Beauty and the Brain

by Duncan, Alice

  “We won!” Brenda’s fist shot in the air like a union organizer at an enlistment rally. “Whoo-hoo! We won!”

  And she threw her arms around Jerry Begay.

  Jerry jerked once and looked as if he hadn’t expected—or craved—such attention from Brenda, but he managed a fairly creditable hug in return. Then she turned to George and hugged him. George blushed, but even so he didn’t look as embarrassed as Jerry. When she released George, she hugged Martin, who hugged her back gladly. She was a great lady, Brenda Fitzpatrick, and a good friend.

  She quit then, and Martin could tell from the expressions on various faces that some of the men were glad and some disappointed. He grinned inside. Brenda was a real champ, and she knew how to work an audience.

  “I have to, go to my room and wash up before I go to any bar,” she said with a laugh. “I’m filthy after that slide.”

  “But you won the game with it,” Martin pointed out.

  She gave him one of her characteristic winks “When my director tells me to do something, I do it. You said slide. I slid.”

  They all laughed—except Colin. Martin saw him watching Brenda as if he wanted to eat her up. His eyes were as hungry as those of a starving wolf. It was another expression Martin wished he could capture on film, so he could use it to show other actors how that special yearning look was achieved. He sighed and clapped Colin on the back. “Come on in, Colin. I’m buying.”

  With a noticeable shudder, Colin seemed to pull himself together. He only looked a little loopy when he turned to Martin and licked his lips. “What? Oh. A drink. Yes. Sure. Thank you. I’ll—I’ll be there in a minute.” And he took off at a lope for the lodge doors, through which Brenda had just passed.

  Martin gazed after him, put his hands on his hips, and sighed. He had absolutely no idea what was going on between those two, but he wished them both the best.

  How could she have done such a thing? Brenda, forsaking aplomb for the first time in her twelve-year career, bolted to the lodge, through the massive double doors, across the lobby, and up the stairs, as if pursued by demons. Hell’s bells, she didn’t even know how that torrid embrace had happened.

  The events leading up to it were clear in her mind. She’d decided to slide in no more than a split second, when she’d realized there was no other way to score. Throwing caution to the wind, she’d heaved herself at home base. After that, it was difficult to recall what happened. She vaguely recalled a pair of strong arms reaching through the cloud of dust to grab her hands. She’d held on happily, eager to get out of the dirt. Brenda wasn’t enamored of dirt.

  And then, all of a sudden, she’d found herself in Colin arms. Were they the same strong arms that had reached for her? She guessed so. They were certainly the arms that had encircled her once she’d regained her feet.

  They’d felt marvelous holding her, too. She sighed deeply when she pushed her hotel-room door open. And that kiss . . .

  If Brenda never kissed a man again in this lifetime, she’d always know she’d been kissed by an expert at least once. The kiss has been—well—perfect. Astonishing. Moving. Exciting. Electrifying, even. She’d never expected a kiss to be so all-consuming. So stunning. None of the men she’d kissed on screen or on stage had stirred her so.

  “They were only actors,” she reminded herself. “Colin is a man.” And what a man. Oh, how she wished she could learn how to reach him.

  He’d assuredly reached her.

  It was probably a mere momentary aberration. Brenda wouldn’t allow herself to place too much importance on that kiss. It had been a spur-of-the-moment impulse on Colin’s part, a whim, a—

  Oh, Lord. It had been magnificent.

  Brenda pressed her fingers to her lips, savoring the remains of the sensation. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror and thought fled. She uttered a tiny scream.

  “Good God, I’ve never seen me look like that!”

  She looked like a waif. An orphan tossed upon the shore by a storm-tossed sea. A war refugee. A bum, actually. The glimmering blond sausage curls were no more. Her hair hung in tangled hanks, dull from the dust and dirt of the baseball game. Her gown, a serviceable pink number she’d donned for the sake of the game, was beyond redemption. The ground-in filth would never come out of it. Even if it did, the skirt and bodice both sported big ragged rips. Her underwear showed. Good heavens.

