Vassal shook his head. “That would ruin the evening’s best entertainment so far. Usually these parties are just dreadfully boring. That’s why I was worried about you and Henna getting into a fistfight.”
His answer made Georgia roll her eyes.
Henna appeared and wiggled in between her and Vassal. “This is all your fault,” she hissed in a whisper.
“My fault?” Georgia hissed back, slightly louder.
“Ladies, please… I can’t hear what they’re saying to each other. I think they’re swearing now and making obscene accusations,” Vassal said, stretching up on his toes to get a better view.
“Men,” Henna declared, crossing her arms. “This is embarrassing for Dad. I wish there was a way to make them leave.”
“This your house too, Henna. You could simply tell them to leave,” Georgia suggested.
“That’s not how things are done. It wouldn’t be… polite,” Henna said.
“Like what they’re doing is?” Georgia protested. The absurdity of this being about her and Hollywood dating hit her hard, but there wasn’t time to laugh over the humor she found in those airbrushed women being jealous of her. She would just have to enjoy the retelling later.
Settling for a super eye roll, ending with a vigorous head shake, Georgia spied a potential answer to the dilemma. She laughed and looked at Henna. “How bad do you want this stupidity to end?”
Henna’s gaze swept over her. “You better stay out of this, Georgia. If anything happens to you, Dad will lose his shit. I don’t know why he cares so much, but I do know he’s currently obsessed.”
“Come with me.” Georgia grabbed Henna and Vassal by the arms, tugging them with her into the empty banquet room.
“Is there any way to keep wool from shrinking when it gets wet?” she asked. “I can’t afford to ruin Trudy’s suit. This outfit costs as much as my house. Your father would have to hock two of his fancy watches.”
Henna glared over the teasing. “Wool has to be stretched and blocked if it gets wet. Are you going into the fountain to drag them out of there? That would definitely make the papers. It would also give those she-cats what they want, which is to be the center of Dad’s attention instead of you.”
“What are you worried about? I thought you didn’t like me,” Georgia said, one eyebrow raised as the girl shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, Henna. I know my limits. I could probably handle one of them, but not three at once. However, I think a potential fire threat would be a politely neutral way to ruin the evening for Hollywood’s three fountain swimmers. You two want in on my plans or not?”
Vassal covered his mouth to hold in the bark of laughter threatening to escape.
“I’m not kidding,” Georgia said. “There are sprinklers in the foyer. All you need to do is to push the test switch on the main control. My daughter had a system like that in her monster of a house. If it works the same, the sprinklers will go off for three minutes and dump about 15 gallons of water, which will probably be mostly soaked up by your gawking guests. The rest of the water won’t hurt that tile hallway, but it’s going to make everyone look like drowned rats. No one will stay once their hair falls and their makeup starts to run. They’ll clear out of here so fast, it will make your head spin.”
“You are evil,” Henna hissed. She looked pointedly at Vassal. “She’s evil.”
“I know. Deliciously evil. How badly do you want the steps gone?” Vassal asked Henna.
Henna eyed Georgia. “Where were you after my mother died? You might have prevented this step-mother situation from getting this bad.”
Georgia smiled, basking in the nicest thing Henna had ever said to her. “I was grieving for my husband, not out shopping to replace him. I can’t explain your father, but you need to forgive him. We each have our own way of dealing with loss. Now be a good girl and go throw that switch.”
“What are you going to do?” Henna demanded.
“Draw their attention to me and keep the rats corralled in one place,” Georgia said. “Oh… hell, I forgot. Damn you, Hollywood. You can be so distracting.”
Pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text to Leonard. Henna and Vassal were staring at her when she got done. It was the way she looked at everyone who suddenly went for their phones to take pictures in the middle of a crisis.
“Sorry. I wasn’t putting this farce on social media or anything. I had to cancel my getaway limo. It was going to turn back into a pumpkin at midnight. Now scoot, you two.”
Henna left shaking her head. A chuckling Vassal was following close behind her.
“Excuse me. New girlfriend coming through to see the has-beens. Thank you.”
The crowd resisted at first, but when the whispers identified her and started giggling, they parted for her like she was Moses. She wasn’t fooled by anyone’s polite action. Georgia knew they all just wanted to see where the hell she thought she was going. Mariah was never going to believe all the things that had happened on her very first date.
There was low laughter rippling through the crowd when Georgia finally arrived at the edge of the marble basin of the bottom tier. She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply. Everyone in the foyer went silent at the ear splitting sound. The women, nearly up to their knees in water, turned their shocked faces in her direction.
“Time to get out of the fountain, ladies. The Colombo swimming pool is closing for the evening,” she told them.
Tittering laughter went through the crowd.
“Is that her?” Vassal’s former stepmother demanded. “But she’s… old.”
“Sixty-two is not that old,” Georgia retorted, her face flushing a little with her admission. Her age wasn’t something she normally announced to a crowd.
The woman dissolved in tears. “I don’t understand this. What does he see in her? This is so embarrassing. I want this fountain at least. This fountain is mine. Brentwood owes me this fountain just for the humiliation he’s put me through.”
