Love's Last Chance (17 page)

“So, I did injure you?”

“What do you want, Dorrie? Do you want me to
admit your nasty words stung? Okay. They did. Happy?” He stared at
his glass.

“I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his arm.
“I’ve never seen you admit to caring that much.”

“I don’t. I’ve trained myself not to. It
hasn’t been easy, but I’ve reached a place where I’m comfortable.
Let it alone.”

Although it seemed Gunther aimed to stop the
conversation, his statement only piqued Dorrie’s interest. “What do
you mean ‘trained yourself’?”

The seatbelt sign went on, and the captain’s
voice over the intercom interrupted them. Directly after his
announcement, the stewardess came on, reciting the safety
information. Gunther and Dorrie sat quietly.

He placed his hand over the one that still
rested on him. She didn’t move away. When the plane began to taxi,
the stewardess approached them with choices for their meal,
prohibiting any personal conversation.

As they prepared for takeoff, Dorrie prodded
Gunther. “Please explain.”

“What?”

“Don’t play that game with me. You know
what. Training yourself not to feel.”

The airplane turned and stopped. Then, the
roar of the engines drowned out voices and the silver bird raced
down the runway, lifting into the air before reaching the end.
Gunther’s fingers gripped the armrest, turning his knuckles white.
Hmm. Afraid to fly? Or just afraid of takeoffs? I thought he
wasn’t afraid of anything.

She folded her fingers over his and smiled
at him. The grim expression on his handsome face didn’t change as
he continued to stare straight ahead. Once they had leveled off, he
loosened his grip. Dorrie withdrew her hand.

“I suppose I should have told you about
Laurel a long time ago.”

“Laurel?”

“Do you want to hear?” he asked. She nodded.
“Then don’t interrupt.” The seatbelt sign went off. The stewardess
brought more champagne. Dorrie relaxed in her seat, turning her
attention to Gunther.

“Laurel was my first love. I met her in my
sophomore year of college. She was beautiful, gorgeous. Blonde,
built…and sweet. I couldn’t believe my luck. Though, I was
different back then.”

“How so?”

“You’re interrupting,” he said, pointing his
finger at her before continuing. “I was a big-hearted idiot, gave
everything to this beautiful girl. Foolish and stupid. We were both
theater majors, though I tended more toward the business side,
while she wanted to be an actress. We were together right through
graduation. Afterward, we moved into a hellishly tiny apartment in
New York. Those were the happiest days of my life.” A slight smile
curled his lips.

“What happened?”

“Don’t rush me.” He shot her a stern look.
“Laurel got a part in an off-Broadway play. I found work as a
producer’s assistant. We were in love, and life was magical. Then,
it happened.”

Dorrie bit her lip and clamped her hand over
her mouth. He glanced at her.

“I’m getting there. One Sunday afternoon, we
packed up a little grill and drove to Bear Mountain for a cookout.
Laurel told me she knew how to build a fire, and I believed her.
She used too much of that lighter fluid stuff. One match and the
flames shot way up in half a second, burning her hair and
face.”

Dorrie gasped.

“In the middle of the woods, I didn’t…” He
stopped and gulped air. “We treated it with the little ice we had
until we got her to a hospital, but it was too late, the damage was
done. She was scarred.”

“Oh my God,” Dorrie whispered.

“She had to quit the play to recover. Then
couldn’t find work. No one wanted a once-beautiful actress. Six
months later, Laurel killed herself.”

Dorrie was speechless. Gunther made the
statement with no emotion in his voice, but his eyes told another
story. She saw a flicker of pain and sadness there. He took a deep
breath.

“After that, I decided that serious feelings
for a woman were too dangerous. I turned off that part of me, and
it’s been off ever since. I’m a totally practical man, now. And I
like it that way. No pain, no fear.”

He took a gulp of his champagne. Dorrie
stared at him. He appeared cool and calm, but she could almost feel
his heart racing. The pulse in his neck gave him away. She cupped
his cheek, leaned over, and kissed him lightly. “I’m so sorry,” she
whispered, resting her hand on his.

“Save it. That was eons ago.”