  The rest of her was a wreck, too, streaked with sweat and grime. She reminded herself of some of the poor children who lived in the gutters of the Lower East Side in New York City. She was so sorry a specimen that she actually giggled as she took in the full tattered glory of her present self. Wouldn’t her fans faint if they could see her now? She’d be great in one of those tear-jerking pictures the public loved so well.

  Enough of this. She had to get down to the bar.

  First she washed her face and hands. She’d have to take a quick bath before she joined the rest of the crew. Although she was sure no one else would bother to bathe, she valued her image too much to let it teeter now. She’d already lost her composure once today. She’d see to it that such a lapse never occurred again.

  After she’d shed her dress, she brushed her hair. What wretched tangle. Most of the dust and pine needles and other junk came out with the tangles, and it didn’t look too horrid after a hundred or so strokes of her brush. Frowning at the brush, she decided it could stand a good soak after performing yeoman’s service.

  Because she didn’t want to take time to wash her hair, she twisted it into a soft knot and pinned it at the top of her head. She’d had so much practice making herself attractive that even this simple style worked. Brenda appreciated her basic good looks a lot sometimes, mainly because she didn’t have to spend much time enhancing them.

  When a knock came at her door, she didn’t bother to put on a dressing gown, thinking it was Martin or a bellboy with a message. She only held on to the doorjamb and peered around it into the hall. Her breath left her in a rush when she saw Colin standing there.

  He looked as if he, too, had washed, although he hadn’t been as dirty as she to begin with. She was the only one who’d slid through the pine needles and earth to score. Her mouth went dry and her hands went cold, and she couldn’t think of a single word to say to him. She wanted to fling the door wide, hurl herself into his arms, and beg him to have his way with her—which wouldn’t do, and she knew it.

  Colin had regained some of his composure, Brenda noticed. Out there on the playing field, when Martin had separated the two of them, he’d seemed fairly stunned. Brenda had been completely stunned, for that matter, but she was accustomed to being on display, so she’d been able to gather her wits together and pretend composure more quickly than he.

  By this time, however, he’d regained the predatory expression she’d noticed earlier in the day. Oh, dear.

  “I came to walk you down to the bar, Brenda.” His voice was soft and deep.

  Was it sultry, too, or was that her imagination? Oh, Lord, however was she going to hold on to her purity with Colin acting like this? She cleared her throat. “Um, thanks, Colin. I’m not dressed yet.”

  A very faint, very seductive smile visited his lips. “I don’t mind.”

  His words and his manner jolted her. What did he think she was, anyway? Some kind of floozy? A doxie? A scarlet woman? She was no mere plaything, and the sooner he realized that, the better for them both. With a frown, she said tartly, “Well, I do.”

  His expression didn’t alter. Brenda swallowed. Oh, dear. Maybe the opinion of her she deduced from his attitude was the correct one after all. She sure didn’t feel like turning him away with harsh words stinging his ears. Rather, she felt like pulling him into her room and ravishing him.

  This was really terrible.

  “It’s going to take me a little while,” she said. “I’m going to take a quick bath.”

  “I’ll be happy to wait.”

  Good heavens, what should she do now? This decision wasn’
t nearly as easy to make as whether or not she should slide. After what seemed like a century, she said, “Wait a minute. I have to get a dressing gown on.”

  That damned eyebrow of his lifted, and she could hear his unspoken opinion that he’d prefer it if she didn’t bother with the dressing gown. She bothered anyway, her emotions in turmoil.

  She was no frothy bit of goods to be toyed with; to be used and discarded like a two-cent omnibus ticket. She was no member of the chorus who was open to bids. Brenda knew many young women who’d gone into the chorus expressly to be seen and employed by rich men, seeking mistresses.

  That life wasn’t for her. Blast it, she was a moral woman. Not only that, but she had a loving family who would be appalled if she let herself be bought by the highest bidder. The mere thought made her blood run cold. The theater had been wonderful to her, but it was a perilous place. There were pitfalls galore, especially for pretty women. So far, she’d managed to avoid them.

