Every Time I Love You (20 page)

“Happy anniversary.”

“Thank you. It isn't really an anniversary anymore, is it?”

“Sure. It's whatever we want it to be.” Gayle held the roses up out of the water. Brent grinned at her like the Cheshire cat, looked at his soaked shirt, stood up, and stepped into the tub, sneakers, jeans, paint-smeared T-shirt and all. Gayle shrieked as the water went sliding onto the floor; then she protested as his toe caught her rear. “Come here!” he told her, and more water went spilling over as he tried to set her in front of him, circling his arms around her.

“You are a fool!” She charged him. “You're too big to be in this tub—with your clothes on and your shoes on and—”

“Would I be too big if I didn't have on my clothes and my shoes?” He wiggled his brows suggestively and plopped his foot up on the side of the tub. “Help, will you?”

“Untie your own wet sneakers!”

“Please?”

Mildly complaining, Gayle untied his sneakers and dropped them over the side, warning him that he was going to clean up the bathroom. He said it was all her fault—the tub was too small for two; they needed to be in the Jacuzzi. With one sneaker on and one sneaker off, he stood up and carried her with him over to the Jacuzzi, and with the jets blasting away against their flesh, they convulsed first into laughter, and then into love, and when it was all over, they were both stretched out in the bedroom over the covers, languorous and worn. Gayle bemoaned the fate of her roses, but at Brent's comical glare, she assured him that the time they had spent together had been worth a few flowers, what the heck.

Brent stroked a finger up and down her spine, circling the dimples he had always known would be there. Gayle halfway roused herself lethargically.

“We have to get up. We've invited people over.”

He didn't feel like rising. “Whatever did we do that for?”

“They're our friends. We like them.” Gayle made herself get up, smiling down at him. He looked like an indolent lion lying there, something close to a pout knitting his mouth, his body superb in repose. She loved him so much.

“Besides—” She gave him a sharp rap on the buttocks. He caught her hand and she gasped, laughing as he swiftly tugged her back down beside him. “Besides! We want to show off, remember? They've never been out to the house.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She kissed him quickly, then struggled free from him. “Mary is down there right now toiling away with the shrimp. I'm supposed to be helping. You have to sop up all that water that's all over the bathroom floor.”

“Yes, m'am!” He saluted her, but he didn't move. He stayed there, watching her dress, and Gayle found herself hoping that life would always be the way it was now, that when she was eighty, he would feel the same way, watching her dress and undress with the same mixture of tenderness and lechery and love.

“Up!”

“I'm up. I'm up. I'm so damned up, I'm standing at attention.”

“We're not talking about your anatomy.”

“Your mind is in the gutter, my love.”

“If it is, Mr. McCauley, you brought it there.”

“So I did, and I love it.”

She threw a pillow over his head, ran her brush through her hair, warned him one more time about the bathroom, and slipped out, closing the door on him. She ran down the stairs just in time; the doorbell was ringing and she ran to answer it. Tina, Liz, Chad, and Geoff were standing there; apparently they had driven out together.

“Gayle! It's gorgeous!” Liz kissed her, remaining on the step looking around in awe.

Gayle smiled. “Thank you. Thank you—come in!”

She pulled Liz in by the elbow; the others followed. They stood in the passage and looked up at the high ceilings and admired the stairway, and everyone talked at once. The doorbell rang again and it was Gary McCauley and Trish, everyone arriving on time. Gayle was just thinking that she'd like to bat Brent on the head for procrastinating so long when he came down the stairs, smiling.

Greetings went around all over again and Geoff insisted that they needed a tour. Brent led them all into the kitchen first, where everyone greeted Mary, who showed off the size of the kitchen.

Brent let Gayle lead out to the original kitchen, and she showed off her pots and pans and the marble mortar and pestle she had just found. In the main house, Brent brought them through the parlor; Gayle led through the library; and Brent showed them the eighteenth-century harpsichord in the music room.

