Beauty and the Brain (29 page)

“What do you mean by that?”

“What do I mean? Well—” George appeared
confused. “I meant what I said. She’s smart. Intelligent. Brainy.”
He is eyes narrowed, and he squinted at his brother. “In fact, she
might even be a little smarter than you, because got the whole
world fooled into believing that she’s not smart at all.”

He nodded at Brenda’s table. “I mean, look
at her. She’s over there, laughing and joking and playing slapjack
as if she didn’t have a brain in her head. But she must be smart,
because she’s been at the top of her profession almost since the
day she started, and Martin told me she plans to retire soon.
Retire!” George shook his head in wonder. “Can you imagine it? She
can’t be much older than I am, and she’s going to retire, and I
haven’t even begun to work yet!”

It was on the tip of Colin’s tongue to say
something snide about his brother’s choosing to drop out of
college, and how that might retard his ambition for retirement, but
he didn’t do it and was pleased with himself. It occurred to him
that perhaps this sort of restraint was what George meant when he
referred to “turning human.” He sighed heavily. Here was something
else to ponder in his idle moments.

A bellboy came into the bar, looking around
as if he were searching for someone. George saw him and jumped up
from the table. “That must be my call.” He hurried over to the boy,
who confirmed his assumption, and George went out to the telephone
room.

Slowly, Colin rose and followed him. This
would be a test of his brother’s suppositions about human behavior
as opposed to his own beliefs, which had been based on serious and
prolonged study. If his parents were happy to hear from him and
Colin would probably be able to discern fake happiness from the
real thing, even if he wasn’t the most perceptive man in the
world—then he’d have to give George a point for astuteness.

He still didn’t understand it. It would be
much easier on him if his assumptions about instincts governing
behavior carried over into the human species from the rest of the
animal kingdom. Life got so confusing when you couldn’t rely on
instincts. Or education. What good was all of his book-learning if
it couldn’t even get him into bed with the woman he wanted?

Of course, he’d had no reason even to
consider instinct versus learned behavior until he’d met Brenda.
She was certainly a predicament in his life. Not unlike a
complicated problem in algebra, with several unknowns to solve.
Bother. He wished they were both dogs; it would make everything so
much simpler.

On that dismal note, he entered the
telephone room, where George had already launched into an
explanation to their parents about how he’d ended up in California
when they’d believed him to be in Pennsylvania.

Although she hid it beautifully, and only
because she’d learned her craft well, Brenda’s attention was
focused almost entirely on Colin after they entered the bar. She
wanted to punish him for taking liberties with her person, so she
chose to sit with some of the. Peerless crew at a table apart from
the one Colin chose, but she never lost track of him

The bastard didn’t seem to be suffering
unduly. She had to make a conscious effort not to grind her teeth.
Or heave her root-beer mug at his handsome head. How dare he sit
there and talk to his brother while she sat here playing a jolly
game of cards with other men. He ought to be eaten up with
jealousy, darn him!

She wondered what he and George were
discussing. Colin appeared bemused. George was obviously amused.
She was glad it wasn’t the other way around, or she’d have feared
Colin might be relating his experience in her room, and that would
be mortifying.

Darn, but she wished Colin cared for her.
She knew he wanted to go to bed with her, but she wanted ever so
much more than that. She’d made a vow to herself and to her mother
that she wouldn’t succumb to a man before he offered her marriage.
Colin would be the perfect man for her if only he wasn’t
so—well—imperfect. Actually, the only thing wrong with him was his
lack of a marriage proposal. And human understanding.

Bother. What else was there? Without human
understanding, Colin might as well be a mannequin. An empty shell.
Granted, his was an appealing shell; still, unless there was a
sensitive soul living inside it, it was no good to her.

Well, it might be of some good to her—if she
were a different sort of woman.

Irked with herself, Brenda slapped the table
before a card had been discarded. Chagrined, she shot a grin around
the table. “Sorry, guys. Guess my hand slipped.”

“That’s all right, Brenda,” Gil Drew said.
He smiled at her, a little goo-goo-eyed.

