Any Given Moment (The Alexandra Chronicles Book 3)

by Laura Van Wormer

  "Oh, Bets, no," he said, coming over to her. She let him take her into his arms and hold her. She let him press her head against his chest and stroke her back. "I love you."

  She had waited years to hear those words again. But instead of happiness, she felt her body starting to shake. He felt it, too, and held her tighter.

  She was really scared now, but she couldn't help herself.

  He reached down and pulled her face up and kissed her softly. Their mouths parted, her eyes still closed, and then he kissed her again, this time deeply, longingly.

  Someone gruffly cleared his voice, and it startled them both, forcing them to break off their kiss, but David would not let her go. They turned their heads to see Montgomery in the doorway, look­ing acutely embarrassed.

  "Sorry," he said, "but someone's on the phone for you, David. A woman named Susie. She says it's important."

  "Oh," David said. He looked at Elizabeth and let his arms drop. "It's someone from the movie, I need to take it," and he left the room.

  Elizabeth went into the bathroom for a tissue, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and came back out, startled to see that Montgomery was now standing in her bedroom.

  "It's none of my business, I know."

  Elizabeth gave him a look that usually stopped any student dead in his tracks, but Montgomery Grant Smith, of course, was no student.

  "But I've got to say it. Be careful, Professor. I'm sorry, but... I know the type."

  "I need to put it to rest," she said, "one way or the other."

  Montgomery nodded. And then he said, "Listen, while we're on the subject, could I ask your advice about something?"

  Elizabeth hesitated and then nodded. "Sure." She gestured to a chair.

  "The telephone is there," the housekeeper said to David, point­ing to the phone lying on the breakfast table in the kitchen. "Ms. Hamilton-Ayres is using the other line in the study, I'm sorry."

  "It's fine, thank you," David said, picking up the phone. "Hello?"

  "Hi, Davey!" Susie said. "Is it true? You're coming home to­night?"

  "Yeah, but I won't be getting in much before midnight." "Oh, I'll wait up," she said happily. "I've really missed you." He didn't say anything. "And I've got a big surprise for you," she said.

  "You didn't have to do that," he said uncomfortably.

  "Should I just tell you? Oh, I can't wait—honey bunny, I got your car back!"

  "What?" he said, a smile spreading across his face. "How?"

  "I went right down to your money manager's office and I told him he was going to be history if he didn't straighten this out before you came home. And he did! The car came back this afternoon. It's outside in the driveway."

  "Wow, thank you. Really—thanks a lot."

  "And I got the phone back from next door," she continued gaily. "But I had to take it to Mr. Fix-It because you hit one of the neighbor's sprinkler heads with it. I took the sprinkler head, too, since your neighbor said it wasn't working right. Anyway, every­thing's all fixed and you're coming home!"

  "Oh, she is," Georgiana was saying on the telephone behind closed doors in the study. "Just tell her I called and that I'll call her again when I get home." She frowned and then smiled. "No, of course, I'll hold."

  A full minute went by.

  "Hi!" Alexandra said, snapping onto the line. "I'm afraid I've only got about forty-five seconds. What time do you leave?"

  "Six."

  "Well, why don't you give me a call when you get in? Just so I know you got home okay?"

  Georgiana swallowed. "Absolutely."

  "Great. I've gotta dash."

  There was a soft knock on the study door. "Me, too," Georgi­ana said. She hung up and went over to open the door. Monty was standing there, looking like a forlorn puppy.

  "May I come in for a minute?" he said.

  She shrugged, backing away slightly. He closed the door behind him, turning to face her. "Georgiana, you've got to tell me. What did I do that was so terribly wrong?"

  "Oh, Monty!" she said, tired, walking over to a chair and throw­ing herself down in it. "Must we?"

  "But I still don't understand. You still haven't told me why you're running away from me."

  "I'm not running away from anyone," she said to the ceiling. She looked at him. "I don't know what else I can say to you except what I have already. Had I known you would take one evening and turn it into a minefield of rejection for yourself, I never would have slept with you."

  "One evening!" he said. "What kind of woman are you?"

