“I simply said that not all of his films are outright terrible,” Mitch responded easily. “The guy’s career goes way, way back to Carrie in ‘76. He’s been making movies for over thirty years. A lot of them bad movies, yes, but you have to admire his perseverance. Besides, I’ve actually enjoyed a couple of them. Scarface is wonderfully kitschy. And Sean Penn slays in Carlito’s Way, which is actually a terrific movie if you can get past Penelope Ann Miller.”
“Why, what’s wrong with Penelope Ann Miller?”
“Aside from the fact that she can’t act? Not a thing.”
Cecily held her ground. “You’ve given in, Mitch. You used to rage against the machine. Now you’re merely another cog in it. Someone who spends his time operating a Web site devoted to cute, diverting trivia. Lacy told me you’re even launching your own television program out in Los Angeles.”
“They’ve given me a twelve-week commitment.”
She shook her head at him gravely. “That’s not you.”
“Sure it is. I’m just using a new delivery system, that’s all. I’m still the same me.”
“So you’ve always waxed your brows, have you?”
Mitch opened his mouth but no words came out. Glanced down at his hands and discovered that his fists were clenched. “You think I’m becoming a total media whore, is that it?”
“I do, Mitch. And it upsets me terribly to see you doing this to yourself. I admire you more than you can imagine.” She reached for her wine glass and took a sip. “I warned you that I can be rude.”
“Quite all right. That’s your opinion and I respect it. But this is simply a new career challenge, that’s all. I’ll rise to it.”
“How, by striding the red carpet with Miss Hawaii?”
“Wait one second…” Mitch said, shaking his finger at her. “Now I get it.”
“Get what? And don’t do that with your finger. It’s very rude.”
“Lacy put you up to this, didn’t she? She sent you here to coax me into leaving the evil empire for her new e-zine. That’s what this whole evening has been about, hasn’t it? The gourmet meal and wine. The tight jeans. Your nipples. You’ve come here to twist my arm.”
“Mitch, I haven’t the slightest idea what Lacy’s designs were. As for my own…” Cecily gazed at him through her eyelashes. “I assure you that they involve twisting an entirely different part of your anatomy.”
Mitch swallowed hard. “Are you always this shy?”
“Actually, I’ve demonstrated admirable restraint considering that I’ve wanted to jump you since the moment I walked in that door. The only thing that’s held me back has been my acute sense of propriety.” She studied him seriously. “One thing does concern me, however.”
“And that is…?”
“Do you have something against my nipples?”
“Not a thing. They seem very nice. I’d like to get to know them better.”
Cecily yanked her T-shirt off over her head and flung it in the general direction of Mitch’s Sungold tomato plants. “So what the devil are you waiting for?”
CHAPTER 9
“I don’t make friends with anyone who is so totally and completely full of shit.”
The bubble bath felt heavenly after the punishing hour in her weight room capped off by a five-mile run through the hills around Uncas Lake. Des’s body was good and relaxed now. All muscle tension gone.
If only her mind would ease off, too.
She could not stop obsessing about her encounter with Jen Beckwith at The Works. Replaying their conversation. Wondering how she might have handled it differently. Teenagers were just so damned hard. Trust was hard. Hell, Dorset was hard. It always got tricky when she waded into the lives of these people. Sometimes, as much as Des hated to admit it, she missed the moral clarity of a nice, clean gunshot wound to the head.
She shaved her long fine legs. Rubbed them with baby oil after she’d rinsed off. Dabbed some perfume behind her ears and between her breasts. Put on her tiny, low-cut red mini with not a stitch underneath. Barefoot, she set the table with her good china and silver and wine goblets. Lit the candles. Got the Reverend Al Green going on the stereo, feeling tingly and girlie-girl all over.
Brandon arrived home at six on the dot bearing a dozen long-stemmed red roses and two chilled bottles of Dom Perignon. “My god, Desi!” he gasped, gaping at her from the front hallway. “You look so foxy you’re going to throw me completely off my game.”
She sashayed over to him, worked his tie off and draped it around her own neck. “Which game is that?”
“I… had this speech all worked out.”
“This isn’t a courtroom, baby,” she said, gazing up at him. “It’s just us. Talk to me.”
“Fair enough,” he began, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I understand why you were upset last night. It was wrong of me to shut you out of Operation Burrito King. I should have told you what was going on. You had every right to know. I simply let work get the best of me. I have to do a better job from now on, and I promise you I will. I’ve already lost you once, Desi. Lord knows I don’t want to lose you again. I’m nowhere without you. I really mean that. And I-I… Damn, this was all going to sound fine until I saw you in that little dress.”
“It sounded plenty fine,” Des assured him. “Besides, it’s not all on you. They told you to keep it quiet. You were being a professional. It was wrong of me to judge you. Sometimes I get a little turfy about this place and these people. I feel responsible for them.”
“I know that.” Brandon’s eyes gleamed at her. “And it makes me so proud.”
She glanced over at the champagne he’d brought. “Are you planning to open one of those or are they just for show?”
He went to work easing a cork out while she fetched their goblets from the tablet. He poured. They clinked glasses. They drank, gazing at each other as Reverend Al crooned smooth and silky on the stereo.
“So how awful was your meeting at the barracks?” he asked her.
“Let’s just drop that, okay? I’ve punched out. Don’t want to talk about work anymore.”
“Well, what do you want to talk about?”
She put her arms around his neck. “Who wants to talk?”
They kissed, her heart pounding so hard she felt weak in the knees.
“All day long I’ve been wanting to hold you in my arms,” he purred at her.
She melted into him, her head nestled on his shoulder as they slow-danced right there in the kitchen, pausing now and again to sip their champagne and get lost in each other’s eyes. Just like it was when they first met. When she couldn’t believe this one in a million man noticed her, liked her, wanted her. Couldn’t believe how gentle he could be. How lucky she was.
“God, you smell good.” He ran his big hands up and down her bare back. “And you are smooth all over.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, raising her mouth to his. “Just so you know, there’s steak.”
“How can you think about food at a time like this?”
“Why, are you thinking about something else?”
“Girl, you are naughty. Know what happens to naughty girls, don’t you?”
“Haven’t the slightest idea.” She put a finger to his lips before he could say another word. “Don’t tell me. Show me.”
For starters, that dress came right off over her head. And now Brandon’s tongue was on her breasts. And now, oh, God, it was slip-sliding its way downtown. He fell to his knees, the better to devour her. She threw one leg over his shoulder and let out a groan, her breathing growing deeper and deeper… until he picked her up and carried her off to their bedroom.
It was long past dark out, nearly ten, by the time she stirred and got up, searching for something to throw on.