If I Can't Have You (12 page)

But he’d run away once before, and when he’d wanted to go back he found out he was no longer wanted.

He pressed his fingers against the pulsing nerves in his temple, trying to ward off the headache and the memories he felt coming on. It was no use though. He couldn’t push either away.

It was too easy to remember that Christmas Eve in 1920. Even now he could feel the tightness he’d had in his throat when he’d tried to talk, the way tears had welled up behind his eyes when he heard his father’s words.

“I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken. My wife and I have no son.”

“How can you say that, Father? I’m your son,”
he’d said frantically into the telephone.

“No. I’m afraid you’re wrong. If we’d been blessed with an obedient child, he’d be following in my footsteps. Surely I would remember such a son,”
his father had said in a cool, contemptuous voice.

“Please, Father. I’ve told you how much being an actor means to me. I don’t want to be a lawyer. Surely you can understand.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m a very busy man.”

“I know it’s Christmas Eve. That’s why I called.”

“I don’t give handouts to beggars.”

‘I don’t want anything. I just wanted you and Mother to know that I love you.”

“Then perhaps you should call your own mother and father. As I’ve said before, we don’t have a son. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have company to entertain.”

He’d never felt as empty and alone as he had the moment their connection had been cut off. He was sixteen years old, and the parents he had loved no longer wanted him. The money he’d spent on that phone call would have been better spent filling his empty stomach. That hadn’t mattered, though. His appetite had disappeared as rapidly as his parents had forgotten his existence.

In the dim light of the backlots, he’d found his way to his makeshift home, one of the castle interiors Douglas Fairbanks was using in
The Three Musketeers.
The three-walled set provided little warmth and comfort, but it was the only home he’d had.

He’d found a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s that one of the film crew must have hidden, curled up in his forlorn pile of rags that he called a bed, and had his first taste of whiskey.

Then he cried himself to sleep.

The next morning, when Christmas dawned bright and beautiful, and he realized that a big portion of the world’s population was happily spending the day with family, he promised himself he’d never be lonely again. He’d never allow himself to love again, either. Rejection was too painful.

Trevor laughed darkly at the memory. History was repeating itself. He’d run from Carole’s body, from his friends, from life itself, and he’d been thrust
into a new and different world, one he more than likely couldn’t escape.

Not only that, he was being rejected again, by a heaven-sent beauty who called herself Adriana.

And he was lonely.

God, he was lonely.

He looked at his watch again.
Where could she be?

Before frustration and worry had sent him outside to watch for her, he’d spent a good part of the morning reading those crazy books about himself and looking at newspapers to learn more about current events. He’d figured out how to work the television and the black instrument that controlled it. He’d watched women romping around beaches dressed in next to nothing; men drinking beer and belching; and children sassing their parents.

This new world was all rather strange. There was nothing refined or dignified in people’s mannerisms, morals, or style. He might like the beautiful bodies on those women cavorting on the beach, but he didn’t think they should be parading around in public for everyone to see. Naked women belonged in the bedroom—preferably
his
bedroom.

He laughed to himself. He didn’t have a bedroom any longer. Not only that, he’d lost sixty years of his life and, for some odd reason, the thought had just crept into his mind that the loss might not be all that bad.

He’d escaped a possible murder conviction and a life in prison or death in the electric chair.

Then again, he had no job, no income. He’d found the money he’d stashed away sixty years before—when banks were the last thing he’d trust—but that wasn’t about to last forever, and the only home he had now belonged to someone else.

Someone who might have disappeared or run away.

Someone whose kisses tasted finer than the best
of wines and the richest desserts. He remembered those kisses more vividly than he remembered wanting to die. He couldn’t think of a sweeter replacement for bitter thoughts.

But where was she?

What would he do without her? The angel who’d been sleeping in his bed was the only sane thing in his life. She might be frightened of him, she might not understand him, but for God knows what reason, she’d taken him in and, if he played his cards right, she just might offer more help.

Adriana Howard, as surprising as it seemed, might be the answer to a lifetime of unanswered prayers.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the gates open. He wouldn’t have known she was home if the sun hadn’t glinted off that flashy green paint on her car.

Suddenly the darkness of his world began to brighten. Adriana had come back to him, and he was going to shut out his fear, mask it with a well-practiced charm—and give her reason never to leave him again.

oOo

He hadn’t disappeared. Part of Adriana sighed with relief, part of her was disappointed that he hadn’t gone.

He walked toward her, cheeks covered in whiskers, eyes red, still as disheveled as he’d been this morning. What had made her think this unkempt and unbalanced stranger could be her dream come to life?

Well, she’d bought him clothes, toiletries, all the other things he’d need. Once he was cleaned up, she’d send him packing. She’d be rid of him.

And she wouldn’t have to face his eyes or his smile ever again.

She reached for the handle, but the intruder was faster.

“Where have you been?” he asked, pulling open the door.

It was none of his business, so she ignored him.

When she swung her legs from the car, he gripped her fingers and pulled her close. “I’ve been worried half out of my mind wondering if something had happened to you.”

She twisted out of his grasp, hating the warmth of his hands on hers, despising herself for feeling a shock of desi
re. “I told you not to touch me.
”

He threw up his hands as if surrendering to her words, and winked as he backed away. “I’m sorry. Somehow it slipped my mind.”

