Nikki shifted away from him. He wanted Lara to be alone. He didn’t like the idea of her being with a man. In some sick way he felt he still had a hold over her.
For a moment she was hurt and angry. Then she thought, This is silly—he loves me, not Lara.
And she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
• •
The next morning Lara realized she didn’t have a number to contact Joey, so she sent Cassie into the production office to collect a cast and crew list. Sure enough he was listed, with a Manhattan address.
She took his number home with her that night and sat on her bed, contemplating whether to phone him or not. Finally she decided to do so. After all, she had a perfectly legitimate reason.
She dialed his number in New York. A woman answered. It had to be Phillipa. Panicked, she hung up.
Oh great, she thought. You really do like him, because if you didn’t, you’d talk to his fiancée and explain why you’re calling.
To make matters worse, that night she had an erotic dream about him, awakening flushed and aroused in the early hours of the morning.
Nikki was right. It was time she got herself a man.
CHAPTER
23
“YOUR FEELINGS ARE SHOWING UP in dailies,” Miles said over a catering-truck breakfast.
“Excuse me?” Lara responded, pushing two poached eggs around her plate because she wasn’t hungry and the Swedish caterer—who harbored a big crush on her—had insisted on fixing her an enormous plate of food.
“We’re making a love story,” Miles pointed out, removing his glasses and staring at her with faded blue eyes. “And the chemistry between you and Kyle is fast running out.”
She pulled a face. “Is it about the kissing scene yesterday?”
“You got it.”
“I’m sorry, Miles,” she said. “Kyle had garlic for lunch, and his breath stank, plus he’s always trying to shove his tongue down my throat.”
“I know he’s a pain in the ass,” Miles agreed, nodding his shaggy mane of silver hair. “Only we’re making a movie here, and on screen you two are supposed to be hopelessly in love. I have to see it, otherwise we’re stone cold at the box office.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder. Weave your special magic, Lara, pretend he’s someone else.”
Pretend he’s Joey. The thought popped into her head completely unexpectedly. Pretend he’s Joey Lorenzo, whom I haven’t heard from in two and a half weeks, even though I promised to get him an audition for Revenge. Shouldn’t he be calling daily?
“Okay, Miles. I promise I’ll do something about it,” she said, getting up from the table and heading for the makeup trailer.
Today they were shooting the big love scene, which meant she’d have to summon all her acting skills and try her best to get into it.
As far as she was concerned, Kyle Carson was the worst kind of phony. He presented one image to the world—that of the poor, hard-done-by movie star whose wife had abandoned him, while in real life he was an out-and-out womanizer who couldn’t keep his pants zipped. Over the last few weeks his supply of females had accelerated, a new one arriving every other day. Roxy commented he was having a fuckathon, an apt description of his activities. Roxy also observed that he had a saggy butt and should hire a butt double, a pronouncement that broke everyone up.
Lara sighed. Not only did she dislike kissing him, she was also nervous she could contract some dreaded disease. Thank God she had a body double replacing her for the more intimate moments of the love scene. It was sad that females were forced to show it all on the screen, whereas their male counterparts got away with a modest brief flash of butt. Demi Moore was probably the only movie star who actually seemed to enjoy revealing everything.
The previous week three actresses had arrived from L.A. to audition for her body double. There was much ribald laughter and nudging on the set as the girls paraded into Miles’ trailer for their interviews. Miles had asked Lara to sit in on the auditions. “After all,” he’d said, “it’s your boobs that’ll be up there. You want ’em to look good, don’t you?”
“I’m sure you’ll pick the best pair,” she’d replied wryly, wondering what it must be like to parade in front of a bunch of strangers, exhibiting your breasts.
Barbara Westerberg sat in for her, and they’d finally hired Wilson Patterson, a veteran who’d doubled various body parts for Michelle Pfeiffer, Julia Roberts and Geena Davis. She wasn’t knockout beautiful, but she did have a spectacular body and was not shy about showing it.