Dear Gil. He was so sweet. Much sweeter than
some men she could mention. Darn and blast Colin Peters for being
such a—such a—such a— She couldn’t think of anything bad enough.
What she wanted was for Colin to possess Gil’s easygoing,
softhearted disposition while, at the same time, retain his
intellectual capacity and interests.

Nothing was ever perfect, darn it all.
Brenda knew she was being selfish to want even more than she
already had, but she’d truly like to be able to fall in love with a
man who would fall in love back. And provide the intellectual
stimulation she’d craved all her life.

It was her terrible misfortune to have met
Colin Peters and fallen for his brain and his body before she knew
what a dreadful person he was. She had a degrading impulse to bury
her head in her arms and burst into tears.

To counter it, she slammed her hand down on
the next jack to appear on the table. Gil had the same impulse a
split second later, and his hand nearly smashed hers flat when it
landed on top of it.

Brenda cried, “Ow!” before she could catch
herself, then felt guilty because Gil looked dismayed.

He leaped to his feet and rushed to her
side. “Brenda! I’m so sorry! Are you all right? Did I hurt you? Oh,
my God, I’m sorry!”

She couldn’t help herself. Gil’s concern was
so absolutely what she craved from Colin that she hugged Gil. “I’m
fine, Gil. Thank you. You didn’t hurt me.”

It was a lie. Her hand stung like fire. But
it felt so good to be hugging a man, even if Gil didn’t half
measure, up to Colin, that she continued to hug him even after she
knew she shouldn’t any longer. She was glad she’d given in to her
affectionate impulse when she saw Colin walk back into the bar,
catch sight of her in Gil’s arms, wheel about instantly, and leave
the bar.

Good. She hoped he was as jealous as all
get-out.

Unfortunately, Gil seemed to have
misinterpreted her embrace. His was getting a little heated. She
gently disengaged herself from his arms. He’d started breathing
heavily and was sort of red-faced. When she glanced at the others
at the table, they were looking as if they wanted to be elsewhere.
Oh, dear. She hoped she hadn’t given Gil a mistaken idea of her own
feelings in order to irritate Colin.

Lord, but life could get complicated
sometimes. It had been much easier before she’d met Colin. Darn him
In an effort to make light of the situation and, with luck, diffuse
any misinterpretations Gil might have placed on her actions, Brenda
said, “I’m sorry, Gil. I didn’t mean to squish you.”

He licked his lips. “You didn’t squish me.”
His voice squeaked.

Interesting. When. Colin was aroused, his
voice went low and gravelly. She preferred the gravel to the
squeak. Naturally. With great annoyance, she decided she needed to
have her head examined.

All right. They’d covered that. She’d
apologized. If Gil still didn’t understand, she was sorry, but
there wasn’t much she could do about it here and now Brenda decided
to get back to the game. “Whose turn is it now?”

Ben, Peerless’s first cameraman, cleared his
throat. “Um, I think you slapped the jack first, Brenda.”

“Right.” She sat in a flutter of percale.
“Let’s get at it.” She started turning over cards. Slowly, Gil
returned to his seat. She’d have bet almost anything that he didn’t
want to but would have preferred to hug some more. Too bad. She’d
had enough of men groping her for on evening.

Perhaps not
quite
enough.

“Dang!” she said aloud, so irritated with
her heightened senses that she could happily have ripped them to
bits with her bare hands.

“What’s the matter?” Gil asked, looking
worried.

She smiled at him and lied, barefaced, “Not
a thing, sweetie.” Damn Colin Peters to perdition. He could go
straight to heck and take his darned hands and that other thing of
his with him.

Again, she wanted to cry.

As for Colin, his internal temperature went
from boiling to freezing and back again at least sixteen times
after he left the bar and before he thrust the lodge’s double doors
open so hard they slammed the walls on either side. He stormed
across the porch and down the steps, without the least idea where
he aimed to go.

It didn’t matter. One direction was as good
as any other in his current state of misery.

She was hugging that measly little pipsqueak
of art actor! She was hugging him hard!

