Starstruck Page 18

  “Well, I think you convinced him that it wasn’t any of his business,” Liv giggled. “Although turning the garden hose on him seems a rather crude method of dampening his anger!”

  “It was the quietest way I could think of. Did you want the kids to hear him?”

  “No.” She shook her head adamantly. “He is their father. Even if he no longer has any rights in my life.” She met his eyes steadily, trying to tell him without words the commitment she was making by coming with him.

  For longer than she would have liked, Joe didn’t respond. Then, slowly, his eyes changed, becoming the same warm inviting green that the sea was on a summer day. “Good,” he said, and Liv thought she heard satisfaction in the word and, she hoped, a wealth of promise.

  I am drowning, she thought again, remembering with startling clarity the night by the lake when she had realized she loved Joe Harrington. There was no other man to compare with him. Tom didn’t matter anymore; only Joe. And she smiled at him with a certainty that, for the first time since they had boarded the plane, he seemed unreservedly to return. She felt his hand touch hers, wrapping her fingers snugly in the warmth of his palm and she sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, confident that things would work out. It wasn’t long until she slept.

  Their flight, by way of Amsterdam, arrived in Vienna in midmorning. Swept through customs, yawning and stretching, they were met by another one of what Liv had determined must be Joe’s fastlane friends. Uli Carvalho, an Austrian-Portuguese charmer who, Joe said laughingly, “had feet almost as quick as his hands,” was, she discovered, a professional soccer player. He hustled them through the airport with the facility he might have shown moving the ball downfield, and the next thing she knew, Liv was seated in the back of his black BMW with Frances’s suitcase for company. She listened intently while Uli caught Joe up on the amorous events in his life and hoped, ears burning, that he would be discreet about theirs.

  Not that they had any, she thought as they sped down the main road through Schwechat toward Vienna. But what was Uli supposed to think when a woman—obviously no young virgin—accompanied a man with a reputation like Joe Harrington’s halfway across the earth? Exactly what he did think when she heard him say, “I have moved my things to my mother’s flat. You and Olivia can have mine.”

  Liv sucked in her breath like a tightrope walker about to take her first fatal step, when she heard Joe reply, “No. Liv can stay with your mother.”

  Uli’s expression was comical, mirroring, Liv imagined, her own. Where was the playboy of the western world now? She stared at Joe’s dark head in front of her, but there was no way she could tell what he was thinking. But whatever it was, apparently it wasn’t a forgone conclusion—at least to him—that they would share an apartment. She didn’t know whether to be hurt or relieved.

  “Whatever you want, then,” Uli said carefully. Liv could almost see him rearranging his thinking. The gaze he shot her in the mirror was both curious and speculative. “Anyway, you will have both flats to yourselves after tonight. I go to Stuttgart tomorrow for a game. From there we go to Amsterdam. And my mother goes to Stuttgart tomorrow also, to spend two weeks with her sister.”

  “Really?” Joe said, but it was impossible to discern anything from that. Liv scowled and wished she didn’t always feel at sea with him. It was more than a little difficult loving a man she couldn’t figure out. She tried, but he distracted her almost immediately by pointing out Kailskirche as it came into view., and before she knew it, they were nearly there. Uli was concentrating on probing his way through the busy traffic on Vienna’s narrow streets. Five- and six-story buildings rose on either side, huge brown and gray stucco monoliths, some plain, some decorated with bas relief sculpture and gargoyles. In front of one Uli double-parked and ushered them in. “Go on up,” he told Joe, once he had led them into a dark, cavernous hallway that led to a curving cement stairwell. “Three floors up, yes? My mother is waiting.”

  Uli’s mother was every bit the stereotypical rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed Austrian that her son was not. She also spoke not a word of English. But even that, combined with Liv’s inability to speak more than ten words of German, didn’t deter Mrs. Carvalho from making them feel very welcome. Deluged with cherry kuchen, cream cakes and strong Viennese coffee liberally laced with milk, Liv enjoyed Mrs. Carvalho’s maternal cluckings and hoverings, which reminded her of her own mother’s. She barely roused herself from the armchair where she sat when Joe left. Then, yawning, she accompanied him to the door when he left for Uli’s flat to have a quick nap.

