“Keeping my word. Living up to a commitment.”
“That guy doesn't know the meaning of it, and you know it. He doesn't deserve this. And neither do I. At least let me take you to the airport.”
“I'll call you in L.A.,” she said firmly.
“And say what? That you won't see me because of Brandon?”
“You said you wouldn't push me,” she reminded him, feeling frazzled.
“I lied,” he responded calmly.
“You're impossible.”
“Go read my book, or look at the picture. I'll call you tomorrow night.”
“I'll be out.” She had to try to discourage him, but she really didn't want to.
“Then I'll call you later.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I love you.” There was a long silence at her end, and Jeff waited and closed his eyes, knowing he shouldn't have said it. “All right, I don't love you. That's insane. I like you very much, and I want to get to know you.” There was a small, silvery laugh at her end. “You know, Allegra Steinberg, you're driving me insane. And how are you going to represent me if you won't see me?”
“You don't have a deal right now anyway,” she reminded him, and he sounded outraged.
“Then get me one. What kind of a lawyer are you?”
“A crazy one, thanks to my newest client.”
“Go away, go back to him,” he played with her, “I don't want to see you anyway. And besides, you're a lousy skater.”
“Yes, I am,” she agreed with him, laughing again, but they both treasured memories from the night before when they'd gone skating. And as she thought of it, she found it hard to believe that it had been only a day since she'd seen him. It seemed like an eternity. How was she going to survive in L.A. if she didn't see him?
“You're a lovely skater,” he said warmly. “You're a lot of wonderful things. And I suppose one of those virtues is faithful. I just hope I'm lucky enough to get someone like you one day. The women in my life always seem to take the broad interpretation of fidelity to include at least half a dozen people, or most of the adult male inhabitants of a small city. Anyway, I'll call you tomorrow night, Miss Steinberg,” he persisted politely.
“Good night, Mr. Hamilton,” she said primly. “Have a lovely day tomorrow. I'll speak to you in the evening.” She couldn't tell him not to call; she liked talking to him too much, and it gave them both something to look forward to, which was fortunate because the next day proved to be dreadful.
It poured with rain, cabs were impossible to find, the subway broke down when she finally tried that, and all of her appointments either ran overtime or were canceled. And she felt like a drowned rat by the time she got back to the hotel at six o'clock to change. That morning, she had been invited to the Weissmans' for dinner at seven-thirty. And just to keep her mind off Jeff, and so she wouldn't sit in her room and think of him, she had accepted. He had sent her long-stemmed red roses that morning. They had made her smile, but he hadn't broken her resolve. After two years, she owed more than that to Brandon. And she knew he was faithful to her. Despite his many failings, wandering wasn't among them. She had been surprised at herself with Jeff. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before, being seized in the grip of an irresistible attraction.
She was going back to L.A. the next day, but she hadn't spoken to Brandon since Monday. She'd called and left messages several times, but he was always out, or in court, or at meetings. It was unnerving not talking to him, but she decided that it was probably her punishment for almost having been unfaithful. She had been bad enough, kissing Jeff repeatedly, and she knew that if she'd seen Jeff again, she wouldn't have been able to resist him. She was sad but relieved to know that she would be out that night if he called her.
She wore a red wool dress and her hair down, with her winter raincoat. And she tried Brandon one more time before she left, and was told again that he was in a meeting, and she left a message that she'd called, and hurried downstairs to have the doorman find her a taxi.
It took the doorman half an hour to find a cab, and she was late when she arrived, but so were most of the guests, for the same reason. The Weissmans were expecting fourteen for dinner. Andreas had already told her that Jason Haverton would be there, and two or three of his other writers.
Allegra was introduced to a very attractive young woman as she came through the door. She was a very controversial feminist writer, another of Andreas' clients. A well-known newscaster was there, a correspondent for The New York Times, the director of CNN and his wife, and an actress Allegra's mother knew who was appearing on Broadway. Allegra made a point of saying hello to her before she sat down. The woman was very respected, and very grand, and she had made a sweeping entrance into the room, which had been observed by all. It was the perfect New York gathering for a rainy evening.
They were all there save one, and the doorbell rang one last time. She looked up as he entered the room, and she realized that she should have known. It was so obvious. Neither of them had guessed, and Jeff looked even more surprised than she did.
“Destiny,” he said, looking at her with a small, wicked smile, and she laughed, relieved, and far more pleased than she wanted to admit, and unable to fight it any longer. She held out her hand to him, as though they'd just met. “No, Allegra.”
“Did you know?” he asked in an undervoice, as he sat down next to her, his hair still damp from the rain, and he looked incredibly handsome.
“Of course not,” she said, her eyes alive with all the feelings she had been fighting. It was all he could do not to kiss her in front of the Weissmans.
“Tell the truth.” He was teasing her now, and enjoying it. “Did you arrange it? You don't have to be embarrassed to tell me.” She gave him an evil look, and he laughed as he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, and then went to get himself a Scotch and water. He was back instantly, and sat in quiet conversation with her for a little while, and then Jason Haverton joined them. He was pleased with the deal they'd arranged, and his qualms about having a movie made from one of his books had been dissipated for the most part by Allegra.