“Gunther, you don’t have to pretend—”

He grabbed her arm and removed her hand from
his body. “If you’re going to kiss me, make it because you want me,
not out of pity. I don’t need your pity. That was then, and this is
now. I’m fine.”

Dorrie shrank back, staring into eyes almost
black with emotion, glistening in the spotlight. Gunther put his
hand behind her neck and pulled her to him. His lips crushed hers
with a cruel passion. When he let her go, she wiped her mouth.

“Does that feel like a man who’s on the
verge of tears?” His arrogant smile fell off his face when he heard
her whispered reply.

“Yes, it does.”

“Don’t make it into a soap opera, Dorrie. It
was twenty years ago. I’m past it now.”

“That’s something no one can ever get past.
Is that why you…”

“What?”

“Why you left me when I couldn’t dance
anymore? Did you think I’d kill myself? Did it remind you of
Laurel?”

“Nonsense. I’d rather be with a successful
woman. A woman with a high profile in the business. It’s helpful to
my career and…frankly, it’s sexy.” He grinned at her.

“Doesn’t look like your career needs any
help.”

“Haven’t you learned anything? In this
business you can be sought after one minute then drop out of
existence the next. No one’s safe.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“I love the movie business. The excitement,
the challenge…”

“The women, the sex…”

“And your point is?” Lust glittered in his
eyes.

She grew quiet.
He hasn’t changed, but I
never thought I’d feel sorry for him.

“I understand you better now.”

“Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s good
news. Does that mean you’ll let me set you up in a fabulous
apartment?”

“It means I have compassion for you. It
doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to get into an arrangement like
that.” Dorrie raised her flute to her lips.

He laughed. “Sharp girl. Always were. Marry
me, instead.”

She jumped, spilling champagne. “Damn!”
Gunther rang for the stewardess. After they got her cleaned up,
dinner appeared. They ate in silence.

She put her fork down, and turned to him.
“Don’t ever joke like that again.”

“It wasn’t a joke. I’d leave Elsa in a
heartbeat for you.”

“That must mean I’m going to be a
success?”

“Maybe.”

“Sure wouldn’t propose if I said I was going
to be a yoga teacher or even a dance instructor, would you?”

“Probably not.”

“You don’t get it, do you? I’m looking for
love. Real love.”

“Good luck with that. It’s easier to find a
four-leaf clover.”

“Maybe. Otherwise…I’d rather be alone.”

“A woman like you? With your…uh, appetite?
Don’t make me laugh.”

“I didn’t say celibate. I said alone,” she
snickered.

“I see. So, I still stand a chance?”

She didn’t reply, but busied herself with
chewing on a chocolate-covered strawberry.
Does he still have a
chance? Can I love him, really love him? Could he love me back?
Doubtful.

“No answer?” He cocked an eyebrow at
her.

“I’m thinking.” She gazed at him for a
moment before turning back to her dessert. “Never say never,
Gunther.”

“Ah. Reason to hope! I love it.” He took her
hand and kissed it, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Always the
flirt, always leading me on.”

Dorrie slipped from his grip and glanced out
the window. The
fasten seatbelts
sign reappeared as the
plane began its descent. The pilot’s voice came over the
loudspeaker and conversation between them died. Gunther appeared
more relaxed than he did during the takeoff but still his fingers
gripped the armrest.

She slid her hand over his and rested her
head on his shoulder.
Any port in a storm? Gunther or no
one?
She snuggled down into him a little, remembering what a
good fit they were physically. A whiff of his expensive cologne
revived old feelings.
Not going to be seduced by four-hundred
dollar an ounce aftershave. Back to business. Still, I hate being
alone.

She sat up, turning her thoughts to the next
sequence to be filmed and posed a question to Gunther about the set
design. She kept him talking until they landed. As they walked down
the gangway, he took her hand, drawing her close to him. He kissed
her hair and whispered, “Thanks.” She smiled up at him, her gait
falling in with his as they made their way to the baggage claim
area.

The ride from the airport, even in Gunther’s
limo, took a long time. Traffic was heavy, as usual. She was
restless, anxious to get back to her own bed and the tenuous
security of her little apartment.

