Only for You Page 8

  “Jennifer Turner, the actress?” Gia asked. Jennifer Turner had been at the top of her game for years now and was showing no signs of slowing down. She was one of the most respected, sought-after actresses in the business.

  Seth nodded. “She and John live there during the summers, but I happen to know it’s vacant right now. I’ll have to check with John about whether or not we can use it, but I don’t foresee any problem. Jennifer starts work soon on location in Spain. John plans to accompany her.”

  “And no one has ever bothered Jennifer Turner at this house?” Madeline asked, curious.

  “Both John and Jennifer will tell you they’ve never once had a problem there. It’s like falling into a time warp going to Vulture’s Canyon. Even if the residents ever did figure out who Gia was—and they won’t,” he added with utter confidence, “they wouldn’t care. They’re a very practical sort. The only use they’d ever have for Hollywood tabloids is picking up crap or covering the floor while they’re painting or sculpting. They tend to be the hippie-artist, isolationist types. And if there’s one thing they respect, it’s their own and other people’s privacy.”

  “You’re actually considering doing this?” Gia asked him the question that had been scalding her brain ever since he’d mentioned having a place for them to hide.

  Seth inhaled slowly, an unreadable expression on his face. “If you can make the sacrifice to do the right thing, I imagine I can.”

  She continued to regard him with suspicious bemusement.

  “That girl Sterling McClarin raped is willing to face her worst fears in a public venue in order to get justice,” he said. “McClarin needs to be put away, once and for all. His influence needs to be shut down in this town and beyond. To do that, we need a healthy, intact Gia Harris. It’s that simple. I’ll do my part. I just finished a shoot. I have the time.”

  Gia exhaled, sensing defeat. In that moment, Seth had said the one thing that could convince her. He understood McClarin was a poison that needed to be controlled.

  “Gia?” Charles prodded.

  Gia looked from Charles’s to Madeline’s expectant faces, then at Seth’s impassive one. How did he really feel about the idea of spending the next three weeks with her? How did she feel about doing the same with Seth Hightower, the man who had taken her to heaven—repeatedly—and then discarded her like used tissue afterward?

  Stop thinking about that. That night is irrelevant to this situation.

  It’s certainly irrelevant to Jeannie Salinger.

  She threw up her hands. She couldn’t believe the twists and turns her life was taking her on lately. “Fine. What the hell. It doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to get off this roller coaster anytime soon.”

  “Just buckle up and enjoy the ride as best you can,” Seth said.

  She whipped her head around, going still when she saw the glint of a dare in his golden eyes.

  “It’s all settled then,” Madeline said, seemingly not noticing the brittle tension between Seth and her. It was probably all in her mind, anyway, Gia thought irritably, as relaxed as Seth looked. “We’ll work out all the details right now, but Gia you should prepare to leave town tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow morning. Of course,” Gia said, rolling her eyes. What could surprise her at this point?

  “And don’t bother to bring many clothes,” Seth said.

  “What?” she asked, forgetting her weary, aloof attitude over the fact that her life was not her own.

  “No dresses or frilly little blouses. Leave all your makeup behind,” he said, his gaze dipping fleetingly down to the front of the feminine floral blouse she was wearing with jeans. Gia experienced his stare like a flickering, teasing pressure across her skin and breasts.

  “You won’t need any of those things, because I’ll be disguising you as a teenage boy.” He scowled slightly, his cool gaze lingering on her chest. “With some luck and a really good breast binder, I just might be able to pull it off too.”

  Five

  The next morning, Seth waited patiently in the cluttered rear storage room of Studio K on Melrose Avenue. His longtime friend and owner of the salon, Karen Leads, had been briefed only on what she needed to know about Seth’s scheme with Gia. Karen had many famous clients and knew the advantages of keeping her mouth closed. Karen owned the exclusive salon and had arrived before normal operating hours to help him with his plan. She’d let Seth and another accomplice in through the back door.

  The idea was that anyone following Gia—and there was sure to be several—would think Gia had just scheduled a quick pickup of products at Karen’s salon before it opened.

  He glanced at Leti Fishmann, a UCLA geology graduate student, fussing with her fuchsia scarf in a nearby mirror. Both his niece, Joy, and he occasionally hired Leti for part-time modeling work. In addition, Leti walked Joy and Everett’s rambunctious golden retriever, Marley. Leti was a friend and could be trusted with the minimal information they’d given her. Yesterday Gia had suggested that they use the woman who worked as her body double for the red-herring role in their little escapade, but Seth had nixed that idea. He’d rather have someone like Leti, who cared more about her doctoral dissertation than the possibility of landing a plum role in some future television or film production. He wanted someone immune to bribery. Despite Gia’s scowl when he’d said that yesterday, he’d remained insistent on not using Gia’s body double. They were not going to use a struggling Hollywood actress he didn’t know, and certainly didn’t trust, for such a crucial role in their escape from Los Angeles.

  Leti was wearing the print dress, jean jacket, newsboy cap and eye-catching fuchsia scarf Seth had specified in yesterday’s planning session with Charles and Gia. Seth had provided her with a brown wig that had been styled in a haphazard bun just below the cap.

