Lovers & Liars (15 page)

Nothing to do there but huddle over
the fireplace to keep warm. There’s never enough heat in Mom’s place. Always
too damn cold.
Gunther bought new warm clothing. He’d
become accustomed to the comfortable, Los Angeles weather and wasn’t looking
forward to a vacation in frigid temperatures. He made a face at the prospect of
layering clothes until he resembled Santa Claus.

He
closed his fingers around the armrest with a death grip when the plane took
off. Once in the air, he was calm, though his spirit was low. Christmas had
been important to him when he was younger, but as the years went by with no female
emotional attachment, Gunther began to think of it as any other day.

This
year, Christmas spirit had risen in his breast until the falling out with
Erica. He’d hoped to surprise her with special gifts. Now, he spent his money
on his mother with a few small gifts thrown in for her friends.

He
wondered what Erica was doing for the holiday, assuming she wouldn’t be
spending it with her father. A pang hit his heart when he thought of her alone.
Filming stopped over the holidays, and the cast and crew scattered like mice
when a cat arrives on the scene.

She
wasn’t his concern anymore, but he missed making her smile. He had enjoyed
making Laurel happy, and
Dorrie
, too, when they had
been engaged. Then something got closed off in him. But Erica had opened it up
again.

“Doe-eyes,”
he muttered to the empty seat next to him where she should have been. He’d
planned to take her to his mom’s for Christmas, then rent a car and drive up
the coast, staying in quaint bed and breakfast places through the New Year.
Thank God Carla had canceled his reservations. He didn’t think he could have
brought himself to do it. She had given him a funny look, but hadn’t asked any
questions.

The
stewardess brought him a drink. He looked her over with no interest, although
she was pretty.
But she’s not doe-eyes.
He’d
tried to resist checking up on Erica, but one of the other producers had voluntarily
filled him in on how well she was doing. He had eaten up the information,
begging for more. Gunther smiled to himself.
She’d be the top at anything she did.

Despite
everything, he was looking forward to seeing his mother. It had been a year
since the last time, and she could always put things in perspective for him.
Still, two weeks in Maine with only his mom would be tough.

Sitting
back, he stared out the window, allowing his mind to wander. He wondered what
his brother, Gordon, would be like today, if he had lived.
Would we be close? He was a math whiz. Would he be a financial genius?
Gunther
doubted they’d be bosom buddies.
Gordon
would have stayed on the East Coast.

He
hadn’t been close to anyone except his mother for years.
Maybe I can’t care for anyone anymore?
He shook his head.
Nonsense. I loved Erica. Just picked the
wrong woman.

He
closed his eyes and slept. In New York, he had to change to a small plane to
Portland, where his mom insisted on picking him up. She had a house on the
water in York. By the time he reached Maine, a light snow had begun to fall. He
was tired and cranky. Clare picked up on his mood and kept her conversation to
a minimum.

He
ate briefly then went straight to bed. He awoke the next morning to a winter
wonderland, a fresh coating of several inches of pristine snow. Clare made him
a big breakfast, and they lingered over coffee.

“What’s
the plan for this year, Mom?”

“You’re
only here a week, so I didn’t plan too much. There’s so much going on here, but
I narrowed the list down.”

“I’m
here a full two weeks.” He turned his gaze out the window.
No fooling her. She’ll pick right up on it.

“Oh?
What happened to the young lady who was supposed to join you?”

“We
made other plans.” He added cream to his mug.

She
turned the power of her stare on him. “I’m seventy-two, not a hundred and two,
Gunther Quill! Give me a straight answer.” Clare put down her cup.

“We
broke up.” Gunther avoided her eyes.

“Why?”

Before
he knew it, the whole story had spilled out of him. Almost the whole story. He omitted
details of their passionate nights. Clare sat patiently listening, nodding her
head occasionally. She sipped her beverage and ate a homemade brownie while he
talked.

He
finished with a deep sigh. “So, she’s gone.”

“And
you look like you lost your best friend.”

“I
did,” he muttered, picking up a brownie.

“What
are you going to do about it?”

