Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [12]
“Oh, you'll choose to be,” he said coolly. “I gather your lover isn't offering you and the baby support. You'd be a fool to turn down financial security for you and your child.”
Brenna's face flushed at this humiliating reference to her obvious poverty. “Money isn't everything, Mr. Donovan,” she said tersely. “Randy is a very happy, contented child. We don't need your money.”
“Don't you, Brenna?” he asked lazily. “Think about it. My private number is on the script. Read it tonight, and let me know.” He turned to go, and then wheeled back, his gaze sharp as a surgeon's scalpel. “One thing, Brenna,” he said tautly. “If your baby's father is still hanging around, get rid of him. Once you're working for me, I don't want him near you!”
He walked quickly away, leaving her to stare after him, her lips parted in amazement.
three
THREE HOURS LATER BRENNA THREW THE script down in frustration, realizing that Donovan was right again. She must play this role, no matter how she felt about the arrogant Michael Donovan.
Why couldn't Mary Durney have been a sickly sweet character or a self-pitying martyr, so that she could have tossed the role back into Donovan's face, Brenna wondered gloomily. Mary Durney was innocent but no prim miss. She had humor, strength, and warmth. Brenna was convinced that she could make Mary Durney live, and she desperately wanted the chance to do just that. Damn Michael Donovan!
She reached for the phone on the table, and flipped the script back to the title page on which Donovan had scrawled his number in bold black numerals. Not allowing herself to think, she rapidly dialed the number. What if it was almost two in the morning? she thought maliciously. He had told her to call him when she had read it, hadn't he? The idea of rousing Donovan from a sound sleep gave her a degree of satisfaction that surprised her. She had never been a spiteful girl. What was it about this man that made her want to strike out at him in any way she could?
The phone was answered on the second ring, and Donovan sounded disappointingly wide awake. When she had identified herself, he said impatiently, “I didn't expect it to be anyone else, Brenna.”
“Well.” She drew a deep breath. “I want to do it,” she said rapidly.
There was a long silence on the other end and then a low chuckle. “I assume you mean the part,” he drawled mockingly.
Color flooded her face at the innuendo, and she silently cursed both her inept tongue and the taunting redheaded devil on the other end of the line.
“You know I mean the part,” she said angrily.
“Yes, unfortunately I do,” he said lightly. She could almost see the amused grin on his face. Then his voice became cool and businesslike. “I trust you can be ready to leave by two this afternoon. You can fly up with me in the Lear jet. We're filming at Twin Pines, you know.”
She hadn't known. It hadn't occurred to her that she would have to leave Los Angeles. It should have, of course. Nearly all of Donovan's pictures were shot at Twin Pines now, when not on location. Her mind moved frantically. She'd have to notify the clerical agency, and Randy's nursery school, and Vivian, of course. She knew Charles would be glad to replace her in the play.
“I can leave today,” she said slowly. “But you needn't bother yourself about arrangements. I prefer to drive.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” Donovan said impatiently. “I want you there this evening.”
“Then I'll start early,” she said stubbornly. There was no way she was going to see more of Michael Donovan than was absolutely necessary. He had a most unsettling effect on her. “Traveling with a baby can be very cumbersome, Mr. Donovan. I prefer to travel by car.”
“You're taking the child?” he asked, his tone flat.
“Of course,” Brenna said coolly. “Do you have any objections?”
“None at all,” he said absently. “I should have expected it, I suppose. I'll work something out.”
Brenna wondered what he had to work out. “Then I'll see you this evening,” she said firmly. “Good night, Mr. Donovan.” She replaced the phone