leave Emma to take a shower and compose myself. After all, I almost died today! I return to find Marlena cuddled up in Emma’s lap. I sit down beside my friend only to have Emma lean back in her chair and try to turn the tables on me.
“He’s very handsome,” she says.
I pretend I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Who?”
“Sam, you idiot, and don’t play me!”
I feel my face heating up and know I’m turning telltale red. Damn!
“He’s Jeremy’s manager,” I say.
“So?”
I am certain now that Emma is seriously preoccupied with the danger she’s in, otherwise she’d never need to ask such a question.
“Emma, he’s a high school drama teacher.”
She cocks her head and frowns. “Yeah, and the
guide at the dude ranch was a college student. That didn’t stop you from wanting to romp with him!”
“This is different,” I say, not certain myself what I mean.
“Really?” Emma says with a smug little grin. “I thought so.”
Marlena sighs contentedly and snuggles deeper into her aunt’s lap but I realize I am beginning to feel just slightly irritated. Does no one get it? I can’t have Sam. I don’t want just a “romp.” I want more. I want…oh, everything! Why can’t I find a man of my standing who makes me feel the way the cowboy does? Surely they exist, don’t they?
“Emma, wake up! Sam isn’t one of us. He’s handsome and smart and very loyal to Jeremy, but he’s just not like us. He would never fit into our world. Come on, you know that matters.”
Emma nods slowly. “So, he has no money and he’s not inbred. He’s smart, loyal and devastatingly gorgeous. Yes, that does make sense. Of course you can’t get involved with him!”
Great. Now she’s being sarcastic.
I hear the sound of voices out by the pool and look out the kitchen window. Jeremy, Zoe, Mark, Andrea and Sam have gathered at the bar for cocktails. The sun is beginning to set and the sky glows a vivid purple and orange. Sam has showered and changed into a pair of worn, boot-cut jeans and a faded denim shirt fitted to his lean, muscular body. I watch him prepare a drink for Zoe and find myself studying his hands, mesmerized.
I don’t hear Emma step up behind me until it’s too late and she has followed my focused gaze out to the poolside bar.
“Yes, I can certainly see how you wouldn’t possibly be interested in becoming involved with that stunning specimen of the best the male gender has to offer!”
Before I can protest, her attention is drawn to Jeremy.
“So, that’s Jeremy Reins in the flesh, eh? I thought he’d be taller!”
I giggle. “I thought he’d be smarter, nicer, more mature, forceful and, well, charismatic, but oh well!”
“And that’s Zoe Feller!” she breathes. “Why, she’s a tiny rail of a thing!”
Lethally Blonde Page 17