Gayle arched a cryptic brow to Brent as they went up the stairs—she doubted that he could have taken the time to clean up the bathroom. But when she opened the door to their suite of rooms, everything was clean and neat and perfect, and Brent offered her a smug and self-satisfied smile as she passed him by. Tina gasped delightedly over the size of the bathroom; Liz was in love with the Jacuzzi. Geoff made a strange little
hmmm
sound, smirking at the two of them,. Brent laughed in appreciation, then told Geoff the story of the Jacuzzi and the claw-footed tub, and by the time he finished, Gayle was laughingly ready to strangle him. Geoff asked if he could see Brent's latest work. Brent hesitated, then suggested that Gayle take the others downstairs and make drinks. He and Geoff would be right down.

Gayle was a little surprised by Brent's attitude; he'd been using her as the subject of his work again, and she hadn't imagined that he would mind showing their guests his latest sketches.

She glanced at Chad—Brent's agent!—but Chad didn't seem offended. He was teasing Liz about the size of the bathtub.

“Go on, Gayle. Fix me a J&B and soda, will you please? We'll be right down,” Brent insisted.

Gayle shrugged and led the others downstairs and remembered that they hadn't gone through the massive ballroom. Liz swept into it with wonder. Gayle smiled, but it was an uneasy smile—she felt more uncomfortable in the room that night than she ever had before.

“Boy, could you party in this room!” Tina said. She looked at Gayle and grimaced. “This is great! Imagine that stereo system in this room.”

Gayle shrugged.

“You don't like it?” Tina asked her intuitively.

Gayle hugged her shoulders and grimaced in return. “It's cold in here, or something. I just don't like the room.”

“Seems like a good room to me,” Chad said cheerfully.

“When I was real little Uncle Hick had a big shindig here once,” Gary told them. “Funny though—I don't think that he liked the room either. The press was here that night—it was a benefit for something or other. But he was like you, Gayle. He just didn't seem to like it very much.”

“Foolish, isn't it?” Gayle said. “Oh, well, come on. Let's get back to the kitchen and torture Mary and fix drinks.”

When Brent and Geoff rejoined them, they had everything set up in the old kitchen. Gayle didn't know why she felt so anxious, but she watched both men carefully. They were both smiling and apparently casual. Tina mentioned the ballroom to Geoff, and he immediately went with Brent to see it.

“Hey, what about music?” Liz demanded.

“Brent! Do something about music!” Gayle called after the two men.

The sounds of one of the Beatles' greatest hits suddenly blared, then toned down. Gayle grinned and the group of them sat around the antique dinner table. Why, Liz asked Gary, if Gary and Brent were cousins and there were a half-dozen other cousins in the family, had Uncle Hick bequeathed the house to Brent—who certainly didn't need an inheritance? Tina gasped, appalled at the question, but Gary chuckled and said that he had never figured that one out himself. “Brent was always good to Uncle Hick. You know how kids are. They can be cruel. Oh, I don't think that any of us was ever really rude to him. Children can be frightened by age, though. Brent never was. He loved Uncle Hick from the time we were real little. He would listen to the old man's stories over and over again. And he loved this place. Uncle Hick made no bones about it—everyone always knew that Brent would get this house.”

“And it is my house.”

Startled, Gayle looked from Gary to the doorway to the colonnade. Brent was standing there with Geoff behind him. He was staring at Gary, and his expression was more than hard. It was chilling.

“What's wrong?” Gayle asked him.

He didn't move or twitch, or even seem to breathe, for the longest time. Gayle was about to repeat herself when he looked at her and blinked. “What?”

“I said, what's wrong?”

“Nothing. Hmmm. I smell shrimp.” He came up behind Gayle and set his hands on her shoulders. “Which smells better, Gayle or the shrimp?”

“Shrimp, old boy, shrimp—at the moment,” Geoff said, laughing. “I'm starving.”

“So am I,” Brent agreed.

