A Week at the Lake (26 page)

She had invited Serena and Mackenzie to the lake this summer, finally prepared to confess the secret she'd spent more than a decade trying to hide and the last five years trying to bury. More importantly she had chosen this summer for a
reason
. A reason that her recent accident and coma only made more urgent. But which also made the idea of asking them to forgive the unforgiveable even more impossible.

S
erena pretty much floated to the studio that morning, her smile too large, her heart too full, her feet way too far off the ground. She stunned Catherine by presenting her with the two beignets she'd picked up in Grand Central; her stomach had been fluttering too hard to even consider eating them. She startled Wes, whose last name she seemed to have momentarily forgotten in the middle of a PDA in the hallway with his new squeeze Lauri Strauss, whose name she hadn't, and sent them a cheery wave.

“Isn't it an absolutely gorgeous day?” Serena beamed at Ethan as he stepped out of his office.

“It is.” Ethan cocked his head to study her face, unruly brown hair falling over one twinkling eye. “And so are you. I don't think I've ever seen you look more beautiful.” He said this quite gallantly.

“Thank you ever so much, darling,” she answered in regal leading-lady style. And then rather than allow him to kiss her hand as a regal leading lady might, she threw her arms around him and hugged him because she wanted, actually needed, to share her happiness. At the moment she was just a great big hunk a hunk of burnin' love.

“Did you have something done?” The younger actress's eyes had narrowed.

Serena just arched one brow mysteriously. She was far too full of good will to cheapen what had happened with Brooks by revealing that the only thing she'd had “done” was herself.
But she wasn't necessarily so full as to completely ignore Lauri's comment. “No, I haven't,” she said sweetly. “But if you'd like to step up from whatever bargain basement plastic surgeon gave you those unfortunately oversized breasts, I'm sure we can find you someone who can make more of those few assets you do have.” She waited for the girl to register the insult then added, “Maybe Wes would like to contribute to the cause.”

Lauri huffed off. Wes made no comment.

“Clearly you're in fine Georgia Goodbody form,” Ethan said, struggling to contain a grin. “Are you ready to record?”

“I am.” Serena practically pirouetted.

“Wes?” Ethan asked.

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Wes followed her into the studio and set his script on his stand. Serena did the same at hers. As the engineer set their levels, she contemplated the actor and wondered how she could have imagined herself interested in such an appallingly uninteresting man. She skimmed the script and scribbled notes and accent points as the playback was cued up. She felt like someone who'd finally finished slogging through a swamp and reached dry land. Everything was crisper, cleaner.
Clearer.

She hadn't meant to sleep with Brooks. At least not until she'd been certain of his sincerity, but the thunderstorm had made that decision for her. And she was glad. Knowing that Brooks had been thinking about her all these years. That he'd regretted what he'd given up and been eager to know the woman he'd been missing had made the act so much sweeter. She felt a satisfied smile lift her lips and made no attempt to hide it. Making love with Brooks Anderson, having the real thing after all those imitations, was like consuming a gallon of Häagen-Dazs after single-serving cups of fat-free yogurt.

She and Georgia were on fire. Serena nailed each take on the first attempt and then watched Wes try to keep up with her. She enjoyed herself immensely as she delivered the
put-downs Ethan and his writing staff had provided her with, an appreciation she had lost track of somewhere along the way.

“When was the last time I told you how completely talented I think you are and how grateful I am to be playing Georgia Goodbody?” she asked Ethan after he'd complimented her on her performance and escorted her out to the lobby.

He blinked.

“Please tell me the answer isn't never.”

“Okay, it's not exactly never.”

“But not often enough,” she apologized. She'd lost sight of her good fortune when it had finally sunk in that playing a cartoon character was what she was likely to be most remembered for. “I hope you also realize how much I appreciate the diversion you created when we snuck Emma out of the hospital, the gifts you've sent, and the flexibility you've given me so that I could be at the lake with her. You are quite simply phenomenal.”

His smile of surprise turned quickly to pleasure. His brown eyes shone with a warmth that she realized she'd come to take for granted. He so often gave, but never asked anything in return. Their shoulders rubbed slightly as they moved toward the door.

“I've been working on a plotline for Zoe,” Ethan said. “Maybe we could work in her scenes with you while she and Emma are still on the East Coast.”

“Oh, God, she'll be over the moon. She's already half in love with you and this will seal the deal,” Serena said.

“Good.” He gave her a wink. “I can use all the adoration I can get.”

“But we'll have to get around Emma. She's not exactly a fan of child stardom.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Ethan replied. “Let's see what we can work out that will put her at ease.”

“You are one of the most understanding men I've ever met.”

Ethan's eyes lit with more than pleasure. He was looking at her in a way she'd never let herself notice before.

“I hope I was clear about how much I appreciate the opportunity you've given me. I've been way too focused on what I didn't have rather than what I do.”

“It's an easy thing to do,” Ethan said, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. He shifted his weight on his sneakered feet and she could feel him weighing his next words. “I'd be interested in hearing what's opened your eyes. Can I take you to lunch before you head back up to the lake?”

Before he'd finished issuing the invitation, the door opened and Brooks stepped in. Serena felt her lips tip into a smile as she noted how great he looked in the Armani suit, crisp white shirt, and newly polished dress shoes. A slim black leather briefcase dangled from one manicured hand. The smile he directed at her caused her heart to lurch.