  So far, too, she hadn’t been tested. Colin was a test, darn him. She said crisply, “Wait just a minute,” and shut the door in his face.

  Although she half expected him to push the door open and come in before she’d made herself decent, he didn’t. She didn’t know whether she was disappointed or relieved. Overall, she guessed she’d prefer that he remain a gentleman. Which he did.

  After she’d pulled on her blue Chinese silk wrapper and tied it around her, she went back to the door. She was barefoot, which was improper, but there were limits, for heaven’s sake.

  Opening the door wide, she said, “Come on in. I won’t take long.”

  “Take as much time as you need.”

  His voice was casual, but his eyes were intense. They were intense at the most relaxed of times, but now, here, in her room, with her practically naked in front of him , their intensity seemed to have an entirely different meaning than was usual for them. Brenda decided she’d best not try to figure out what that meaning was.

  “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing at the room. She had a very expensive suite, with a small parlor, a bedroom, and a bathroom. “There are lots of magazines and books and stuff. They’ll keep you amused while I bathe.”

  He turned that hot, hot gaze upon her, and Brenda Fitzpatrick, who was about as worldly as a person could be, felt herself blush. Darn. This was awful.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll wait in here if you want me to.”

  She felt her eyes pop open as his insinuation struck her. Had he expected her to invite him into the bathroom while she bathed? The unmitigated cad. She wished the idea didn’t appeal to her so much.

  “Yes,” she said coolly. “Please wait in here.”

  He sat with a sigh on the big brocaded sofa stretched in front of the fireplace

  Brenda retreated into the bathroom. She even locked the door. Inside herself she felt a tumble of emotions. She was accustomed to men lusting after her, and she’d learned innumerable ways of dissuading them without earning their enmity.

  She’d thought Colin was different. She didn’t want him to turn out to be just another sex-crazed man hoping for a brief fling with her. She didn’t know why the notion made her want to burst into tears, but it did.

  “Golly, girl, you have it bad,” she muttered angrily as she dipped her toe into the warm bathwater. She’d dumped in a lot of her favorite orange-blossom scent because she felt so sweaty and dirty.

  It was insane of her to want Colin Peters to fall madly in love with her. Why should he? Most men, when confronted by a woman they believed could be easily conquered, thrust notions of love, marriage, and decorum out of their minds and concentrated on sexual conquest alone. The shameless beasts. Brenda soaped her soft-bristled bath brush savagely with her specially made orange-blossom scented soap and scrubbed her back.

  By the time she’d finished washing the crud from her body and scrubbing the dirt from under her fingernails, she was feeling both depressed and furious. She wanted to scratch Colin Peters’s eyes out with her newly cleaned nails. She also wanted to cry.

  In short, she was a mess.

  Something occurred to her, and she sat bolt upright in the tub, all thought of tears vanishing in a flash. She’d forgotten to bring her clothes into the bathroom with her. She groaned. Now she’d have to parade in front of Colin, who’d been eyeing her like a wolf after a sheep all day long, in only her dressing gown and nothing else. What would he think of her now? She had a pretty darned good idea.

  Slapping the water with her bath brush and sending up a wave that dribbled over the side of the tub, Brenda swore softly “To heck with him. If he tries anything, he’ll find out what kind of woman I am.”

  She only hoped she wasn’t wrong about herself.

  It was all Colin could do to keep from breaking down the bathroom door and charging inside where he would—

  What? Rape her?

  “Don’t be an ass,” he advised himself gloomily.

  But he was beginning to doubt his animal-mating-ritual scenario. It didn’t look to him as if she’d be all that eager to tumble into bed with him any time soon. He didn’t understand her reluctance to follow the call of nature. This was the way the ritual went, wasn’t it? The male signaled his intentions and the female, after protesting for a little while, fell into his snare. Procreational activities ensued, and everyone’s needs were satisfied. Colin acknowledged that the human species was somewhat more complicated than most mammals, but surely not that much.

  Brenda, however, was proving difficult. She wasn’t playing by the rules. Colin disapproved of her resistance. She probably didn’t even know the rules.