“Honey, have some pride. He’s a great guy and all, but there are a lot of great guys in the world. With the way you look, I’m sure you’ll find another rich one soon. Now come on, climb out of the fountain like a good girl,” Georgia called to her.
“I could hear you on the other side of the room. Why is everyone gathered here listening to you talk?” Brent asked, walking up to stand beside her. “I don’t know how much worse this evening can get. I struck out and the party’s ruined. And now I’m disposable to you?”
Georgia chuckled at his teasing. He had pretty good grace under pressure himself. “I warned you to be careful what you wished for, Hollywood. Didn’t you happen to notice that your three ex-wives are swimming in your fountain?”
She laughed when his startled gaze went to his previous wives who were still standing in the water.
“Holy shit,” he said, staring at them in dismay. His truly stunned reaction made her laugh even more than she already was.
It also made her forgive him. He wasn’t a prince by any stretch, but he wasn’t a bad guy either. Now his exes though… they were a piece of work.
Georgia’s hand went to his arm to hold herself upright until she stopped laughing. Hollywood turned and looked down at her fingers resting on his sleeve. She heard him draw in a breath and then he brought his gaze to hers.
“What you said in the garden was right. I’m not blameless where they’re concerned, but I was never in love with any of them, Georgia. I can’t change that. I ended things as gracefully as I could when I figured it out. Eventually, I stopped dating because it just wasn’t worth it. Then I met you… and you know the rest. But this…” Brent looked at the women again, “this is too much to expect any woman to put up with.”
“Why are you feeling sorry when your ex-wives are the ones being rude? They’re only damp, Hollywood, not dead. Look at them,” Georgia said, pointing at the women now wading their way. “Each looks as perfect as a department store mannequin. I don’t see how they can complain abo
ut their lovely parting gift from their time with you. Even if you were just an average, run-of-the-mill divorced guy, your exes don’t have a right to turn your life upside down, or ruin your events, or torment your daughter. I say you need to make sure they’re off the guest list for these parties from now on.”
“Why are you suddenly taking my side? Two minutes ago you were mad at me and not accepting my apology. I don’t understand you at all, Georgia,” Brent exclaimed.
His exasperation made her giggle. The women were getting closer and her accomplices had not made it rain in the foyer yet. Would Hollywood take her side if their roles were reversed? She imagined he probably would—the man did have a noble streak. The bigger question was probably if he would keep his exes from attacking her.
Her nearly hysterical laughter over her own crazy thoughts had Brent’s ex-wives stopping to stare at her. It had him staring too. She didn’t understand him anymore than he understood her. She just liked looking at him… and torturing him. But she didn’t want anyone else doing it, especially not the sexy wet women currently giving her a trio of go-to-hell looks.
“Kiss me, Hollywood, like you did in your garden. Let’s give your ex-wives something to really worry about,” she said, deciding it was going to take something big to keep his exes from getting confrontational.
Obeying her without question, his mouth closed over hers perfectly, as if it had done so a thousand times before.
Then the sprinklers finally came on.
People squealed and ran as water poured down on them from every direction. There was no escaping the finely filtered spray, but then that was the point for Georgia.
Tired of fighting herself and her longing for him, Georgia focused on the man in her arms who was still kissing her. She wrapped herself around him and held on tight. When he finally let her mouth loose, all of Hollywood’s exes swore at her and pushed to the edge of the fountain to climb out.
The still collected, self-possessed, Dr. Brentwood Colombo acted like he didn’t even notice the water raining down on them as he pulled her close to his side.
Instead, he kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. “I wanted to make you wet, but I swear to God, Georgia Bates, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”
Hugging him tighter for being a good sport, Georgia laughed harder than she’d laughed in a very long time. She was still laughing when the water stopped spraying. Brent took her wrist and wouldn’t let go as he profusely apologized to his guests who were now leaving.
A completely dry Henna walked back into the foyer with an equally dry, grinning Vassal on her heels. They each had a towel in their hands.
“You could hear the sprinklers going off in the banquet room,” Henna said. “We’d have been here sooner, but we got… distracted.”
“Yes, we certainly did,” Vassal exclaimed.
Georgia snickered when Brent looked confused. The man seriously needed a keeper, at least for his personal business. His household was a mess. She reached out and pushed up on his chin to close his mouth. She blinked as the water ran off her hair and into her face.
“Water is dripping off your eyelashes, Georgia. No! Don’t rub… dab at them,” Henna ordered, handing over the towel. “Dad, will you freaking turn loose of Georgia’s wrist for a minute? The woman is completely soaked.”
“Only in my dreams,” Brent said gruffly, pushing his own wet hair out of the way as he walked off.
Vassal stared after him. “Did your father just make a reference to…”
“Shut it,” Henna ordered. “I can’t handle that right now.” She tugged off Georgia’s jacket and wrapped a towel around her shoulders. “You’re much taller than me. I’ll get you a pair of Dad’s workout pants. If I blot the water from your skirt and hang it up, we might be able to keep it from shrinking.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Henna nodded briefly before she fled. Georgia watched Vassal staring at Henna’s escape.
“You two getting along better?” Georgia asked.
“Nearly as well as you and Brent seemed to be,” Vassal offered with a smirk.
