Ooh, La La!, page 10
He sat down hesitantly. “How are you doing?”
“Great. Come on—you should shing along to thish shong.”
Oh, Lord. She was completely snookered. He felt a twinge of conscience and tried to reason it away. He hadn’t lied to her, exactly; he had ordered one virgin drink and one regular one. What he’d failed to mention was that he was drinking the nonalcoholic one.
“Look away… look away… look awaaaay… Dischie-land.”
Hell—he’d wanted to get her relaxed, not completely blitzed. He’d never dreamed that one drink would affect her like this— especially after she’d put away a full meal. Well, one thing was for certain: She sure didn’t need any more booze. He surreptiously shuffled the drinks on the tabletop, sliding the nonalcoholic one in front of her.
Kate caught him in the act. Narrowing her eyes, she wagged her finger at him. “Uh, uh, uh! I saw that.”
“Saw what?”
“You tryin’ to shwitch drinks on me.”
“I was making sure you got the nonalcoholic one.”
“Let’s shee.” She took a sip of the drink in front of her, then frowned. “Thish doeshn’t taste like the last one.” She leaned forward, drew the other Hurricane toward her, and took a long pull on the straw. “Ah! Thish one’s more like it.”
He watched her take another long slurp. Hell—from the way she was guzzling that thing, you’d think she was a camel that had just trekked across the Sahara. He’d intended to get her relaxed, not pickled. He couldn’t ask her to sign the letter when she was in this condition. The moment she sobered up, she’d accuse him of trickery, and she’d be more opposed to the script than ever.
Kate stared up at the empty stage. “Oh, darn. The penises are taking a break.”
Zack’s lip twitched. “I, uh, think you mean pianists.”
“Yeah.” Kate gave an apologetic snicker. “Shorry.” She reached for the drink again.
He had to get her out of here. “Why don’t you show me the French Market?”
“It’sh closed at night.”
“You can still show me where it is and tell me about it.”
“Well… okeydokey.”
At least she was a congenial drunk. She wobbled a little as he helped her to her feet, then bent forward and reached for her glass.
“Let’s leave that here.”
“But I want it. It’s a shouvenir glass.”
“It’ll be a nuisance, lugging it around.”
“No, it won’t.”
Zack sighed. “Well, then, I’ll carry it for you.” And ditch it the first chance I get. Holding her arm, he steered her out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, where a line of people waited to get into the place.
“I’m getting thirshty,” Kate said a block later. “Can I have my Hurricane?”
He couldn’t let her drink any more. Borrowing a scene from an old movie, Zack feigned a stumble and poured the drink on the pavement. Kate grabbed him around the waist, thinking he was about to fall.
“You okay?”
Her arm was warm and soft against him. Her eyes were that way, too—all concerned and worried. Looking into them did something funny to his chest. “Yeah. I stubbed my toe on a crack in the sidewalk, that’s all.”
“Maybe you had too much to drink.”
Boy, was that the pot calling the kettle black. He grinned. “I’m all right.”
“One of the shigns of being tipsy ish not knowing that you are.”
“Is that a fact.”
She nodded. The movement made her sway, and he put his arm around her to steady her. “That’sh why I don’t drink.”
“That’s undoubtedly a good policy.”
“Yesh.”
Her hip bumped against his as they made their way down the sidewalk, away from the lights and noise, into a quiet part of the French Quarter. The delicious scent of her filled his nostrils, and he tightened his hold on her waist.
They turned onto a deserted street. Zack spotted a trash can and dropped in the glass.
“Hey—that was a shouvenir!” she protested.
“It was all sticky. I’ll buy you another one.”
She smiled up at him again. “You know, you’re very gentlemanly.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yesh. Hash anyone ever told you that before?”
“Can’t say that they have.”
She nodded sagely. “I figured you didn’t get many compliments. Want to know shomething else I bet no one’s ever told you?”
“What?”
