Falling Star (10 page)

And it had to work. She'd put herself
squarely on the line, daring Scoppio to watch, like a diver
executing a triple gainer from the three-meter board. She couldn't
afford to hit concrete.

The grandfather clock on the landing struck
the hour. Eight melodious Westminster chimes. Followed by the
doorbell.

Geoff, right on time. Damn! She hadn't
planned to get all dolled up but hardly intended to dine in sweats,
either. Especially when her agent had gone out of his way to take
her out for a celebratory birthday dinner on a Saturday night.

She headed downstairs in her bare feet. She
didn't really want to go, which was why she hadn't changed yet. It
was a pity dinner, she knew full well, for her husband dumping her
just before she turned forty. No doubt Geoff didn't want to go
either, but felt compelled. People got themselves into such
extraordinary binds trying to be civil.

*

Geoff heard Natalie talking even as she
pulled open her front door. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She
stepped back and swept him inside with her arm. "I can be changed
in three minutes."

He eyed her sweat clothes. "If that's true,
I'll get you on some reality show doing 'Unbelievable Female
Feats.' " No woman he'd ever taken to dinner could go from sweat
clothes to evening dress in less than a half hour. He handed her an
enormous bouquet of yellow tulips, "Do I remember correctly?"

"You do. I love yellow in roses and tulips.
I'm impressed."

He smiled and strolled into the living room
adjacent to the foyer. Not even to Natalie would he admit that he
kept notes on such client preferences.

He spun around to face her. "We have an
eight-thirty table at Four Oaks and I don't want to lose it." He
clapped his hands. "So chop chop."

"Four Oaks! I love it!"

She dashed out and he returned to the foyer
to watch her bound up the stairs two at a time. Despite how this
was essentially a get-points-with-the-client evening, he'd actually
been looking forward to it. Natalie was lively and fun, and knew
the ins and outs of a lot of things. Probably came from working in
news, but wherever she got it, it was entertaining.

He ambled into the study and amused himself
by trolling through the selections on the crammed built-in
bookshelves. Lawrence. James. Hesse. Greene. Serious reading, he
thought, immediately dismissing the notion that any of these
classics belonged to Miles.

Low-life wally.

In short order he heard a noise on the stairs
and spun around.

"You like?" she asked.

He caught his breath. Little black dress.
Strand of pearls. High heels. She was stunning, and as far from her
anchor armor of suit and pancake makeup as he'd ever seen her.
"Very much." He glanced at his watch. "And in twelve minutes."

"Eleven. I couldn't do much with my hair,
though." She fussed with a tendril that cascaded from what looked
to him like a beautifully massed pile. "I was in such a rush."

"You accomplished in haste what most women
can't pull off at leisure."

"There you go being charming again." She
grabbed her keys from the narrow side table in the foyer just as
the grandfather clock chimed the quarter hour. "Eight-fifteen
already," she remarked, then turned to face him. "Geoff, before we
go, let me tell you again how sweet it is of you to take me out for
my birthday. It's really above and beyond."

He nodded, for some reason reluctant to tell
her how much he'd been looking forward to it. "Shall we go?"

He drove the few miles to Four Oaks at his
typical breakneck speed, making the rare concession of keeping the
convertible top up in deference to Natalie's hairdo. As they
arrived, he understood again why she liked the place so much. It
was a rustic white clapboard retreat nestled in Beverly Glen, a
winding canyon road a few miles west of Natalie's own. The simple
exterior was almost hidden by a profusion of shrubbery and oak and
eucalyptus trees. It had little of the glitz of LA's preeminent
eateries, but the heady aromas they encountered at the entrance
gave it away as a diner's paradise.

As Geoff had arranged, and despite their
tardiness, he and Natalie were seated in a cozy room decorated in
French country style. He noted with satisfaction the stir Natalie
created among their fellow diners. Perhaps he had an uphill battle
convincing news directors of her star power. But the viewing public
was clearly won over.

The sommelier appeared instantly with their
chilled Veuve Clicquot. Geoff held up his flute, suddenly awkward.
What was the proper toast?

