Impossibly Tongue-Tied (16 page)

He murmured, “Believe me when I tell you that you are the only woman who's crossed my mind this evening.”
Or any other evening since we met, for that matter.

It was her turn to laugh. “I know better than that, Sam. You've got some unattainable object of desire sitting up on some pedestal deep in the recesses of your heart, don't you? Don't pretend you don't! Go ahead, admit it.”

If only she knew, he thought.

Instead he shrugged. “Is it that obvious? Okay, you got me. You're a mind reader, Nina.”

“She probably doesn't even know it yet, does she?”

He looked at her sharply. “That's right. How do you know?”

Nina murmured, “Well, let's just call it woman's intuition. Nothing more.”

She looked away, as if he'd put her on the spot. Only when he patted her arm gently to let her know that wasn't the case did she relax again, leaning back against him. With a trembling voice, she whispered, “Whoever she is, she's a very lucky girl. Do her a favor, Sam: Don't let her get away. You both deserve a lifetime of happiness.”

Don't worry, sweet Nina. I won't let you go. I'll always be there for you.

Softly, he rested his chin on the top of her head, taking in her scent again.

Heavenly.

They sat there silently for at least a half hour, listening to the murmurs of the other couples and quartets grouped around them, the soft jazz emanating from the piano, and the waves lapping the beach. After a while, though, she rose, swaying just a little. He reached out and caught her arm to steady her.

“It's the witching hour. Well, Prince Charming, before I turn into a pumpkin, I'd better head on home.”

Tossing down enough cash to cover their tab, Sam stood up, too, but he didn't let go of her arm.

She didn't seem to mind.

Together, they headed down the lobby's grand staircase and out the front door. She hadn't valet-parked, but had found a spot two blocks up, almost next to Ocean Avenue. He offered to escort her to her car, and she nodded. There was a brisk ocean breeze, and she leaned into him as they walked.

When they got there, she fumbled for her keys, apologizing profusely for being such a klutz. She could not have known that he was dreading the inevitable: when she would say good night, then drive off, and he'd have to wait a whole week to see her once again behind that counter at Tommaso's, in order to touch her fingers again ever so lightly.

But it didn't happen that way.

Of course, she said good night. And yes, she did drive off.

But before doing so, she gave him the tenderest of kisses.

It made the next seven days just that much harder to endure.

Damn! If only he could see her—or at least
talk
to her, before then.

But he knew he couldn't.

Then again, he could always call O…

But no, that would spoil it. His relationship with Nina was pristine.

That was something O could never understand.

 

 

Kat never called Nina to come over and see the dresses she was considering for the Oscars.

For some reason, that didn't surprise Nina in the least. In fact, she was somewhat relieved. She would have been too envious of the woman who would be on the arm of her husband during the town's biggest event of the year.

Damn! Damn! What was I thinking? How could I have been so stupid to even consider letting him go with her! Well, it's too late now,
thought Nina. If she asked him to drop out now, he would know she didn't trust him with Kat, and that would become another bone of contention between them.

Besides, would forbidding him to go really stop an affair, if it were in fact happening? Of course not, she reasoned—although it might assuage her hurt ego.

Which was why she would have to let him go anyway.

Theo, the stylist sent over by Fiona, had five tuxedos for Nathan to choose from: a Perry Ellis, a Sean John, two Arma
nis, and a Versace. As he tried them on, Nina pointed out that she liked one of the Armanis the best. He nodded noncommittally, but told Theo he wanted to hang on to all of them for at least another day.

“I don't get it,” said Nina. “What was wrong with the Armani?”

“Oh, uh, nothing.” Nathan hesitated, then added, “I just—well, I wanted to give Kat an opportunity to look these over before I make a final decision. You know, since she's done this kind of thing before and knows the drill.” He watched her closely. “You don't mind, do you?”

Of course I mind
, she wanted to scream.
I'm your wife!

But she didn't. Instead she walked out of the room.

He came home from the studio after three that next morning. Nina could only assume that he had been doing more with Kat than modeling tuxedos.

By Oscar weekend Nina was a nervous wreck. Since the nominations had been announced, the whole town had been whipped up into a frenzy. It wasn't enough that, on practically every other week of the year, there was some movie premiere, gala, über-VIP party, or awards ceremony to celebrate; the Oscars were the town's biggest soiree of the year, the equivalent of homecoming court, debutante cotillion, bar mitzvah, couturier runway show, and the senior prom all rolled into one.

Because both Kat and Hugo were up for awards, as were several of Hugo's crewmembers, filming was put on hiatus from the Friday before the Sunday event until the following Tuesday. Nina had assumed that the break would give Nathan and her some time together, just the two of them.
Wrong
. Nathan explained his absence from home—and prox
imity to Kat—as part and parcel of the publicity needed for the film.