Today Wilson stood naked at the other end of the makeup trailer, having body makeup applied to every finely toned inch.
“Hello,” Lara said as she entered the trailer.
“Hi,” Wilson replied, completely unembarrassed. “Hope I’m gonna do you justice.”
“I’m sure you will,” Lara said, sitting in the makeup chair, deciding that in her next contract she would not allow a body double; it was cheating of the worst kind.
“Have you seen the wig?” Yoko asked, cleansing Lara’s face with a moist pad of cotton.
“What wig?”
“Roxy came up with this fantastic wig. From behind, Wilson looks exactly like you.”
“I don’t know why they have to do scenes like this,” Lara complained. “It’s embarrassing.”
“How come you allow it?” Yoko asked, patting a fine moisturizing cream onto her skin.
“Because they’re paying me megabucks, therefore I’m expected to make concessions. And if I refuse to do it myself . . .” she trailed off. “This is the last time.”
“I like Roxy’s idea,” Yoko said, giggling slyly. “A butt double for Kyle. How about a front double, too? You know, if an actor has a tiny dick, bring in a stuntman with a huge one. That’d be good for their egos, huh?”
“You’re beginning to sound more like Roxy every day,” Lara said, laughing.
“God, no!” Yoko objected.
Lara closed her eyes, allowing Yoko’s soothing hands to work on her face. As she lay back, her thoughts drifted once more to Joey. Nikki had called yesterday and said, “Where is he? The movie’s practically cast. I thought you wanted me to see him.”
“I’ve no idea,” she’d confessed, a trifle sheepishly. “I haven’t been able to reach him.”
“Gee,” Nikki had said sarcastically. “He must be really anxious to make a career for himself.”
Lara couldn’t understand it; why hadn’t he called? Maybe he and Phillipa had run off and gotten married. The thought disturbed her more than she cared to admit.
Kyle was waiting on the set with minty breath and an overly friendly smile. “Ready for our big love scene, princess?” he greeted her.
“Do me a favor, Kyle,” she said vehemently. “No more garlic for lunch.”
“Sorry about yesterday,” he said, not sorry at all. “Did my breath offend you?”
“I wouldn’t do it to you, so kindly return the favor.” “Ah . . . Lara, Lara,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re so perfect. Don’t you ever get wild? Let it all hang out? What d’you do for fun?”
“I work,” she replied, stony faced.
“Work ain’t fun. Getting down is fun.”
“From what I hear, you’ve been getting down every night.”
He gave a brittle laugh. “What’s a guy supposed to do when his wife walks? I was married forever. Now it’s getting-out-of-jail time.”
“Aren’t you worried about catching something?”
He regarded her as if she were crazy. “Me? Worried? No way. All I have to do is look at a girl, and I can tell if she’s clean.”
“That’s kind of dumb, Kyle.”
“Are you calling me dumb?” he said, bristling.
“Not at all,” she said, realizing it wasn’t worth a fight.
An hour later they were embroiled in a heavy love scene. She hated every minute of it, but she was an actress, so she closed her eyes and made believe he was
somebody she yearned for. It worked. Their kisses took on a new intensity. Now Miles would be happy.
In the middle of the second take she felt Kyle’s erection against the side of her thigh and tried to ignore it.
“Oh, baby, am I hot for you,” he muttered, right after Miles called cut.
Coldly she replied, “Let’s see if we can act like professionals, shall we, Kyle?”
“What are you—frigid?” he taunted, furious he couldn’t get to her. “Don’t like guys?”
Why was it when a movie star couldn’t score there always had to be something wrong with the woman?
“That’s right,” she said, deliberately needling him. “I’m lesbian of the year, didn’t you know?”
By the time her body double took over, she was desperate to get out of there. Wilson sauntered into place wearing nothing but body makeup and a pleased smile. The entire crew went into a state of schoolboy excitement. Kyle immediately began making tit jokes.