  “Wish you were coming with me?” he asked, laughter lurking in the sea-green depths of his eyes.

  Liv wiped a speck of cherry kuchen from his upper lip, pleased at this teasing, more lighthearted Joe. He seemed to have made up his mind about something on the plane. At least he wasn’t staring at her quite so intently anymore. Maybe he sensed that she knew what she was doing. She hoped so. “No,” she told him, teasing him back. “I’ve always rather fancied those Latin types with the dark, soulful eyes.”

  “Oh you have, have you?” Joe growled, his arm sweeping around her to draw her against his hard, virile length. “We’ll have to see about that.”

  “When?” Liv asked, playing with the buttons of his shirt, wanting to slip her hands inside and feel the warmth of his body.

  Joe made a face. “Later.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  He bent his head, nipping her earlobe, sending a shiver of anticipation clear through her. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he cautioned. “When Uli and Mama are in Stuttgart and the speech is in the minds of all peace-loving peoples everywhere, who will save you then?”

  “Why you, of course,” Liv said, her fingers continuing to trace erotic patterns on his chest, then slipping down toward the flat plane of his stomach; “You promised always to save me, remember?” she said. “That night at the lake?” The night I realized I loved you, she added silently.

  Joe gave her a wicked grin. “I lied,” he whispered, and after kissing her hard on the lips, he turned and vanished out the door.

  The anticipation made it bearable, Liv thought, coupled with the fact that Vienna was such a lovely city to explore. The following morning while Joe went over his speech notes for the last time, she went for a walk in the immediate neighborhood, savoring the feel of living in history in a way that she had never felt in Madison. The abundance of sculpture amazed her. Everywhere she went, stone was carved, sculpted, swirled, bringing vigor and life to the drabbest of corners. She wandered through one of the parks along the famous Ring and shopped in some lovely stores she found along Kartnerstrasse as she ventured further from Uli’s flat. When the speech was over, they would come back together, Joe had promised. “I’m not lying about that,” he had assured her. “We’ll work it in somehow.” And she smiled as she thought about what he intended to work it in between. And she hoped that they would because she saw so many things that she wanted to go back and share with Joe.

  “Where did you eat?” he asked when she got back to Mrs. Carvalho’s apartment, footsore and content, brimming with thoughts to share of places she’d been and things she’d seen. He was sitting at Uli’s mother’s dining-room table, surrounded by piles of notes scribbled in spiky handwriting, and a plate of cherry pits.

  “Demels,” she told him, licking her lips in remembrance of the plate of green peppers and tomatoes with vinaigrette dressing and the scrumptious strawberry tart she had enjoyed. “Like any other self-respecting tourist on her first day in Vienna.”

  “Damn,” he muttered good-naturedly. “You’re not saving anything for me to show you.”

  “You can show me the local bars and coffee houses,” Liv consoled him. “Uli says that’s your strong point anyway. What did you have for lunch?”

  “Wurst, cheese, cherry kuchen. I didn’t starve. Mrs. Carvalho made sure of that before she left.” He shoved back his chair and tipped it back on two legs, balancing it precariously as he lea
ned his dark head against the wall “I’ll be glad when this speech is over.”

  “Three more hours,” Liv said, consulting her watch “Do I get to come and watch?”

  “Of course. Give moral support, hold my hand and all that.”

  Liv blanched. “Not really?”

  Joe shrugged. “Why not? It’s not exactly like going in, delivering my lines, saving the girl and riding off into the sunset. This is serious business.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Maybe I bit off too much.”

  “No.” Liv went over to him and tipped his chair forward again. Standing behind him she began to knead his shoulders, her thumbs pressing against the cords of his neck and back, working out his tension.

  “Mmmmm, fabulous,” Joe breathed. His head tipped back and his eyes closed. “Don’t stop. It helps my head.”