For example, on Friday morning Nathan informed Nina that Hugo expected him to attend some “industry function” that night, since buzz on the movie was crucial, and his job was to get out there and create the buzz.

“Then I should go, too, shouldn't I?” Nina had asked. “I wished you would have said something beforehand. I'd like to buy a new dress—”

“Oh, uh, sure. But you really don't have to go.” His response was so halfhearted that it hurt her feelings. The truest cutting remark, though, was what he said next: “I mean, I doubt you'll be able to find a babysitter this late.”

Of course he was right. In this town, particularly on Oscar weekend, sitters were as elusive as that coveted statuette.

“You mean ‘we.' You doubt that
we
will find a babysitter. Jake is your child, too.”

“Yes, I know that.” There was an edge to his voice that rivaled her own. “But this job is mine—not
yours
—which is why
I
need to be there. But you don't necessarily have to, particularly if Jake needs you here.”

She pushed him away when he attempted a good-bye peck on the cheek.

That night, he came home just before dawn.

Later, Nina found out from Casey that the industry function had been Ed Limato's renowned annual pre-Oscar bash. Certainly she and Jarred had seen Nathan there.

And, yes, he and Kat had been joined at the hip the whole night.

Nathan finally stirred sometime around ten on Saturday
morning, but immediately slipped out again without her: this time, supposedly to the Diller-von Furstenberg brunch.

At least, that was what he claimed when he finally stumbled home that night, drunk as a skunk.

“You mean to tell me you've been there all this time?” She stared at him suspiciously.

“Well, yeah…Hey look, it's only two o'clock now!” To make his point, he pointed over to the clock on the wall.

“In the
morning
, Nathan. You left here
fourteen hours ago
!” He was still staring at the clock when she slammed the bedroom door behind her.

He slept on the couch.

When she woke up at eight that morning, he had already dressed and fed Jake. The coffee was made, and he was flipping pancakes. Though his smile was shaky, he was doing his best to pretend that things were normal, so she decided to meet him halfway—

Until he declared that he was supposed to be at Kat's place in Bel-Air within the hour, so that he could start the process of getting ready for the big event.

“But it doesn't even start until five or five-thirty this evening, right? I thought we'd, you know, take time getting you ready, and then you'd be picked up here, at two or whatever!”

“What, are you crazy? We—
she's
got to walk the red carpet at three-thirty! Traffic to the Kodak is going to be horrendous! They've told everyone to arrive as early as possible. Believe me, it's easier for me to get ready over there. She's got a hot tub and a sauna, which should relax me, and I've already told Theo to meet me there. Besides, Kat's got a whole team—
her hair stylist and facialist, a couple of makeup people—to help me, too. You know, trim me up, work on this zit that's popped up…”

Hair, facial…I'll bet she'll talk him into having a manicure, too,
thought Nina. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a manicure; it seemed like a million years ago.

“Oh. I see.”

But she didn't. All she knew was that she was being excluded from this very important day in his life.

Because of Kat.

She only realized how excluded she was when she saw them together, arm-in-arm on the red carpet. Nathan, as elegant as she had ever seen him, was wearing what must have been Kat's choice of tux: the Versace. Kat, glamazon
par excellence
, wore a iridescent turquoise silk Dior sleeveless fluted gown that was cut out on the abdomen and cut away fully in the back, showing off her buffed arms, unnaturally concave tummy, and broad, sensual back.

They looked perfect together.

Clicking around with the television remote from ABC to E! to TV Guide, Nina watched as Nathan and the omnipresent Katerina—her long, tapered fingers never far from his arm or hand or the small of his back—moved from Jann to Joan to Vanessa, where they were complimented, purred over, and called the inevitable:

Kat and Nat.

It was all Nina could do not to upchuck the leftover meat loaf she'd eaten for her coffee-table dinner with Jake.

“But that's not my daddy's name!” yelled Jake indignantly at the TV set. “He's Nathan, you dumb-dumb!”

Nina knew just how he felt. It took all her self-control to resist the urge to toss the remote at the TV screen. No need to set a bad example for Jake.

She'd just toss Nathan's latest script revisions in the trash instead.

Yeah, now,
that
would make her happy.

By the time the awards ceremony actually started, Jake was already bored with all of Hollywood's prettiest people (who wasn't? thought Nina), and he flat out refused to sit still through another three hours of stilted in-jokes, pat speeches, and endless commercials. Nina allowed him to change the channel to Nickelodeon while she went off to her bedroom, leaving the door open, but just barely, so that she could keep an eye on Jake, but he wouldn't hear her moans and sobs over the high-pitched squeals of the Rugrats.

Later, after she put him to bed, she watched the last half hour of the awards show with the sound off.

Kat lost. But that was okay. Her consolation prize was a heartfelt kiss from her ever-attentive date, Nathan. And because she was in the row behind the winner (the well-deserving Renée, as fate would have it), the television camera caught both Renée's jubilation, and Nathan's tender move.