  But that shouldn’t matter, dash it. These mating customs were as old as life on earth itself. They were performed by instinct. She shouldn’t be able to help herself.

  Moodily, he considered himself and Brenda in as unemotional a manner as he was capable. Perhaps there was something about the natural aspects of the ritual he’d failed to grasp.

  The female of the species always attempted to select the most worthy object, if there was a choice. There was no obstacle there, surely. He was handsome enough, wasn’t he? He was no insipidly preening Leroy Carruthers, perhaps, but he was good-looking. Even manly, which is more than could be said for Carruthers. If what Colin suspected was true, Carruthers was some kind of oddity in the natural world: a member of the species who preferred his own gender.

  Colin had no quibbles with nature, however it played itself out. His concern centered around whether or not Brenda should select some other male over himself. He couldn’t see why she should, given the number and general caliber of the present group of candidates. It’s true that he might be a little on the intellectual side, but that shouldn’t be a barrier, since she claimed to seek knowledge.

  Maybe he didn’t look as if he had enough money to tempt her. He was really quite well-off. All right, he was no Getty or Rockefeller—or Morgan, who had single handedly bailed the country out of bankruptcy a few years back.

  Still, he could provide her with—with what? She was as rich as God Almighty Himself. What a pity. If she’d been on the needy side, he might have had better luck, but she wasn’t needy. And he couldn’t buy the diamonds and rubies and other ostentatious rocks he’d heard actresses craved. Slumping on the sofa, he thought about her possible need for money for a minute. Maybe she gave all of her money to her family and didn’t keep much for herself. Maybe she’d really like a fellow who could shower her with diamonds and emeralds and so forth.

  On the other hand, she didn’t wear much jewelry. He’d seen her once in a necklace of pearls that he’d assumed to be genuine. That was the only jewelry he’d seen her wear. Probably some old married goat of a millionaire had given her the pearls. His stomach twisted painfully.

  Unless that was his heart.

  “Dash it, man, don’t be an ass,” he advised himself again.

  He thought hard for a long time as Brenda, he presumed, was soaking in her bath. He wished he could watch her soak. Maybe
help her. His rigid sex gave a tremendous throb, and he groaned.

  Dash it, his plan would work. It had to work, unless he wanted to die from unfulfilled sexual desire. He only had to give it time. After all, it often took the male duck days to claim his mate. Humans males ought to be able to ply their wiles and wait for at least that long. Humans were the superior species, after all.

  The fantasy of a naked Brenda in his bed made Colin’s sex throb again alarmingly, and he wasn’t sure about that waiting-for-her-to-fall scenario. Waiting was very difficult when the provocation was so great. Brenda was a most alluring female human being. Actually, she was the most alluring female human being he’d yet come across.

  She was also bright and charming and interested in things and a darned good sport. He recollected her slide into home base with a grin. The girl had grit, all right. Yet he couldn’t allow her good qualities to fog his intentions. If he began thinking of her as an individual personality instead of an object of his sexual mating preference, his designs upon her person might become muddied. If he allowed himself to, for instance, fall in love with her—whatever that idiotic phrase meant—he’d be doomed.

  The bathroom door opened, and he sat upright on the sofa. His eyes went round and his mouth fell open. Good God, she was standing there in nothing at all but her gorgeous flesh, pink now from the warm bath, her hair knotted on top of her head, her bare feet sporting ten perfect pink little toes.

  Very well, she wore that blue silk wrapper, but it only accentuated the flush of her skin and the incredible blue of her eyes. He knew she was naked under the wrapper, and he knew without knowing how that her body would be spectacular. He gaped at her, speechless.

  Brenda didn’t notice Colin’s state of arousal or his stupefaction. She was too mortified by her idiotic lapse in common sense. Why hadn’t she thought to bring clothes into the bathroom with her? It was humiliating to have to parade around in front of him practically naked as she rushed to the closet to fetch clothes to wear down to the bar. She hoped he didn’t take her relative nudity in the wrong way.