Susan Phillips - What I Did for Love

You could start by losing the sarcasm, Skip replied.

Georgie wouldn’t recognize me.

At least pick your moments.

That he could do. Georgie nestled closer, and he curled his hand over her hip. I’m finally one up on you, Skipper. There you are, stuck forever with little Scooter Brown. And here I am… He kissed his wife’s soft hair. Here I am with Georgie York.

She finally stirred, but she wouldn’t let him kiss her until she’d brushed her teeth. As she stepped naked out of the bathroom, he took in a withered rose petal clinging to her nipple and held out his hand. “Come here, wife,” he said softly. “Let’s get you pregnant.”

She shocked him by waving him off. “Later.”

He eased up against the pillows and eyed her warily as she pulled her video camera from one of the suitcases delivered to the yacht. “Chaz warned me about this,” he said.

She smiled and positioned herself at the footboard of the bed so she was facing him. The morning sun sliding through the portholes buttered her dark hair. He leaned against the pillows and watched her raise the camera.

“Start at the beginning,” she said. “Tell me everything you love about your wife.”

He could see that she was teasing him, but he wasn’t playing her game. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, cradled her foot in his hand, and did exactly as she asked.

Iris York Shepard was as unhappy as a four-year-old could be. She stood in the middle of her backyard, with her arms crossed over her flat chest, her small foot tapping ominously in the grass, a scowl stretched across her adorable little lopsided face. Iris didn’t like it when the attention shifted too far from herself, and even her adoring grandparents had moved away to talk to Uncle Trev.

Bram spotted his daughter from the veranda and grinned. He had a fairly good idea what was coming. So did Georgie, who’d noticed Iris’s mutinous expression from the other side of the yard, where she was chasing their toddler son. “Do something,” she called out over the heads of their guests.

He thought about it. He could sweep Iris up in his arms and tickle her, or swing her upside down from her heels, which she loved, or even have a little talk with her-something he was getting surprisingly good at-but he didn’t. It was more fun to let events take their natural course.

Twenty-five of Bram and Georgie’s closest friends had been invited to their annual backyard anniversary party, this one marking five years since their beachfront wedding. So much had happened in those years. Tree House had been a modest hit with audiences and a monster hit with critics, which had led to half a dozen juicy acting roles for him. Then, with Rory’s backing, he’d produced his own screenplay. Audiences had loved it, and his career was set.

As for Georgie…She was still interpreting the world through her camera lens and doing a damned fine job of it. Each of her three documentaries was better than the last, and she was starting to pile up some major awards. But as much as they both loved their work, not even filmmaking gave them as much joy as their family.

Chaz began weaving her way through the crowd. As Bram took in her shiny dark bob, cherry red sundress, and silver sandals, he could barely remember the desperate girl he’d picked up outside that bar so many years ago. Even the angry young woman who used to rule his kitchen had mellowed. Not that Chaz had lost her sass-she and Georgie could still go at it-but they were all family now-he and Georgie and their kids; Chaz and Aaron; and, of course, Paul and Laura, who’d gotten married in this very backyard.

Their wedding had been Chaz’s first job after culinary school. Instead of working at a high-end restaurant as she’d always planned, she’d surprised them by deciding to open a catering business. “I like being in people’s homes” was how she’d explained it.

She stopped next to him. “Iris is getting ready to lose it. You’d better do something fast.”

“Or I could just stand here and watch her drive Georgie crazy.” He sampled a canapé and gestured toward the pool area, where Georgie’s former P.A. was engaged in an earnest discussion with April and Jack Patriot. “When are you going to put Lover Boy out of his misery and marry him?”

“After he’s made his second million.”

“I hate to break the news, but I think he’s already done that.” Aaron had started his own video game company and hit it big with a game called Force Alpha Zebra. With his toned physique, air of command, and surprising emergence as something of a male fashionista, he’d changed even more than Chaz. Bram grabbed another canapé. “It took the two of you long enough to figure out you were in love.”

“I had some growing up to do.” Her eyes softened as she gazed at Aaron. “I’ll marry him one of these days, but for now, I’m having too much fun keeping him on his toes.”

