Falling Star (37 page)

"And people could pull up whatever they want
from whatever station they want?"

"Whenever they want, too. People could watch
local news when it was convenient for them, not have to wait till
the news came on. And watch just the stories they want."

He chewed for a while. "You'd need
cooperation from local stations, obviously. For rundowns and
video."

"Right." She nodded. "And I'm thinking radio
and newspapers, too, to round out the site."

"I gather you think this might be an
opportunity for you?" He pushed away one Lean Cuisine and started
in on the next, not looking at her.

She felt suddenly on thin ice. "This is very
early stages," she hedged. "All I'm doing now is tossing around the
idea. Very preliminarily. Of course my heart lies in anchoring the
news."

He nodded and was silent for a while.
"Natalie, I don't want to rain on your parade, but do you know how
many web businesses have gone belly up?"

"Everybody does."

"So—"

"Look, I'm not saying I'm just going to
abandon TV news to pursue this." She couldn't help it—she was
sounding defensive. "It's just that I think I should look into it
further. And by the way, it's not like I have a ton of options in
TV news."

"I agree. You should look into it
further."

"What?"

"I said I agree."

Now she was confused. "But—"

He raised his head from his meal to regard
her. "Do you seriously expect me to argue that all you should
consider is another TV-news job? Maybe just so I can keep
collecting commissions?"

She was embarrassed. "Something like
that."

"Come on, Nats. I want you to be happy. And
if that means you ride off into the Internet, so be it. I just want
you to know what you're getting into." He paused, swirling the
chardonnay in his glass, staring at it, not her. He spoke softly.
"The good thing about it, of course, is that you'd stay in LA." He
raised his eyes to hers.

The air seemed to still as they stared at
each other.

"And when your startup goes public," he went
on, holding her gaze, "and your personal net worth is valued at
hundreds of millions of dollars, you'll still be in LA. And every
once in a while you'll take your old agent out to the best, most
expensive restaurants." Then he grinned, breaking the spell, his
mischievous smile making him look like a teenager.

It was impossible to resist. She laughed out
loud. "Geoff Marner, you have a way of making me feel better."

He tipped an imaginary cap. "Aim to please,
ma'am." He returned his attention to his meal, mopping up the last
remnants of Lean Cuisine. "I take it this doesn't mean, though,
that I'm to stop ferreting about for anchor jobs."

"By no means. This is all highly
speculative."

He grinned. "You already sound like a
businesswoman." He threw back the last of his chardonnay. "I have
another thought. A buddy of mine from law school is a venture
capitalist. I'm sure he'd be happy to talk to you, though I'm not
so sure you'd like what he has to say."

"I'd love to talk to him. Thank you, Geoff."
Amazing. He was actually helping her. Even though it wasn't in his
best interests.

"My pleasure." He rose to carry his plates to
the counter, and the two of them danced around each other loading
the dishwasher. It was the most comfortable Natalie had felt with
him for weeks.

At one point she broke the silence. "You look
zonked."

"I'm exhausted." He rinsed his cutlery in the
sink. "And home is forty minutes away."

She nodded. Her heart began to thump.

"I dread what awaits me there, too." He
loaded the last of his dishes, shaking his head. "A gargantuan pile
of newspapers and mail and dying plants crying out for water."

"Stay here." Her offer surprised even her.
"You're too jet-lagged to drive that far and the guest bed has
clean sheets."

He seemed to ponder the offer, which pleased
her. "Are you sure it's all right? I mean, not too
inconvenient?"

"It's not remotely inconvenient."

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "Well
then, maybe I'll take you up on your offer. Thank you."

"The guest room's upstairs, the third door on
the left." She turned her back to him to wipe down the sink,
flummoxed by her inordinate pleasure that he would stay over.
"Everything you need should be up there," she called over her
shoulder.

"I'll go get my stuff from the car," he
called back. Then she heard him let himself out the front door and
return a minute later, rolling a suitcase. He disappeared
upstairs.