"To Natalie," he said finally, raising his
glass, "as we celebrate this notable birthday. May the road rise
always to meet you. May the wind be at your back. May the sun shine
warm upon your face, the rain fall soft upon your fields, and until
we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of His hand."

In silence they touched glasses and sipped.
Natalie smiled. "That's lovely. You have to be the only man in LA
who can recite an Irish blessing from memory."

"A product of my classical education. My
parents insisted on it. My father, really." He sipped his
champagne. "But once my father decides something, my mother can't
go along fast enough."

Natalie nodded. "A traditional woman." She
cocked her head and the errant curl again fell loose from its
moorings. "There aren't many of those around anymore."

There's Janet
, he thought, but
remained mum.

"Didn't you tell me that your dad's an
actor?" she asked.

"He is. Ian Marner?"

Natalie shook her head.

"I wouldn't expect you to know him." Geoff
raised a finger to summon a server. "Most Aussies don't even know
the name, though his face is highly recognizable. He's a character
actor, not a star."

The server appeared bearing menus. Natalie
laid hers down unopened. "Is it from your father that you get your
love of the entertainment business?"

"I'm sure it is." Geoff ran his eyes down the
menu. "But his career convinced me that the rewards are more
dependable on the agenting side of the business."

"Why didn't you stay in Australia and become
an agent there?"

He stared at the menu, torn between the pink
dourade and the halibut. "I like being at the center of the action.
And Sydney's a long way from Hollywood."

Natalie laughed. "Not for Australians!"

"Nats, you're not exactly on solid ground
here." He laid down his menu. "Would you give up LA for
Lubbock?"

"No way. Touche." She laughed and raised her
flute to his.

The server reappeared to take their orders,
then glided away.

"So," Geoff said, "let's turn the tables and
probe
your
family history. I know almost none of it, despite
how long I've known you." It was true. Natalie was an enigma to
him. Unlike most of his clients, especially the women, she shared
little of herself, as if she considered even minor revelations
somehow threatening. "Come on." He topped off her champagne. "Tell
me about your mother." And at that he watched her face soften.

"She was kind. Gentle. She smelled good. She
laughed a lot. I can still hear her laugh." Natalie fell silent,
then shook her head. "I remember her in faded pastel
housedresses."

"She passed away?"

Natalie didn't meet his eyes. "She died when
I was seven. Of cervical cancer."

He watched pain wash over her face as she
seemed, for a moment, lost in the past. It was the first he'd ever
thought of Natalie as a bit of a wounded bird. "Did your father
remarry?"

She gave a bitter laugh. "Sure did. He moved
fast. It took him no time at all."

"Did you eventually get close to your
stepmom?"

"Not really. In the beginning I hated her.
Eventually I came to understand that she was just young." Natalie's
eyes, clouded with hurt, met his. "She was 21 when she married my
father. He was 36. No wonder she didn't want to deal with a kid by
his first wife." She shook her head, "Her I could probably forgive.
But my father—" Her jaw set. "I never forgave him for the way he
shunted me aside. Never."

Forgave him
. Past tense. So her father
was dead as well. Geoff frowned. No surviving parents. No siblings.
And her husband had left her for another woman.

Geoff didn't see much of his family. But he
could if he got to Australia more often, or flew them out. She
didn't have that option.

For a moment Geoff ignored that Natalie was a
client. He reached across the linen-draped table and took her hand.
She met his eyes, her own big and blue and no doubt much as they
had been when she was seven years old and lost her mother.

He spoke carefully. "You've done wonders with
your life, Natalie. You should be very proud of how far you've
come, all on your own."

"Right." She pulled back her hand. "All on my
own."

Geoff was parsing that remark when the server
reappeared with their first course. He watched her observe the
complex proceedings that for some reason surrounded the serving of
pumpkin soup, seeming to use the interruption to regain the
thirty-odd years that separated her girlhood from the present.

This probably explains why she married
Miles,
he thought. He'd never understood her attraction to such
an obvious poseur. But perhaps she'd simply found an older,
ostensibly dependable man highly desirable. A father figure.

