Can't Stop Loving You (11 page)

He gave a satisfied nod.
He
could
take credit for her form and style. He’d been her personal trainer
for the last seven years. No other actress he knew had Helen’s
stamina. Certainly none of them had her body. She was in tip-top
shape, each muscle beautifully sculpted, not one ounce of body fat,
not one inch of sag.

“Water feels good, Matt.” Helen bobbed beside
him, treading water. “Why don’t you come on in?”

“Nope. I’m saving my strength.”

Helen didn’t inquire why. He liked that about
her. She was friendly without being nosy.

He was saving his strength for Barb. Now
there
was a woman. The experts would have said she had too
much fat around her thighs and waist, but Matt was wild about every
inch of her.
Love handles
, she called her slight
paunch.

She’d get no argument from him. Content, he
watched Helen make another lap of the pool.

“Five more minutes, Helen, then I’ll do the
massage.”

“Fifteen, Matt.”

“Ten at the most. I don’t want you to overdo
it.”

“Okay.”

She was pushing herself. It didn’t take a
genius to guess the cause.

The door at the end of the gym swung open,
and the
cause
walked through. Brick Sullivan paused in the
open doorway to assess the situation, then headed straight to the
pool.

Helen was making her turn when he mounted the
diving board.

“What are you doing here?” She caught the
edge of the pool to anchor herself.

“I’m going to take a swim.”

“The pool is occupied.”

“It looks big enough for two.”

“It’s big enough for two, but I’m doing my
laps.”

“You do your laps and I’ll do mine, Helen.
And never the twain shall meet.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Matt watched the exchange with lively
interest. After this morning’s rehearsal, everybody at the theater
had been making bets as to how soon the Sullivans would be back
together again. He had bet by nightfall. The onstage kiss had made
it seem like a sure thing.

And yet, they’d acted so cool to each other
over lunch, you’d have thought they were sworn enemies. To make
matters worse, Brick had been unusually attentive to Barb. It had
taken all Matt’s willpower to keep his silence.

Brick sliced into the water in a perfect
dive. Matt had been his trainer, too, before the breakup.

He scooted back from the edge of the pool so
he could have a panoramic view. He didn’t want to miss a single
thing between the warring Sullivans.

Brick cut through the water with the speed of
a dolphin. Helen passed him going the other way. They barely looked
at each other.

At opposite ends of the pool, they turned and
headed toward each other. Matt noticed the space between them
narrowing. When they met in the middle of the pool, Brick was close
enough to brush against Helen.

“You’re too close,” she said.

“Sorry. It was an accident.”

“Well, don’t let it happen again.”

Brick didn’t look sorry at all. He looked
pleased. Matt knew him well enough to know that Brick Sullivan
never did things by
accident.
Every move he made was as
carefully staged as one of his Shakespearean plays.

Instead of swimming all the way to the end of
the pool, Brick turned and swam in Helen’s direction. She was a
strong swimmer. He didn’t overtake her until they had reached the
end of the pool.

She clung to the edge, treading water.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she
asked.

“Swimming.”

“Couldn’t you do it at the other end of the
pool?”

“What’s the matter, Helen?” Brick trapped her
from behind, bracing his arms on either side of her. “Do I bother
you?”

“What makes you say a silly thing like
that?”

“Methinks the wench protests too much.”

“This is not a Shakespearean play, Brick
Sullivan. This happens to be my workout time, which you have
managed to send into total disarray.”

“There are other ways to work out,
Helen.”

“Why don’t you try some of them, then?”

“You want to know one of my favorites?”

“No.”

“My favorite workout is making love. Did I
ever tell you making love for an hour is the equivalent of jogging
five miles?”

Except for the color that crept into Helen’s
face, she showed no sign of being flustered. Matt had to admire
her. She was as good an actress offstage as she was on.

And he knew full well she was acting. He’d
been with her too long not to understand her moods.

“Why don’t you tell that to someone who is
interested, Brick? Your fiancee, for instance?”

Helen lifted herself out of the pool and
reached for her towel.

