The Spiral Path (9 page)

She
promptly sucked in a lungful of air to expand her chest and waist. The costume
designer on the other side of the room said disapprovingly, "An inch more
on the corset will look like two inches on camera."

"Better
a live, chunky actress than a thin, dead one," Rainey retorted.

The
designer smiled at the idea that Raine Marlowe could ever be considered chunky.
"You can see why women in this era weren't very liberated. It took most of
their energy just to breathe."

"The
men weren't much better off." Rainey studied Kenzie's long satin coat,
striped waistcoat, tight breeches, and high, gleaming boots with more than
professional interest. "Amazing how long it took the human race to invent
jeans and T-shirts."

Kenzie
gave her his best courtly bow. "Ah, Marguerite, much elegance has been
sacrificed to the squalid little god of comfort."

She
immediately dropped into her role. Expression sultry, she lifted a carved ivory
fan from a table and waved it languidly. "I vow, my lord, that you quite
outshine me, as the glorious peacock outshines his drab peahen."

"My
plumage has but one purpose, and that is to attract the most desirable female
in the land." On impulse, he pressed his lips to the slender nape exposed
by her upswept hair. Her skin was warm and silky firm.

She shivered and caught her breath,
yearning and vulnerability apparent on her face. When he stepped back, their
gazes caught as wordless messages hummed between them. Messages, and promises.

A
poster of a similar kiss was used to illustrate the movie. It embodied such
tender, erotic power that it ended up in the bedrooms of hundreds of thousands
of schoolgirls. Critics raved that the onscreen chemistry between the
Pimpernel
leads threatened to melt the film stock.

But
that was later. At the time, Kenzie had known only that Raine Marlowe was like
a spun glass butterfly--delicate, strong, and utterly captivating.

He rounded a tight
curve and found a straight, empty stretch of road ahead. He accelerated the
Ferrari in a long, smooth surge of power, wishing he had the time to drive to
the Mojave. There was something deeply purifying about the desert. But for now,
the Santa Monica Mountains would do.

Flashing
lights appeared in his rearview mirror.
Bloody hell.
Swearing at
himself, he pulled onto the shoulder.

Behind
him a motorcycle cop braked in a shower of gravel. After checking Kenzie's
license tag in his computer, he swung from his bike and swaggered to the car.
No doubt he was enjoying the prospect of proving that a badge was more powerful
than an Italian sports car. Kenzie opened the driver's window and resigned
himself to receiving a richly deserved speeding ticket.

"Do
you know how fast you were going, sir?" The patrolman loomed over the low
car, his tone less polite than his words. His name tag read SANDOVAL.

"Not
exactly, but certainly far too fast."

Officer
Sandoval, rather young under his helmet, looked nonplussed at such ready
agreement. "Your record is pretty clean for someone who drives as if he's
looking for a runway to land on."

"Usually
I only do this in rather remote places." Kenzie handed over his license
and registration. Sandoval looked down at the documents, then his head snapped
up and he stared. "My God, you're Kenzie Scott!"

Since
the fact wasn't news to him, Kenzie merely nodded.

"I
love your movies, sir," the young man said, his bravado replaced by
bashfulness.

"I'm
glad you enjoy them, Officer Sandoval."

"Especially
that one where you played a cop whose partner was killed." His face
darkened. "The way you kicked in the wall after his death--it's exactly
like that."

"Have
you had a partner killed?" Kenzie asked quietly.

"Yeah."
The patrolman looked away. "You made it so ... real."

"Movie
deaths should never be presented as without consequences. It's important to
remember the tragedy and pain involved." Many movies forgot that, but
Kenzie didn't. He'd never taken on a role that had him killing people as if
they were only targets in a shooting gallery, with no dignity or value.

"Anyone
who's ever pulled a burning body from a car knows how painful and messy death
really is." Sandoval lowered his ticket pad. "Would you mind giving
me your autograph, sir? Not for me, but for my wife. She's a big fan of yours,
too."

"Of
course." Kenzie pulled a small notebook from his glove box. "What's
her name?"

"Annie
Sandoval."

Kenzie
scribbled a note to her. "Here you are. My regards to Annie."

"Thanks,
Mr. Scott." The officer reverently folded the page and tucked it inside
his jacket. "It's been a real pleasure to meet you, sir."

As
he turned to leave, Kenzie asked, "What about the ticket?"

Sandoval
grinned. "I'm letting you off with a warning. Have a good day, Mr.
Scott."

"You
do the same, Officer." Kenzie waited until the patrolman roared off, then
pulled the Ferrari onto the road, his mouth twisted.

He
never asked for special treatment.

He
didn't have to.

CHAPTER 5

V
al scowled
as she hung up the phone. As if Rainey didn't have enough troubles at the
moment. She hit a button on her autodialer. A few seconds later, the phone was
picked up in California. "Hello, this is the office of Raine
Marlowe."

Recognizing
the voice, Val said, "Hi, Rainey. I thought your faithful minion would
answer. You must have a zillion things this close to the start of production."

"Emmy
had a doctor's appointment, so I'm answering the phone myself. The production
designer and English location manager and I are trading frantic calls to find a
new manor house for the Randalls, since the one we were going to use fell
through."

"Surely
England is rife with photogenic manor houses."

"Yes,
but we need one close to base camp since it would add time and money to move to
a new location for those scenes."

Reminding
herself that she hadn't called to talk about the movie, Val said, "There's
some bad news here in Baltimore, Rainey."

"Oh,
no! Has something happened to Kate or Rachel or Laurel?"

Val
should have realized that Rainey would immediately think of their old gang, the
"Circle of Friends" forged during their school days. "We're
fine, but your grandfather was in a bad car accident. I gather the prognosis
isn't good. I thought you should know."

After
a long silence, Rainey said, "Yes, I suppose I should. Did my grandmother
ask you to call?"

"Hardly.
I run into her occasionally at the supermarket, and she looks as forbidding as
ever. It was a friend who works at GBMC Hospital who saw that your grandfather
had come in and let me know so I could call you. Apparently your grandmother
hasn't left his side."

"After
fifty-plus years of marriage, even someone as stoic as Gram is bound to be
upset when threatened with losing her husband." There was another silence.
"You think I should come back to Baltimore, don't you?"