Paul finally spotted his unhappy granddaughter and broke away from his wife, but he was too late. Iris had already chosen her table, a wrought-iron one located in the exact center of the crowded backyard, and begun to climb on top.

“Iris!” Georgie tried to move, but a swing set and their wriggling son kept her trapped. “Iris! Get down.”

Iris pretended not to hear. Instead, she carefully stepped around someone’s discarded drink, threw her arms wide, and addressed the crowd in a commanding voice far too big to come from such a small body. “Listen to me, everybody! I’m going to sing!”

Aaron put his fingers to his lips and whistled. “You go, Iris!”

Skirting the crowd, Bram made his way to Georgie’s side and took their son from her just as Iris opened her tiny mouth and let the music rip. By the time she reached the first chorus of her vigorous and tuneful rendition of the opening number from Annie, neither Bram nor Georgie had the heart to pull her down.

“What are we going to do with her?” Georgie said on a sigh.

“I guess we’ll eventually have to hand her over to Grandma Laura.” He kissed his son’s sweaty head. “You know Laura and Paul are dying to see how Iris will audition.”

“We know how she’ll audition. She’ll be fabulous.”

“She really is good, isn’t she?”

“Not a bad note. She was born to perform. And we don’t need another child star in the family.”

Bram set their squirming toddler on the ground. “The good news is, she’ll never feel as though she has to perform to earn anyone’s love.”

“True. There’s more than enough love here to go around.”

They were too wrapped up in smiling at each other to notice their son plop down on his bottom and begin clapping in perfect rhythm to his sister’s song. Bram’s voice grew husky, the way it so frequently did when he came face-to-face with his blessings. “Who could have imagined a guy like me would end up with a family like this?”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Skip couldn’t have done any better.” And then she winced. “Oh, dear…Here comes the tap dance.”

“At least she’s keeping her clothes on.”

But he’d spoken too soon. A little floral sundress floated into the roses.

“She gets that from her mother,” he whispered. “I never knew a woman so eager to take off her clothes.”

“Not my fault. You’re very persuasive.”

“And you’re irresistible.”

Skip Scofield chose that moment to tap Bram on the shoulder. Who’d have imagined it? You’ve turned into a family man after all.

And what a family, Bram thought, gazing around him.

Iris bowed and moved on to her next number. His son rolled over in the grass. And his wife, his very own wife, rose on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “This is the best reunion show ever.”

He couldn’t have agreed more.

All of my fictional characters exist in the same creative universe, so astute readers will have noticed the reappearance of some familiar people: April Robillard and Jack Patriot from Natural Born Charmer; Fleur, Jake, and Meg Koranda from Glitter Baby. I can’t resist revisiting old friends and plan to keep on doing it.

Some very special people helped me as I wrote this book. Thank you to Joseph Phillips for sharing his knowledge of Southern California with this midwesterner; to Julie Wachowski for guiding me through the modern universe of filmmaking; to Jimmie Morel, whose insights always help me dig deeper; and to Dana Phillips, who has temporarily given up editing film to take care of the two most adorable children in the universe. Any mistakes are, unfortunately, all mine. (But feel free to blame them!)

More thank-yous to Carrie Feron, my longtime editor and dearest friend, as well as Steven Axelrod and Lori Antonson at the Axelrod Agency. My extraordinary assistant, Sharon Mitchell, is invaluable. Hugs to my family; my sister; to Dawn and the Chili Babes; to my walking buddies, Kathy and Suzanne; to Kristin Hannah and Jayne Ann Krentz; and to the Seppies on my Web site Message Board. Every writer should have so many great people cheering her on.

Finally, a great big curtain call to everyone at William Morrow and Avon Books, with a little extra applause for Lisa Gallagher. I never forget how lucky I am to be part of such an enthusiastic, talented publishing team.

Susan Elizabeth Phillips

www.susanelizabethphillips.com

Award-winning New York Times bestselling author SUSAN ELIZABETH PHILLIPS has found fans all over the world with her warm and wonderful contemporary love stories that manage to touch hearts as well as funny bones. She lives in the Chicago suburbs with her husband and has two grown sons.