She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, the words coming out in warm little puffs. “You have a very sexy tush.”
He burst out with a laugh. Sheeze, she was wasted.
“It’s true.” Her eyes were bright and sincere. “And I’m not the only one who thinks sho. Half a dozen other women were admiring your buns while you were shtanding at the bar.”
“Gee, maybe I better check and see if I have a hole in my pants.”
“No.” She looked up at him, her eyes doing that honest, earnest, guileless thing again, as if it were important she convinced him. “They thought you looked good. You didn’t shee them because they looked away when you turned around. Women do that, you know. Sho I got to thinking…”
Uh-oh. Any thinking in her current condition was bound to be warped.
“…that maybe no one ever gives you a compliment on your appearance.”
The corners of his mouth quirked upward. He wondered if she’d remember any of this in the morning. “Well, thanks for filling that void.”
“Not that you don’t desherve compliments,” she explained. “I just figured everyone prob’bly thinks you’re complimented all the time, sho they don’t do it, sho they won’t sheem like everyone else, but then you don’t get any compliments at all because that’sh what everybody thinks.”
“I can tell some deep thought went into this.”
She nodded. “People that sheem to have everything lots of times don’t, because other people don’t give them things they think everyone else gives them. Sho shometimes the people that you’d think have plenty miss out on compliments and invitations and friendship and stuff.”
She underestimated the suck-up factor in Hollywood as far as compliments and invitations went. But when it came to friendship, she was dead right. He had lots of acquaintances, but very few people he could actually call friends. There was no one he could just hang out with, no one to go with to a Lakers game or out for a beer.
He looked down at Kate as they strolled past an ornate, wrought-iron street lamp. The expression in her eyes was so warm and sincere that he got that tight, funny feeling again.
“Well, thanks. You’ve got some very attractive features, too.”
“Don't feel like you have to return the favor.”
“I don’t. And anyway, I couldn’t. You’ve had your tush covered by a jacket both times I’ve seen you.”
“My tush is actually quite nice,” she confided, her expression dead serious. “It’s the rest of me that doesn’t meet your shtan-dards.”
“How do you know what my standards are?”
She lifted her shoulders. “You date very beautiful women.”
“You’re beautiful, too.”
She made a snorting sound. “Nice try, but I know what I look like.”
“Evidently you don’t.” He placed a hand on her face, tipping it to the side, then turning it back toward him. “You have beautiful eyes. They’re kind of a cross between Gwyneth Paltrow’s and Meg Ryan’s and Bette Davis’s in her heyday.” It was absolutely true. Her eyes were huge and bright and expressive, rimmed with feathery dark lashes, and they were staring up at him, so wide and surprised that it made him grin. He moved one hand up and touched her cheek.
“Your skin is beautiful, too… soft and smooth and flawless.” His finger trailed down her jaw. “And then there’s the matter of your mouth.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. Her mouth opened slightly. “Do you have any idea how many actresses spend big bucks on collagen injections, hoping to make their lips look half as sexy as yours?”
“My lips are… sexy?”
The total lack of guile in her voice made him smile. “Very.” He wasn’t lying. They were sexy as hell. The lips in question tipped up in a pleased grin. Zack ran his thumb over them again, then lowered his head and covered them with his own.
Soft—soft as satin, as silk, as a cloud. The sensation washed over him, tugging at him like undertow. Damn, but her mouth was something—hot and Hurricane-flavored and incredibly, exquisitely textured.
He angled his head and deepened the kiss. With a little moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened her breasts against his chest. He slid his tongue between her lips, tasting her, exploring the inner softness of her mouth.
She moaned again and moved closer, standing on tiptoe to fit her pelvis against his. A painfully hard erection immediately strained against his fly. Damn, but her mouth was sweet. It had been a long time since a kiss had kindled this kind of fire inside him.