He
just stared at her.

“If
you’ve come here to mope around for two weeks and expect sympathy from me, take
your butt right back on that plane.” She straightened her spine.

“Nice,
Mom.”

“I
mean it. It’s Christmas, and if I can’t have a pleasant time instead of having
to look at a sad sack all day, I’m gonna scream.”

“I’ll
be okay. I’ll smile.”

“Gunther,
this woman is the best thing that’s happened to you since
Dorrie
Rodgers, the sweet thing.”

“But,
Ma.
She’s a liar, a betrayer, deceitful…”

“You
set it up that way.” She drained the last of her beverage.

“What
do you mean?” He put down his cup.

“You
refused to hire an actress. Who else would be dying to work for such a driven,
workaholic producer as you but an actress?”

Gunther
stopped chewing.

“Really,
Gunther. If her only crime was trying to have her own dream and tricking you
into giving her the chance, it doesn’t seem quite so monumental, does it?”

“Not
if you put it that way. But she lied to me. She didn’t love me. She was only
using me for connections, telling me she loved me…”

“Did
she ever say she loved you?”

“Not
in so many words, but a guy knows.”

“So,
she didn’t lie about that.” A look of triumph skittered across her face.

“She
said she did after I got mad. Told her we were through.”

“Why
would she lie to you then? You’re already furious and out the door. She had
succeeded at the audition. Technically, she didn’t need you anymore.”

Gunther
scratched his two-day growth of beard. “You got a point there.”

“Maybe
she really does love you, but she also wanted her dream. Is that possible?”

“No!”
He pushed to his feet, grabbed his new
L.L.
Bean
jacket and went outside for a walk. He made a few snowballs and threw
them at nearby trees.
Why does Mom have
to be so damn smart all the time? I hate it when she’s right.
Gunther
couldn’t keep up his anger for long. The cold got to him, and he returned
inside. He mother was stirring chocolate on the stove. She poured him a cup.

“This
is good, Ma.” He wrapped his icy fingers around the warm mug and took another
sip.

“Here’s
the schedule. Tomorrow, we go shopping. There’s a new mini-outlet mall. I have
the gift list. Lunch out. Pizza for dinner. Wednesday, there’s a sing-along, or
we can be on the list to receive carolers. The church is having a Secret Santa
potluck Thursday. Christmas Eve, I’ve invited my friends here for a buffet.
I’ve been cooking and freezing all week. Then, Christmas Day. After church, old
movies, sports, whatever…your choice.”

“Sounds
great, Ma.” He smiled at her.
I could use
a little tradition this year.
He took the hot drink and went into the
glassed-in porch. The room had a perfect view of the water. As he sat back,
watching the waves, he thought about what his mother had said.
Why did you do it, Erica? This would have
been the best holiday in years.
He missed her, even if he wouldn’t admit
it.

The
next morning, after assurance from his mother that the mall would be heated, he
put on a regular weight jacket and got behind the wheel of his mother’s SUV. The
shopping trip had been fun. Gunther was feeling generous. They bought gifts for
her friends, especially the ones who were in need of new, warm clothes to
replace worn garments that were beyond budgets.

Gunther
made sure Clare had a practical gift for each. He enjoyed spending the day with
her. She had a quick wit, a generous spirit, and a sharp mind. He couldn’t fool
her, so he didn’t try.

They
dined in a quaint little restaurant, filling up on piping hot, New England clam
chowder and lobster rolls. Gunther chowed down on his favorite non-meat foods. “This
chowder is okay, but not as good as yours,” he said, blowing on a spoonful.

“Maybe
not as good, but a
helluva
lot less work,” Clare said,
grinning.

They
returned home at five o’clock, loaded down with packages. Four, five, Gunther
had lost track of how many shopping bags they had. It looked like he’d bought
gifts for half of York. But it made him happy to see his mother smiling as she shopped
merrily for her friends, finding just the right gifts.
She always loved holidays, birthdays, gift giving.
He had to admit
to himself that her enthusiasm was infectious.

