Star Attraction (11 page)

So Zaira carried on chatting about
things that she was concerned about preserving from her book, and the costumes,
and looking for the right museum pieces they could request on loan for the
interiors, until he suddenly glanced at his watch and said, “Good lord, it’s
five already!
 
I was supposed to be
somewhere else ages ago. Sorry, Zoe, but I’ll see you on Monday. And we will
meet up again at the end of next week.
 
We’ll see how far you and Zaira can get with some of these ideas.”
 

He pulled out a small notebook and
jotted down a couple of the items they had been discussing, and showed the book
to Zaira for her approval.

She held his wrist as he showed
her the book, and leaned closer to him, so that her breast brushed his elbow.
The contact was electrifying.
 
Zaira
said breathily, “That’s fine, I’ll see you then.”
 
She pecked him on the cheek, and walked out of the bar
without a backward glance.

“That’ll keep him guessing,” Zaira
laughed to herself, as she hurried home to wash the color out of her hair and
change.

After half an hour, she was her
old self again, Zaira Darcy, and as she firmly settled her new clear spectacles
on the edge of her nose, she suddenly began to worry about dinner.
 
She looked in the freezer and found
some chicken, so she began to defrost it in the oven, and chopped up some
vegetables for a stir fry.
 
She was
about to get the rice ready when she heard the bell ring.
 
Checking to make sure her hair was up
in a tidy knot, she opened it to see Brad smiling down at her, with another
huge bunch of flowers, this time pink and yellow roses, some perfume and a
rather crumpled-looking paper bag.

He kissed her on the cheek, and
said, “I thought Chinese, if that’s all right.”

She laughed and told him she was
already cooking it.

At that he looked very surprised
and pleased.
 

“But your addition will be most
welcome.
 
I haven’t started the
rice yet, and look, you’ve even got noodles, a favorite of mine,” Zaira assured
him, as she looked through the dishes he had brought.

Brad sat down on the sofa and watched
her while she admired his presents.

“Thanks ever so much for the other
things, but really, there was no need to shower me with gifts.
 
The perfume was what I always used to
wear, when I could afford it.
 
How
did you guess?” Zaira asked softly, smiling at him.

Brad shrugged his shoulders.
 
“It just seemed to suit you, that’s
all.
 
And I wanted to prove to you
I was thinking about you.”
 
He
looked rather sheepishly at her for a moment, and she wondered why he seemed so
guilty and crestfallen.

“I mean, about your incredible
generosity to me, welcoming me into your home like this.
 
Ever since I bumped into you that day,
it’s like all the pieces in the puzzle of my life have finally fallen into
place.
 
I’ve never been happier, or
more fulfilled and excited by all the things I’ve been doing since I arrived in
New York, and you're partly to thank for that.”

“Nonsense, Brad,” Zaira
protested.
 
“You would have been
successful no matter what, and you've had dozens of opportunities in the past
for artistic fulfilment.
 
Why
should this project be any different?”

“I’m not sure,” Brad said,
frowning.
 
“It’s just that it's the
whole me, the real me.
 
Maybe for
the first time ever, I’m not afraid of what people will think or say.
 
I’m out of the goldfish bowl, and the only
one to watch over me and judge me is myself.
 
I want to make a film that is going to be worthy of me, and
worthy of you, and Zoe Dominick as actress and writer.”

Zaira smiled, oddly moved by his
confession.
 
She wondered if he
were also feeling bit guilty about his passionate embrace with Zoe
earlier.
 
But then decided that he
probably was more worried about what his woman on the coast would think of the
whole thing, than whether or not Zaira Darcy found out he had been flirting
with Zoe Dominick in the middle of their project.

“Right, I’ll just go down to get
the rest of my things, which I left with the doorman, and then I’ll go to my
room and get settled.
 
Is it all
right if we eat at seven-thirty?”

“Sure, it’s my usual time,” Zaira
agreed, though in truth she seldom ate in the evenings at all.

Brad disappeared out the door, and
she went into the kitchen to put the food in the oven to keep it warm.

When he came back in, Zaira
offered to help him carry his things and put them away, but he just shook his head.

“I haven’t got that much with me,
and in any case, I would like to suggest that you either prepare your lectures,
or work on the screenplay, while I sort myself out, and then we can have dinner
and maybe go to the cinema?”

“I’d love to, Brad, but as you
say, if we’re going on the shopping expedition tomorrow, then I'd better
knuckle down tonight.”

“All right, but it seem a waste of
a good Saturday evening, in a way.”

“Well, there’s a late showing of
that new French film at Bleecker Street at eleven tonight that I had thought
about going to last week, but didn’t get the chance.
 
So, how about work, dinner, work, and then the film as a
treat?” she suggested.

“You’re on,” he said, and
hurriedly disappeared into his room.

Zaira went into the study and flicked
on the desk lamp.
 
She decided to
start
 
with her lectures on the
Middle Ages first.
 
If she could
plan them out for the next fortnight, she would
 
be able to devote more of her time to the play and to the
screenplay of “The Dark Lady.”
 
She
typed up her thoughts on
The Canterbury Tales
with a surprising speed and
clarity of thought that amazed even herself.

Normally she had to struggle with
her words, but now they flowed out of her fingers and onto the page almost
faultlessly.
 
Zaira thought briefly
about what Brad had said concerning personal fulfillment, and realized it was
true about herself as well.
 