It was his last coherent thought. Standing on one leg, Kate wrapped her other leg around him. She gave a little moan and rubbed herself against him, and the next thing he knew, a blindingly hot, urgent haze of desire consumed him. He cupped her bottom and lifted her off the ground. Clinging to his neck, she curled her other leg around his hip, so that both legs were wrapped around his body.
Need flamed through him, searing off all rational thought. Carrying her, Zack lumbered forward and set her down on the hood of a white car parked at the curb. Her thighs climbed higher to lock around his waist, and she pulled him down as she lay back against the hood, all the while doing things with her lips that drove him wild.
His mouth mated with hers, his tongue plunging in again and again, doing to it what he ached to do with other, more intimate body parts. Her breath huffed out in hot little spurts, and hungry, whimpering sounds escaped from her throat. Her hands unlocked from his neck and wound around his back, reaching lower and lower until they tightened on his buttocks.
Dear Lord in heaven—she was driving him crazy. When she raised her hips to align herself more closely against his erection, he burrowed his hand under her waistband and caressed the soft, silky skin of her bottom, his fingers moving slowly across her skin. She didn’t appear to be wearing any underwear, Zack thought hazily. No, wait—the professor was wearing a thong!
She moaned and tipped her hips higher, urging on his fingers. Zack was more than eager to comply. In fact, he was ready to rip off her slacks right then and there, and unzip his own, and…
He heard an odd click, and then Kate started glowing. He opened his half-closed eyes more fully. Kate wasn’t lit up; it was the inside of the car.
“Look, Henry—there’s someone on our car!” warbled a high-pitched woman’s voice behind him.
Zack pushed himself up. Kate tried to pull him back down, tightening her legs around him.
“Hey, there—what do you think you're doing?” demanded a man’s voice. Zack swiveled his head to see a gray-haired couple standing on the sidewalk beside the car. The man held a small remote control in his hand, which he’d apparently just flicked to unlock his Taurus.
Good God in heaven—what was he thinking, making out on the hood of a stranger’s car on a public street? He must have taken leave of his senses. Kate’s kisses had drained all the blood from his brain and funneled it to a part of his anatomy not known for level-headedness.
“We’ve got to move, Kate,” Zack croaked.
She opened her eyes and gazed at him uncomprehendingly, like a person awakening from a trance. Zack disentangled her arms and legs from around him, pulled himself off the hood, then helped her to her feet. She swayed unsteadily. Zack put his arm around her to brace her.
“Sorry,” Zack muttered to the gawking couple as he steered Kate toward the sidewalk.
“Get a hotel room, for God’s sake!” the man snapped.
Kate stumbled on the curb as she stepped up to the sidewalk. Zack caught her before she fell.
The elderly woman planted her hands on her hips and glared at Zack. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of a woman in that condition.”
Zack tried to hustle Kate away, but she stopped and turned to the woman. “Whatta you mean, in my condition?”
“Why, you’re falling down drunk!"
“Am not!” Kate bristled with indignation. “I don’ drink.”
“Don’t argue with her. Hazel,” the older man urged, opening the passenger door and urging her in. “Let’s just go.”
Good idea. “Come on, Kate.” Zack tightened his arm around her and urged her down the street.
“I can’t believe she’d think that about me.” Kate stumbled and pitched forward.
Zack caught her before she fell all the way to the pavement. “Shorry,” she murmured. “I’m feeling a little dizzy.”
You’re not the only one, Zack thought. That kiss had made his head spin like Linda Blair’s in The Exorcist. He was still reeling from the effects of it.
Just how the hell had it happened? He prided himself on his ability to stay in control. Somewhere along the line, though, he’d forgotten everything except the taste of her lips and the sweet heat of her body.
“I just lost my shandal.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
Kate sat down on the curb as Zack reached for the shoe. A paper fell out of his jacket and floated to Kate’s feet. Before he could reach for it, Kate picked it up. “What’s this?”
Alarm skittered through him like a rat through a sewer. “Nothing.” Zack stretched out his hand to take the paper.
