Star Attraction (12 page)

She had no clues as they silently
walked back to the apartment building together, and though Zaira longed to ask
Brad, she knew he probably didn’t want to talk about the film at all just
yet.
 
He was weighing the whole
thing up with a professional eye, and would not be interested in any of her
remarks.
 

Once they were in the apartment
she went straight into the kitchen and put on some cocoa, and silently he sat
down on one of the kitchen stools beside her.
 
She put the steaming mug down in front of him wordlessly,
and sat beside him on the other stool.

To her relief, he took a drink and
finally spoke.
 
“So much beauty,
the light, color, everything.
 
That’s what I’m after.
 
And
the woman, exquisite, the love between them captured so vibrantly,” Brad added
softly.

Zaira looked into his emerald
eyes, and knew she was lost.
 
His
lips came down over hers in a kiss both powerful and soul-shatteringly gentle.
 
He caressed her mouth and forced it
open with his searching tongue.
 
It
was Zaira who finally broke away, covering her mouth with her hand to steady
her nerves.

“I’m sorry Brad, but this isn’t a
good idea.
 
We hardly know each
other, and I'm still married. And you're living here, but we have a project to
work on.
 
I don’t want things
getting too complicated.”

Zaira wondered how she had the
strength of mind to say this when every single nerve-ending in her body was on
fire, but then she was really only taking her cue from him.
 
Hadn’t he said essentially the same
thing to Zoe today?

“You’re right, I apologize.
 
It must have been the film.
 
I’ll see you in the morning,” Brad
said, slamming down his mug, his face inscrutable, and he left her in the
kitchen feeling completely bereft.

Zaira tossed and turned in bed for
ages, her whole mind and body acutely alert to his presence in the room next
door.
 
She knew that in spite of
her words, things had grown impossibly complicated, and she loved him, wanted
to make love with him.
 
However
much she tried to rationalize her feelings, she longed for him with terrifying
intensity which increased with every passing moment.

The next morning Zaira awoke
early, feeling restless.
 
She
decided to have a long bath to soothe her frazzled nerves, and after drying her
hair, she put on her jeans and her best T-shirt, and went into the study to do
some work on her lecture notes.
 
After about an hour, she was satisfied that she had covered all the
topics she would be doing for the next month, and so could concentrate more
fully on
Hamlet
and the screenplay.
 

She was tempted to start more work
on that, but decided Brad would begin to grow suspicious of the speed she was
working at if she kept churning out page after page.
 
Besides, glancing at her watch, she saw it was already ten
o’clock, so he was bound to be up and about soon.
 

Zaira suddenly thought it might be
a special treat to have a full breakfast.
 
She couldn’t remember the last time she had had bacon and eggs, and so
she busied herself in the kitchen, and soon the apartment was filled with the
most delicious aromas.
 

It was enough to awaken the
interest of Brad, who came out of the bedroom toweling his damp hair as she set
the table in the living room.
 
Zaira’s mouth opened in awe at the masculine beauty of his
naked torso, and his long well-muscled legs.
 
With only a pair of boxer shorts on, he was magnificent, and
she longed to run her hands down the smooth chest, with its light sprinkling of
hairs.
 

“Morning!” he said with a
smile.
 
“Something smells
wonderful, though you shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.”
 

“It will be ready soon, so you can
get dressed first,” Zaira hinted.

For once she saw Brad look a
little self-conscious. “Sorry, you’re quite right, I didn’t mean to embarrass
you,” he muttered, backing away.

“Brad, I’m not embarrassed, it was
just a suggestion.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said
with a theatrical flourish and a bow, as he disappeared back into his room.

Soon he reappeared wearing a pair
of khaki slacks and a black shirt.
 
His hair glistened in the sunshine
 
which poured in through the window as he seated himself and drank some
coffee.
 
He had the screenplay in
his hands, and said, “You know, I’m getting really excited about this now.
 
It was only a dream before, but it’s
suddenly become a reality.”

“If you like, we could go around
some of the galleries today looking for props and ideas,” Zaira offered.

Brad shook his head.

“No, today is devoted entirely to
ourselves and to some fun.
 
We're
going to buy some things to make the place more cheerful, and I’ll take you out
to lunch somewhere.
 
Although with
this huge breakfast,” he said, indicating the full plate she placed in front of
him with his fork. “So I think we'd better make that dinner.”

“Well, I should do some work
today,” Zaira stated, trying to get out of the meal invitation.

“No, my dear, today is Sunday, and
besides, I heard you this morning typing away, so you’ve done enough work.
 
Just think of the things you’d like to
get for this place, make a list or something, and as soon as we’re finished
eating, we’ll go on a spending spree.”

They headed down into Greenwich
Village, and looked in many of the galleries and furnishing shops.
 
They had the same taste, bold
geometrical patterns in even bolder colors, and it wasn’t long before their
arms were filled with packages.
 
They got some tapestries, throw covers and cushions for the sofa and
chairs, and a new bedroom set for Brad with matching curtains.
 
They found some wonderful lamps, and
Brad even insisted on buying a few long gypsy skirts for Zaira.

“But when would I wear them?” she
protested.

“Whenever you like, to be more
comfortable.
 
They suit you, with
that flaming auburn hair.
 