Had she hugged Colin, who’d been playing the
mating game by all the rules? No! She’d chosen that little,
arrogant puppy of an actor! An actor, for the love of heaven!

Brenda Fitzpatrick, who had fed him that big
line about being interested in intellectual pursuits, who’d claimed
to be interested in learning all about “the Indians”—whatever “the
Indians” were—had rejected Colin and taken up with that puny
carbuncle of an actor. An actor. Good God. Colin could hardly stand
it.

It took Brenda a long time to shake Gil Drew
off her tail after the slapjack game ended. She even sank to using
subterfuge in order to dodge his attentions.

Smiling sweetly, she fluttered her
eyelashes. “Thank you so much, Gil, but I really don’t feel like
going to dinner quite yet. I’m very tired and think I’ll lie down
for a while.”

Obviously disappointed, Gil said, “Can I
call for you later? I don’t mind waiting.”

Brenda didn’t like to lie, but she knew that
lies were necessary, both professionally and personally, sometimes.
She considered this one of those times. “Thanks, sweetie. I’m going
to eat in my room tonight. This picture’s almost done, and I have
to read some more scripts to see what I want to do next.”

Gil reminded her of a chastised puppy when
his head drooped, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, and he
looked at her with his big, brown, plaintive eyes. His eyes weren’t
nearly as lovely as Colin’s, darn and blast it. Brenda felt an
illogical urge to shriek at the top of her lungs and yank on her
hair, as Martin sometimes did when the stress of picture-making got
to him.

Gil saw her to the door of her room. Brenda
knew he wanted to kiss her, but she made a point of shaking hands
with him She felt like a rat—and it was all Colin’s fault.

Innately honest, she knew that wasn’t the
truth. She’d used Gil because she’d been upset by Colin, and that
wasn’t fair to poor Gil. At the moment, however, she couldn’t drum
up the energy to think about how to take care of the Gil situation.
Her concentration was focused exclusively on Colin. Who didn’t
deserve it, the lout.

She had to be alone to contemplate. If she
couldn’t get away by herself, she feared she’d go nuts. Therefore,
as soon as Gil had shuffled off down the hall, looking discouraged
and making Brenda feel guilty, she put on a dark cloak and some
sturdy walking shoes, tiptoed down the hall in the opposite
direction from the lobby, scuttled down the service stairs, and
exited the Cedar Crest Lodge by the back door. With the hood of her
cloak pulled up over her head to hide her distinctive blond hair,
she hoped she looked relatively anonymous. She didn’t think anyone
saw her as she made her escape. As soon as she’d made her way past
the first few trees, she hung her cloak on a branch because she was
too warm with it on.

A late spring afternoon in the mountains was
enough to brighten anyone’s spirits. Brenda, who was normally happy
and calm, perked up after a very few minutes of walking among the
tall pines and firs, the cedars and sycamores. She loved the scent
of the forest and the small animals that scurried here and there,
busy about their business.

How much less complicated was, say, a
chipmunk’s life from her own. Chipmunks didn’t worry about finding
mates for themselves. They didn’t care if their mates loved them or
were smart or could teach them all about Indians. They didn’t care
about anything but operated on instinct. Relying on instinct made
much more sense: to her in her present chaotic mental state than
the stupid way human beings went about things.

On the other hand, she really didn’t know
for a fact about the chipmunk way of life. For all she knew,
chipmunks went through tortures of unrequited love, just as humans
did.

She decided this train of thought might well
lead to depression, so she discarded it. There were so many
beauties up here in the mountains. Brenda enjoyed Southern
California; she’d been toying with the idea of buying home here and
sending for her mother. No matter what happened, Brenda was
determined to care for her mother.

A scarlet tanager shot out of a tree near
her, and she smiled at it. While she missed the bluebirds of her
home state of New York, she loved the birds up here. Especially
those noisy, squawky blue jays. They had balls, those birds, and
Brenda admired them for it. She had balls, too.

With a frown, she decided having balls was
probably not a very feminine trait. Perhaps she should try to be
less one of the boys and more of a soft, simpering lady.

But then she’d have men falling all over
her. She had enough trouble with that sort of nonsense already.