  She looked at him. "Obviously a lonely one, Monty, one who certainly should have known better than to get drunk with you."

  "But how could I not want something more with you, Georgi­ana?" he said softly, swiftly, moving near, stretching his hand out to her. "I think you are the most beautiful and talented woman in the world, and you shared your bed with me—"

  "Bed?" she said. "We used the couch—and for about five min­utes before I passed out, I might add."

  "But I think I love you."

  "Love me?" she gasped. "You don't even know me!" She couldn't help it. He was going too far. She shook her head, as if to get the words out of her ears. "Monty, I'm simply not available. That's it, end of story."

  He winced and sighed, dropping down in a heap on the couch.

  She looked over at him. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't you think I know how sorry you are to have ever met me?" he said in a depressed voice. "Don't you think I know you never would have slept with me if you hadn't been drunk?"

  This took Georgiana by surprise. She might have suspected that he had a streak of self-hatred, but she didn't expect him to show it. The poor guy really was upset. "Wait a minute, Monty, you're turning this into some pivotal moment of your life when it isn't one. Believe me, you're just lonely and isolated and I just happened to be there. You may be disappointed that things can't go any farther, but soon you'll meet the right person and you'll be relieved that noth­ing more happened between us."

  "I may be a nerd in your book, but that doesn't mean I can't have a relationship with a woman as beautiful and talented and bright as you are," he growled.

  "Exactly," Georgiana said quickly, wondering if he had heard a word she'd said. "And that's why you need to look for—"

  "But you're lonely, too! You admitted it, Georgiana! You're as lonely as I am. And I know for a fact that you're as isolated in your personal life as 1 am."

  She hesitated. "But not for the reasons you think."

  "I don't think," he said, standing up, "I know you're different from other women, Georgiana! And I know you need someone who can take your mood changes."

  “Monty," she sighed.

  "Someone who understands the creative swings, the need to be in the spotlight, and the need to be safely alone, protected, cared for—"

  "Monty, you don't get it!" she said sharply.

  "Then explain it to me," he demanded.

  "I do not want to pursue a relationship with you!" she said. "I'm sorry, but that's the honest to God truth."

  "But—"

  "And you have to ask yourself why you want to pursue a rela­tionship with someone you know is not available."

  "But you slept with me," he said weakly.

  "I did not sleep with you!" she cried. "We fucked, Monty, and then I passed out, for God's sake! Go to any bar and find any woman who's drinking too much, and you can have the same ex­perience as often as you want!" She was losing patience fast. "I'm sorry to leave things this way, but you leave me no choice." She stood to go. "Now, are you going to shake hands and say good-bye and be civil about this, or not?"

  He hauled himself up. He was a very large man. Silently he held out his hand to her. She took it.

  And then he tried to take her in his arms and Georgiana screamed. He released her immediately and simply stared at her, breathing heavily.

  There was a knock on the door. "Is everything all right in there?" Elizabeth asked.

  Monty flung
open the door so hard it crashed against the book­case. "Great advice, Professor," he said. "Thanks a lot!" And he stormed past her down the hall. In a moment they heard the front door slam.

  "Bets?" a voice called.

  "It's all right, David," Elizabeth said. "I'll be there in a minute." She turned to Georgiana.

  "Your advice," Georgiana said accusingly. "I echo the man's sentiments—thanks a whole hell of a lot, Elizabeth."

  Elizabeth held out her hands. "All I suggested was that he ask you outright how you felt about him."

  Georgiana glared at her for a moment, and then it passed. "Come in and close the door," she said, losing steam.

  Elizabeth closed the door and turned, waiting.

  "The night I arrived," Georgiana said quietly, "Monty and I got drunk in the Regency bar and I ended up having a one-night stand with him. It wasn't even a one-night stand, it was more like—I don't know what it was like, but believe me, it was nothing anyone would feel good about afterward."

  "He says he might be in love with you," Elizabeth told her.

  Georgiana threw her hands up in disbelief. "He's in love with the idea of sleeping with me, Elizabeth, that's all. You must know that."

