he locked herself in the bathroom and let the water wash over her. She’d been vindicated, and it didn’t mean anything. She’d known exactly how good she was. Ironic. The only person’s approval she’d needed was her own. How was that for personal growth?

She pulled on the same white shorts and navy baby-doll she’d worn that morning and ran a comb through her wet hair. It was time to face him with as much of the truth as she could bear to reveal, but she couldn’t do it by herself. She needed help from her most faithful companion.

The cool, compact living area had whitewashed walls, a tile floor, and brown wicker basket chairs with cool blue cushions. Every morning, she opened the sliding glass wall so the patio became an extension of the interior, allowing an occasional gecko to get inside, but she didn’t mind. She’d read that some of the species were parthenogenic, meaning the females could reproduce without a male. If only she could do that.

Bram had located the iced tea pitcher in the refrigerator, and he sat with his feet propped on the coffee table, a heavy-bottomed green tumbler balanced on his thigh. He heard her padding across the cool terra-cotta tiles, but he didn’t look at her. “You don’t seem as happy about your casting as I thought you’d be.”

“Apparently I only had something to prove to myself,” Georgie’s faithful companion Scooter chirped. “Who’d have expected that?”

“This is the career break you’ve been waiting for.”

“Yes, but…” When she hesitated, he swung around to look at her. She held up her hand. “I have something to tell you. You’re not going to be happy—I’m not happy. You’ll call me every name you can think of, and I won’t argue with you.”

He rose from the couch and approached her as carefully as if she were an abandoned piece of airport luggage. “You’re not staying at Trev’s. I mean it, Georgie. I’ve honored every word of this stupid marriage agreement, and you can damn well do the same.”

“You haven’t honored it out of nobility. You have your own selfish reasons.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve stuck with my end of the bargain, and you need to stick with yours, or you’re not the woman I thought you were.”

“Fine in principle, but…” Time to blurt it out like the bubblehead she wasn’t. “Cards on the table, Skipper.” She straightened a magazine on the end table. “I can feel myself starting to fall for you again.”

“The hell you can.”

He hadn’t even blinked. She plunged on. “Ridiculous, isn’t it. Humiliating. Embarrassing. Fortunately, it hasn’t gone very far, but you know me—determined to shoot myself in the foot whenever I get the chance. Not this time, though. This time, I’m nipping this sucker right in the bud.”

“You are not falling in love with me.”

“I can hardly believe it myself. Thank God, I’m only on the fringe.” She jabbed her finger toward him. “It’s your body. Your face. That hair. You’re a total hunk, and, sorry to say, I’m as susceptible as the next woman.”

“I get it. This is all about sex. You’re fundamentally an old-fashioned girl who needs to believe she’s in love to enjoy sex.”

“God, I think you’re right.”

He blinked and, a few seconds too late, realized she’d cornered him. “What I mean is…”

“You’re definitely right,” she said emphatically. “Thank you. No more sex.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“The alternative is for me to move back into your house and fall completely in love with you. I’m sure we can both imagine how that would play out. Embarrassing scenes with me crying and begging. You feeling like crap. Knowing me, I’d secretly stop taking my birth control pills. Are you getting the picture?”

“I can’t believe this.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “You’re not that stupid. This isn’t love. It’s sex. You know me way too well to really love me.”

“You’d think so.”

“You, of all people, know what a selfish, self-centered womanizing jerk I am.”

“I hate myself. Really.”

“Georgie, don’t do this.”

“What can I say? Of all the crazy jams I’ve gotten us into, this is the worst.” When he didn’t respond, she licked her lips. “Awkward, isn’t it.”

“It’s not awkward at all. It’s you being you. You’re too damned emotional. Use your head. We both know that you deserve better than me.”

“Finally, we agree on something.”

She’d hoped to ease the tension, but his scowl grew more pronounced. “That stupid conversation about falling in love…You had me convinced you were worried about my feelings,” he said, “but you were just feeling me out.”

“Please don’t bring that up. Surely you realize what it’s costing me to swallow my pride like this and admit that I’m slipping back into that old trap.”

“It’s temporary. You were sex starved, and I’m a damn good lover.”

“What if it’s more than that?”

“It’s not. Remember that I’ve been on my semibest behavior. Now I can see what a mistake that was. Pack your suitcase and forget about it. I guarantee it won’t happen again.”