“Ethan, I want you to meet Brooks Anderson. Brooks, Ethan Miller, my brilliant director and good friend.” She watched as the two shook hands and exchanged pleasant noncommittal smiles.

“Brooks had already invited me to lunch,” she said, unable to cut back the smile she felt stretching across her face. “He's up on business from Charleston. Our families have known each other forever.”

Ethan's face had gone carefully blank. His eyes dropped to Brooks's left hand. She happened to know Brooks's ring finger carried an unmistakable white circle from the years spent wearing a wedding band.

“You're welcome to join us,” Brooks said to Ethan as the handshake ended. Serena startled slightly in surprise.

“No, thanks.” Ethan's smile remained but his eyes were more shuttered than she'd ever seen them. “I wouldn't want to intrude. I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Okay,” she said, pecking Ethan on the cheek, careful not
to meet his eyes or show her relief that he wouldn't be joining them when her time with Brooks was so limited. “I'll take a rain check then.” And then she walked out through the door that Brooks held open for her, her feet never touching the sidewalk.

“Where to?” Brooks asked as he first hugged her then slung an arm around her shoulders. “I didn't have time for breakfast. Some hussy kept me up all night and then I had to get back to this side of town this morning for a meeting. I'm famished.”

“Me too,” she said, a happy shiver running up her spine. “Does your hotel have a restaurant?”

“I'm pretty sure the Four Seasons must have a coffee shop or something,” he teased as he leaned down to brush a kiss to her ear.

This time the shiver ran deeper.

“And I think it just might have room service, too.”

N
adia returned from her day off oddly subdued. Arriving just as Bob Fortson was packing up, she did not wave at Zoe out on the swim platform and barely nodded to the physical therapist she would normally have slapped on the back and grilled for details on Emma's progress. She approached the steps slowly, moving carefully. Each step was first assessed and then taken as if great effort were required.

“Mornink.” Her voice was a shadow of its normal heartiness. Her eyes were concealed behind dark sunglasses. Her entire body drooped.

“Good morning.” Emma watched the nurse with interest. Emma had slept badly, her dreams filled with her refound knowledge and a dream in which she'd argued with Gran about what should and shouldn't be said to the people you considered your closest friends. “What happened?”

The nurse raised her head but did not remove her sunglasses. “I am become weak-link. Too soft. Ashamed behavior.”

Mackenzie came out onto the porch with a pitcher of lemonade and took in the nurse's long face. “Morning,” she said to Nadia as she refilled Emma's glass. “You look like you could use . . . something.”

“Sit down,” Emma said to the nurse, who surprised her again by doing as instructed.

Mackenzie came back with a tall glass of water and two aspirin. They waited as the nurse downed them. She was almost relieved that Serena had stayed in the city an extra day. In her head she could hear Georgia Goodbody's voice pointing out that Nadia Kochenkov looked like she'd been “rode hard and put up wet.”

“What happened?” Mackenzie asked.

Nadia downed most of the glass of water before setting it aside. She squared her formidable shoulders but her normal bluster was missing. “Always I see man I like, I take. I strong woman. Is good be strong.”

Emma and Mackenzie nodded, though Emma didn't think Mackenzie had any more idea where this conversation was headed than she did.

“I arm-wrestle. I win. I do drink contest. I used drink vodka in my mother milk, so I win.” Nadia's voice had dropped. “Always, I win.”

“But you didn't win this time?” Emma asked.

Nadia shook her head sadly. “Nyet.”

“So you came up against someone who can drink more or arm-wrestle better,” Mackenzie said with a shrug. “It's not the end of the world.”

“Is to me. I not meet man who can beat me.”

“I think we're missing something here,” Emma said as she and Mackenzie studied the nurse.

“Clearly,” Mackenzie agreed.

Nadia sighed. “I meet Edmund like arrange. At bar. I stronger. Better drinker. But I lose to him in arm wrestle
and
number of vodka we consume.”

“And Edmund didn't like that?” Emma ventured.

Nadia closed her eyes as if in pain. “Oh, no. He like it. Like Nadia. Make love to me all night long. And I not even give one single direction.” Nadia's lips twisted. “Even though I think he maybe do better. You know. Find right spot sooner.”

Emma noticed that hers wasn't the only jaw that had dropped. But Nadia's earnest delivery made laughter out of the question.

“So what's the problem?” Emma finally asked. “It can take time to learn what a partner likes in bed.” She tried to eliminate the mental image that had just formed of Nadia directing some man twice her size and/or weight on how he might improve his performance. She, who had experienced long bouts of unintentional celibacy since divorcing Calvin Hardgrove, was the last person who should be offering sexual or dating advice to Nadia Kochenkov. She was careful not to look in Mackenzie's direction even as she wondered how one said “G-spot” in Russian.

“I cheat. Because . . .” The nurse looked completely miserable now. “Because I lose on purpose.”

Emma felt a muscle twitch in her cheek, but managed to stifle her laughter. “You're not the first woman to try to boost a man's ego.”

“It's true.” Mackenzie was biting her lip. “Big, muscular, macho men don't easily recover from losing tests of strength to women.”

“But Edmund not like that,” Nadia protested. “Not big macho guy.” She looked up at them now, her own face awash in disbelief. “Edmund different from all men before.”