  "I think he means well."

  "Oh, come on," Georgiana said.

  "No, I mean it," she insisted. "I think he does care a lot about you, or at least he thinks he does. And for what it's worth, although his bravado and ego can be pretty god-awful, I know, he's not really—"

  "Elizabeth," Georgiana said.

  "—what he appears to be," Elizabeth continued.

  "Elizabeth," Georgiana said again.

  "He's a decent man, really, I do think so. I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

  "I'm gay," Georgiana said quietly. "Is that reason enough for you to stop encouraging him?"

  "Oh," Elizabeth said, looking at her slightly wide-eyed. "Yes, I suppose it is." There was a moment of silence. "I must confess, Georgiana, I'm rather shocked."

  Georgiana gave her a tired smile. "Yes, well, we come in all kinds of packaging."

  "Oh, no, that's not what I meant," Elizabeth said quickly. "I meant I'm shocked that you, of all people, could have so many problems with your love life."

  Georgiana looked at her.

  "I mean, if you're gay and having sex with Montgomery Grant Smith! I'm sorry if I'm being terribly out of line, but it does seem to indicate a bit of a problem, doesn't it? I mean, Mont­gomery!"

  "Don't remind me." Georgiana half laughed and half sighed, dropping into a chair and covering her face with her hands. After a moment she looked up at Elizabeth. "Suffice it to say, I am a person who absolutely should not drink. But that isn't really much of an excuse."

  "I think it's a pretty good one," Elizabeth said helpfully.

  "No," Georgiana said, shaking her head. "Fact is, Monty's got a certain kind of sexual charm." She smiled. "Being with him was like being a teenager again. You know, sitting around for hours, turned on and trying to hide it, and then finally acting on it, except that I never did anything like that as a teenager—I was Miss Goody Two Shoes."

  "Me, too," Elizabeth admitted. She sighed then, leaning back against the couch as if she were exhausted. "I've wanted to be gay in the worst way."

  This time Georgiana burst out laughing. "What?"

  Elizabeth was smiling. "Well, if I were, it would explain so much about the romantic problems I've had. This way I'm just a mess no matter which way you look at it."

  "That's ridiculous," Georgiana said, trying to stifle another laugh. "You're the most together person I've met in quite some time."

  "I only wish I was," Elizabeth said softly, thoughts drifting.

  Georgiana watched her for a moment. "You've had a great love gone wrong, haven't you?" Without looking at her, Elizabeth nodded. "What happened to him?"

  "He's in the living room."

  "I apologize for prying, Elizabeth," Georgiana finally said when it was clear Elizabeth was not going to volunteer any more infor­mation. She stood up. "Do you suppose we could get anything to eat? I'm starving. Pasta, that's what I feel like. And a big salad. Do you suppose we could order in?"

  "It was David," Elizabeth suddenly said. "This is the first time we've seen each other in three years. Neither one of us knew the other was coming here for the meeting."

  "Oh," was all Georgiana could manage to say for a moment, thinking, Good Lord, he really is in the living room. And David—poor Elizabeth! "And now he's making overtures to you again?"

  Elizabeth looked at her. "What do you think?"

  Georgiana shrugged. "I don't know the whole story."

  "But you know David," Elizabeth said, "you've worked with him. Tell me what your instincts are."

  Georgiana bit her lower lip, thinking. "To be very, very careful until you fully understand the situation you may be getting back into."

  "He still runs around with a lot of women, doesn't he?" she asked.

  Georgiana shrugged. "I don't know about now." She met Eliz­abeth's eyes. "But while we shot our movie—yes, I knew of at least two."

  Elizabeth nodded, and then smiled to herself, as if amused by some thought. "May I ask you something, Georgiana?"

  "Anything."

  There was a knock on the door. "Excuse me," the housekeeper said, popping her head around the door, "but Mr. Lafayette asked me to tell you that he is on his way back here with Mrs. Kleczak."

  "Okay, good, thank you, Sasha," Elizabeth said, getting up. She turned to Georgiana. "Well, why don't we find some place to order in pasta and salad for everyone? That's what you said you'd like for lunch, isn't it?" She started for the door.