“Sorry. I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can. You’re making way too big a deal out of this.”

“I wish. How do you think admitting something so degrading makes me feel? I’m only hanging on to my self-respect by a thread.”

“That’s because you’re behaving like an idiot.”

“And I’m determined to put a stop to it.”

“We finally agree.” He jammed his fingertips in his pocket. “Okay, I’ll compromise. You can move into the guesthouse for a while. Until you get your brain back.”

“Too awkward with Chaz and Aaron around. Moving to Malibu is a lot better.”

“Chaz already knows about Vegas, and Aaron would do anything for you. The guesthouse is the perfect place for you to deal with your craziness. As for our working relationship…When you’re on the set, you’ll be your normal professional self, and I’ll revert to being an arrogant pain in the ass. It won’t take you long to come to your senses.”

This would be the hardest part of all, and just when she needed her help the most, Scooter disappeared to spread her perkiness somewhere else. Georgie couldn’t look at him, so she made her way outside to the stone patio wall. “Bram…I’m not taking the job. I’m not going to play Helene.”

“What? Of course you are.”

She stared down the steep hillside at the red tile rooftops below. “No, I’m really not.”

She heard the angry thud of his footsteps coming up behind her. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. This is the chance you’ve been waiting for. All your talk about reinventing your career…Was it bullshit?”

“Not at the time, but—”

“Damn it, I’m calling your father!” He loomed at her side. “You’re a pro. You don’t throw away the opportunity of a lifetime over something this stupid.”

“You do when the opportunity of a lifetime could possibly screw you up for years.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I can’t risk working with you every day, not the way I’m feeling right now.”

He dug in then. He paced the patio, delivering one argument after another. As he moved in and out of the shade, she saw him as he was, a creature of light and shadow, revealing only as much as he wanted. When he paused for breath, she shook her head. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not changing my mind.”

He finally understood she meant it. She watched him retreat into himself, like a sea creature disappearing into a chambered shell. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Cold. Withdrawn. “At least Jade will be happy.”

“Jade?”

“She’s wanted that part ever since the reading at the house. Haven’t you figured that out yet? We were ready to make her an offer when I saw your tape.”

“You can’t give Jade that part!”

“It’s going to stir up a hornets’ nest all right,” he said without a flicker of emotion. “But that means publicity for the picture, and I’m not going to turn down free press.”

A roar echoed through her head. She couldn’t move, could barely speak. “I think you’d better go now.”

“Good idea.” He pulled the sunglasses from his shirt pocket with cold, businesslike detachment. “It’s Tuesday. You have until the end of the week to change your mind or Jade gets the part. Think about that when you’re lying in bed tonight.” He slipped the sunglasses back on. “And while you’re at it, think about whether you really want to fall in love with a guy who’s getting ready to feed you to the wolves.”

Two days after Bram got back from Mexico, he returned home from the studio to find Rory Keene standing barefoot in his kitchen, squeezing pink icing blobs onto waxed paper under the supervision of a scowling Chaz. He’d barely slept since he’d returned. He had a sore throat, a nagging headache, and a perpetual upset stomach. All he wanted to do was bury himself in work.

“They’re supposed to be roses,” Chaz complained. “Did you pay attention to anything I told you?”

He winced as Rory slapped down the icing tube. “If you’d go a little slower when you demonstrate, I might be able to do it right.”

When would Chaz figure out she was supposed to suck up to important people? He made himself care. “You’ll have to excuse my housekeeper. She was raised by wolves.” He dragged himself closer to study the pink blobs. “Looks delicious.”

Rory and Chaz both practically sneered at him. “That’s not the point. They’re ornamental,” Rory said, as if he should have known. “I’ve always wanted to learn cake decorating, and Chaz is teaching me the basics.”

“A special-ed class,” Chaz muttered.

“I’m an executive,” Rory retorted, “not a pastry chef.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Beat it, Chaz.” Being with Rory always put him on edge, and he didn’t trust himself to deal with both of them now.

“We’re right in the middle of—”

“Go!” He nudged her out the door.