“Oh, you can't be starving. You're always at it,” Geoff joked.

“What in God's name do you tell this boy when you go in to work, Gayle?”

“I don't tell him a thing, Brent. He makes things up.”

“I've a rich imagination,” Geoff said serenely. They all laughed and sat around the table. Pounds and pounds of coconut shrimp were passed around the table, and the Beatles disc gave way to the Police. Gayle caught Brent's eyes across the table and they both smiled; their evening was a wonderful success.

Mary came in to say good night. They all said good night in turn and promised to pick up. Gayle told them it wasn't necessary; she could take care of things in the morning, but in a group action, everything was taken back into the main kitchen. Geoff paused by Gayle at the sink as she rinsed off silverware to set into the dishwasher.

“Have you seen the new stuff Brent is doing?” he asked her casually.

“Sure. I posed for it.”

“I mean, have you really seen it?”

She shook her head, confused. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Geoff leaned against the counter, stealing a piece of cheese off the dessert tray. “I don't really know myself.”

“Well, what do you mean, then?”

“It's you in that strange costuming. All that froth—”

“What froth?”

He shook his head impatiently. “You haven't seen them. You take a glance at the preliminary sketches, and that's it. He's doing historical paintings now, I think. Turning you into a lady from another period in time.”

She stared at him blankly. He shrugged, then gave her a wide smile. “Anyway, as usual, they're great. Brent has agreed to do two more shows this year. For one, we'll present the war series of pictures; then we'll go back to these.” She still seemed distressed. Geoff tapped her chin with his knuckles. “Hey—I said that his work is great. What's wrong?”

“Um—nothing.” She shook her head again. What could be wrong? “Nothing at all. Come on—I'm all set here. Get the cheese plate and the crackers, will you, and I'll grab the coffee pot.”

It went on to be a nice, relaxing night. They moved into the main parlor and talked as the music played. Gayle sat on the floor, her head leaned back against Brent's knees. She sipped a Tia Maria and cream and laughed at one of Chad's stories while Brent stroked her hair. Life was more than good; life was delightful.

No one seemed capable of much movement. Geoff was the one to stand finally and thank them for the evening. One by one the others rose. Brent helped Gayle to her feet, and they went back through the passage to the front door together.

Gary and Trish left first, with everyone waving. The others had all come out together—Chad slipped into the back with Liz, while Tina walked around to the front passenger's seat. Gayle smiled, watching her two friends.
I can't wait to talk to the two of them in private!
she thought.
How could they! All this double romance going on, and no one had said a word to her.

Chad said something to Brent through the window; he walked over to the rear of the car. Gayle grinned at Geoff before he could slide behind the wheel.

“Cooling it with Boobs these days, huh?”

“Shush!”

“Well, are you?”

“What is this, Mrs. McCauley, a third degree? A survey?”

She laughed. “Just checking, that's all.” Impulsively, she reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a hug. She was certain. Things weren't going on just between Chad and Liz; they were blooming here too. It was perfect! Tina had always thought so highly of Geoff, and now, at last...

“Behave, will you?” Geoff groaned. He crawled into the car at last. Brent stepped back behind Gayle. She couldn't help smiling broadly—no laughing! Geoff revved the car and it went into gear. He swerved around and started down the long driveway. Gayle watched until the taillights disappeared at the gate. Then she laughed deliciously, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She swung around, anxious to tell Brent about the new romances that were taking place beneath their very noses.

“Brent!” Laughing, she caught his arms, unaware that he wasn't smiling, unaware that his eyes were deadly dark, darker than the night. “Brent, did you see? Oh, it's wonderful! Things are definitely heating up here. Geoff—”

She broke off, crying out more in startled horror than in pain when the back of his hand cracked against her face.

“Brent!” She backed away from him, aware of his expression at last, aware of the dark tension and strain in his features and the ebony fire in his eyes. “Brent, what in God's name is the matter with you?”