She busied herself in the kitchen,
unnecessarily swabbing down counters, feeling oddly excited. Above
her, she could hear him in the guest bathroom, then the guest
bedroom. Then all was quiet

Methodically she toured the first floor,
shutting lights. It was somehow exciting just to have him in the
house. It was also a bit of a coup, she decided: so much for his
fiancée. Apparently she wasn't the woman Geoff most wanted to see
when he got back to LA.

Natalie mounted the stairs. She was still
surprised he'd come over at all. Maybe it was an extension of the
olive branch. They'd been awkward with each other for so long.
Maybe Geoff wanted things back the way they were and was going out
of his way to make that happen.

Well, she'd go out of her way, too. Returning
to some semblance of normalcy would be an enormous relief.

Natalie climbed the last stair and arrived at
the landing outside the master suite. The unlit hall beyond was
silent and cloaked in shadow. She hesitated, then continued
noiselessly down the hall toward the guest bedroom. The door was
shut. No light shone beneath.

She waited for a moment, then grasped the
doorknob and twisted it. The door pushed open without resistance.
Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and her ears to the
rhythmic breathing of the man in the four-poster bed.

It was some time that Natalie stood there,
listening, her eyes half closed, before she forced herself to
retreat to her own room.

*

Geoff returned home at dawn to find a white
Miata, wet with dew, parked in his driveway. He slid the Jag next
to it, frowning. Janet must have come to his house the prior night.
While he was at Natalie's.

Had staying over been a mistake? He wasn't
sure. He just knew that he'd wanted to. He knew that it was a great
relief talking about something other than canapes for the reception
or whether to wallpaper the bathroom. And he'd justified it on the
basis that he and Natalie needed to get back on an even keel. Nor
was there anything wrong with being good friends with a client, he
told himself. In fact, it was desirable.

Geoff pulled his key from the ignition,
staring at Janet's convertible. How would she even have known he
was coming back? Or—a thought crossed his mind that filled him with
dismay. Maybe she'd been there the whole time? Maybe she'd moved in
while he was away?

Dread propelled him out of the Jag and into
the house, briefcase and rolling suitcase in tow. He found her in
bed, asleep. Quietly he deposited his things and conducted an
inspection. Minutes later he was in the kitchen, calmer, brewing a
pot of coffee. Nothing had changed. She hadn't moved in. The house
was still his.

"You're home." Janet's just-woken voice was
soft, as was her touch as she snuggled up behind him, clasping him
about the middle, smelling sweet. "Did you get back so late you
slept in the guest room?" She nuzzled his back. "Didn't want to
wake me?"

He forced an uncomfortable chuckle. "Sort
of." He turned to face her. "Let me give you a proper kiss." She
tasted of sleep. Her long straight blond hair was loosely contained
in a ponytail, falling down the back of her standard sleepwear, a
pastel cotton nightdress. He made his voice casual. "So how did you
know I was coming back? I'm a day early."

"I had a feeling," she murmured into his
chest, "so I called your secretary." She pulled back, still
clasping him, and regarded him through half-lidded eyes. "I'm
surprised you didn't call to let me know."

"Oh, it happened so fast." He turned his back
to her, gazing out the window beyond the coffeepot. The
Los
Angeles Times
delivery boy, conducting his rounds from a
bicycle, was doing his usual hit-and-miss job. Geoff s issue landed
somewhere on the lawn, where the dew would render it a sodden mess
within minutes. "I'm going to rescue the newspaper," he told
Janet.

She padded after him all the while that he
retrieved the
Times
, poured coffee, and set himself up in
the breakfast room. "What time
did
you get back last night?"
she asked. Was it his imagination or now did her voice have an
edge?

He raised his eyes from the front page. "All
right, let's get it over with. I got into LAX a bit before nine and
went round to a client who's going through a bad patch. I ended up
spending the night in her guest room."

She waited a beat. "
Her
guest room.
What client?"

"Natalie Daniels."

"I knew it." Janet's voice ratcheted higher.
"I knew there was something going on. I had a feeling at the
engagement party."