Lara walked off the set. She had no desire to hang around watching all the guys ogle Wilson. It didn’t take much to reduce grown men into horny little boys. They all acted like they’d never seen a pair before.
Her designated driver was sitting in the car outside. He could hardly wait to drop her off at her house and race back so that he could get an eyeful too.
She had the afternoon free, so she put on shorts and a T-shirt, gathered up a towel and her script of Revenge, then set off down the beach. Finding a shady spot, she spread the towel out, lay on her stomach and began studying Rebecca’s lines. Revenge was definitely the movie she’d been looking for. Certainly it would be the meatiest role she had ever had.
She stayed on the deserted beach for a while, enjoying the solitude. When she returned to the house, Cassie greeted her on the back steps, looking agitated. “That actor’s here,” Cassie said.
She frowned, hoping it wasn’t Kyle and his erection paying a house call. “What actor?”
“You know, the good-looking one. Joey something or other.”
“Joey’s here?” she said, experiencing a small shiver of excitement.
“I know I should’ve sent him away,” Cassie wailed. “Only he was very insistent, assured me you’d want to see him. He’s sitting in his car.”
“You made him wait outside?”
“You didn’t tell me he was coming. Were you expecting him?”
“Yes,” she said, hating that Cassie felt she had to know everything. “I must have forgotten to tell you.”
“Oh,” Cassie said, not pleased to be left out of the loop.
“Invite him in,” Lara said, hurrying into the guest bathroom. She stared at her reflection, picked up a brush, ran it through her hair, then quickly dabbed gloss on her lips. All of a sudden her heart was pounding.
Trying to compose herself, she went out to the deck, sat in a chair and picked up a magazine.
When Joey walked out, she was cool and collected.
“Hey,” he said, grinning at her. “Don’t you look cute in shorts.”
“Hey,” she replied, putting down the magazine and smiling up at him.
Cassie stood in the doorway, observing the two of them, wondering what was going on.
“Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee . . . something stronger?” Lara asked, her voice sounding husky.
“I could use a beer,” he said, cracking his knuckles.
“Cassie—one beer, and I’ll have a Seven-Up.”
“Coming right up,” Cassie said, reluctantly going back into the house.
“So, Joey, this is a surprise,” she said. “Have a seat.”
He flopped into a chair, long legs stretched out in front of him. He had on scuffed combat boots, ripped jeans and a white T-shirt that defined the muscles in his arms.
“Guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here,” he said.
“Weren’t you supposed to call me?” she asked, trying to sound as if it didn’t matter. “I set up an interview for you in L.A.”
“Had other things on my mind,” he said, taking a long beat. “It’s been a tough coupla weeks.”
“Really?” she said, once again admiring the darkness of his eyes, the faint stubble around his chin and the thrust of his finely etched jawline. Oh, God! What was going on here?
“Yeah,” he said, grimacing. “Then today everything blew up. Hadda talk to someone . . . an’ you always seem to understand me.” He threw her a long, penetrating stare, thinking she was even more beautiful than he remembered. “You’re not pissed I drove out to see you?”
“You came all this way just to see me?”
He nodded. “Phillipa an’ I finally broke up. We, uh . . . couldn’t work out our differences. She gave me back the ring, an’ here I am.” He laughed ruefully. “Hey—now I can go to L.A.”
“Is that what you were fighting about? Going to L.A.?”
“Naw,” he said, clearing his throat. “She was so into her career, she didn’t have time for me.” A long pause, another penetrating stare. “I need somebody who’s gonna put me first.”
“Of course you do,” Lara murmured sympathetically.
“I kinda figured that as we got deeper into our relationship, things would change,” he continued, drumming his fingers on the coffee table. “Then I started realizin’ her career came before me, an’ that’s no way to build a future—not when two people can’t communicate.”
“Joey,” she said understandingly, “I know you’re upset now, but if that’s how things were, then you’ve probably made the right decision.”