Rory picked up the icing tube and pressed the tip to the waxed paper. They hadn’t spoken since their initial meeting in her lavish suite of offices on the Vortex lot, but the icy blonde in the gray silk suit sitting at a burled wooden desk beneath an enormous Richard Diebenkorn abstract painting didn’t bear much resemblance to this woman in blue jeans with bare feet, a ponytail, and pink smudges on her fingers. He rubbed his back and headed for the refrigerator. “Sorry about Chaz. You basically have to ignore her.”

Rory concentrated on squeezing out a C-shaped squiggle. “What’s going on with Georgie?”

“Georgie? Nothing.” He took his time reaching for the iced tea pitcher.

She deposited another squiggle next to the first one. “I hear from Chaz she’s disappeared.”

“Chaz only thinks she knows everything.” He wished he still smoked. It was easier to look cool with a cigarette than a tumbler of iced tea. “We’ve decided to spend the summer at Trev’s beach house. His new one. He sold his old house last month. It’ll be weekends only for me while I’m working, but she’s there now.” At least she was according to Aaron’s latest insider tip to the entertainment press, which had also included a description of Bram and Georgie’s nonexistent reunion, along with a mention of their plans to spend romantic summer weekends at the beach house. Aaron was getting good at lying.

Rory jabbed the icing tip toward her misshapen blob. “Damn it. This is a lot harder than it seems.” She finally looked up. “You can either tell me the rest now or we can talk in my office, along with Lou Jansen and Jane Clemati from Siracca.”

A meeting he wanted to avoid at all costs. “About?”

She focused on creating a new set of rose petals. She wasn’t going anywhere, and he finally gave in. “You must have heard about the audition tape.”

“I’ve seen it. She’s brilliant, and you need her.”

He went for Johnny Depp cool, but the best he could do without a cigarette was to lean against the counter with his iced tea glass and cross his ankles. “My wife has a mild case of cold feet, that’s all. I’m dealing with it.”

“And what brought on this sudden case of cold feet?”

The head of Vortex shouldn’t be involved with casting decisions on a small-time Siracca film, and he was more than a little sick of Rory’s self-appointed role as Georgie’s protector. “Georgie’s been through a lot these last few years. She doesn’t feel like taking any more risks right now.” He fought to control his temper. “I intend to change her mind, and I’d appreciate it if everybody would get off my back while I do that.”

“Really?” The lift of her eyebrow showed she didn’t believe a word. “Here’s what I think happened. I think you screwed up. Again.”

Depp wouldn’t flinch, and neither did he. “I didn’t.”

“According to everyone I’ve talked to, including Chaz, Georgie wanted to do this picture right up to the day before the audition.” She tossed down the icing bag. “Georgie’s a pro, and I’ve never heard of her getting cold feet. That leads me to believe she bowed out because, for some reason, she doesn’t want to work with you.”

He unclenched his jaw muscles. “You’re the one who doesn’t like working with me, not Georgie.”

“I went to bat for you, Bram. Not just because I love the script, and not just because you gave a great reading. I went to bat for you because Georgie believes in you. Or at least she used to.” She snatched the dish towel from the countertop and wiped her hands. “Don’t kid yourself. A lot of people expect you to screw up, and this is exactly the scenario they’ve been waiting for. If you don’t want to end your career hosting game shows, I strongly suggest you sort out your problems with your wife and get her in front of the cameras where she belongs.”

“Is that all?”

“Tell Chaz I’ll be expecting another lesson soon.”

She strode past him out the back door.

Bram shut his eyes and cupped the cold glass in his palms. Rory’s unwelcome visit fed the guilt he’d been living with every day, even though the lie he’d told Georgie had been for her own good. Because of her, his dream was going to come true, and as soon as she worked through this drama she’d created, she’d be grateful he hadn’t let her throw away her own golden opportunity.

But a lie was a lie, and he couldn’t back away from his dishonesty regardless of how much he wanted to.

The next morning, he pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and headed for Malibu. This time, only two black SUVs followed. Despite a stormy forecast, the Friday-morning traffic was brutal, so he had more time than he wanted to think. As he pulled up at Trev’s house, he waved at the paps before they peeled off to search for parking, something they’d have a hard time finding today.