"There's nothing 'going on,' " he heard
himself insist. "She simply offered me a glass of wine, we talked
about her situation—which, may I remind you, is dire—and it rapidly
became clear that I wasn't fit to drive home. I was jet-lagged,
remember. I'd barely eaten. It was two in the morning New York
time."

Janet was shaking her head. "You make it
sound so sensible but somehow I find it hard to believe."

"You're doubting me?" He shook his head. "I
find that very disappointing."

"So do I, because this isn't the way it's
supposed to be. I'm not supposed to be questioning my fiance's
commitment." She raised her lovely eyes to his, blue and accusing.
"I want you to dump her. Let her find another agent."

That angered him. "No. Absolutely not. I told
you, she's in serious professional trouble. And, Janet, you do not
have a say over who is my client and who isn't. Natalie Daniels
needs a new job and she needs me. Period."

"
I
need you. And I'm about to become
your wife. That should take precedence over everything else." She
paused, the sudden silence deafening. "So do you want to marry me
or not?"

"I proposed, didn't I?"

Then Janet came forth with a declaration that
shook him to the core. "I want to get married now. Not wait till
May."

He tried not to stutter. "Now? I mean,
now
? We settled on May. Why change it?"

But she was at the kitchen calendar, holding
up pages. That was at least better than an instant elopement, which
was what Geoff now most feared. "October fifth. That feels like a
good day."

"Janet, this is nuts." He abandoned the
newspaper to walk closer to her, careful to soften his voice.
"There's no reason to put ourselves through this. May is a fine
month to marry. It'll give you time to plan everything exactly the
way you want it."

She was still looking at the calendar. "No,
the fourth. A Friday, because it'll be hard to book everything on a
Saturday at this late date. My mom will help me. We'll get it
done."

"Janet." He forced her to look at him. "Don't
do this. This doesn't make sense."

"It makes sense to me." She met his eyes.
"And if you loved me, it would make sense to you, too."

What to say to that? She'd boxed him in. And
October fourth was better than eloping here and now. He shook his
head, outdone. Perhaps Janet should give up teaching first grade
and become a trial attorney. She could certainly win an
argument.

Thursday, September 5, 6:32 PM

Natalie had decided in advance that it was
wiser to park up the street. Safer. It just didn't feel like a good
idea for her to park for all the world to see in Miles's driveway.
What if he came home unexpectedly? That was unlikely, which was why
she'd chosen this particular evening for her mission, but still it
was possible that
Forget Maui
's taping would finish early
and Miles would return home before she was done with her business.
She might be able to get away undetected if that happened, but not
if her car was smack-dab in the middle of his driveway.

Natalie carefully parked the Mercedes about a
quarter mile north on Pacific Coast Highway, near a signal and a
crosswalk. A pedestrian needed both to get across PCH's four
hazardous lanes without meeting her Maker. Traffic whizzed by at
phenomenally high speeds, despite the road's sharp curves and
stunning beachfront vistas. Apparently neither Angeleno nor tourist
could be bothered to slow down for either safety or beauty's
sake.

She pulled the key from the ignition but
remained in the car, reviewing her game plan. She'd gone over it
countless times and only a few unavoidable flaws remained. One was
that Kelly might show up. Natalie was betting that that wouldn't
happen with Miles not home. The other risk was Suzy, who for all
Natalie knew Miles might still be seeing. She snorted softly. Her
husband wasn't exactly faithful. But Suzy was
Forget Maui
's
star, so she had to be at the taping even more than Miles did.

Natalie clutched the steering wheel. Her plan
had
to work: Miles's attorney Johnny Bangs had gotten a
judge to agree that September sixth, the very next day, marked
discovery closure. She refused to let the day dawn without having
her hands on documentation of Miles's sitcom fee. Which his damn
studio, despite two subpoenas, still hadn't provided.

She exited the car and for a moment just
stood still, cars whizzing past. It was a hot, dry evening. In her
break-in getup of sweatshirt and leggings, she was unpleasantly
warm even here at the coast.