“That and everything else.
” In spite of his wink and his irrepressible smile, she refused to let him lighten her mood. “There’s one thing you need to get firmly embedded in your brain. I’m not in the habit of people keeping tabs on me. I said you could stay here for a day or two, but don’t go thinking you can interfere in my life.”

She grabbed the bags from the passenger seat and when she turned, several bags firmly gathered in front of her, a twinge of embarrassment rushed through her. He stood, hands tucked casually in the pockets of his shrunken trousers, and quite brazenly, studied her body. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn such a short, form-fitting sundress, but it was scorching in L.A. What did it matter, though? Let him stare. In fact, she’d stare right back.

She studied the pronounced muscles beneath the tight ribbed undershirt he wore, the rich bronze tone of his skin. Slowly she allowed her gaze to inspect his face. The smile. The dimple.

An infectious grin.

That was enough!

She stormed toward the house, upset with herself for letting him get to her, and mumbled under her breath. “The least you could have done was gotten cleaned up while I was gone. You look like a derelict.”

“I’ve played that role before,” he stated, marching at her side, hands clasped behind his back. “Would you prefer another look? Riverboat gambler? Playboy?” He took a quick step in front of her and stopped, facing her head on. “Perhaps you’d like a swashbuckler? When you were watching
Captain Caribe
last night I got the distinct impression you liked watching me swing from the yardarm. I could tie ropes from the trees around here and swing for you.”

A smile teased her lips when she tried to scowl.

“What do you think?” he asked, when she didn’t comment on his suggestion. “Would you like me better with a patch over my eye? How about...”

“What I’d prefer is someone who doesn’t reek of booze and salt water.”

The intruder laughed easily. “Your wish is my command, fair lady.” He nearly swept the ground with his hand as he offered her a courtly bow. His gesture couldn’t have been more effective at easing her tension if he’d had a musketeer’s hat with a feather sticking from its brim.

Still, she rolled her eyes and tried to walk away, but he zigzagged in front of her, thwarting all her efforts to get to the house.

He plucked one of the bags from her hands and peeked inside. “For me?” he asked, cocking one dark brow.

“Obviously. I don’t often wear aftershave, although it doesn’t appear you indulge in such things, either.”

“I take it that you’d prefer I wear what’s in these bags rather than these trousers that smell like seaweed
and brine?” he asked, teasing her as he tugged on the bags still in her hands.

“I have no preference at all in what you wear,” she said, handing him a black bag and a white one with gold letters. The pretty pink bag she kept for herself.

“If you had no preference, you could have walked into any department store and grabbed the first things you saw.” He peeked inside the bags again. “Looks to me like you went to more trouble than that.”

“I like nice clothes.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said,
his gaze raking over her form-fitting dress
.

She drew the pink bag in front of her and whipped around him.

“Do me a favor,” she said, looking back at the stranger before she rushed through the door. “Take a shower before you get dressed.”

“You might want to consider washing the sheets and everything else I’ve touched, too. There’s no telling what I’ve contaminated around here.”

She hadn’t thought of anything but his body—big mistake. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

“You know, Adriana, if you’ll give me half a chance, you might find I’m not such a bad sort,” he said before she crossed the threshold.

“
Take a bath. Clean up. I’ll make my judgment then.” She skirted past him, through the living room, the dining room, and into the kitchen. She dumped her bag and purse on the table, dropped her sunglasses there, too, and unwrapped the scarf from her head.

Without looking back to see if he’d followed or gone to the guest room to clean up, she busied herself by looking into the refrigerator, anything to take her mind off the man who agitated her. But he didn’t leave her thoughts, or her side.

He leaned against the counter next to the icebox,
folding his arms over his chest. “I’ve already looked,” he said, staring down at her as she studied the spare glass shelves. “There’s nothing much to eat in there. I was hoping for bacon and eggs. A steak maybe.” He glanced at her
body again
, then back at her eyes. “It’s easy to see why you stay so thin.”

She slammed the refrigerator and backed across the room. “I don’t need to be interrogated on my comings and goings, and my eating habits are no one’s business but my own.”

He didn’t flinch at her words, just continued to smile, casually studying her as she opened and slammed more cabinets.

“Don’t you have something better to do than stare at me?” she asked.

“Better? No, I can’t think of anything.”

She slammed another cabinet. “Just take a shower, okay?”

He grinned, obviously delighted by her discomfort and rapidly building anger. “Since I’m going to be staying a while—”

“You’re not,” she tossed back quickly.

“O
n the off chance you decide to change your mind, perhaps you would consent to purchasing some real food.”

Adriana turned away from his insufferable grin, and stared out the kitchen window. “I’ll think about it.”

“Some cigarettes maybe?”

“Anything else?” Exasperation rang out in her words, and she wished with all her heart that he’d leave the room so her nerves would calm.

“No. Not right this moment.”

“Good. Then take a shower.”

Laughter filled his voice as he spoke. “Your wish is my command, fair lady.”

In the window she could see his reflection, his courtly bow, and his back as he walked out the door.
She took a deep breath, willing some sense of normalcy to return. Instead, the room felt empty, and loneliness overwhelmed her.

oOo

Adriana stared out the kitchen window for the longest time, thinking about the intruder’s winks, his grins, his smiles. Why did he have to be so charming?