Her Leading Man (42 page)

Several people turned to stare at her, and Christina
felt her cheeks
flush. Nevertheless, she said, in a
softer, though no less lethal, tone, “Will
you please
quit saying nasty things about everyone, Gran?
Haven’t
you
caused enough trouble for one year? Haven’t
you ever heard that if you can’t say
anything
nice, you should keep your blasted mouth shut?”

Mrs. Mayhew didn’t bother to answer the question
about having caused
trouble. “Of course I’ve heard
it. Never could abide that old saw. It’s trash, is
what
it is,
and I’m surprised you’d sink to the level of
spouting idiotic platitudes,
Christina. I say what I
think, and I don’t mince my words.”

“
What you mean is that you go out of your
way
to
be unpleasant and nasty.”

Her grandmother grinned like the very devil, and
Christina itched to
shake her. She, however, unlike
Gran, had one or two shreds of common
decency in
her, and she knew she couldn’t rough up an old lady.
She could continue
with her tongue-lashing, however,
and she did.

“
If you don
’
t stop
being outrageous this minute,
Gran, I’m going to—to—I don’t know, but I’ll
think
of
something. I always wondered why Grandfather
Mayhew died so young. I’ll bet
dying was the only way
he could get away from you and your vicious
tongue!”

Her grandmother looked at Christina as if she’d
pulled a gun and
shot her through the heart. Christina
could have bitten her own vicious tongue
as soon as
the words hit the air. Pressing a hand over her
eyes,
she
murmured, “I’m sorry, Gran. Please forgive me.
That was unkind.”

Not that she hadn’t meant it, or that the old bag
didn’t deserve
it.

“
Your grandfather,” Mrs. Mayhew said with
cold
deliberation, “was a wonderful man. He was a true
saint. He didn’t
shrink from plain speaking, and neither
do I. If you can’t stand the heat,
Christina Mayhew,
you can stay out of the. kitchen. I never thought
of you as a
lily-livered miss, young lady, but I guess
I was mistaken in you.”

Christina watched, dismayed, as her grandmother
stalked away from
her just as Martin approached. He
greeted Mrs. Mayhew, who muttered
something back
at him, and he was still staring after Gran when he
reached Christina’s
side.

“
What’s the matter with your
grandmother,
Christina? She didn’t even snap at me. And she looks
like she wants to
kill something.”

“
Me,”
Christina said unhappily.

“
You?”
Martin blinked at her.

“
Yes. I
just said something awful to her.”

“
About
time somebody did.”

He smiled at her, but she shook her head, too
disheartened
to be comforted. “No. What I said was
beastly. And even though Gran
can be a dreadful harpy
at times, I shouldn’t have sunk to that level
myself.”

Taking her elbow in a gentle clasp, Martin led her
to a cluster of
chairs. “Come over here, sweetheart.
You can tell me all about it.”

His kindness now, after their big fight earlier in
the
day, made
Christina’s urge to cry intensify
.
She went
with him, though,
glad that he hadn’t completely abandoned her and their
relationship—if they had one.

He settled her in a deep armchair before asking
solicitously, “May I
get you a drink? You look as
though you could use one. Although,” he added,
eyeing
her
with a connoisseur’s appreciation,
“
I
must
say you
look gloriously beautiful at the same time.
Green is definitely your color, what
with your gorgeous
dark hair and green eyes.”

“
Thank you, Martin.” He was such a
genuinely
kin
d man. Martin’s kindness didn’t mask
a sappy nature,
either. He had a strong character, was competent,
intelligent, and
wise to the ways of the world,
as well. He was, in short, perfect, and
Christina
wanted him so much she hurt all over.

He
lifted an eyebrow. “About that drink?”

Ah, yes. She’d forgotten he’d asked. She didn’t like
the taste of
alcohol, but she thought he might be right
about her needing a drink, so she
said, “Yes, thank
you. A Manhattan cocktail would be nice, I
guess.”

“
Be
right back.”

He patted her shoulder and strode off. Christina
realized that, while
he’d praised her appearance, he
hadn’t offered her so much as a kiss on
the cheek,
much less a more intimate embrace. Not that an
embrace
would
have been appropriate in a public forum,
but she felt slighted
anyway.

Chalk it up to female instability, she told herself
glumly. Weren’t
women always suspecting their men of
caring only for appearances and of
ignoring their feelings
and treating them badly? That was the popular
fiction,
anyway. She hated herself for succumbing to it,

Then again, perhaps this was an indication that she
wasn’t so far
removed from the rest of her sex as her
family’s radical beliefs and behavior
had led her to believe.
She wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or
not.

“
Ah,
there you are.”

She looked up, startled, to find Pablo Orozco gazing
down at her like a
hungry hound eyeing a meaty
bone. He was dressed in evening black, and his
white
sling
contrasted dramatically with his clothing and his
olive complexion.
His eyes were warm, and he
looked sort of like he did on the screen when
he
was in
seduction mode. Christina sighed. If there was
anyone she wanted to put up with
less than she did
her grandmother, it was Pablo Orozco while he was
trying to exude sex
appeal.