Georgie didn’t answer the door, so he used the key Trev had given him. The house was quiet, but the open doors to the deck revealed an abandoned yoga mat. Trev lived on one of Malibu’s most exclusive beaches, but today the impending storm had thinned out the sun worshippers. He got rid of his shoes and walked out onto the sand. The star of a TV cop drama lounged next to his third wife while his kids dug a ditch. A container ship chugged against the horizon, and a flock of gulls cried overhead.

Georgie stood alone near the water’s edge, the wind whipping her dark hair. The same purple bikini bottom she’d worn in Mexico clung to her bottom, and her skimpy white T-shirt ended well above her waist. When had she grown so beautiful? He wanted to drag her into the house, pull off that little purple bikini bottom, and bury himself inside her.

She spotted him, but she didn’t exactly throw her arms around him as he came up next to her. He missed her oversize enthusiasm more than he could ever have imagined. “Is your heart leaping at the sight of me,” he said, “or have you wised up?”

“Some mild skittering. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Glad to hear it.” But he wasn’t glad. He wanted her to laugh and kiss him. “Let’s go for a walk.” He grabbed her hand before she could protest.

Famous faces were a dime a dozen on this stretch of sand, and no one did more than nod as they passed. One of the best parts of his relationship with Georgie was never feeling as if he needed to make conversation, but today that ease had disappeared. “Guess who’s taking cake-decorating lessons?”

“No idea.”

He told her about Chaz and Rory but didn’t mention the real reason for Rory’s visit. He stalled a little longer by going after a Frisbee that had gotten away from a couple of kids. When he returned, Georgie was sitting in the sand, her arms clasped around her knees.

He sank next to her and watched the whitecapped waves boom toward the shore. “It’s going to storm. Let’s head over to the Chart House for lunch.”

She gripped her knees tighter. “I don’t think I can stomach a cozy meal with the man who fed me to the wolves.”

He dug his heels into the sand. “I’ll take that as a positive sign that you’ve wised up about me, and this craziness is behind us.”

She snagged a strand of her hair. “Unfortunately, what they say is true. There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

Something unpleasant twisted in the pit of his stomach. “You don’t hate me, Scoot. You’ve just lost what little respect you’d started to develop.” He braced an elbow on his knee and studied the dark clouds skidding across the sky. “We made small-screen magic when you couldn’t stand me. No reason we can’t transfer that to the big screen.”

She tilted her head toward him, her funny green eyes somber. “The deadline’s passed. Jade has Helene locked up now.”

He picked up a beach stone and rubbed it between his fingers. “She’s not doing it.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

He couldn’t postpone this any longer. “Because she was never under consideration.”

Georgie sat up straighter. He pitched the stone into the waves. “I lied to you.”

She curled her hands into fists.

He couldn’t look at her. “I had all kinds of good reasons at the time.”

Her mouth twisted bitterly. “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

“Exactly! I told you I was!”

Flying sand stung his bare calves as she jumped up. He shot to his feet and went after her. “Think about it, Georgie. Now that I’ve shown my true colors, nothing is standing in your way. The part is yours, and after what I’ve done, you can take it without worrying about any messy emotional crap getting in your way. You should be glad I lied.”

Even as he spoke, he didn’t believe a word of it. And neither did she. “I’m going in.” She picked up her stride.

He matched her steps. “I’m…pretty sure that guy over there has a camera. We need to make out first.”

“Make out with yourself.” Her heels kicked up pinwheels of sand. He slid his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to a slower pace.

He might as well have been hugging a cactus.

The picture would get made without her. They’d find another actress, maybe not as good, but adequate. Except everyone wanted Georgie, and his job as a producer was to make the impossible happen. He couldn’t let any of them—Rory, Hank, the lowliest crew member—see that he wasn’t up to that job.

They reached the house as a crack of lightning broke over the surf. He snagged her wrist, pulling her to a stop just as she was about to climb up to the deck. “Georgie…” He had trouble getting enough air into his lungs. “I’m not quite sure how to tell you this…”

The wind blew another lock of hair over her face. She pushed it back and cocked her head. He released her wrist. “I’ve…missed you these past few weeks. More than I ever thought.” Acid churned in his stomach as she continued to stand there, patiently waiting. “Help me out here.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“That…I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to being with you until you left. The two of us…I thought it was just a great friendship, but—I don’t know how to say this.” An awning cracked in the wind. “I might be…falling for you.”

She stared at him.