Even
though Gunther made three trips to ferry in all the bags from the car, plus the
pizza, he didn’t see a small, half-frozen figure hiding in the shadows. Clare
put up a pot of coffee and set out plates for the food when she was interrupted
by the sound of the doorbell. “Gunther! Could you please see who it is?”

“Sure,
Ma,” he called, traipsing up the steps with the last of the gifts. He dropped
them on the floor next to the granite counter in the kitchen then went to open
the door. He thought he heard singing as he approached. He called to his
mother. “Carolers, Ma!”

She
joined him, frowning as she wiped her hands on a paper towel. “They’re supposed
to be here tomorrow night. Not tonight.” With a knitted brow, she opened the door.

There
on the stoop, wearing a thin coat and shivering from the cold, stood a young
woman singing “Jingle Bells” off key. She stopped when Gunther and Clare stared
at her.

“Erica?
What are you doing here?” Gunther asked.

Chapter Ten

“Hi,
Gunther.
Merry Christmas.”

She
looked so pathetic, his heart flipped.
Now
I know what plans she made for Christmas. None.

Clare
took Erica’s hand and pulled her inside. “Come in, come in. You’re freezing.
Gunther, please get her things.”

“You
can’t stay here,” he whispered to the young woman.

“Of
course she’s going to stay here. Where else would she stay?” Clare gave her son
a sharp look.

“A
hotel?”

“They’re
all booked this time of year. We have plenty of room. Take her bags to the
lavender guest room, Gunther.”

He
frowned, but carried Erica’s luggage to the room directly across the hall from
his.

“Wow,
this is a great house. Will you give me a tour?” she asked, still shivering.

Gunther
put down her bags. “Sure.” But he was angry.
What’s she doing here? What more does she want from me?

He
led the way. The house was big—four bedrooms, a big living room, and a cozy den
with chintz loveseats facing a huge window looking out on the water. It had a
fireplace and a television, too. The den was Gunther’s favorite place. He’d set
up his office in there to handle any business problems that came along while he
watched the seagulls fishing for their supper.

The
tour ended at the kitchen. Clare was whipping up more hot chocolate. Erica
rubbed her hands together. Gunther saw she had the beginnings of frostbite.

“You
come to Maine in December without gloves?” he asked, then continued without
waiting for her answer. “Come here.” Taking her hand, he brought her to the
sink. He turned on the water and made sure it was lukewarm before pushing her hands
under it. She hissed at the pain for only a few seconds.

Clare
placed pizza slices on plates. “I’m sorry dinner isn’t more exciting. We’ve
been out shopping all day. So, it’s pizza tonight.”

“Anything
is fine with me. Thank you for taking me in.”

“Of
course! Any friend of Gunther’s is always welcome here.”

“She’s
not a friend,” Gunther said on his way to the table.

Erica
turned off the tap. “I’d better go. I’m sorry. This wasn’t a good idea.”

“Ridiculous!
You’re staying here, and
Gunther’ll
have to get over
it.” Clare shot an angry look at her son. “Gunther, its Christmas. Doesn’t that
mean anything to you?”

He
looked down at his fingers. “Okay, Ma. She can stay.”
How can I be around her? I don’t know if I want to kiss her or kill her.
“One night.” Clare shot him another nasty look. “All right, two. But that’s
it!”

“That’s
more than fair. Unexpected company, I know,” Erica said.

“But
you weren’t unexpected. Gunther didn’t tell me until he got here that you
weren’t coming. I expected you up until yesterday.” Again, she glanced at her
son.

He
shifted his weight.
She can make me feel
like a naughty nine–year-old in five seconds.

“Thank
you. But I understand how Gunther feels, and that’s okay. I was hoping to make
amends, but if that’s not possible, then tomorrow I’ll change my plans and be
out of here the day after. Thank you for your warm welcome, Clare.”

One
look at Erica, and he could tell she was holding it in.
No waterworks, please!
They all sat down and ate. Erica embraced her
hot chocolate, wrapping her barely-thawed fingers around the warm mug. He
chuckled.
Thought you’d just show up in
Maine, eh? Colder than hell here.