“She's quite something,” the older man said to Jeff admiringly, when she went to say something to Andreas. “She's good at what she does, and good-looking too.” He sang her praises as he sipped a gin and tonic.
“I just hired her,” Jeff confirmed, amused by the conversation.
“She'll do well for you,” the older man reassured him.
“I hope so,” Jeff said, as she rejoined them.
It was an interesting evening for all of them, and it seemed the perfect way to end her stay in New York. And as they put on their coats to leave, Jeff left with her. She had given up keeping him at bay, it was so natural just being with him. And he looked so happy as he left with her. He seemed very proud, and very protective.
“Do you want to go somewhere for a drink?” he asked harmlessly. “That is, if you trust me.” His eyes were gentle and loving.
“You were never the problem,” she smiled up at him in the elevator as they left. “I was.”
“I think we both were. Do you want to come to my mother's place for a while? It's three blocks from here. I promise to behave myself. And if I start to get out of control, you can leave whenever you want to.”
“You sound positively dangerous.” Allegra laughed at all of his precautions. “We ought to be able to manage that, don't you think?” But in truth, neither of them were sure, as she shared his umbrella and they walked the three blocks down Fifth Avenue to his mother's apartment.
The wind was fierce, and she was almost blown against him, as they walked into his building. It was a co-op building much like the one where the Weissmans lived. There was one apartment on each floor, and in each case, the elevator stopped at a private, individual lobby. The building was small, and the apartments were not large here, but they were well laid out, the views were excellent, and it was a very handsome building.
The elevator lobby on his mother's floor was all done in black and white marble, with an antique table and chair she had bought at auction at Christie's. And inside the apartment were a large collection of English antiques. The fabrics were delicate yellow brocades, and gray silks, and a few subtle chintzes. It was well-done, but somehow the atmosphere was austere. It was only in a small study with a leather couch that she and Jeff felt they could sit and chat comfortably. It was the only room he really liked, and Allegra picked up a photograph of his mother and studied it with interest. She was tall and thin, and she looked a great deal like him. But the eyes were sad, and the lips were thin, and it was hard to imagine her smiling. She didn't look like much fun; it was hard to compare her to Jeff. His whole face was touched by laughter and good humor.
“She looks very serious,” Allegra said politely, so different from her own family where everyone smiled and laughed and cried and talked, and her own mother was so pretty.
“She is serious. I don't think she's ever really been happy since she lost my father,” he explained to Allegra.
“Oh, dear, how sad.” But she looked to Allegra as though she had been that way for a lifetime.
“Dad was the one with the sense of humor.”
“Aline too,” she said, and then remembered that Jeff knew that.
She sat on the couch next to him, with a glass of wine, and stretched out her legs as he lit a fire. It had been a long week, and she was tired, but it had had its high points too, among them the carriage ride and the skating, and even the dinner tonight. They'd been dinner partners and it had really been fun sitting next to him. With him on her right side, and Jason Haverton on her left, they had kept up a lively conversation.
“I had fun tonight,” she said, watching him light the fire, and enjoying just being there with him. “Did you?”
He turned and looked at her with a slow smile. “Obviously, I had a great time. You know, it's funny, I wondered if you'd be there, but I didn't even dare ask you. I was afraid you wouldn't go if you knew I was coming. Would you have gone anyway?”
She shrugged, and then nodded. “Probably. I didn't even let myself hope you'd be there. It kind of took things out of our hands, didn't it?” It had been such a relief to suddenly see him there, it had made her heart leap the moment she saw him. No matter how unreasonable she told herself this was, it was becoming impossible to control her feelings. And yet, there was always Brandon, lurking near them, in the shadows.
“What now?” Jeff asked, as he sat down on the couch next to her with a glass of wine, and an arm around her shoulders. They were incredibly comfortable together, as they had been since the moment they met. And now it felt perfect sitting side by side on the couch in his mother's apartment.
“We go home and see what happens, I guess,” she said honestly. “I suppose I ought to say something to Brandon.” There was no avoiding it now. In some ways, she felt she owed it to him to tell him what had happened. Seeing Jeff again had made her realize she couldn't remain completely silent.
“You're going to tell him about us?” Jeff looked shocked.
“Maybe.” She hadn't thought it out yet. “Maybe all I need to say is that it worries me that I can be so attracted to someone else. It certainly says something about what's missing with Brandon.”
“Frankly, I think you ought to keep it to yourself. See how you feel about him, what you want, and what you're not getting, then draw your own conclusions.” It seemed like a lot to worry about, and they were both tired of thinking about it. Instead, their conversation turned to other things; his new book, his next movie contract. He had picked up some suggestions that night from Jason, all of which had been instigated by Allegra.
Jeff was excited about starting a new book, and less so about finishing his screenplay. He was planning to settle down in Malibu and get to work as soon as he got back. He had no plans at all for the weekend.
