Beauty and the Brain (26 page)

Even though he wasn’t sure he really wanted
Brenda to slide, since he didn’t want her to scrape her delicate
skin, Martin cupped his hands around his mouth and again roared,
“
Slide
!”

Brenda, who had grinned at him when she
rounded third base—Martin was at present not the director of a
picture, but the Cowboys’ third baseman—slid. With a glance over
her shoulder to see who had the ball, she spotted the Cowboys’
second baseman, Herbert Bloom, otherwise Peerless’s second
cameraman—catch the ball and rush forward to throw it to
George.

She shrieked, “Watch out below!” and let
herself fly, hands first, arms stretched out in front of her, at
home base.

Martin stood motionless, his heart in his
throat, as he watched Brenda, blond hair, petticoats, pantaloons,
and all churn up about an acre of dust He heard the ball slap
against George’s mitt, and he heard somebody let out an “Ooof,” as
if whoever it was had been hit in the stomach

Then there was silence. And suddenly, over
the stillness in the in and the cloud of dust hovering above home
plate, the umpire, one of the waiters from the Cedar Crest who’d
been roped into service, shrieked in a voice too shrill to hide his
elation, “She’s safe!”

Both teams erupted into cheers of
delight.

“Yee-haw!” hollered Gil, who had played in
several cowboy pictures recently

“Hooray!” yelled George.

The Navajos let out with a variety of whoops
that might have been frightening if heard under other
circumstances. And then, as abruptly as the noise had started, it
ceased.

Martin, blinking with surprise, looked
around to see what had happened. Then he did, and his mind went
blank as his mouth dropped open.

George, stunned, dropped the ball and
gaped.

The Cedar Crest’s helpful waiter blushed
scarlet and turned his back, so as to hide his face.

Gil, standing behind the second baseman and
staring, whispered, “Holy smoke.”

Leroy Carruthers’s eyes nearly popped out of
his head.

Jerry Begay took one look at the spectacle,
grinned and turned to rejoin his tribesmen.

Colin Peters and Brenda Fitzpatrick were
locked in an embrace that was truly awesome to behold. Martin
wished he could capture it on celluloid and show actors how a real
kiss looked.

Which meant, of course, that it was too
awesome for public consumption. Martin trotted to home plate and
put on an act. He wasn’t an actor as a rule, but he knew how the
job was done. He lightly slapped Brenda on the shoulder. “Great
job, Brenda! Even though you’re on the other team, I’m
impressed!”

Colin and Brenda jumped away from each other
as if somebody had run an electric current through them. Brenda
touched her lips with a very dirty hand and said, “Oh, my!” Colin
appeared too rattled to say even that much.

“Good job, everybody!” Martin said
hurriedly, not wanting another perilous gap to descend in the
conversation. He turned and beamed at the baseball players. “I’ll
stand drinks for everybody!” He pointed at the lodge with a bat
he’d picked up from the ground. “Onward to the bar!”

A consummate professional, Brenda recovered
her wits almost immediately—much sooner than Colin, who still
looked as if he’d been conked over the head with a large skillet.
“Thanks, Martin!” She looked around eagerly, as if she had nothing
at all on her mind but the baseball game.

“So, what’s the final score?”

“Five to four, Indians,” Jerry Begay said.
Although he’d always heard Indians were an inscrutable lot, Martin
could swear there was a twinkle in Jerry’s dark eyes.

“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.