  "You wanted to ask me something," Georgiana reminded her.

  "Oh, that," Elizabeth said, reaching for the door. "It was nothing."

  "No," Georgiana insisted, catching her arm, "what was it?"

  Elizabeth looked at her. "I was going to ask if you would find me attractive if I were gay."

  Georgiana's mouth fell open. "Are you joking?"

  "No," Elizabeth said truthfully.

  "Elizabeth, you're wildly attractive. A knockout, do you hear me? You may be a little too bright for most of the world, but you certainly have everything anybody could want."

  "Really?" Elizabeth asked, not quite believing her.

  "Really," Georgiana said. "You should never, ever judge your desirability based on someone else's neurotic insecurities."

  "You mean David?"

  "I mean, Elizabeth," Georgiana told her, "you're the catch of a lifetime."

  Elizabeth looked at the actress for a long moment. And then she smiled and said, "Thank you."

  After a moment, Georgiana said, "Is there something else? You seem like you want to say something else."

  Elizabeth hesitated. And then she took a breath. "I don't want you to think all of our problems were David's fault. I—what I mean to say is, I have problems. I mean I did. I guess I do, still—" She sighed, letting her shoulders sag, discouraged.

  Georgiana smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "Elizabeth, no offense, but sometimes you sound as old as Methuselah."

  "Yes, well, being a student of history can do that to you." Eliz­abeth sighed again, looking to the floor.

  Georgiana laughed.

  Elizabeth raised her head, half-startled.

  "Lighten up, Elizabeth, will you?" Georgiana said, giving her shoulder a shake. "You mustn't always act like you're going bravely to the gallows."

  "On some level, though, that's what I've always felt like."

  "I don't think so," Georgiana said. "No, I don't think you could be doing all this for the Hillingses if you weren't someone with an underlying faith that things can and will get better—even for you." Elizabeth was looking at her with a kind of hope in her eyes now that couldn't help but touch Georgiana. "You're just still reeling from an unexpected collision with your past. And, if you're anything like me, the past, if it has anything even remotely connected to love in it, will make you fee
l worthless and depressed in no time."

  Elizabeth's astonishment was obvious. "You?"

  "Well, look at me, Elizabeth," Georgiana said, stepping back. "Besides the fact that America's sex symbol is a closet gay who just went to bed with Montgomery Grant Smith, tell me what's wrong with me."

  "Why, nothing! You're talented and beautiful and successful and—"

  "And so no one, but no one," Georgiana said, interrupting, "ever thinks anything can be wrong with me, or that anything they can do to me can ever really hurt me, because I have everything they think they want."

  Elizabeth looked at her for a moment. "But nothing's ever really been done to me."

  "And maybe that's it," Georgiana said. "Maybe that's what you've always expected of people in the past—nothing. Because that's what you've always gotten. And maybe that's why you get depressed and sound so old and weary, Miss Methuselah. Because you think it's you, and maybe it is, but only in the sense that people who can't give emotionally will always make a beeline toward peo­ple like you."

  Elizabeth frowned. "But that's not true."

  "I know it could have been true with David," Georgiana said. "I know him, Elizabeth. And I know other women who've been with him."

  As if on cue, David's voice called down the hall, "Bets? Where are you guys? Josh and Patty are on their way up."

  "We'll be there in a minute!" Elizabeth called back.

  "The truth is," Georgiana said quietly, "I know how much Dorothy Hillings loves you. You've never been just a client to her. From the very beginning, when she pushed you to convert your thesis into that biography; you've been a daughter to her. And she thinks the world of you. And most of the rest of the world seems to think the world of you, too. So, Elizabeth, when I see you like this now, looking and sounding as though you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, I think, Dear God, if Elizabeth Rob­inson can't be happy, what hope is there for me?"

  Elizabeth was speechless.

  30

  "You're going to temp in the office of the agent who's selling your book?" Ted yelled at Patty when she returned from New York Wednesday night. "And act as a spy?"

  "Just for a day or two, to see if I can find out anything."