What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(128)

She threw up her hands. “I can’t believe you killed off Scooter!”

“I didn’t have a lot of time to work on the script. It was the best I could come up with, especially since I had to…shoot around you.”

“I’ll say!”

“It would have been done yesterday, but your angelic fake daughter turned out to be a diva. Total pain in the ass to work with, which doesn’t bode well for Tree House. She’s playing the kid.”

“A great little actress, though,” Georgie drawled, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know I had tears in my eyes.”

“If we ever have a child who acts like that…”

“It’ll be her father’s fault.”

That stopped him cold, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook, even though little balloons of happiness had started to rise inside her. “Honest to God, Bram, that was the stupidest, sappiest, most maudlin piece of cinematic garbage…”

“I knew you’d like it.” He couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. “You did like it, didn’t you? It was the only way I could think of to show you I understood exactly how much I hurt you that day on the beach. You understood that, right?”

“Oddly enough, yes.”

His face twisted. “You’re going to have to help me, Georgie. I’ve never loved anyone before.”

“Not even yourself,” she said quietly.

“Not much to love. Until you started loving me back.” His hand slipped into his pocket. “I don’t want to hurt you again. Ever. But I’ve already done it. I sacrificed what you wanted the most.” His face twisted. “Helene is really gone, Georgie. The contract is signed. That role meant everything to you—I know it—and I screwed that up, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Unless I signed another actress, I had no way to prove I need you for yourself.”

“I get that.” She thought of the painful things people did to themselves and to each other because of love, and she knew the time had come to tell him what she’d only recently figured out herself. “I’m glad.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t fix this, sweetheart, and there’s no way I can make that up to you.”

“You don’t have anything to make up.” She said it aloud for the first time. “I’m a filmmaker, Bram. A documentary filmmaker. That’s what I want to do with my life.”

“What are you talking about? You love acting.”

“I loved being Annie. I loved being Scooter. I needed the applause and the praise. But I don’t need that anymore. I’ve grown up, and I want to tell other people’s stories.”

“That’s fine, but—Your audition? That amazing performance?”

“Not a bit of it came from my heart. It was all technique.” She chose her words carefully, pulling the pieces together as she spoke, trying to get it exactly right. “Preparing for that audition should have been the most exciting work I’ve ever done, but it was drudgery. I didn’t like Helene, and I hated the dark place she took me to. All I wanted to do was escape with my camera.”

He cocked an eyebrow, beginning to look more like himself. “Exactly when did you figure this out?”

“I guess I knew it at the time, but I thought I was reacting to how messy everything had gotten with you. I’d rehearse for a while, and when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I’d pick up my camera and pester Chaz, or go interview a waitress. With all my talk about reinventing my career, I didn’t understand I’d already done it.” She smiled. “Wait till you see the footage I’ve shot—Chaz’s story, street kids, these amazing single mothers. It doesn’t all fit in the same film, but figuring out what goes where is going to teach me so much.”

He finally came around from behind his desk. “You’re not just saying this so I don’t feel guilty?”

“Are you kidding? I love you guilty. It makes it easier for me to wrap you around my finger.”

“You’ve already done that,” he said huskily. “Tighter than you can ever imagine.”

He seemed to drink in her face. She’d never felt more cherished. They gazed into each other’s eyes. Into each other’s souls. And neither one offered up a single wisecrack.

He kissed her as if she were a virgin. The tenderest meeting of lips and heart. It was embarrassingly romantic, but not as embarrassing as their damp cheeks. They held each other close, eyes shut, hearts hammering, naked in a way they’d never been. They knew each other’s flaws as well as they knew their own, and each other’s strengths even better. That made the moment all the sweeter.

They talked for a long time. She wouldn’t hide anything, and she told him about her call to Mel Duffy and what she’d almost done.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d gone through with it,” he said. “And remind me not to ever let you have a gun.”

“I want to get married again,” she whispered. “Really married.”

He kissed her temple. “Do you now?”

“A private ceremony. Beautiful and intimate.”

“All right.” His hand wandered to her breast, and the lust that had been simmering between them erupted. It took all her effort to pull back. “You can’t imagine how hard this is for me to say.” She drew his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. “But I want a wedding night.”