“What about you?” he asked her with interest, as the fire crackled and they both got sleepy. It was warm and cozy in the little room, and Jeff smiled at how pleasant it was to see her there. His mother's apartment always seemed so stern to him. It was lovely to see Allegra tucked into the couch now beside him.
“I've got to get organized for next week.” She had to negotiate Carmen's new movie, and she wanted to talk Alan into a new deal. There were a lot of large and small projects she had to attend to. She couldn't even imagine what had been dumped on her desk while she was gone. “I guess I'll work Saturday, maybe have dinner with my parents that night, and then see Brandon on Sunday.”
“That's it?” He looked surprised. “Won't he join you at your parents' on Saturday night?” He looked shocked when she shook her head. “Will he pick you up at the airport?”
“He can't, he's in trial. He says he needs to work till at least Sunday. And he doesn't want me to distract him.”
He raised an eyebrow then, and took another sip of wine. “I'd love for you to distract me, Allegra.” He smiled. “Call me if you get lonely.” But he said nothing else, and after that, neither of them mentioned Brandon.
They sat there together on the couch for a long time, and they behaved surprisingly well, until he went out to get some ice in the kitchen. She followed him there, and everything was immaculate and pristine. His mother was meticulous, and her housekeeper had been cleaning up behind Jeff all week. But when he put the ice down on the sink and looked at her, he couldn't stop himself, he took one long stride toward her and held her. He felt her trembling in his arms, her legs against his, and his whole body seemed to melt against her. “Oh, God, Allegra … I don't know how you do this to me. …” There had been countless women in his life, but none who did to him what she did. Perhaps it was knowing that he couldn't have her yet, perhaps never would—there was something unbearably bittersweet about the longing they felt for each other. Her lips found his, and a moment later she was leaning against the wall, and he was holding her as he pressed hard against her. But she didn't object. She wanted him. But he was forbidden fruit. She knew she couldn't have him.
“I think we should stop,” she said distractedly, sounding hoarse as he ground slowly against her and she matched his movements. Her face was warm, and her neck, and he had his hands cupped around her breasts as he kissed her.
“I'm not sure I can stand this …” he said, groaning, as he tried to make himself stop, but for just a moment more, he couldn't. And then, finally, slowly, painfully, he brought himself back to his senses. It was an excruciating effort, but he did it for her, because he believed that this was what she wanted. But their lips still met, and her hand drifted slowly down his leg, and was sweet torture.
“I'm sorry,” she said hoarsely.
“So am I,” he said, wanting to take her there on the kitchen floor, on the couch, the table, anywhere, in the silence of his mother's apartment. “I'm not sure how many times I can do this again.”
“Maybe we won't have to,” she said sadly. “I'll meet you at Spago for lunch in L.A. We won't be able to do anything there but talk.”
“How disappointing. I kind of like this,” he teased her, touched her breast tantalizingly again, and then kissed her.
“We're torturing each other,” she said unhappily. Somehow, it all seemed so stupid, and she couldn't help wondering if Brandon would have been as honorable about his obligations to her in a similar situation.
“It's kind of fun,” Jeff said with a lopsided grin, trying to make the best of it, “in a perverted way. I wouldn't want to do a lot of this though,” he said, looking her square in the eye, and she wondered if it was a warning.
He showed her his room, a somber, masculine room, with striped green curtains and lots of dark English antiques, and they managed to stay out of bed, which seemed miraculous to both of them, and they laughed about it as he showed her the rest of the apartment. And he took her back to the hotel a little while after midnight. He rode upstairs with her, and this time he came in. There was a little sitting area, and he sat on
the couch and she showed him his book. She had stood it up again so she could look at his picture.
“We're both crazy, you know. I'm chasing after you like a kid, and you're looking at my picture.” It had been a strange week for both of them, and in an odd way it was like they had been on a cruise. They were far from their everyday lives and their daily obligations. It remained to be seen what would happen once they got home. Right now, it was hard to imagine.
Jeff stayed for a little while. But they'd had all they wanted to drink, said everything they could, there was nothing to do now except say good-bye, for a while at least, or never say it again. That point had come to them very quickly. It had happened to them faster than most, but the time had come to do or die, to let go and flee, or seize the moment. And yet, whatever path they chose, they knew it would be painful.
It took every effort he could make to finally stand up, and he stood for a long time, looking down at her, and then he held her. He wanted to stay with her, and take care of her, and be there for her, but he knew he couldn't.
“Promise you'll call me if you need anything. You don't have to do anything for me, you don't have to end it with him if that's not what you want to do, just call me if you need me.”
“I will. You too,” she said sadly. It felt like goodbye, and neither of them was sure what this would be yet, perhaps nothing at all except a memory of a few snowy days in New York, and a ride in a hansom carriage at midnight.
“I'll call you when I get my first death threat,” he grinned. “Take care of yourself,” he warned. She walked him to the door, and then he held her again, and closed his eyes as he felt her hair on his cheek and smelled her perfume. “Oh, God, I'm going to miss you.”
“Me too.” She wasn't even sure what she was doing. Nothing made sense anymore. She was trying to do the right thing, and instead, everything she did seemed so stupid.
The Wedding Page 15