“
Here I am.” She aimed for a monotone and
did
a
pretty good job of achieving it.

Without her invitation, Orozco sat in the chair next
to her and took up
the hand she’d laid on the arm
of her own chair. She frowned at him, but he
didn’t
release her. Instead, he lifted her hand to his
lips.
She
snatched it back again. “Stop that!”

“
Ah, Christina, you can’t fool me.” His voice
was
a
purr.

“
Bet I could,” she retorted, unwilling even to
acknowledge
his ridiculous enticement tactics. She
didn’t know who was worse: Gran
or Pablo Orozco.
She’d as soon they both fall off the edge of the
world
and
leave her alone, her grandmother at least for a
little while; Orozco
forever.

“
My dear Christina, you needn’t be coy
with me.
I
know you
want
me.” He gestured at her gown as
his gaze raked her from bosom to ankles.
“Why else
would you dress so provocatively?”

“
‘
Provocatively?
’
” She stared at him, unable to
believe
her
ears. She was as neat as a pin and clad in the first
stare of fashion.
But—provocative? Good Lord.

“
You want a man, Christina. A real man. You
want
me, not Martin Tafft. I can give you what you
desire.
What
you need.”

She stood up so
fast, she almost upended her chair.

“
What
? Did you really just say what I just
heard?”

When she saw people turning to look at the two
of them, she sucked
in a breath and clamped her
jaws together. Pablo
gazed
up
at her with those
liquid brown eyes of his just screaming masculine
power. They were
actually lovely eyes, but
since they
were in the face of a disgusting pig, Christina
wasn’t
even
minutely attracted to them.

He laughed. He
laughed
! Christina caught herself
bunching her hands into fists, and
forced them to
relax. She wouldn’t hit him. She wouldn’t behave
like
her
grandmother. She refused. She might be a Mayhew,
but she wasn’t going
to behave badly.

“
What’s
going on here?”

The mild question came from Martin. When
Christina whirled
around, she saw him standing behind
her holding two Manhattan cocktails.
He
wasn’t
looking at her, though. His gaze was trained upon
Pablo, and it wasn’t
welcoming. When she swiveled
her head to see how Pablo was reacting, she
saw
that he
had a
supercilious smile on his face and a
smirk marring his mouth. Her
rage bloomed anew.

Her voice shook when she told Martin, “Pablo has
been making
ridiculous suggestions, Martin.”

“
Are they ridiculous?” Pablo’s voice was as
thick,
rich, and smooth as chocolate pudding.

“
Yes.”
Christina was emphatic.

“
I don’t think Christina wants to talk to you
right
now, Pablo.” Martin, on the other hand, sounded
bland and innocuous,
although his expression still radiated
fury. “And we have a few things to
discuss,
so
if you’ll excuse us . . .?”

Orozco
slithered from his chair as if
his backside
had been greased. Christina watched his fluid movements
with disgust. He was such a bucket of horse manure.

“
Very well,” the actor said. He saluted
Christina
with two fingers, as if acknowledging a secret
between
them.
“We’ll talk later, Christina.”

“
Not if I can help it.” She tried to use the
words
as she would a knife, but they seemed to bounce off
Orozco’s thick hide
like rubber balls as he strolled
off,
seemingly impervious to anything but his
own
ego. She
realized her hands had bunched up again
and that her nails were digging into
her palms.

When Martin touched her gently on the shoulder, she
jumped. “I’m sorry
about Pablo, Christina. Don’t let
him get to you. He only does it because
he’s annoyed
with us both. He wants you to get angry back at him
so he’ll have proved
some kind of point—although,
frankly, I’m not sure what the point might
be.”

She breathed deeply three times before she tried
to answer for fear
she’d shriek if she opened her
mouth too soon. “I’m sure you’re
right.”

“
Here,” Martin went on. “Sit down again. You’ve
had
a
rough few days. Drink your cocktail and try to relax.
She more or less
folded up onto the chair. Her
hand was shaking when she reached for her
drink,
so she
lowered it to her lap. She bowed her head,
too, because suddenly her emotions
threatened to
overwhelm her.

Darn it,
why was all this happening to her?

Martin’s warm hand on her shoulder made her lift
her head again.
“What’s the matter, darling?”

He’d called her “darling.” Christina felt tears fill
her eyes, and she
blinked them back, determined not
to be a weeping lily. “I’m not sure,
Martin. I guess
things are
. . .
piling up on me or
something.”

He nodded, his expression conveying abundant
sympathy. “I
understand. It’s been a busy few da
ys
and
not exactly full of fun and joy. If you’re worried
about your arrest,
though, please don’t. Everything
regarding that incident will be taken care
of. You
won’t
need to go near the courthouse again.” His
smile tilted. “I know you don’t
approve, but at least
you’ll be spared a good deal of
bother.”