  “How do I look?” Leti asked him distractedly.

  “Pretty good, once you put on the glasses, especially,” someone said breathlessly.

  Seth glanced around to see who’d answered, his stare sticking on Gia Harris as she entered the room. As they had agreed upon the day before, she wore the precise same outfit as Leti. She whipped off her sunglasses, her light green eyes betraying her wariness and anxiety over their clandestine venture.

  Or over seeing him again. Seth couldn’t be sure.

  Duplicate that face? he thought bitterly, his gaze on Gia. Not a chance, Seth said to himself with a trace of bitter annoyance. The past two years had only made her more beautiful, if that was possible.

  “She’ll pass from a distance, anyway,” Seth said, standing and scrutinizing Gia’s form and outfit closely. “Turn around,” he told her.

  He saw the flash of anger in her eyes. He quirked up one brow in an amused, sardonic expression. “Please.”

  Something flickered across her features. It struck him that he’d told Gia the same thing before, on that damn night in Daphne DeGarro’s tacky dressing room.

  He’d instructed her to “turn around” a few times before their night together was over.

  He clamped his teeth tight as erotic memories rushed him. Gia reluctantly turned around. He forced himself to focus, inspecting her closely.

  “Were you followed?” he asked Gia, stepping over to Leti, where he made some quick adjustments to her wig to better match Gia’s hairstyle.

  “Jim is positive we were,” Gia reported. “By a black SUV and a dark green Lexus, at the very least.”

  “I’m Gia, by the way,” she added tensely, crossing the room to shake Leti’s hand.

  “Leti Fishmann,” Leti returned.

  “Thank you so much for helping us out with this.”

  “I’m glad to do it,” Leti said. His adjustment complete, Seth dropped his hands from her wig. Leti gave him a big smile. “Both Seth and Joy have helped me out too many times to count.”

  “Joy is your niece, r
ight?” Gia clarified, her gaze on Seth.

  He nodded.

  “Well, I’m very grateful,” Gia said, her eyes pinging back and forth between Seth and Leti.

  “You’d better get going,” Seth told Leti. He handed her the salon bag of products they’d prepared earlier.

  “Keep your face averted to the right,” Gia instructed Leti as she handed her the sunglasses she had just removed. “They’re parked on both sides of Melrose, a half block behind my driver, Jim.”

  Leti nodded in understanding. “Good luck, both of you. See you, Seth,” Leti said, going up on her tiptoes. He lowered his head, and she gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. She hurried out of the room to the salon.

  Gia and he were alone for the first time since their impulsive tryst more than two years ago. His glaze slid over to her. There were light purple smudges beneath her eyes, which made her green eyes look huge and a little haunted. No, not haunted. Hunted. He’d agreed with Joshua Cabot’s assessment last night. She looked exhausted. He didn’t know if it was the upcoming McClarin trial and this press debacle or her frantic work schedule, but the fresh girl he’d met years back was starting to show signs of stress.

  “You definitely trust her?” Gia asked quietly, nodding in the direction where Leti had just departed.

  He nodded.

  “She’s clearly not an actress then,” Gia said darkly. When he didn’t respond, her eyes flashed. “Are you and she . . . ?” She waved her hand, frowning.

  “No. Leti’s a friend. Even if I didn’t trust her and Karen, though, they have limited information. We’ve compartmentalized the knowledge of what we’re doing, keeping things on a need-to-know basis. Even Karen isn’t going to stick around to see your final disguise. I’m the only one who will know that. Leti and Karen only know that you and I met here this morning. No one knows where we’ll go from here, except for us, Charles, Alex and Madeline.”

  She stared at him with a mixture of annoyance, anxiety and defiance. He stepped toward her. Her eyes widened. Without a word, he removed the newsboy cap she wore and dug his fingers into the rich, dense coils of the artfully sloppy bun at her neck. She made a choked sound of disbelief and outrage in her throat, but he cut her off before she could speak.

  “I don’t suppose you’d let Karen cut this, would you?” he asked gruffly, finding several pins and matter-of-factly pulling them out.

  “My hair?” she asked in a stunned voice.

  He looked down into her eyes. He’d never seen a purer, clearer shade of green. “I told you I was going to transform you into a boy. If you don’t let Karen cut it, I’ll have to bind it tightly under a cap before I put on the wig,” he said as he withdrew the last pin, and the long, golden brown tresses began to fall around her shoulders. He resisted a strong urge to grab a fistful of the glorious stuff. He stiffened slightly when he inhaled the familiar fruity scent of tangerines. She hadn’t changed shampoos.

  “It’ll be itchy and uncomfortable for you,” he added.

  She stepped away from him.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any choice,” she said. “I don’t think they’d be pleased if I showed up on the set of Interlude with my hair all chopped off. It wouldn’t fit the part, and I’d rather not wear a wig everyday for shooting.”

  He shrugged and turned away. He hadn’t really thought she would agree to it. Gia Harris cut off those famous flowing locks? Not likely.