One roommate had a small role in a movie and
was on location. The other one was working as an assistant to a set
designer. They spent the evening catching up, and Dorrie retired
early. She lay awake pondering her life.
Three men is now four.
Could I end up with Gunther again? What if he drops me? What about
Archer? We’ve never slept together, would he make a commitment
before we’ve even had sex? There’s something about him…I don’t
know. Rick seemed so interested. We have chemistry. Will he fold me
into his weekend houses, or will he quit them so we can be
together?

Johnny. He’s a lost cause. Mad at me. But he
already asked me to move in. Do I want to do that? No moving in
without a commitment. Could I be happy with him? Why do I start
fights with him all the time? Too much history.

I could do worse than Gunther, right? He
cares about me, I think. Can he care about anyone?
Her mind
went round and round with question after question, but no answers.
It wouldn’t shut off, causing her to toss and turn for two hours
before falling into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, she dragged herself out of
bed at seven to be at the studio at eight. Time to start
preparations for the filming of the next dance sequence. No more
location shots, she’d be in L.A. for the rest of the film. When she
arrived, Gunther was there. He was all business, conferring with
the director and set designer. Dorrie gathered the dancers and put
them through vigorous warm-up exercises. Then, they had to
wait.

They scattered, and she sat alone until Chaz
joined her. They compared notes on the next routine to be shot.
Chaz grabbed two lemonades from the catering table and handed one
to Dorrie.

“Meg wanted me to ask if there was any news
on the three guys.”

“Only Meg?” She cocked an eyebrow at him and
smiled.

“Okay, okay. Me, too.” He blushed a becoming
shade of pink.

“No news.”
Don’t tell them about Gunther.
They’ll flip out.

“Damn! This is more frustrating than reality
TV, Dorrie. Make up your mind, girl.”

“Two weeks aren’t up yet.”

The assistant director called for quiet, and
Chaz took his place. Dorrie watched him, glad to have her mind free
of the dilemma facing her.

She sat back, allowing herself to be sucked
into the scene. Chaz Duncan’s performance was brilliant. It wrapped
after ten takes. Shooting three scenes took all day. The dance
routine was postponed until the following day.
Hurry up and
wait. Typical.

Dorrie listened patiently to the dancers
complain before she explained that this was not unusual in the
movie business. She was grateful for having passed an entire day
without obsessing over the men in her life.
Three guys. No,
four? No, three. Gunther is not in the running.
She packed up
her bag and headed to her car, waving goodbye to Gunther as she
passed.

* * * *

The day was only half over for Gunther Quill
as he watched Dorrie flee the set. He was used to long days while a
movie was in progress. The longer the day, the more likely he was
to come in on budget, or at least close. Today his mind wandered
from the problems on the set to the lovely young woman he let get
away three years ago.

Dorrie is still beautiful. Maybe even more
now that she has bigger breasts. Wonder if she’s the same firebird
in bed? Probably.

Gunther tore his gaze away from her
retreating form to peruse a list. He knew there would be a dinner
meeting with the director and work perhaps late into the night to
fix the problems with the set and lighting. He sighed.
Problems,
problems. Why don’t things ever run smooth?
He thought about
how much he’d prefer to be in bed with Dorrie than shoveling food
in his mouth that he wouldn’t even taste because the meal would be
edged with anxiety about the film.

He knew what he had to do, he had to make
sure this movie was great and brought in a ton of box office
receipts. He needed a big success, and he needed the money. His
lifestyle had expanded into pricier categories fast. He wanted a
fancier car, more Italian custom-made clothes, maybe a chauffeur,
and expensive jewelry, gifts, and dinners for Elsa.

He had an image to maintain and that took
bucks, big bucks. So as fast as the money came in, it was gobbled
up by his richer tastes, and expanding needs. Not all of it,
because he wasn’t a foolish man. But half his income disappeared
almost as soon as it arrived.

Gunther needed to keep working and to have
blockbusters, so he could bring in more cash. After each movie, he
vowed to stop his wild spending, but he didn’t. His financial
advisor had taken to removing half his disposable income and
slamming it in investments before Gunther could fritter it
away.