  “Have you got a headache?”

  “A bit. Nerves probably.” He smiled. “Even we movie idols have them, in case you wondered.” She saw the corner of his mouth lift and she wanted to reach over and touch it, but then his head dropped back even farther, so that his dark hair brushed against her breasts, and an even better opportunity presented itself. She bent over him and touched her lips to his.

  “You kiss fantastically,” he murmured against her mouth. “Even upside down. Such talent.”

  Liv nibbled his nose. “You should see what else I can do.”

  Joe groaned “Don’t tempt me. What would they say if I didn’t show up?”

  “That you were in bed with a beautiful woman, no doubt,” Liv said dryly. “What else?”

  “What else indeed?” Joe grinned. “Sounds great. Let’s do it.”

  Liv shoved his chair back on all four legs and lifted his head away from its resting place. “No way. There’s a time and place for everything.”

  “And this isn’t it?”

  She shook her head, smiling at the consternation battling with laughter in his face. “This isn’t it,” she agreed.

  “I suppose not,” Joe said reluctantly. “But it won’t be long.”

  I hope not, Liv thought, and marveled that she would admit thinking it. Loving Joe was a dangerous business. For a woman who, after her divorce, had decided that she wanted a life in a safe harbor, a relationship with Joe Harrington promised to be a sail on very unpredictable seas. She could drown, she kept telling herself. She very well might. He had made no promises. He had never said, “I love you,” to her. He went through women like her boys went through socks, and there was every possibility that he would fly off to Majorca or Malibu tomorrow or next month and never give her or the kids another thought. She looked down on his dark ruffled hair and an ache pierced her so sharply that her fingers dug into his shoulders for support.

  “What’s wrong?” Joe asked, looking up concerned over his shoulder.

  “Nothing.” Everything. I love you. she thought. I want you. I need you. Now. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. But she couldn’t say it. Not yet. Ever since she had talked to Ellie, she had been wondering if Joe would ever commit himself to any woman. He had been running from marriage for a long time. She had no right to expect that she would be the woman to change him. And just as she couldn’t change him, she realized that she couldn’t change herself. She couldn’t stop herself from loving him even if in the end she lost him. At least, she consoled herself, she would have memories.

  “I know it hasn’t been much of a great vacation so far,” Joe said. “But the fun is just beginning.” He leered at her and got lithely to his feet, wrapping his arms around her and hugging the breath out of her.

  The warmth of him enveloped her and her throat closed with emotion. Stop it, dummy, she commanded herself. You haven’t lost him yet, for heaven’s sake. He’s right here. Time enough later for regretting that her time with him was over. Time now to get on with living. “I’ll go take a bath before we go,” Liv told him. “Are you going to shower up at Uli’s?”

  “I’ll share with you,” he offered.

  “I’ll take a rain check, we might not get there otherwise,” she told him, grinning, feeling the desire in him. She pulled away, stopping to press a light kiss on his warm cheek. “I’ll be ready in an hour.”

  Joe was ready even before she was. He looked formidable and distant in a dark blue, severely cut, superbly tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, his cheeks smooth. There were lines of fatigue or worry around his eyes— more visible since he wasn’t wearing his glasses that she had become used to but that weren’t a part of his public image—and a paleness around his mouth that made Liv realize that he hadn’t been kidding about his nervousness. She gave him a bright smile and squeezed his hand encouragingly. He returned the smile with a ghost of one of his own, and his damp palm encircled her hand firmly and didn’t let go.

  He hung on to her hand all through their long taxi ride through Vienna and across the Danube to the UNO complex, kept her fingers locked with his throughout the introductions to various dignitaries, with whom he spoke in both English and reasonably passable German, and when he dragged her along to the general assembly room where he was to speak, Liv wondered if she would be standing beside him at the podium, her fingers still intertwined with his, while he gave his talk.

  She wasn’t. A voluble, portly Austrian spirited her away just moments before Joe mounted the platform to give his speech and found her a seat off to the side where she could listen and where Joe, at his insistence, could still see her.

