“You’re beautiful.”
“Are they good?”
He flipped over and pinned her to the bed.“I’m not telling you a damn thing,” he growled playfully.“It doesn’t matter who they are, how old, how pretty, how good.I had to drive for five hours, sit outside in my car for another two until the cops staking out the Stop sign left, climb a fire escape, jimmy open a window, and then sit with my hands between my legs until I couldn’t take it anymore and woke you up.If I’d wanted any of them, would I have done all that?”
Of course he wouldn’t have, she realized, and that made her feel a little better.“The guys I was with were awful.I couldn’t respond, not the way I do to you.One of them asked if I was frigid.The other kept apologizing because he couldn’t make me come.No man does it for me like you, Cutter.”
“No?”
She shook her head.
He watched her, half-smiling, then trailed a look down her body.“You’re so beautiful.”He scooped her close.“Holding you is like holding heaven.”He rolled to the side and framed her face with a hand.“You’re so good.Sensitive and kind.I’ve never been able to understand how you could be related to John.”
“I’ve dreamed that I wasn’t.It was wonderful.”
“Do you see him much?”
“As little as possible.”
“I was surprised you went to school here.I thought you’d want to go away.”
“I did.Until I met Monique.”She told him about that summer and how it had changed her direction.“I’ve been back to Paris every summer since.Monique is wonderful.She was the one who pushed me into having the show atFacets.If it had been up to me.I’d have stayed as far from John as possible.But she said I was a fool, that I had a contact most artisans would die for, that there was no reason why I shouldn’t useFacetsto launch my career.And I realized she was right.It was only fair that I should get something out of the grief John has caused.Besides, part ofFacetsis mine.It may not be a big part, and I may not have any say for another three years, but I am a St.George.Daddy would have wanted me to have the show there.”
“I’m surprised John let you.”
“He wasn’t wild about the idea until I told him I’d go elsewhere.”
“Did you?Good girl!”
“He’s a bastard, Cutter.They hate him at the mines.He treats them well, but there’s always a price to be paid.He likes being able to pull strings and make people dance to his tune.”
“Does he bother you here?”
“No.He calls once in a while just to remind me he’s around.God forbid I should forget.”But that was exactly what she wanted to do just then.Cutter was there.To spend her time with him talking about John seemed a sacrilege.“Tell me about your work, Cutter.Tell me how it happened.”
He skated a hand down the slope of her hip.“Didn’t Hillary tell you that?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
With a bit more prodding, he told her about the two men in the bar, the initial shoot, the contract, the early assignments.She asked question after question, and when the answers he gave were too vague, she told him so.She felt she was emerging from a four-year vacuum.Nothing was too trivial, nothing too mundane.She wanted to know what was in his mind when he posed, how long the sessions went, whether he preferred studio layouts to location shoots.She wanted to know which ads of all the ones he’d done he liked the best and why.She wanted to know whether Girard Jondier wore his own clothes, what kind of camera Brian Webster used, whether Cutter’s hair stylist was gay, and where Cutter spent Thanksgiving and Christmas.She made him describe his apartment.She asked whether people recognized him on the street.She wanted to know whether he still read a lot, and when he said yes, she wanted to know what.
She was surprised when he told her.“You used to like fiction.”
“I still do.But I haven’t had much time, lately, and nonfiction takes precedence.”
“Why books on business?”
“Some of the people I’m with are heavyweights.It helps if I can understand what they’re saying.”
“Wow,” she said with a smile.“If Daddy could only see you now.”
“If he could only see you,” Cutter echoed, then paused.“Do you think he’d have minded us, Pam?”
“Not for a minute.”
“Me neither.”He paused again.“Does your mother?”
That was harder for Pam to answer.“I don’t think so.I’ve mentioned you a lot.I’m not sure she takes it in.Bob says she does.”