“I
hear you’re an actress, Erica,” Clare said.

“Sort
of. Just doing my first movie now.”

“One
of Gunther’s, I understand.”

Erica
whipped her head around to look at him.

Okay, so I told my mother about us.

“It
is. A good one. A fine film. Great cast, too.”

“How’s
the leading man doing? I hear he’s supposed to have several scenes with you,”
Gunther asked.

Erica
flushed. “He’s fine.”

“Love
scenes, I believe?” He continued his probe.

“You
should know, you’ve read the script.” Erica shot back, her brow furrowed.

“
Ohh
, she bites,” Gunther murmured, taking a bite of a
slice. “You don’t have to worry about Erica, Ma, she can take care of herself.
Very well, very well.”

The
young woman’s blush deepened.

“Seems
to me when someone comes to make amends, Gunther, you should let ’em.” Clare’s
gaze switched from Erica to Gunther.

“What
exactly are you doing here? You’ve got what you wanted from me, what’s left?”

“I
think this should be discussed privately.” Erica kept her gaze on her food.

“I’ve
nothing to hide. What more do you want from me?” He threw his hands up.

“Nothing
to do with my career, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She wiped her lips
with her napkin.

Don’t do that in front of me.
“How perceptive of you! That’s exactly what I was getting at.”

“Gunther,
I think the young lady would like some private time with you. Please stop
teasing her. You’re making me uncomfortable. I’m not used to such rude behavior
from you.”

Anger
boiled up inside him. He was trapped. Erica had invaded his personal space, his
mother’s house, and his mother was siding with her! He was outraged.

Before
he could act on his feelings, he realized he was behaving like a two-year-old
who’d lost a toy. “You’re right, Ma. Erica, we can talk after dinner.”

Normal
color returned to the young woman’s face, and she grinned. Clare smiled back.
Don’t get used to her, Ma. She’s not
staying.

They
finished the pizza then tucked into Clare’s homemade apple pie. Erica got very
quiet while Clare chatted about her friends to Gunther. A sad cast to her doe
eyes caught his attention. He tried to ignore it, and her, but was unable. She
looked beautiful with her golden hair falling in a loose wave about her face
and a sky-blue, fleece warm-up suit hugging her curves.

“Excuse
me, Ma. Okay, what’s the matter, Erica? Something wrong with the pie?”

She
shook her head. “Just reminds me of my mother’s.”

“Please
ask her for her recipe. I’d love to compare.”

Gunther
put his hand on his mother’s arm, but it was too late.

“My
mom’s been gone a long time. This time of year, I miss her more than usual. I’m
sorry. I don’t mean to be gloom and doom.” Her eyes filled.

No waterworks, please!

Erica
wiped her cheeks with her fingers and smiled at Clare.

“That’s
too bad. I’m sorry.” The older woman patted Erica’s hand. “I’ve got some
letters and cards to finish.” Clare pushed to her feet and refilled her mug.
“See you in the morning.”

The
big kitchen seemed to shrink when Clare left. Gunther sat finishing his second
piece of pie with Erica sipping coffee at the kitchen table. They stared at
each other.

“So
what are you really doing here?” he asked, taking the last forkful.

“I
came to see you. I miss you. I was looking forward to the holiday with you…” Her
voice broke, and the tears started.

“No
tears, Erica!” He handed her his handkerchief.

“I’m
sorry. I know you hate this. Thanks,” she said, taking his offering. He sat
silently watching her. Erica fidgeted with the cloth, twisting it. “This is
very hard for me.”

“I’m
listening.”

“I’m
going to say what I said before. Maybe now that some time has passed, you’ll
believe me. I love you, Gunther.” She looked up at him. “I do. I didn’t realize
how much this lie would hurt you. I thought you’d be mad, but understand how
desperate I was. I took the job under false pretenses… I took advantage of you,
and that was wrong.”

He
didn’t move a muscle.

“I
didn’t mean to fall in love with you. I didn’t want to, but I did.”