  And where he could find her again just moments after the speech was over. His forehead was beaded with perspiration and his hands were shaking as he reached for her. “You were fantastic,” Liv said, hugging him, sensing that he needed physical reassurance at that moment. He looked ill.

  “Think so?” He smiled, but his eyes looked glazed, and she could feel his heart hammering against her chest.

  “Definitely. What now?” She felt his arm around her shoulders and she curved easily and naturally into his side, her arm around his waist, feeling as though she belonged there.

  “Press conference. A short one fortunately. Then we’re free. Okay?”

  “Fine.” Liv followed the Austrian who was in charge down one of the halls to a room where reporters from all over the world were waiting to bombard Joe with questions. She felt him stiffen against her a moment before he plunged into the room, leaving her out of the glare of the lights against the back wall. She hung back, happy not to have to share the spotlight with him, proud of him for doing it so well. He answered the questions intelligently, honestly, capably, and she glowed as she watched him. She remembered the first time she had seen him speak, that night in Madison when Marv had coerced her into interviewing him and attending his speech. Listening to him then, her view of him had undergone a radical change. And it had kept right on changing, she thought, growing from grudging respect tinged with sexual attraction, to genuine liking, to loving with all her heart. Something close to a sob strangled her as she watched him dredge up an extra ounce of energy from somewhere to do a good job here, too. How she loved him. Did he realize? Did he know? He would soon, she vowed, if he didn’t already. She would tell him, show him. The moment they had both been waiting for would come. Soon. And what would happen then?

  “Let’s get out of here.” Joe’s voice was suddenly right by her ear, as he was pressed against her by a crush of reporters, all trying to ask him one last question.

  “You’re done?” She linked her arm in his, trying to muster smiles for the reporters, many of whom were staring at her in unabashed curiosity.

  “Who’s the lady, Joe?” one of the American reporters asked.

  Joe gripped her arm just above the elbow and steered her in front of him through the press of the crowd around them, ignoring the question. But Liv could tell he was annoyed; his jaw jutted out defiantly and his brows were drawn down.

  “Who is she, Joe?” another persisted, his voice as loud as his tie. And a third cried, “Who’s the latest, Harrington?”

  Liv felt suddenly c
old.

  Joe herded her out to the waiting taxi, the portly Austrian acting like an icebreaker in front of them, parting the crowd.

  “Dreadfully sorry, my dear,” the man said in his barely discernible German accent as he handed Liv into the taxi. “Don’t let it upset you.”

  “No,” Liv said shakily. Joe’s latest? Oh, God. She didn’t want to think about that. Not now.

  Joe sat next to her looking like a cigar store Indian. The taxi poked its way back across the river and into the jumble of streets making up the ancient first district, the sounds of church bells and traffic and jackhammers wrapping Liv like a protective cocoon. Neither one of them spoke until the driver asked Joe something in German, and he roused himself from his wooden state long enough to consult with Liv before replying.

  “Hungry? There’s a good Greek restaurant in the sixth district. I know this isn’t Athens, but—” His voice was brittle, jerky, and she managed a vague smile, nodding in agreement.

  “That’s fine.” She wasn’t hungry at all. She felt as hollow as a basketball, but it wasn’t the sort of emptiness that food would fill. Damn those reporters anyway. Damn their dose of reality. And damn Joe for withdrawing like this. Why couldn’t he deny it at least? Why couldn’t he let her live a while longer with the fiction that he really cared? She followed him robotlike as he got out of the taxi and led her into a tiny restaurant, charming and obviously authentically Greek, and allowed him to order for them both because she was no more fluent in Greek than she was in German.

  “I could kill them,” he said finally, his voice harsh with anger no longer repressed. His eyes glinted in the candlelight, seeming more obsidian than jade in the dim golden glow. The ferocity of his voice shook her. “Damn them! Damn them!” His fingers clenched around the knife. “I’m sorry. If I had known they were going to get personal, I wouldn’t have asked you to be there.”