You
should wear it down some time,” he suggested.

She felt herself blush crimson.

“Sorry, I’ve stuck my foot in it
again, haven’t I?
 
I know it’s none
of my business.
 
I just wish you
wouldn’t act as if you were over the hill and your whole life was over.
 
You ought to go out and have fun.
You’re not even thirty yet, are you?”

“Yes, that’s true.
 
Maybe you’re right.
 
Thank you for the skirts. I don’t want
to seem ungrateful, I just don’t want my life cluttered with lots of useless
things I don’t really need.”

But Brad paid no attention to her
protests, and in the next shop he bought her a rainbow of blouses to complement
the skirts he had just bought.

They soon realized they would have
to go back to the flat and drop off their purchases if they wanted to go
shopping for any other things, so Brad hailed a taxi and soon they were back in
the apartment.
 

They had a quick cup of coffee,
and headed back out into the bright September sunshine.
 
There were many people milling about
the streets window-shopping. To prevent them from getting separated, Brad tucked
Zaira’s hand into the crook of his arm as they walked along.
 
The gesture seemed so right, so
natural, as did chatting about all the things they saw.
 

Brad spotted a poster shop, and
soon he had picked out several framed impressionist prints, which he asked to
be delivered to the apartment the next day.
 
Zaira was delighted; they were beautiful and she was amazed
at his generosity.
 
He had brought
so little with him from California, that it was obvious he liked to travel
light.
 
It appeared he was intending
to leave everything behind for her when he left.
 

Zaira suddenly grew sad at the
prospect, for leave he would, eventually.
 
She tried to push the grim thought from her mind, but Brad could sense a
change in her mood, and put his arm around her.

“You’ve been overdoing thing,
Zaira, so I’m going to cheer you up.
 
How about an ice cream for starters?”

Zaira tried to point out that they
had had a huge breakfast, but he pulled her gently by the hand into an Italian
ice cream parlour, and ordered her a banana split with three different flavours
of ice cream and tons of whipped cream on top.
 
He had a chocolate sundae with cream, and teased her like a
playful little boy.
 
He dabbed
whipped cream on the end of his nose and tried to lick it off, he pretended he
was going to start a food fight with her, and took tastes of her ice
cream.
 
He dug into his own dish
with the spoon, and insisted on feeding her himself. It was all very amusing
and strangely intimate, and in spite of herself Zaira could not remain aloof
from his charms.
 

“Come now, you're being silly,”
she scolded, but broke into another fit of giggles as Brad made faces at her
and said, “Do you want to see me wiggle my ears?”

She shook her head, and they stood
up and walked out into the blazing sunshine again.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad,
was it?”

“The ice cream was lovely,” Zaira
answered honestly.

Brad said, “No, I meant enjoying
yourself, having fun, laughing.”

She looked up into his eyes, and
saw his emerald green ones gazing down at her with an intensity that made her
shiver in spite of the scorching sun on her skin.

“But Brad, you're not going to be
here forever to cheer me up.
 
I
have to get by the best way I can, on my own.
 
It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do,
but the worst thing in the world would be for me to come to rely on your—your
friendship,” she said, struggling for the right words.
 
“Otherwise I might wake up one morning
cold and alone just like before, and I don’t want that to ever happen again.”

Zaira walked on ahead of him, and
it was some time before he caught her up, she had stormed away so rapidly.
 
She hoped he couldn’t see the tears
glistening behind her glasses.
 
She
loved him, wanted him so badly, yet she could not allow herself to trust
him.
 
He had someone else, and
lived three thousand miles away in a world light years beyond her own.

Brad put his hand on her shoulder,
but she shrugged it off, and when he called her name, she refused to look at
him.
 
In truth Zaira couldn’t bear
to, for she was afraid she might weep, or expose her longing.

“Zaira, will you please stop
running away!
 
Give me a chance at
least!
 
Don’t make me out to be a
monster when I’m not.
 
Maybe I’ve
gone too fast for you, but I’m so used to getting my own way.”
 
He held her by the shoulders and shook
her gently.
 
“You and I are
friends, if nothing else, and I would want that to continue no matter where in
the world either of us are.”

Brad cupped her chin and forced
her to look up at him. He could see the fear in her eyes.
 
He tried to find the words to tell her
part of what he felt in an honest way.
 

“Look, I’ve never been one for
serious relationships, so the words don’t come easy.
 
I can’t really talk about how I feel.
 
All I know is, I want you more than any
woman I’ve ever met, and if you’re frightened, just try to stop and think for a
moment about how I feel.”
 

Brad paused briefly to take a deep
breath, and declared, “Absolutely terrified would be an understatement.
 
I’m confused.
 
Since coming to New York, I feel as though I'm on a
rollercoaster of emotions, and I don’t always do or say the right thing for
everyone concerned.
 
But I
understand how you feel, and I won’t push you.
 
You know where to find me if you want me.”

Brad kissed her full on the mouth,
and she felt the sensation flow through her with all the force of a
waterfall.
 
Zaira clung to him
desperately, trying to get a grip on her shaking world.
 
But soon they became aware of people
passing by, with some even whistling and shouting, "Get a room!" and
so he let her go with a laugh, and said huskily,
 
“Supermarket?”