Georgia’s smile was big, because for once she and Hollywood were actually getting along.
Plus, she was pretty proud of herself for running his former trophy wives off. The rest of his guests got an interesting story to tell for their charitable contribution, if giving to a cause proved not to be enough.
Not exactly a win-win scenario, but Hollywood certainly seemed to be taking it in stride, which made her like him without reservation for once.
That was a good thing, since all she could think about was kissing him again.
Chapter Twelve
Henna deposited her in a masculine looking bedroom. One whiff and Georgia knew exactly whose room it was.
Henna grabbed a thick tan robe off of a hook on the back of his closet door and handed it over. It smelled strongly of Hollywood’s cologne and she could only hope that her face wasn’t giving away what she was feeling to his daughter.
“Take off your skirt. I need to deal with the wool now if we’re going to save the suit,” Henna ordered.
Nodding, Georgia slid her arms into the sleeves of the robe. Turning her back to Henna, she bent to remove her wet pumps, then unfastened the heavy skirt and stepped out of it.
Wrapping the robe closed with one hand, she turned and held out the wet garment.
“Shoes too,” Henna ordered, and took them without making any snarky comments.
Georgia decided to take that as progress in them getting along.
“You can use Dad’s bathroom to fix your hair and face. There’s a couple of different blow-dryers under his sink. He has round brushes too. The man has everything but a curling iron. I can bring you one of those if you want.”
“A blow-dryer and brush will be fine for me.” An image of Hollywood blowing-drying and styling that still thick, salt and pepper mane of his made her laugh. She pushed back her already drying locks and combed her fingers through it. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Henna.”
With a silent nod, Henna walked to a closet and came back with a pair of men’s jogging pants. “Dad’s about your height. These have a drawstring waist and will probably fit you better than anything I have.”
Georgia chuckled at the devilish thoughts racing through her brain. She grinned as she took Hollywood’s pants. “I’m sure these will be fine.”
Henna nodded and left, leaving her alone in Hollywood’s bedroom. Mostly dry all over now, Georgia slipped the pants on and took off the robe. She returned it to its hook on the bedroom door and snuck a final sniff before walking away from it.
She was headed to his bathroom to see how bad she looked, when the man himself walked through the bedroom door. Hollywood took one look at what she was wearing and started chuckling.
“If you wanted to get into my pants, honey, all you had to do was ask.”
Georgia laughed softly. “I didn’t pilfer through your closet for pleasure. Your daughter gave them to me.”
“Fantasy killer,” Hollywood said and then disappeared into his enormous closet. “I saw Henna heading to her wing with your suit in her hands,” he said from inside.
“Did you rush here hoping to catch me naked?” Georgia asked.
“Yes,” he said, still from inside the closet.
When he walked out, he was shirtless with a matching pair of pants like hers riding low on his hips. His bare chest was lean, but taut muscled. It was also covered with hair that looked like it had been dyed perfectly to match what was on his head. Honestly, did he have that done? Good God, the man was all kinds of handsome.
She giggled nervously and had to look away to keep from asking inappropriate things. Her hormones were yelling “Oh, baby. Oh, baby.” If it wasn’t so much fun to feel this zing of attraction, she’d hate herself for being so silly about a man.
“Laughing over my nudity? Of course, you are. I don’t know why I was hoping for some sort of normal reaction,” Holly
wood grumbled, digging in a chest of drawers, obviously looking for a shirt.
Frowning over his choice, he finally pulled one out.
Georgia was across the room and yanking it from his hands before stopping to think about how that action was going to reveal her sexual interest. Blinking at Hollywood’s startled gaze, she reached out the hand not gripping the shirt and ran her painted fingertips through the hair on his chest. Little shivers danced through both of them as she continued her bold exploration.
“I… I still have to see to the cleanup,” he said roughly.
Georgia nodded, trailed her fingers down to his taut stomach, and let them fall away. Gathering up the shirt she’d snatched in her hands, she pulled it over his head and helped him put it on. After his too appealing chest was covered with a discreet designer logo she’d never seen before, they stood there like two star-struck idiots staring at each other.
“When you two get done with your ogling, Georgia can try on these. They’re long enough inside that they should fit okay, at least until your heels dry.”
Acting like nothing was amiss, which took every drop of poise she possessed, Georgia turned away from the man she wanted to look at to face his daughter who was holding out a pair of… what the hell?
Doggy slippers?
It was all she could do to keep from asking Henna if she was twenty-seven or twelve. She swallowed back the rude demand and reminded herself the girl was being nice.
“I should have borrowed these from you earlier. They would have matched Trudy’s suit and been way more comfortable,” Georgia declared, finally finding something nice to say.
Reaching out, she grabbed Hollywood’s arm for balance as she lifted one foot and then the other to put the doggy slippers on her feet.
“Perfect. Thank you, Henna. You’re taking such good care of me,” she said, moving her feet around in the slippers. They felt like heaven on her aching feet.
“Call it honor among thieves,” Henna said dryly, frowning at the slippers on her feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a man in my room for the first time in more than a year. I need to see what he wants.”
Never A Dull Moment Page 8