It was the last image on Nina's television's screen before the remote control slammed into it, breaking the picture tube.

Still, the image was burned into Nina's memory.

 

When Sam reached the
Vanity Fair
post-Oscar party at Morton's, he found that Kat and Nat were already there, table hopping. Having first gone to the Governor's Ball, Hollywood's finest had had plenty of time to see Nathan and Katerina
together, and to acknowledge them as Hollywood's hottest new couple.

Despite the fact that Nathan Harte was married to someone else.

When she saw Sam walk over their way, Kat's radiant smile shifted into a smug grimace.

Nathan's shit-eating grin melted under the guilt he suddenly felt.

Sam wasn't smiling at all, and they both knew why.

“No lectures, please, Sam. The night has already been exhausting enough.” Kat tossed back her curly golden mane and looked over at Nicole's table, a clear indication that she felt she had better things to do—like schmoozing with Marty, or Steven and Kate, or
anyone
, for that matter—than to listen to him preach at her.

“Don't worry, Kat. I fully realize that there is nothing I can say to stop this train wreck you've got Nathan on.”

It was only then that Sam smiled, which made Nathan turn white and Kat glower. She leaned in close to Sam and whispered, “For once you're right, so just keep your yap shut, why don't you! He can make up his own mind. He's a big boy.” She grinned wickedly. “Believe me, I know firsthand just how big.”

With the din of a million conversations around them and lounge jazz tooting in the background, Nathan couldn't hear a word she'd said to Sam, but by the look of disgust on Sam's face, he could certainly guess the gist of her remark.

For good measure she pulled Nathan's mouth down onto hers, then walked off. From the way Nathan's shoulders sagged, Sam could only assume that she'd sucked the life force out of the poor guy.

It was like watching a Dementor go after an innocent.

But Nathan isn't really innocent, is he, Sam reasoned, as the two men stood there for a full five minutes, not saying a word, not even looking at each other.

Finally Nathan glanced over and asked, “You think I'm a fool, don't you?”

Sam closed his eyes, thought a moment, then opened them again. He looked directly at Nathan with the hopes of making his point. “Yes, but so what if I do? You're not going to listen to me, no matter what I say to you. That's okay. You've got every right to ignore me. The only thing that matters is what you think…and Nina. But you already know that, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Nathan put his hand on Sam's shoulder and swore fervently, “Trust me, Sam. I won't hurt her. I
swear
I won't.”

“I have no doubt you don't
want
to. But guy, I have to tell you, if you stay on this path,
you will.
” He took a step away, causing Nathan's hand to fall at his side. “And once you do, be prepared: Things will never be the same again.”

The look on Nathan's face said it all: He really believed he had nothing to lose.

Too bad, kid. I guess you'll find out the hard way.

Nathan left Sam to find the woman who now held his heart in the palm of her hand.

Sam wished he could do the same. Instead, he'd have to settle for the next best thing.

He left the party. As he pulled onto the Pacific Coast Highway, he speed-dialed O.

 

O: Speak to me, lover boy.

SAM: Hi, O…Uh, wow. It took you a while to answer the phone. Busy, I guess, huh?

O: (
Pauses, as if thinking of how she wants to say what's on her mind
) I'm never too busy to talk to you. I live for your calls, Sam. You know that.

SAM: Stop it, you tease. You're making me blush.

O: If only that were true. And, for the record, I'm being completely and totally honest. In fact, I'd taken the night off. I only picked up because it was you.
So there.

SAM: Gee…I feel—honored…But now I also feel—well, like an ass.

O: Oh? Why is that?

SAM: (
Sighs deeply
) Because I called to talk to you about…about, you know, that woman I mentioned.

O: (
Pauses, then says sarcastically
) Oh yeah, the one you have that little crush on, right?

SAM: Well, when you put it that way…No, quite frankly it's
not
just ‘some little crush'…I dunno. Maybe you're not the right person for me to be telling this to, anyway.

O: You're right Sam, I'm not. If you were smart, you'd be telling her instead.

SAM: You know I can't do that. I already told you—

O: Yeah, yeah, I know. She's married. So big deal. When did that ever matter in this town?

SAM: Gee, that's a bit sarcastic, isn't it? Look…uh, O, maybe tonight's not the right night for this conversation.

O: I beg to differ, Sam. Tonight is the
perfect
time for it. I don't
think I've ever been in a better mood to hear a man rhapsodize about true love. Or whatever.

SAM: What do you mean by that?

O: What I mean, quite simply, is that I'm going to take you in hand now—figuratively if not literally—and allow you to play out this little fantasy of yours once and for all. You want to bare your soul to her, right? So, go ahead. Pretend I'm her. Tell me all those naughty little things you'd do to her if you got her alone—just the two of you—for a whole night.