All at once Natalie paled, her eyes drawn to
a commotion at the maitre d's post. "Oh, my God." Her hand flew to
her throat. "I don't believe it."

Geoff followed her gaze and his heart
sank.

"Miles," Natalie whispered. "With that . . .
woman
." Her face twisted as if she were in physical pain.
"We used to come here all the time. And now he's coming here with
her
."

At that precise instant Miles's eyebrows flew
up. Clearly he'd seen them. A beat later the blonde on Miles's arm
turned in Geoff's direction.
Uh oh
. This evening was going
downhill fast What was her name? Liza? No, no. Suzy.

The restaurant seemed to hush as the pair
neared their table, Miles guiding Suzy with a hand on her naked
back.

"Miles." Geoff rose but desisted from
offering his hand. He nodded at Suzy, then moved behind Natalie's
chair, as if joining forces with her. She looked stricken.

Miles snarled at his wife. "I don't
appreciate your vandalizing my home."

She flushed. "And
I
don't appreciate
your lying about our prenup, then stealing my only copy."

"That's one hell of an accusation." Miles
raised his voice. "Where's your proof?"

"That's enough." By now they were the
restaurant's main attraction. "This is neither the time nor the
place."

Suzy tried to pull Miles away. "Please,
honey, let's go," she whispered.

"Thank you, Suzy," Geoff said, only to have
Natalie whirl on him, shock and anger in her eyes.

"You
know
her?"

The maitre d' approached, clearly flummoxed.
"Is everything all right here?"

Natalie stood and threw down her napkin. "No,
it's not. I'm leaving." Without a backward glance she marched out,
every eye fixed on her until she cleared the restaurant.

"I'd like the check, please," Geoff informed
the maitre d', who scuttled away at top speed.

Miles made a move to guide Suzy away. "You
need your head examined to stay hooked up with her."

"Just know this, Miles." Geoff kept his voice
low. "If you really did steal that prenup, there'll be hell to
pay." He nodded at Suzy and strode out, adding a sizable tip to the
bill at the door.

Natalie was already seated in the Jag when he
emerged. All evidence of the softer woman he'd glimpsed earlier had
vanished.

"Thank you for getting out here so quickly,
Geoff," she said stiffly. "I'm sorry our dinner had to end this
way. I know this isn't how you wanted to spend your evening."

Geoff said nothing as he made the left from
the restaurant's gravel lot onto Beverly Glen. Natalie was right—he
was disappointed. And angry at Miles for being such an ass.

He drove swiftly along the narrow canyon
road, so closely bordered by shrubbery that it repeatedly slapped
the car as they sped past. Eventually his curiosity won over. "So
just what did you do to Miles's house when you found out he stole
the prenup?"

"I broke the windows."

"You did what?"

"I broke the windows. Most of them, anyway.
It's not much work when you're sufficiently inspired."

He was surprised. And slightly admiring. "How
did you find out he stole it?"

"My only copy was missing from the
safe-deposit box. He stole the key to that, too." She gave a
brittle, mirthless laugh. "I have been such an idiot."

Geoff could hear the pain beneath the anger.
There was a lot more story there, obviously. But now she was closed
up and turned away, resolutely staring out the passenger
window.

Moments later she surprised him by speaking
again. "Geoff, I want to apologize for snapping at you over"— she
paused—"Suzy."

"Apology accepted." He'd met Suzy at a
Hollywood party a few years back and taken her out. Slept with her,
too, of course, then bid her as hasty a farewell as he'd been able
to manage. He couldn't believe Miles had left Natalie for Suzy.
There had to be more to that story, too.

Natalie's next words came in an add murmur.
"He lied about that, too, the bastard. He told me it was over."

They rode in silence the last mile to her
home. Geoff pulled over beneath the towering palm trees that stood
sentry along that stretch of the canyon and broke the awkward
quiet. "If you want to talk—"

"I don't," she interrupted curtly, then
hastily exited the car. He watched until she was safely inside.