But Kate was on her feet, staring at it, her forehead wrinkled. “It has my name on it.”
Zack’s stomach took a sudden dip. “It—it’s just some paperwork.”
Turning away from him, she lifted the paper up to the light of the street lamp.
Zack placed a hand on her arm, trying hard not to give away the sense of panic rising in his throat. “Come on now, Kate—”
But she was reading aloud. “ ‘Dear Mr. Goldman: After careful conshideration, I agree with Zack that adding a few fictional details would enhance the shtory without harming its integrity.’ ” Her brow knit in a hard frown. “ ‘The script has my full approval, and I will vouch for the movie’s complete historical accuracy as we agreed. Shincerely, Kate Matthews.’ ”
She stared at him. “What’s going on?”
Oh, hell. Zack lifted his shoulders and struggled to appear nonchalant. “It’s nothing. Just something I wanted to have handy in case you changed your mind.”
Kate rubbed her temple where a headache was gathering, trying to gather her thoughts as well. Why would Zack think she would change her mind? She’d told him that the movie had to be completely factual or she couldn’t work on it.
And then the events of the evening crashed down on her, thudding heavily into place. The warm, giddy sensation that had made the night seem magical degenerated into stomach-twisting nausea. How could she have been so stupid?
“She was right,” she murmured.
“Who?”
“That woman with the car.” She fixed Zack with an accusing gaze. “I am drunk, aren’t I?”
He shifted his stance and shoved his hand into his pocket, refusing to meet her gaze. “There’s, um, no reason you should be.”
Outrage flamed in Kate’s chest. “Oh yes there is. You got me drunk sho you could make me sign this!” She waved the letter in front of him.
“Kate—it wasn’t like that. I just wanted you to relax a little so we could discuss it. I never dreamed that one or two drinks would…”
Oh, dear Lord—that’s what the kiss was about, too. Mortification flooded her soul. Mercifully, her sense of anger was stronger. “Everything about this evening was an attempt to get me to sign that letter.”
“Kate, it wasn’t like that.”
“Oh, please.” Kate’s hands knotted at her sides. Anger must have burned the alcohol out of her system because she no longer felt the least bit inebriated. Instead, she felt furious. “It’s bad enough that you made a fool of me. Don’t make it worse by lying.”
“I swear, Kate, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to get you drunk.”
“Yeah, right.” Kate turned and started to walk away, only to realize that Zack was still holding her sandal. She whipped back around and held out her hand. “Give me my shoe.”
“Not until you hear me out.”
“No way.” Kate yanked off her other sandal and strode barefooted toward St. Peter Street.
Zack hurried after her. “Kate, I’m sorry. Here. Take your shoe.”
Kate snatched it from his hand but didn’t pause to put it on.
Zack strode beside her on the sidewalk, his gait almost crablike as he turned his body toward her. “Come on, Kate. At least let me take you home.”
“I’m not getting in a car with you.” Her voice shook with anger. “Heaven only knows what you’d try next. Besides, you’ve been drinking.”
“Actually, I haven’t.”
She whipped around and glared at him, her hands on her hips, a sandal in each hand. “Great. Just great. You got me drunk as a skunk while you stayed nice and sober.” Kate raised her hand to hail a passing taxi.
“Oh, hell—it wasn’t like that, Kate. You make it sound so smarmy.”
“That’s because it is smarmy. And I’m sure Mr. Goldman will think so, too.”
Zack’s heart plummeted to the sidewalk. “If you’d just let me explain…”
The cab stopped. Carrying her shoes, Kate stalked barefoot across the street and climbed in.
Zack followed her. “Kate—wait!”
She slammed the door in his face. He stood and watched as the cab turned at the intersection and disappeared from view.
Just like his career would, if Kate called Goldman.
“Damn it all,” he muttered. How had he managed to screw things up so badly? And there was no way to fix it tonight. She was too angry to listen to reason.
