Lovers and Liars (45 page)

“Do you still love him?”

She sighed. Her gaze was level and luminous. “I’m trying, Peter, to put my infatuation behind me. It’s hard.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” he said.

She grilled salmon steaks for them while he kept her company in the kitchen. He enjoyed watching her. Conversation was casual, a touch stilted at first, and Peter knew Melody was embarrassed about having told him such intimate things. He told a few funny stories, and soon had her smiling. He departed early.

At the door she stood poised, waiting, so he kissed her—nothing all-out, just light and short. To his surprise, she pressed against him, her arms going around his neck, returning his kiss and deepening it. He had to remember that she was in love with Jack, and he was damned if he was going to be a surrogate.

“I’ll call you soon,” he said, and she smiled.

She was smiling even more when she had closed the door and he was gone.

A smile of triumph.

Were all men such fools?

She thought of The Plan and positively tingled.

85

F
inding out where she lived was easy—she was listed.

He never chased broads. Ever. But this was different. So he was chasing her all the way to Laguna Beach.

Belinda did not have a chance in hell. Not when he was determined, not when he was going to pour on his charm and keep pouring it on, until she fell madly in love with him.

He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait for the day when he would be face-to-face with Glassman. Couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face. Maybe he would say: “Aren’t you going to welcome me into the family?”

Glassman would look at him blankly.

Jack would laugh. “Your daughter and I were married last night.”

Triumph.

Revenge.

He could taste it, and it was sweet.

86

H
e was the last person she was expecting.

Belinda opened the door and felt a tide of hot, threatening emotion. He looked so good. He had come to see her. She was glad, damn glad. “Jack.” He didn’t smile. “Hi.”

All her protective defense mechanisms came surging back. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re not giving me a chance,” Jack said intensely. “It’s not fair.”

She felt herself weaken and instantly dammed up the softness. “I don’t have to be fair, Jack.”

“It’s cold out—it’s about to rain. May I come in?”

It was cold out, just her luck—as if even the weather were conspiring against her. She stepped silently aside. Jack moved past her, and Belinda slammed the door harder than she’d intended. When she turned to face him he was smiling tentatively, looking unsure. Sober. She had never been more nervous in her life.

“How about some coffee?” Jack said.

“Fine.” She felt him following her into the kitchen. What did he want? God, how was she going to handle this? “I only have instant.”

“That’s okay. You have a nice place here.”

She shot him a glance to see if he meant it, and he seemed sincere. He also seemed hesitant, maybe nervous too. “Thanks. Is black okay? I’m out of milk.”

“Black’s fine,” Jack said, standing just behind her as she put on the kettle. When she turned she was almost in his arms, uncomfortably close, but he didn’t do the polite thing. He didn’t step back. She brushed hair out of her face. This is ridiculous, she thought. To be so nervous. To fight to be cold. When I really don’t want to be cold at all … just the opposite. Inside, she could feel a stirring of arousal.

“Belinda,” Jack said, taking her by the shoulders.

She tensed.

“I’m sorry for flying off the handle in Aspen. For the name-calling. I didn’t mean it.”

She heard herself say, “I know.” She was very conscious of his hands on her.

“I wanted to spend the whole weekend with you.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m not used to getting jilted—it doesn’t happen too often.”

“I’ll bet it never happens.” She smiled slightly, relaxing a little.

“Not in a while,” he said modestly. “I guess I’m a bit spoiled.”

“A bit,” she agreed. She returned his gaze, then found herself looking at his mouth. Oh, damn, she thought, he’s going to kiss me. “I shouldn’t have sneaked out like that,” she said breathlessly, watching his lips part. He leaned closer.

“No,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t have. Can’t we start over?”

“Jack.” A feeble protest.

His face was very close. “Just give me a chance. I’m not the bastard you think I am. You don’t even know me. It’s not fair to judge me based on bad press.”

It wasn’t fair, and she knew it. She closed her eyes. His mouth touched hers—soft and fragile, brushing. His hands slid to her shoulder blades, but he didn’t press her against him. They looked at each other.

“Dinner? Tonight?” He kissed her again, this time more deeply. “Tonight at seven?”

“I don’t want to complicate my life,” she said.

He suddenly grinned and threw a glance at the ceiling. “Only you, Belinda, would call me a complication. You do know, lady, that you have a way with words?”

“If I didn’t, I’d be in trouble.”

“Not with me you wouldn’t. Never with me. I’ll pick you up.”

She hesitated only a moment more. “All right.”

They kissed again.

Later, after he was gone, she stared out at her driveway. What am I doing? she thought in desperation. She could feel it coming—the big plunge.

87

N
ancy sat very still in Belinda’s vast living room. From Belinda’s study came the rapid-fire, staccato typing sounding, a constant background noise. Nancy leaned forward to pick up her Scotch. She drained it and got up to make another one.

She felt sick and frightened inside.

What had
he
been doing here?

She would probably have met him face-to-face if she hadn’t seen him approaching the front door and recognized him immediately. She had fled to her bedroom in horror and hatred and cowered there, unable to think.

The man responsible for her life’s ruin. Jack Ford.

Once he had been her lover.

And now she hated him.

God, did she hate him!

Jack Ford had ruined her marriage. Her life. It was as simple as that. He had been the pivotal element. Had he not been there that summer, none of it would have happened—her betrayal of Abe, his anger, his turning away from her. The miscarriage of their son—which Abe had never forgiven her for. And he had lied. He hadn’t loved her. He had only used her. If he had loved her, he would have come to her when she’d needed him, after Abe found out and she miscarried. And now the man she most wanted to have never existed was somehow involved with her daughter.

Oh, God.

If it was a coincidence, it was too horrible and ironic.

If it wasn’t a coincidence—and how could it be?—what did he want? Money? Or was his interest in Belinda somehow tied in to the screenplay she had sold, the one he was going to star in? Nancy knew about Abe’s takeover of
North-Star and very clearly recalled that the studio had been the one to buy Belinda’s screenplay for Ford. Everything was connected—somehow. Something terrible was happening—she knew it with a mother’s eerie intuition. She could feel it.

She wanted to protect her daughter.

And now, when she thought of Belinda with him, she felt sick, about to vomit. She couldn’t let this go any farther.

From outside the kitchen she had eavesdropped, barely able to breathe, on their brief conversation before he had left. Jack had been charming. She could hear a note of defiant belligerence in her daughter’s tone. It increased her horror. This was not a first time for them. They had seen each other before. Their emotions were too complex, too developed—she had to do something.

She could not let Belinda see that man tonight.

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