  “Why do you look so smug?” she demanded.

  He turned around, a little surprised by her fierceness. She glared at him.

  “I’m not smug,” he said. “I just had already figured you’d consider the part for Interlude first and foremost.”

  “Because I’m a shallow, self-centered actress, right?” He just looked at her, refusing to rise to the bait. “Okay,” she said, clawing at the knot in her scarf and whipping it off as if she were throwing down a gauntlet. “Why don’t I take the first cut through this bullshit,” she said, her low voice vibrating with restrained feeling. “Knowing you, you’d go the next three weeks together and never say a word about what happened two years ago at that cancer benefit. Do you really think that’s normal, Seth?”

  He glanced wryly back at the chair and table he’d arranged in preparation for her makeup. “I’d have trouble finding anything about this whole thing that’s normal.”

  Her eyes seemed to blaze as she took a step toward him. “I know how much you have a thing about avoiding actresses in your personal life. Liza told me.”

  “I know. She told you before we ever met that night, didn’t she?”

  Gia blinked. “I . . . I don’t remember.”

  “You’re lying,” Seth replied levelly, turning to the chair and picking up the breast binder with subtle shoulder padding that he’d brought. “Liza told me she’d mentioned to you beforehand that I avoided actresses in my personal life.”

  “Why do you?” she demanded suddenly, as if her curiosity had trumped her anger. Not that she still wasn’t pissed. Her indignation had flushed her cheeks and lips. He yanked his gaze away from her mouth. “How can you be so self-righteous about such a blatant prejudice? It’s unfair to the women you work with, day in and day out.”

  “A lot of people don’t mix business and pleasure. It’s not surprising. Besides, you’re changing the subject,” he said, unzipping the binder. “You knew that night I avoided actresses, and that’s why you didn’t tell me you were a working Broadway actress—one who had a hit big enough to attract a Hollywood agent like Cecelia Arends,” he added, unable to fully disguise his sarcasm. “That’s why Cecelia was annoyed at Tommy Valian that night. Because he’d alienated the girl she was desperate to sign, and eventually did sign. That’s why she was chasing after you. A casting agent had already earmarked you for the part in Glory Girl. Cecelia was in hot pursuit. That’s what you were avoiding telling me that night.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “Sometimes lies of omission are even more blatant than telling a falsehood.”

  “You misled me as well,” she accused in a shaking voice. “According to Liza—and Cecelia, for that matter—things were a lot more serious between Cecelia and you than you led me to believe.”

  “I can’t help it if that’s what Cecilia thought. I was being honest when I said I wasn’t involved with her. Time has proven that, hasn’t it?”

  “Well, I was being honest that night too. Or as much as I could have been honest around a man with irrational prejudices about a profession.”

  “Or about an age?” he muttered darkly. First confusion and then guilt flickered across her face. He had to say this about Gia, lying didn’t come naturally to her. He must have been half-crazed with lust that night not to notice her sleight of hand.

  “What?” she asked breathlessly, recovering. “You’re upset because of my age? Seriously?”

  “You lied about it. You made me think you were Liza’s age,” he said, repressed anger starting to pulse in his veins.

  “I was twenty-two then. You were ten years older. What’s the big deal?”

  He grimaced slightly. “You’re worshipped by a horde of infatuated teenage boys and girls. After you hit it big, I felt . . . indecent realizing I’d been with you.”

  “It’s not my fault if my first movie was a young adult hit. I’m almost twenty-five right now. I was a consenting adult when we were together. And for your information, you were indecent that night. So was I,” she added darkly.

  He snarled, irritated at her flippancy. Or honesty. Or the heat that flashed through him at her reply. He couldn’t say which. “Don’t try and deny you didn’t mislead me about your age on purpose.”

  She choked on incredulous laughter. “Oh my God. I can’t believe how unreasonable you are. I wasn’t a teenager! Is that really why you didn’t call me?”

  “You had my number as well.”

 
The silence swelled. Frustration spiked through him. He hadn’t meant to betray the fact that he’d half-hoped she would call, even after he’d learned she’d misled him. Damn her for forcing his hand. She just stared at him, her lips parted in amazement. He closed his eyes briefly.

  “That’s all in the past,” he said, getting ahold of himself. “We can either deal with this situation that we’re in or not, no matter how odd it is. We have more important things to think about right now.” He held up the breast binder. “Can you go and put this on please? It’s a binder, but a shaper too. It’ll give you more of the outline of a boy. You can change over there. I’ve put the clothes I want you to wear behind the screen. I’ll ask Karen to go back and help you with the binder. You’ll need it.” He pointed at a dark green folding screen across the room.

  Maybe she’d realized all this rehashing of a night better left forgotten wasn’t for the best, no matter how angry she was. She grabbed the binder but paused beside him instead of walking behind the screen.

  “Just tell me this. Did that night have anything to do with you accepting this consultation?” she asked in a low voice that vibrated with emotion.

  “Did it have anything to do with you agreeing to it?”

  Her face stiffened. She merely stalked behind the screen.

  It looked as if neither of them was willing to tip their hand on that volatile topic.