The Spiral Path (19 page)

Wishing
she hadn't seen that smile, she darted into her room as he continued down the
corridor. His charm could melt asphalt shingles off a roof. And those green
eyes! No wonder Rainey had married him against her better judgment. Of course
that easy charm, lavishly spread around, had been the problem, but it was hard
to dislike him in the flesh as much as Val did in the abstract. Which was just
as well, since they'd be working together.

Flopping
on the bed, she lifted the phone and asked the switchboard to connect her to Rainey's
room. She half expected not to be put through, but Rainey picked up
immediately. "Hi, Rainey. I'm here." Val covered a yawn. "Do I
start work immediately, or do I get a good night's sleep first?"

"You
made it! Come up to my room for a hot fudge sundae." Rainey chuckled.
"I'll fill you in and even give you an official red
Centurion
show
jacket, which won't go with your hair any better than mine, so I guess you
start work tonight."

Val's
doubts about the wisdom of this job evaporated. She might be in for a wild
ride, but she wouldn't be bored.

Kenzie smiled to
himself as he entered his suite. Val Covington was a small but
not-to-be-underestimated wildcat. He wondered how much Rainey had told her
friend about their marriage. Probably not a lot--Rainey was almost as reticent
about personal matters as Kenzie--but enough that Val seemed to be ready to
scratch his eyes out.

Saying
he envied Rainey her friends had been the honest truth. Women were so much
better at sharing their feelings and supporting each other than men. That was
something he'd never been able to do, and not only because he was male and
British. Despite all Trevor had done for him, they'd never had a confiding
relationship. Even with Charles Winfield, there had been subjects untouched. A
good thing he had acting as an outlet for past angst.

Though
he almost never drank alone, he found some wine in the suite minibar and poured
a glass, then went onto his balcony without turning on the light. The moon had
risen, silvering the landscape. He tried to guess where Cibola was among those
folded mountains and valleys.

The
exhilaration he'd felt at buying the ranch was fading now that he was back in
the hotel, overshadowed by the fact that Rainey was within a couple of hundred
yards of him, and untouchable.

He
sank into a chair and sipped at his wine. Offering for Cibola had been the most
powerful impulse he'd had since his proposal to Rainey. He hoped to God that
Cibola worked out better.

Instead of returning
to Los Angeles after the
Pimpernel
filming ended, he'd had the private
jet take them to a small airport in Northern California. There he loaded Rainey
and the luggage inside a nondescript rental car that awaited them.

As
they pulled onto the coast highway, she loosened her seat belt enough to lie down
and pillow her head on his thigh. "It's been dark for a long, long
time."

"The
drawback to flying west with the night. Soon the sun should start rising behind
us." Since the car was an automatic, he had a hand free to rest on her
shoulder.

"Is
it permitted to ask where we're going?" she asked drowsily.

"An
inn on the coast where I stayed a couple of years ago. Very peaceful and
private."

"You
can certify it as an ideal love nest?"

Feeling
tension in her shoulder, he explained, "I stayed there alone to get away
from the world for a few days. I remember thinking it would be a wonderfully
romantic place if I knew someone I liked well enough to take there."

Relaxed
again, she curled a hand over his knee. A good thing they'd had such a
passionate flight, or her touch might start to interfere with his driving.

"I'm
almost afraid to go to bed properly and wake up later," she said quietly.
"Fear of the Gilda phenomenon."

"You
mean when Rita Hayworth said that men went to bed with the glamorous, fictional
Gilda, but woke up with the real Rita instead?"

"Exactly."

"Since
we both have to deal with that, I expect the effects to cancel out." He
stroked along her side, unable to get enough of touching her. "I'm not
worried. We've had months of working together to get beyond the images."

"Actually,
to me you seem much like your public image. Intelligent. Enigmatic." She
hesitated. "A little tragic."

The
trouble with actors was that they observed too closely. "Enigmatic--the
quality of keeping silent and making people wonder if one is stupid rather than
opening one's mouth and removing all doubt."

She
laughed. "What's your real history, Kenzie? You've told so many wild tales
that I figure the truth is something really boring, like your father was a
solicitor, you went to a good but unexceptional school, and have absolutely
nothing colorful to talk about."

A
chill entered the warm sanctuary of the car. "Don't ask me about my past
again, Rainey. I don't want to have to lie to you."