Cassie returned carrying a tray with a bottle of beer, a can of Seven-Up, two glasses and a dish of chocolate cookies. She placed the tray on a table in front of them, then hovered, dying to find out what was going on.
“Thanks,” Lara said, dismissing her.
Cassie had no choice but to go back inside.
Joey picked up the bottle of beer, flipping the top open with his teeth. “You know what’s so crazy about all of this?”
“Tell me,” she said softly.
His eyes met hers. “How come I’m here?”
“I . . . I don’t know . . .” she answered, feeling uncomfortably warm.
He took a couple of swigs from the bottle. “It was like I hadda come,” he said intensely. “Like you’re the only person I can talk to without feelin’ I’m bein’ judged.”
“I’m flattered,” she said, reaching for a cookie, even though she knew that right now she was incapable of swallowing.
“Hey, listen,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I know you’re a big movie star and all, but somehow I feel you’re my friend.” Another long pause. “Does that make me crazy, Lara?”
“No, Joey,” she said quietly. “I am your friend.”
He jumped up, striding over to the edge of the wooden deck, staring out to sea, his back to her. “I never screwed around on Philly,” he said flatly. “Although, believe me, I had plenty of opportunities. Plenty.”
“I’m sure you did,” she murmured.
“Y’see, I believed we were gettin’ married. Now I can do what I like.”
“And what do you like?”
He spun around, and their eyes met again for a long, silent moment. “I’d like t’fly to L.A. an’ meet Mick Stefan. Whaddaya think—am I too late?”
“I’m not sure,” she said truthfully. “I’ll be returning to L.A. in a few days; the studio’s sending a plane. If you want, you can hitch a ride with me and we’ll see.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Where can I contact you?”
“Dunno,” he said with a vague shrug. “Can’t go back to our apartment; it’s hers now.”
“So you have nowhere to live?”
He took another swig of beer. “I rented a car an’ stashed my two suitcases in the trunk. It’s my new home.” “Where will you stay until we leave?”
“I was thinkin’ I’d check into the same hotel I was at before.”
“No,” she said quickly. “D
on’t do that. Everyone will wonder why you’re here.”
“Hey—” he said with a bitter laugh. “Even I’m wondering why I’m here.”
She fixed him with her cool, green eyes. “You told me why, Joey. I’m your friend.”
He grinned, marveling once again at her outstanding beauty. “Okay, friend, you wanna have dinner tonight? I know a great little lobster place on the beach.”
She began to laugh. “The same place you took me to before?”
“We had fun, didn’t we?”
“Joey . . .” she said impulsively. “Why don’t you stay here? I’ll have the maid set up the guest room, then you can fly to L.A. with me on Saturday.”
“C’mon, Lara, people will talk.”
“I’m over twenty-one, you know. And you said you needed a friend.” A beat. “So . . . will you stay?”
“Well . . .”
They exchanged warm smiles.
“Good,” Lara said, and the butterflies in her stomach refused to calm down.
CHAPTER
24
RICHARD REALIZED HE HAD MADE a mistake sleeping with his assistant. Once sex entered the picture, everything changed. Now Kimberly was after him with a vengeance, forever asking when they could get together again. He regretted bringing her back to his house and making love to her. He especially regretted Summer almost catching them together. She hadn’t said anything, but she was a bright girl—she knew. He wanted to ask her not to tell Nikki he’d had Kimberly at the house, but if he did, it would be as good as admitting his guilt. He simply had to hope she wouldn’t open her mouth.
She caught him at breakfast one morning. “Richard,” she said guilelessly, “will you talk to Mom for me?” “About what?” he asked guardedly.
“Well . . . here’s the thing. I uh . . . want to stay in L.A. Don’t want to go back to Chicago.”
“Tell her yourself.”
“She won’t listen to me. We always get in a fight.” She gave him a winning smile. “But if you do it . . .”
“Okay,” he agreed, albeit reluctantly.
“Thanks, Richard,” she said, favoring him with a little hug. “You’re the best!”