If I Can't Have You (18 page)

“And then you’d open both of us up to God knows what. Getting the certificate from Stewart won’t be legal, but it’s better to deal with someone you trust than with some back-alley thug.”

“You’ve watched too many old movies.”

“Maybe I’ve just made too many.”

That brought a smile to Adriana’s lips. “You didn’t make enough.”

“I have a new life, Adriana. Maybe I’ll make some more.”

“Is that what you want? To act again.”

“I’ve always wanted to act. But not right now.” All he wanted was to spend time watching her smile, enjoying her occasional laugh. His life had been consumed with making movies, with being a star. He’d never taken the time to have a life that
wasn’t orchestrated by the studio. He’d never wanted anything more—until now.

“Show me around Santa Barbara,” he said. “Let me see how things have changed.”

“Someone might see you.”

Her words made him laugh. “Do I look like a freak, Adriana? A man from outer space?”

She shook her head slowly. “You look... perfect, and everyone’s going to stare.”

“Jealous?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. I saw an advertisement on your television about a place called McDonald’s. I want to try a Big Mac and french fries.”

“Absolutely not. Fast food isn’t the least bit healthy.”

He smiled at the persnickety woman standing in front of him. “I’ve indulged all my fantasies and all my cravings for years.” He reached out and stroked her cheek, knowing full well that she’d pull away—which she did. “I think I look pretty good for a ninety-four-year-old man.”

“You’re terribly vain, do you know that?”

“I know it, you know it, and half the world knew it in the thirties. I’m proud and stubborn, too. I don’t have many sterling qualities, Adriana, but do you mind if we discuss my lack of character some other time? I’m hungry, and that Big Mac looked awfully good.”

Adriana shook her head in disgust. “Don’t blame me if you get fat.”

They walked briskly through the parking lot and out onto State Street, lined on either side by Spanish-and Moorish-style buildings with tiled roofs that glistened in the sun.

Trevor captured Adriana’s arm and slowed her down. “Take a moment to enjoy it all, Adriana
.
Life’s too short to rush.”

“I thought you were hungry.”

“I am, but I want to enjoy the sights, too.”

Slowly he pulled the black silk scarf from her hair. “You don’t need to hide behind this, you know. You’re one of the prettiest sights in town.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“That’s the way it appears to me.” He tucked the scarf into his pocket, ignoring her attempts to take it back. Instead he took her hand and pulled her into the sunlight.

“Well, what do you know.” He pointed to the building just across the street. “The Granada Theatre’s still standing. I bet you didn’t know that I appeared on stage there once.”

“With Helen Hayes, as I recall.”

She did know a lot of details. But no one knew the real truth about Trevor Montgomery, those things he’d never told a soul. Still, he said, “Your knowledge is impressive.”

“I know everything there is to know about you.”

“I doubt that seriously. There are many things only I’m aware of, many things I just might share with you—if you’re good.”

They turned into a courtyard of winding paths, fountains, and tiled pools. Hanging baskets and red clay pots decorated their way, each filled with red and white geraniums, bright orange marigolds, sweet alyssum, and other colorful flowers he couldn’t begin to name.

He’d seen many of these buildings before, but the atmosphere had changed. There were more shops now, more people. Wide windows displayed artwork, women’s clothing, and elaborate gold and silver jewelry. He stopped in front of a window and admired a man’s three-piece wool suit, then dragged Adriana inside for a fitting, groaned at the staggering price, but peeled numerous bills from his clip.

“Where does all this money keep coming from?”
Adri
ana asked when they left the store.

“A secret stash. I’m surprised you’ve never found it.”

“It’s in the house?”

“You can’t get into banks twenty-four hours a day. I never knew when I might need it.”

“We have automated bank tellers now. You just go up to a machine, punch in a number, and withdraw money out of your account.”

“Interesting concept. I’ll let you show me one of those machines, and maybe someday I’ll show you the secret panel in... your home.”

“It’s
your
home, Trevor. I don’t feel right claiming it’s mine. Not any longer.”

“Then we’ll share. For now.”

She looked uncomfortable but intrigued with the thought. Trevor was just as intrigued. Sharing the house, the cars, the food... the bed.

It sounded so good, but he had to slow down. He was more than ready. She wasn’t even close.

Strolling along the walks, they passed women and men sitting at intimate tables for two, sipping coffee and other drinks. No one seemed to be staring at him. In the thirties when he’d walked down State Street at least one or two people would ask for his autograph, and he’d gladly obliged. He rather missed the notoriety.

Finally they reached a place with golden arches painted on the windows. “McDonald’s?” he asked, clutching Adriana’s arm and pulling her to a stop.

She smiled indulgently. “You know, there’s a lovely little restaurant not far from here. They have salads and herb teas.”

Trevor shook his head. “Big Mac and fries. My treat.”

He wove his fingers through hers and didn’t let go when she tried to pull away. She was the most
uptight woman he’d ever met, and he was bound and determined to loosen her up.

They stood side by side at the counter and Trevor started to order. A Big Mac, large fries, a hot apple turnover, and a Coke. “What would you like?” he asked Adriana.

“I thought you’d ordered enough that we could share.”

Sharing food with Adriana wasn’t a bad idea. Sharing her home wasn’t a bad idea, either. Both had endless possibilities.

Carrying the tray, Trevor found a table that looked out onto the courtyard, sat down, and immediately peeled off wrappers. “Let’s see if this is as good as they say.”

The first bite was all and more than he’d hoped for. He loved the sauce and cheese that oozed over the bun and dripped onto the table. He liked the way the sandwich slid apart, the bread going one direction, the meat another.