She
was silent for the space of several heartbeats. "Very well."

He'd
liked her acceptance. Most women were like curious cats, determined to tease
information out of him, but Rainey never raised the subject again.

The
inn had a guest cottage isolated from the main building, and they stayed there
for a glorious, absurdly romantic holiday. Long walks on the beach in sun, fog,
and rain, sometimes all in the same walk. Drives through the mountains. Lazy
evenings in front of a fireplace or in a hot tub. Watching videos of bad movies
and becoming helpless with laughter as they made wicked comments about the
acting and production values. Making love, sleeping in each other's arms, then
waking to make love again. He'd never been so happy in his life, and Rainey glowed,
more relaxed than he'd ever seen her.

Seven
days flowed past swift as a heartbeat. Five more days until they must leave.
Four. Three. His gut knotted at the knowledge that soon he must be in Argentina
while Rainey flew east to New York. It would be weeks, perhaps even months
before they could get together again, and who knew what might intervene?

Two
days before departing, he reluctantly called his manager. "Kenzie! Dammit,
where are you?" Seth roared. "Every reporter in America is trying to
find you."

"Which
is why I haven't told anyone where I am. Why are the reporters slavering? I
haven't broken any laws that I know of."

"Because
Raine Marlowe also dropped off the face of the earth, and was last seen with
you playing Tarzan to her Jane."

"Ah.
I should have guessed. Is there any critical business I should know
about?"

"Just
the usual minor crises--nothing to worry about. You haven't told me where you
are, or if Raine is with you."

"I'm
in the Pacific time zone, and the other matter is really no one's business."

"So
you're together. Hope you're having fun. But you will be in Argentina next
week, won't you?"

"When
have I ever broken a contract?"

"As long as this time isn't the
first," Seth said, mollified. "In your spare time, you might draft a
press release about your relationship with Ms. Marlowe. As soon as you show
your face in public, you'll have to say something."

"You
do it. Tell the world we are merely great and good friends." As Seth
snorted, Kenzie ended the call.

Rainey
asked, "A media feeding frenzy?"

"If
Seth is to be believed."

She
reached for the phone. "I think I'll start with Emmy rather than my
agent."

The
call to her assistant confirmed what Seth had said. Fevered speculations about
their relationship were front-page news. The world was starting to close in on
them, as threatening as wolves circling just beyond the firelight.

The
night before leaving the inn to drive down the coast, they made love with
special intensity. Useless with words when it mattered most, he tried to show
with passion and tenderness what she meant to him. Tried to brand her with a
rapture so intense that no other man would ever satisfy her so well. In return,
without saying a single word, she slid past his defenses, melding so deeply
into his spirit that he feared he would wither away when she left.

He
lay on his side while she rested on her back, the elegant curves of her body
gilded by firelight. "You look like a perfectly composed camera shot of
the most beautiful, erotic woman in the world."

Though
she smiled, it didn't dispel the sadness in her eyes. "I don't want to go
back to the real world."

"I
don't either. But all idylls end."

"So
true." Her gaze moved to the fire and she began to sing "Heart Over
Heels," the signature song of Clementine, one of rock music's great,
tragic superstars. He'd been only a boy when he first heard it, but the
plangent emotion had struck him to the heart. Singing sweet and true, Rainey's
voice hit with the same force as when he'd first heard the song.

∗ ∗ ∗

"Thought
this battered heart of mine would never mend.

Yet
here I am, heart over heels again.

Heart
over heels, moth to the flame.

Maybe
this time, Lord, maybe this time...
"

∗ ∗ ∗

In
the faint light he saw tears glimmering on Rainey's cheeks. He kissed them
away. "I didn't know you could sing. You sound very like Clementine."

Gaze
still on the fire, she said, "I should. She was my mother."

"Your
mother? Good God, I had no idea. Wasn't her last name Bartlett?"

"She
was married briefly at twenty, and she kept her husband's name. It's not
exactly a secret that she's my mother, but I haven't made a point of telling
people, either. Since I'm an actress, not a singer, I thought being her daughter
wouldn't do me any good professionally, just turn me into a curiosity. There
probably aren't more than a dozen or so people in California who know about our
connection."

"Wise
to be quiet about it. Not only would there be eyes watching to see if you'd
crash and burn, but you'd have been pestered by people wanting money."