“I’m ready for that massage now, Matt.”

Matt stood up. As much as he hated to see
what was happening between two people he really liked, he had no
choice but to do Helen’s bidding. After all, she was his sole
employer now.

He looked in Brick’s direction. “Take care of
yourself,” he said.

Brick merely nodded.

Just before Matt followed Helen through the
broad double doors, he looked back at the pool. Brick was still in
the deep end, treading water.

o0o

Brick decided he might have to tread water
the rest of his life. He was certainly in over his head, and it was
all his fault.

Helen had every right to be mad. He’d acted
like a fool at lunch, hanging on Barb’s every word, hovering over
her like a goose over a lost gosling.

What had possessed him?

A coward. That’s what he was.
He had
taken the path of least resistance. Somehow it was easier to play
out the game than to confront Helen with
his
truth.

He hefted himself out of the pool and shook
the water out of his hair. He felt waterlogged. Burying his head in
the towel, he massaged his hair. He hadn’t wanted to swim in the
first place. He’d just wanted to be near Helen.

The doors to the gym opened once more, and
Barb came through. In her hot-pink swimsuit and backless high
heels, she looked like a pinup girl from one of those old World War
II posters.

“Hi ya, Brick. Where’s Matt?”

“Matt?”

“Yeah, Matt.”

“He’s gone to give Helen a massage.”

“Oh...”

Barb plopped herself by the side of the pool
and wrapped her arms around her knees. She looked like a forlorn
little girl whose lollipop had been stolen.

“The water’s nice,” he said. “Aren’t you
going in?”

“Nah. I don’t think so.” Barb inspected her
long red fingernails, then looked up and contemplated the skylights
for a while. “Do you know when he’ll be coming back?”

“Who?”

“Matt.
Jeez, Brick. Sometimes you
can be so dense.”

Brick came around the side of the pool and
plopped down beside her.

“You got all dressed up in that outfit to
come down here and see Matt?”

“Bingo. Give the man a cigar.” Barb clapped
her hands, then folded them once more around her knees. “We’ve been
seeing each other on the sly.”

Things were worse than Brick had thought. Not
only had he put his own life in a tangle, but he’d also complicated
the lives of two very fine people. He reached over and patted
Barb’s knee.

“I’m sorry, Barb. I’ve been so wrapped up in
my own problems, I didn’t take the time to notice anybody
else.”

“That’s all right, Brick.”

“No. It’s not all right.” He stood up. “It’s
time to straighten out this mess.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Tell Helen the truth.”

“About us?”

“Yes. Why should you and Matt have to sneak
around pretending, just because I can’t get my act together?”

“You’d do that for me?”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“For me and you both, Barb.”

o0o

Helen lay on her stomach with her face
pressed into her crossed arms. Her head was wrapped turban style,
and a long fluffy towel was draped loosely over her body.

Matt stood with his back to the door, bent
over Helen. Brick could hear the soft splat of his hands against
her naked back.

It was time.

Taking a deep breath, he approached the
table... softly so Helen wouldn’t hear. He tapped Matt on the
shoulder.

Matt whirled around, and Brick put one hand
on his lips. With the other he handed Matt a note.

“Barb is waiting for you in the gym,” it
read. “I’ll take over Helen’s massage. Brick.”

Grinning, Matt stepped aside, and Brick
slipped into his place.

“Matt?” Helen’s voice sounded tired.

“Hmmm?” Brick said.

“Use some more oil. My skin feels dry.”

As Brick reached for the oil, Matt slipped
through the door. Brick warmed the oil in his palms, then flattened
them on Helen’s back. She flexed her shoulders and made soft
humming sounds of satisfaction.

In slow, sweeping movements, Brick worked the
oil into her skin.

“Hmmm. Good,” she said. “I like that
touch.”

All the things Brick had meant to say flew
out of his mind. He moved his hands along the length of her back
How long had it been since he’d touched her naked back? How long
since he’d felt her smooth, silken skin ripple beneath his
fingertips?