He peeked over the top of his burger and watched Adriana pick at a french fry, then delicately lick the salt from her fingers. He didn’t say a word, just watched her enjoying the tastes she was putting into her mouth.

“Try this,” he said, holding the sloppy burger out to her.

“I can’t. It’s much too fattening.”

“I might not be around forever, Adriana, but while I’m here, I have every intention of showing you how to live.” He moved the burger a little closer. “Try it.”

Some of the pinkish sauce stuck to the corner of her lip after she bit into the burger, and before she could wipe it off with her napkin, Trevor stroked it away and licked it from his thumb.

“What do you think?” he asked with a wicked wink.

“That you’re a little too hedonistic for me.”

“I doubt that seriously. But I was talking about the burger, not about me.”

“I think I should stick with salads.”

“I think you should stick with me. When was the last time you did something just for fun?”

She didn’t answer immediately, which wasn’t a good sign. Hell, Trevor made a point of having a good time, at least once a day.

“I went to the theater with Stewart and Maggie a month or so ago,” she said. “Going out isn’t my style.”

“Hiding behind silk scarves, dark sunglasses, and adobe walls is?”

“I like my privacy. Besides, it’s good for business. It gives me a certain mystique that makes people curious. That curiosity makes my shop and my work more intriguing. People seek me out because of it.”

“Work isn’t the only thing in life.”

“I enjoy reading and watching old movies.”

“Ever swim naked in the ocean?”

“Of course not.”

“Will you do it with me?”

“No.”

Trevor sipped his Coke, watching the pretty lady over the top of the plastic lid. She didn’t know it yet, but Adriana Howard was going to go into the Pacific naked as a baby, and she was going to do it with Trevor Montgomery. It might take a day or two, maybe a week, but she was definitely going to give it a try.

“Where are we going now?” she asked, when he took her hand and led her out into the courtyard.

“Ice cre
am.”

Adriana pulled back. “I don’t want ice cream.”

“I do. If you don’t want to indulge, you can watch while I do.”

They went into the ice
cream shop and Trevor
stared at a room full of flavors. He’d thought about strawberry or chocolate, but suddenly he was faced with dozens of choices and he wanted to try them all.

“Which one?” he asked Adriana. He needed her advice, but she just leaned against the counter and smiled at him. She probably didn’t even know she was smiling, and he was sure she didn’t know how good it looked on her.

“You’re like a little boy,” she said, pulling napkins from a chrome container.

He couldn’t help but reach out and gently palm her cheek. ‘It’s all so new. I want to try everything.”

She pulled his fingers away, but he felt her absentmindedly stroke his knuckles with her thumb. “You’ll have plenty of time,” she told him.

“What if I don’t?”

She looked down at the black-and-white-tiled floor. “I don’t want to think about that.”

She cared. She was trying not to show it—but she did.

He settled on a sugar cone with a scoop of chocolate macadamia nut and one of black walnut and headed back out into the fragrant courtyard and down a walkway. Finding a small, grassy lawn, he pulled Adriana down beside him and leaned against a palm.

“Have you ever stomped grapes with your bare feet?” he asked her, delighted by her sudden laugh.

“Of course I haven’t. Why would I want to do that?”

“It feels good. So do a whole lot of other things.” He slowly licked the ice cream cone, watching the way her eyes studied his tongue, his lips. “What makes you feel good, Adriana?”

She slipped her shoes off and wiggled her toes as the sun hit them. “Finding a rare piece of memorabilia,
getting it for a good price, and selling it much higher.”

“Making money’s good, but I was thinking of something more along the lines of going to parties with friends, playing croquet on a Sunday afternoon, dancing on a Saturday night.”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t dance... much.”

He took one last bite of the cone and tossed the remains in the trash can not more than ten feet away, then stretched out on the grass, folding his arms under his head like a pillow. “Y’know, Adriana, I can’t imagine going more than a few days without dancing. Sometimes I used to hit two or three clubs in a week—the Trocadero, the Cocoanut Grove, the Palomar. One night we’d go to hear Benny Goodman, another Phil Harris or Jimmy Dorsey.”

“None of those places are around any longer. We don’t have big bands,” she said. “Hollywood’s different now, and all those nightclubs are just a part of history.”

“Memories don’t die, Adriana. For me, they just happened yesterday. I know the feel of Ginger Rogers’ waist and I remember Betty Grable’s legs. I remember Jackie Cooper sitting in with one of the bands and playing the drums. I remember sharing drinks with Cary Grant, trying to beat Fred Astaire in a dance contest, and getting drunk with Errol Flynn.” He opened his eyes. “Those were the good times.”

“Were there any that were bad?”

Too many bad times. Being locked away in his bedroom for weeks at a time just because he’d been caught going to see a movie. The switch his tutor took to his backside when he spoke of Valentino, Mary Pickford, or Douglas Fairbanks, rather than reciting Latin or key phrases from his father’s legal texts. His mother pushing him away when he’d
wanted a hug. But Adriana didn’t need to know those things.

“Life was always good,” he told her instead. “What’s been good for you—besides making money?”

“Walks on the beach, reading.”

“What about friends? People you go out with?”

“Stewart and his wife, Maggie. I have business acquaintances over for cocktails, Stewart and Maggie come for dinner occasionally. That’s all.”

“Boyfriends? Ever been married?”

Adriana shook her head. “I like being alone.”

“You don’t like men?”

“No one’s ever interested me.”

“Do I interest you?”

“You’ve always interested me.”

“What about the me who’s here right now? The real Trevor Montgomery—not the one on the screen.”