“Ironic, isn’t it. Just when you’ve gotten over me, now here I am…wishing you hadn’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That lie about Jade. There was something a little desperate about it, right? I guess I didn’t want to…admit what I was really feeling.”

“What are you really feeling, Bram? You’re going to have to spell it out because I’m not getting it.”

“You know what I’m saying.”

Apparently she’d had enough of his hedging because she turned away and headed up the short flight of stairs.

“It started right here, you know,” he called after her. “Not fifteen or sixteen years ago during Skip and Scooter, but right here on Trev’s deck three months ago. You and me.” She stopped at the top and gazed down at him. He took the steps two at a time to reach her. “Ever since we woke up in the Vegas hotel room, we’ve been on this crazy Ferris wheel ride.” A gust of wind blew a newspaper across the deck. “I kept thinking you were the best friend I’ve ever had, but now I know it’s more than friendship.”

“It’s sex.”

He felt a flash of anger. “Sure, it’s sex, but that’s not all. We don’t have to put on false faces for each other. We…understand each other.” He rushed on, forcing out the next part even as he hated himself for what he was about to say. “I’ve even been thinking—Just thinking. Your idea about”—a giant fist squeezed his chest—“about having a baby.” She made a soft, indecipherable sound. He plowed on. “I’m a long way from saying let’s go for it. I’m just saying that…Just that I’m ready to at least talk about it.”

She was swallowing his face with her eyes, and he wanted to yell at her, to tell her he was a liar and not to be so damned gullible. Instead, he set aside whatever shreds of honor he had left and went for the big fucking finish. “I’m…falling in love with you, Georgie. For real.”

She pressed her fingertips to her lips. A boom of thunder shook the deck. “For real?” she whispered.

Pebble-sharp raindrops stung his face, and he nodded.

She didn’t do anything. She simply stood there. And then she said his name. “Bram…” Opening her arms, she threw herself at him. She wrapped herself around his chest, slid her legs between his, and he wanted to howl at the harm he’d done…right until the moment she jerked up her knee and slammed him in the nuts. Through his agonizing wheeze of pain, he heard two words.

“You bastard.”

The roar of the wind…The stomp of bare feet across the deck…The slam of the door as she disappeared inside…And the sound of his own wrenching gasps. He clutched the edge of a stone and tried not to pass out. The door opened again and his car keys flew by, over the deck rail and into the sand.

The storm broke.

Georgie stood inside the locked door, clutching herself to keep her insides from boiling through her skin. The rain slashed at the windows, slashed at her. Bram hadn’t changed. He was a user, as manipulative as ever, pretending to offer what she most yearned for in order to get what he coveted for himself.

The storm raged outside; a fiercer storm raged inside.

Her sham of a marriage was over, and there’d be no friendly divorce. No Bruce and Demi. This public humiliation would be so much worse than the first time. And she didn’t care. Her years of posing and posturing had ended. She’d never be spunky Scooter Brown, the girl who could bounce back from any adversity with a smile and a wisecrack. She was a real woman who’d been betrayed.

And this time she’d have her revenge.

Once Bram was able to move again, he staggered down to the sand and threw himself in the ocean. Oblivious to the angry waves and dark undertow, he prayed for the water to wash away his sins. He dove under a wave, came up, and dove under again. All his life he’d hustled and manipulated, but he’d never done anything as wicked as what he’d just tried to put over on the person who least deserved it.

He saw the wave right before it hit him, a looming tower of water. It crashed on top of him and flipped him over. He twisted, pitched, floated for an instant, then flipped again. Sand scraped his elbow, then something sharp bit into his leg. He lost his bearings. His lungs burned. The current caught him and pulled him—up, down, he didn’t know—the selfish current, following its own course without sparing a thought for its victim.

He broke through the surface, glimpsed the shore, then got sucked beneath again by the undertow. She’d become his conscience, his mistress, his guardian angel, his best friend. She’d become his love.

His body shot toward the light—a shimmering glow visible only in his head. He gasped for air, went under, plunged to the bottom. He loved her.

The current caught him and tossed him again, a useless scrap of human flotsam whose life’s mission had been to please only himself.

The image of her face came to him, swept him up, seized him, and dragged him until his feet touched bottom. His elbow was bleeding, his leg, his heart. He staggered to shore and collapsed in the sand.