“You
love me against your will?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes,
no. Not exactly. Falling in love wasn’t on the agenda. I wanted to learn all I
could about the business, do a really great job, get promoted, and maybe, just
maybe, get to meet a casting director. I never thought
Whitmarsh
Eddy would email…all the things that happened. It was a dream come true to me.”

“But
when the opportunity presented itself…”

“I
jumped at it. I did. So would you. I thought you’d be proud of how I found my
way to get my dream.”

“By
pretending to love me?”

“I
wasn’t pretending. I guess I didn’t get your point-of-view. I had no idea
that’s how you’d see it. I was wrong, Gunther, I admit it. I’d do anything to
take back the pain I caused you. Please don’t shut me out. You’ve made…added…I’m
miserable without you.” She picked at a cuticle and bit her lip.

“It’s
been a long day. I’m tired. Let’s sleep on it, okay?”

Erica
sighed and nodded, but didn’t smile. Gunther went into his room and stretched
out on the bed. He stared at the ceiling.
She
loves me, she loves me not. What’s in it for her to come here? She’d know
there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’d turn her away. Maybe even greater than that.
It took a lot of balls to come here.
Balls,
or she
really loves me.

He
checked his watch. Jet lag and running around in the freezing temperatures had
tired him out. He got undressed, washed up in the bathroom he’d be sharing with
Erica, put on a T-shirt because it was cold, and hopped into bed.

The
house was so quiet that a creak in the middle of the night was loud enough to wake
him. He sat up and looked at the doorway. A small figure, draped in a full
length nightgown, stood there. The hall light outlined her supple figure in
silhouette through the flimsy garment. Gunther’s mouth watered.

“I
can’t sleep. It’s a strange house. Can I sleep with you?”

“You’re
kidding, right? Get in this bed with me?”

“Thanks.
I didn’t think you’d offer.” She scooted across the room and slipped in next to
him.

“Hey,
I didn’t offer. That was a question.”

“Too
late,” she said, snuggling up to capture his warmth. “It’s freezing in my
room.”

“Turn
on the electric mattress pad.”

“I’d
rather turn you on,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck and running her hand down
his chest.

Celibacy
had never been a comfortable condition for Gunther. Here she was in a filmy
negligée, pressed up against him. He was only human. He rolled onto his side. “Do
you want me?” he asked, his voice husky.

“God,
yes,” she whispered. “Do you want me?”

He
wrapped her in his arms and gave her a hungry kiss. She responded immediately,
lifting her leg and hooking it around his waist.

“You
wearing anything under that?” he asked, while he planted small kisses on her neck.

“Nope.”
She eased her head back to expose more of the sensitive column to him.

Gunther
pulled her gown up and off. “That’s better.” She arched her back, raising her
breasts toward him, and he didn’t hesitate. He lowered his mouth and sucked then
licked her peak greedily, devouring her.

Erica
returned his passion, her mouth kissing, her hands touching, caressing, and
holding him. He craved her more than he had ever wanted any other woman. He
couldn’t resist his own needs. She was in his bed and eager. So, he made love
to her, releasing all the desire, anguish, and pain that had been building
inside him. Tangled together, they fell asleep.

* * * *

Erica
awoke first. Disoriented, she looked around and didn’t recognize the room. But
she recognized the scent of her lover. Gunther was on his stomach, with his
arms hugging his pillow.
He looks so cute
and harmless. Hah! Anything but.

She
pulled the covers to her chin against the early morning chill. She realized she
had nothing to wear but her see-through nightgown, which had been tossed to the
floor the night before. But it was early, six o’clock, and she wasn’t ready to
get out of bed.

Snuggling
closer, she put her hand on his lower back. He rolled over and slapped his arm
over her middle without waking up. Erica closed her eyes. Warmth and peace
surrounded her.
I don’t know for how
long. I will enjoy it while I can.

The
next thing she knew, sun was streaming in the window, poking her in the eye.
Gunther was leaning on one elbow, studying her as she slept. She blinked and
smiled. A shiver ran through her at the cold, angry scowl on his face.

“Don’t
think because I slept with you, we’re back together. We’re not.”