She
had become much more confident, alert, decisive.
 
Not that she hadn’t possessed all those qualities before,
but with Brad at her side, everything seemed so easy, so right, so
natural.
 
There were no niggling
doubts, and oddly enough, no self-consciousness.
 
As Brad had also said, for the first time in her life, she
felt she did not have to fear the judgment of others.
 
She had nothing left to prove, and Brad had trusted her with
the project closest to his heart.

Zaira’s lingering fears about his
so-called love she pushed to the back of his mind.
 
After all, as he admitted to Zoe, he only thought he was in
love, but the feeling was by no means clear or even mutual.
  
Brad had said he was confused,
but then, how else did one feel, if one day a person met someone who turned
their whole life upside down?
 
In
time, Brad might grow to realize that they had so much in common, so much to
look forward to in a wonderful future that they could build together, that he
didn’t love the other woman after all.

Zaira stood up suddenly, and began
to pace around the room.
 
She
scolded herself roundly for even thinking he could fall in love with her,
her
!
 
Plain old Zaira Darcy, his screenwriter.
 
She was married, she was poor, she was
in debt.
 
True, there was enough
chemistry between them to blow up a science lab, but couldn’t it be just
because she was safe, undemanding, and didn’t pose a threat to his other
life?
 
If he was going to fall in
love with anyone, it would be with the glamorous Zoe Dominick, not mousy Zaira
Darcy.

But another part of Zaira’s heart
told her Brad truly cared for her, or else how could he possibly treat her the
way he did?
 
He had just declared how
important she was to him.
 
Maybe
there could be some future for them? After all, Zoe was still her, only more
bold and daring.

Yet, Zaira reminded herself
sourly, any possible future with Brad would depend upon Brad not hating her
guts forever when he eventually found out that she had been deceiving him.
 
But there again, surely he could be
fair enough to realize that her double act hadn’t been intentional at first,
and had only been maintained in order to keep things flowing smoothly with the
project, a financial and personal necessity to both of them. And that she had
every reason not to trust him if he was kissing one of them one moment,
showering her with presents the next, and yet still had another woman he
claimed to be in love with.
 

She has suspected him of being the
two-timing type, and he has proven himself a thee-timer just like the tabloids
claimed. No, she had been right to be cautious, and reminded herself she was
there to do business with him. There was no point in losing her head, no matter
how gorgeous he was.
 
She would
have a future with him, all right, but it would be paved with rave reviews, not
red roses.
 

Zaira heard him drop something in
the next room, and realized she had better get the food ready.
 
She saved and printed her work on the
computer and went out into the kitchen, and soon Brad came out and set the
table for her wordlessly.

He moved about the room as if he
had lived there for years, not minutes, and then popped back in the kitchen to
take the plates from her.
 
“It’s my
turn to cook tomorrow,” he said.
 
“How about Indian?
 

“Great,” she agreed, touched by
his offer.

“We’ll do some shopping for the
house, and go to the supermarket to stock up.
 
It’s going to be a pretty hectic two weeks, so it will save
us some trouble.
 
And here,” he
said, as he put down his fork for a minute, “is two months’ rent in advance.”

 
He handed her a check with many zeroes on it, and Zaira began
to protest.

“It’s nothing, really.
 
Now, I had a meeting with Zoe Dominick
today, and she’s come up with some excellent ideas.”

Zaira blushed as he ran through
the conversation with him she had had earlier, and tried not to smile.
 

“I’ll look into all those things
for you as soon as possible,” Zaira agreed, and then they had coffee together
before they headed into the study.

Brad sat in the small wooden chair
by the door, and read through her work from the past two days, while she
continued to edit her manuscript on the computer.
 
She reflected with amusement that he must think her a genius
to get it done so fast, but it was simply a case of manipulating the dialogue
into the actors' lines, and adding some stage directions.
 

Brad also added a few stage
directions here and there, and in a different color ink began to make notes
about lighting, costumes and settings.
 
He did several sketches of the sets and costumes he had in mind. Zaira
admired them enthusiastically, impressed with his skills as an artist, and his
vision for the film as a whole. It was almost as though he had read her
mind.
 
If she had had the ability,
she would have produced drawings identical to those.

Soon both
 
their backs were aching, and Brad
reminded Zaira gently that she had promised they would go to the film.
 
They had just enough time to gulp a
quick cup of coffee before they walked over to the cinema.
 

Brad paid for the tickets, and put
his arm lightly around her waist as he led her down the dark aisle.
 
Something must have reminded him of the
afternoon with Zoe, for he removed his hand quickly almost as though it had
been burnt, and he sat stiffly in the rather uncomfortable seats, trying to
avoid any physical contact with her.

Zaira sighed and tried to
concentrate on the film. It was beautifully made, and she could see Brad
visibly relax as he viewed it.
 
They story was very romantic, and in some cases positively steamy.
 
Zaira felt herself go hot all over as
the dark haired man and red haired woman made love, and she wondered if that
would be what she and Brad would look like together.
 

But no, he was much more perfectly
formed than the actor, and her body thrilled at the thought of his flesh
caressing hers as she watched.
 

Fortunately the scene soon came to
an end, but it had left a searing image in her mind of she and Brad together,
and she longed for it more than anything else in the world.
 
Zaira guessed he had probably spotted
the resemblance himself; what could he be thinking now?