He caressed her once more, his hands molding
the tiny, supple waist, the flared hips, then back up to her
shoulders and down her arms. He was tempted to flatten his hands
over hers, to lace their fingers together as they used to do when
they were making love.

Not yet.
He wasn’t quite ready to
reveal himself. Selfishly he wanted to continue caressing her naked
skin.

“What’s gotten into you, Matt?” She never
lifted her head, but kept her face in her crossed arms. She sounded
relaxed, almost sleepy.

“Hmmm?”

“Usually you’re pummeling my back as if I
were a punching bag.”

“Relax.” Brick had done enough voice
imitations in his career to be able to sound somewhat like
Matt.

“Not that I’m complaining.” Helen arched her
back and stretched like a kitten. “It feels wonderful... almost
erotic.” Her laughter was low and throaty. “Nothing personal, you
understand.”

“Nothing personal.”

Ah, but it was. It was the most personal
thing he’d felt in a long, long time. Caressing her was erotic,
nostalgic.

He realized how very much he had missed
Helen. Their love was magical, special. What had happened to take
it all away? How had they lost it?

As he stood at the table massaging Helen, he
realized how very fragile love was. They hadn’t handled it with
care. Sure, she had been the one to walk away, but part of the
blame lay with him. Somehow he had failed her. Somehow he had not
given her enough assurances that their love was permanent, that he
wouldn’t leave her at the first sign of trouble... or the second or
the third. That, in fact, he would never leave her. He had been so
absorbed in loving her that he had failed to
know
her, to
understand her fears.

His hands slid down the center of her back.
She made soft murmuring sounds of pleasure.

What if he failed her again?

The thought was sobering. If he stayed in
this quiet room to tell Helen the truth of his deception, then he
must be prepared to take the next step, and the next, to woo her
and win... and risk losing her all over again.

Sweat popped out on his brow. There were no
dress rehearsals for life, no repeat performances.

“Helen...”

She stiffened, then jerked her head around.
Her skin flushed a deep rose.

“How dare you...”

“Helen, this is not what it looks like.”

“Get out.”

“I have to talk to you.”

She sat up, pulling the towel around her.
“Leave. Now.” She started getting off the table.

“Helen, wait. Please.”

She hesitated, slowly pulled the turban off
her head, and shook out her hair. As she often did when she was
upset, she massaged her temples with her fingertips, then ran her
fingers through her hair. It tumbled about her shoulders in
enchanting disarray.

Brick wanted to reach out, to touch her
cheek, her hair. Instead, he waited. If he told the truth to an
unwilling audience, all was lost.

Crossing her legs, she sighed. He knew he had
won the first battle.

“All right,” she said. “Say whatever it is
that you came in here to say. But you must know this: I don’t
really care what you have to say, Brick. As far as I’m concerned,
you’re wasting your breath.”

“That’s a chance I have to take.”

“Fine. Just so we understand each other.”

She tipped her head to one side, waiting, and
suddenly he realized that he had no idea where to start.

“This is not going to be as easy as I’d
thought.”

“Nothing ever is, is it?”

“No, Helen. Nothing is ever easy.”

Restless, he prowled to the other side of the
room, turning his back on Helen so he wouldn’t be distracted by the
sight of her wearing nothing but a towel. She waited quietly.

That had always been one of her good
qualities, the ability to be still. She didn’t have the nervous
need of some women to fill every small silence with meaningless
chatter.

Coward. Tell her
.

He rammed his hands into his pockets and
turned back to her. She hadn’t moved.

“I have no fiancee, Helen.”

“You’ve broken up with Barb?”

“No. There never was anything to break
up.”

“I’m leaving.” Helen got to her feet. “I have
no intention of sitting here in a towel, listening to your tales of
romantic misfortune.”

He couldn’t have made a bigger mess if he’d
tried.

“Helen...” He caught her shoulders. “Please
don’t go yet. I’m telling the truth badly.”

“I hope you don’t intend to keep me here by
force.” She looked pointedly at his hands on her shoulders.